It’s not often that Dick appears on Ollie’s doorstep, not often that he CAN. It’s early evening, the sun barely having set and ORDINARILY he would be suiting up for a night on the town.
He HATES the heat that builds behind his eyes, reaches instead for the sentiment that clenches his fist and tightens his jaw. He’s ANGRY, and he is determined to stay that way.
Dumping his bags at his feet, it occurs to him - as he knocks on the door - that he is asking TOO MUCH of Oliver. They may be BOYFRIENDS, but that doesn’t mean that the CAT BURGLAR has the means enough to put him up. Even for a few nights.
He just needs to get some cash together, speak to Alfred about what he’s able to do from here, and then he will be okay.
But right now, he NEEDS somewhere to stay and Ollie is the only person he can think of that may be able to help him.
The door opens, and - for no discernible reason - the agony WORSENS. He inhales sharply, holding back the FURIOUS tears of shame and humiliation. He HATES this, HATE being driven to this.
“I don’t … I don’t have anywhere to …”
It feels as though he is pulling teeth in trying to articulate it. The idea that he has been STRIPPEDof everything what was ever HIS, pains him too much. He is ROBIN. He is. It’s his. Bruce can’t TAKE it away from him.
But he has. Worse, Dick LET him.
“Ollie, I don’t have a ho-me.”
it’s ODD to see dick at his door; normally, they’d both come in through the window. but that isn’t the strangest thing about this. the sun is quickly setting and dick’s robin uniform is nowhere to be seen, and oliver highly DOUBTS that it’s stuffed into one of his bags.
he knows the other well enough by now to be able to tell when he’s hiding something. he wants to reach out, to wrap thin fingers around those balled fists.
instead he stands and watches dick as he struggles to hold back his anger. he’ll tell you in his own time. he assures himself. don’t push him. don’t push him away. so the shorter boy simply looks up at the other, growing concern evident behind emerald hues.
he’d NEVER turn dick away, even if he didn’t look as if he were about to burst into tears.
when the other speaks, oliver INSTANTLY steps forward and wraps his arms around dick’s middle, pulling him close. a hand moves to rest at the base of dick’s neck. oliver’s fingers drag through black strands with a soft rhythm.
his tone is void of his usual CHEEK and teasing, instead it is considerably softer, and his voice nothing more than a low whisper.
dick’s words cut through him in a way that feels UNFAMILIAR to the teenager. he pulls back just enough to look his boyfriend in the face. it’s strange for oliver to feel sympathy, especially in his line of work. it’s quite possible that dick is the first person that oliver has cared for since becoming SCAMP.
‘ dick… look at me. ’ thin-fingered hands slowly run down the length of the other boy’s arms. when he reaches his hands, oliver gently pries the fists open to lace their fingers together.
‘ you ALWAYS have a home… ’