Ryuuji, Nightwing, morning after RP.

[dice-addict.livejournal.com]

Ryuuji and Nightwing, the morning after the Masquerade. Continued from here. Discussion of sex, but nothing actually takes place.

It's eleven?" yelped Dick, rather suddenly awake. "But I – I'm sure I set an alarm for six." It wasn't that he was exactly a morning person, but one developed certain habits, and not sleeping half the day was one of his. "Did I wake up and turn it off?" Now that he thought about it, he did vaguely remember being woken up hours earlier, but when he craned his neck up to see what the clock on his dresser said . . . it wasn't there. Huh.

There were other things to worry about, too. Like, say, the fact that Ryuuji was standing right in front of him, naked as a jaybird, with bruises and scrapes. And the fact that Dick, too, was naked. Also, he was awake enough now to remember exactly what they had been doing last night.

". . ." He was not going to turn red, he was not going to turn red, he was not going to turn red.

Yes, getting away from Ryuuji for a little bit so his brain could start to function again was a fabulous idea. Incredibly fabulous. The best idea he'd ever heard of. Dick stared owlishly at the extended hand for a long moment, before realizing what it was for and using it to help pull himself upright. And fighting (and not quite winning) the urge to wince, because holy hell ow ow ow ow ow. ". . . A shower sounds like a good idea. I'll be right back." Oh, there had been a question, too, hadn't there? "Borrow whatever you want from my closet."

With dignity (but a slightly awkward stride) he grabbed a bathrobe and ran away disappeared in the direction of showering.

Okay. Nightwing was being very much to the point. And he'd flushed, and looked kind of dazed. That didn't quite match Ryuuji's easy cheerfulness, and was enough to make the gamer's smile dim just a little bit as he went over to the other's closet and rummaged through it for a little, careful not to disarrange the neatly-folded clothes more than needed. Picking out a pair of jeans and oversized sweatshirt in pale grey with "GOTHAM KNIGHTS" in black block text, Ryuuji didn't bother snagging any underwear because that would be weird somehow, but instead just dragged the shadows up around himself in the same way that Yami no Malik made his cloak from shadows. They draped over him like robes would, loose and long and concealing his utter nakedness underneath, and Ryuuji carried the fresh clothes over one arm and made his way out to the Prefect bathroom.

The glitter was hard to scrub off, and his hair needed repeated shampooing to get back to its usual order so Ryuuji ended up skipping drying it in favor of being able to swing by the kitchen on his way back to talk to the House Elves, towel slung over his shoulders and wet, glistening strands of black hair curling loosely over his back, over the grey sweatshirt. Taller than Nightwing by only an inch, it remained oversize on the younger boy, coming down to midthigh and thankfully loose. He didn't really want anything too clingy on him at the moment, not when his back still burnt from the other's scratches (he normally carried bruise balm on him, but he hadn't bothered to put any in last night's leather trousers because those didn't have pockets).

Ordering fruit, yoghurt and eggs for Nightwing, because that was what the other had liked in France and chocolate sauce and crepes for himself (Ryuuji liked energy boosts, thanks, and he took vitamin supplements and ate plenty of meat anyway), Ryuuji drifted back up to the Gryffindor dorms, contentedly humming under his breath. Because, well, sex. With lawfully wedded husband. Which would never stop sounding weird in his mind, but at least nobody could call him a whore for that. Ryuuji focused determinedly on that, not letting himself think about anything else for the time being except how good a meal would be just about now.

The food would already be there by the time that Ryuuji got there, he knew, but he didn't bother rushing or anything, towel-drying his hair as he walked so that it was mostly just damp instead of dripping by the time that he got back to the room, opening the door and slipping in without bothering to knock, curious to see if Nightwing had finished showering and changing before he had.

Nightwing was indeed already back in his room, having not had to make a detour down to the kitchens. He was sitting crosslegged on his bed, his back to the door, in (surprise, surprise) a pair of boxers, damp hair hanging in a loose ponytail down his back. Even from this angle, there were visible bruises from the previous evening's activities, especially on his arms, where the shadow binding had left dark rings around slim wrists. A jar of bruise cream sat on his dresser, but was, oddly, still unopened.

In a stunning display of ill manners, he was already eating, instead of waiting like a well-bred young man for Ryuuji to join him. Somewhere, Alfred was feeling deeply ashamed. But then, the butler would have been ashamed of him anyway; Dick was ravenous (gosh, wonder why) and pounding through his scrambled eggs with a healthy speed. Without even turning his head when his ears picked up the sounds of Ryuuji came in, the Gryffindor swallowed a mouthful of egg and noted, "Your plate is by the door – I left the cover on, so it should still be warm."

Questionable polite dining skills aside, Dick was feeling considerably less dazed than he had upon waking. He could still feel the ensuing Conversation looming, sure, but he had food in his stomach and warm flesh from the shower, and the sunlight was coming through his open window in a cheery fashion. And perhaps he would be lucky and Ryuuji would decide his boxer clad self was too much to resist and opt for putting that chocolate sauce to good use, instead of insisting they needed to have a Talk. Because morning after sex sounded a hell of a lot better than morning after awkward silences.

"Thanks, Risou." Ryuuji called out lightly, bending down to pick up the plate and joining Nightwing on the bed. They hadn't got to put it to its proper use last night, after all, so why not use it as a table instead? Sitting cross-legged opposite from nIghtwing, Ryuuji gave the other a quick smile and lingering, appreciative look, eyes widening maybe just a tad at the bruises on the other. He normally got rid of his own marks right before taking a shower, and would have expected Nightwing to do the same.

Though considering what they'd been saying during sex last night...

Refusing to flush at that thought, just a hint of a smirk playing over his lips, Ryuuji canted his head at Nightwing and asked innocently enough, "Slept well?"

Tempting as it was to misuse the chocolate sauce, he instead opted for squeezing it over the crepes, neatly folding them into triangles and biting down, polishing each crepe off within a few bites. After all, he was hungry. And these were warm, and tasty, and a trickle of chocolate sauce dribbled onto his wrist, and Ryuuji had to lick it off before it went down his arm and got him all messy. And there was chocolate milk, cool and sweet, and sunshine, and a pretty, half-dressed dining partner.

Hm. Maybe he should get rid of the sweatshirt as well? Then again, having him undressed and Nightwing only half-dressed didn't seem like it would be conducive to conversation, since Ryuuji would probably just want to make up for lost time instead. Which would be fun, but not exactly helpful. They'd have to talk eventually; they couldn't just spend the rest of their life having sex.

Dick played awkwardly with his ponytail as Ryuuji eyed him, wanting to invite the gaze – hey, it's always hot to be given appreciative looks – but not entirely sure how to do it in this context. 'Oh, hey, we had mindblowing sex last night, wanna see the way you bruised my ass? I've got one on my hip that looks like a rabbit, if you squint!' did not seem the way to do it.

He'd seriously considered balming away the bruises and bite marks, but it felt good to have them there, making him think about how he'd gotten each and every one in the shower. (Only the sense that there was a bit of a time limit had kept him from a rather more thorough examination of that line of thought; as it was, he felt a little keyed up.) The ones that would be visible once he was dressed, he would have to do something about, but there was no reason not to let Ryuuji see when it was just the two of them.

"Yeah, great. You?"

Ohgoodlordchocolatesauce. It was a show of great strength and stoicism that Dick didn't dart over and lick the chocolate sauce off of the other's skin; not staring while the Slytherin did it himself was too much to ask entirely. He swallowed, flustered, and finished the last of his eggs, moving on to the yogurt. Mmm, protein.

"Awesome, considering it was on the floor." Ryuuji responded with a laugh, gulping down another crepe after his words, biting into it eagerly and tilting his head back a little to chew and swallow. He didn't eat messily, but fast, in the way of someone that was used to rushing through meals to get to something more important - or someone that was used to meals being taken away from them if they were taking too long. Licking his lips, fully aware of having been watched while he'd cleaned off his wrist, Ryuuji reached for the glass of chocolate milk and drained it happily, full and happy.

Okay. Meal over for him. Nightwing had more to eat, so it would probably take him longer, and it was rude to watch people eating so...

Ryuuji uncrossed his legs, and stretched out over the blanketless bed, folding his arms behind his head and resting his hand on his interlocked fingers, wriggling just a little in an attempt to get comfortable. The jeans slid a little lower on his hips, Nightwing's musculature more bulky than Ryuuji's, and the gamer absently hooked his index finger through one belt loop, pulling them up again but having to push the too-large sweatshirt up a little to do it. A small triangle of pale golden skin remained exposed, with a bruise-red mark just teasingly visible at one corner of it before the rest of it disappeared under the much-washed grey cotton, and Ryuuji kept sneaking sideways looks at Nightwing, green gaze sliding to the corners of his slanted eyes, hair still a little damp and loose, curling slightly thanks to the wetness.

Lightly, winding one lock of hair around a finger and pulling at it unthinkingly, Ryuuji mentioned (seemingly) casually, "If there's a next time, I say we try the bed."

It had, after all, been ages since Ryuuji had actually had sex on a bed. And more importantly than that, it brought up the topic of if Nightwing wanted to repeat this, which could segue nicely into a discussion of what on earth was going on here since Ryuuji was pretty much clueless. And hoping that state would change, fast.

Nightwing wasn't a growing boy (well, except in one occasional, very specific sense) but he had a sizable appetite anyway, so there was still a bowl of yogurt and some fruit to go. And also orange juice. Somebody had to eat halfway healthy around here, in this castle of drunkards and junk food noshers.

Not that concentrating on eating wasn't incredibly hard (And if that isn't a bad vocabulary word to be using right now, I don't know what is, Dick thought, distractedly.) Wow. Just – seriously, he had fought against this for so long because?

Those were one of his favorite pairs of jeans, but he was seriously considering never washing them again. Was Ryuuji even wearing underwear under there? Dick had the strongest sensation the answer was no.

He was shaken out of his increasingly naughty contemplations by Ryuuji's comment about beds. If? Wait, what? There was an if here? Because he was desperately hoping it would be more of a when situation, with the answer being 'as soon as you finish breakfast, big boy'. Trying very hard to keep his worry out of his voice, he queried, ". . . Is there a reason there won't be a next time?"

Nightwing sounded concerned, which meant that he wanted there to be a next time. Right. That helped answer some questions, at least. Mentally ticking off the 'wants more sex' box in his mind, Ryuuji got down to the business of figuring out what the hell was actually going on here. Scientifically. Because that method worked when you weren't sure what else would. Twisting onto his side so that he could look at Nightwing directly while he spoke, he folded one arm under his head, ear pressed to the crook of his elbow, and blinked at Nightwing, starting to finger-comb his hair with the other hand.

Tone light and unconcerned, belying the care with which Ryuuji chose his words, Ryuuji shrugged with one shoulder, the neckline of the sweatshirt just a little larger than needed. "I wasn't sure if you wanted a next time, Risou. I mean, okay, the lack of freaking out and insisting that nothing happened or that you had been under the influence of anything was a positive sign but that just meant that you were okay with what happened last night."

Absently, without thinking about it, he reached up to touch the bruises left on his neck from where Nightwing's mouth had been, tracing around the outline of one lightly and liking the soft ache that brought, continuing thoughtfully, still watching Nightwing with his vividly green eyes, "It doesn't mean that last night wasn't just an isolated one-off thing, or that you'd want more." And Ryuuji stretched just a little then, pointing his toes down and elongating his body for a moment (every bruise on his body screamed a protest), then dropped it to keep talking, "And assuming that last night wasn't just a one-time encounter, then I'm kinda thinking that we ought to talk properly and then decide if there's going to be a next time."

And because that sounded like a threat and Ryuuji didn't want Nightwing to be tense when Ryuuji was working so hard on acting like this was okay, he added softly, "I was listening last night to everything you said. I get that you finally gave up on chasing impossible ideals, but don't you see what sounded like? It's not so much that you want me; it's just that you can't have them, and you're settling for me. And I don't think that settling for second best ever works; and I don't want to be your consolation prize anymore than you would want to be my second choice."

Especially since Ryuuji actually had someone that would pick him first; whom he’d pick first. Terry was the one who made him burn; Nightwing was the one who needed to be not rejected.

Pause. "So yeah. We'll talk, we'll figure something out, and then work from there, okay?"

"I – yeah, I do want for there to be a next time." Hell yes, he wanted a next time. Dick made a valiant attempt not to be distracted by Ryuuji touching the bite marks that he made, oh Christ. Get ahold of yourself, he scolded himself, before considering the rest of what Ryuuji had said.

Ah. A Talk. Well, he knew it was coming. Dick took a long swallow of orange juice to give himself a little time to think. "That wasn't what I meant, really. I – fuck, if I could have all three of you, I would jump at the chance. It's not that you're my third choice, it's just that you're my best choice." That probably sounded a little cold, so he continued, hurriedly, "I mean, I'm not gonna drop you in a second if Bruce batted his eyelashes at me, you know?" That was an intensely disturbing mental image (though he liked the pun) not least because he'd really always kinda imagined it being more a 'pin me down during a spar and have his ravenous way with me' thing.

To distract himself from his thus-far poor performance in the Convince Your Friend You Really Want Him Olympics, he grabbed a strawberry from his plate, dipping it in yogurt and eating it. And if he made it a bit showy, tilting his head back to bite off the fruit in one go, tongue moving to catch an errand drop of yogurt . . . well, could he really be blamed?

But he couldn't hide from explanations forever. With a wry twist of his mouth, Dick admitted, "I'm not really putting this the best way." There's a new one. "I just. I promise you, you're not second choice. It just took me awhile to admit I wanted you, for . . . a bunch of different reasons. And longer to decide what to do about it, when I did admit it."

Watching the show Nightwing put on with the strawberry, Ryuuji shifted slightly on the bed. Right. Okay. Clearly, Nightwing's mouth was not meant to be used for speaking. Because he sucked at that. And although sucking was fine in certain contexts (more than fine, oh hell yeah), it didn't really apply to having serious conversations. Or semi-serious morning after conversations.

Still eyeing Nightwing, Ryuuji gave himself a few seconds to think that over - his ear hurt, weirdly enough, and Ryuuji brushed his fingers over them, trying to find out why. There was a small stinging pain to the tip of his finger and when he brought them away, they were bloodied on the pads. The bat bit me?! Realizing what had happened and when it must have most likely happened for Ryuuji to not notice it, the gamer brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked the small dabs of blood off, momentarily distracted. Terry had already been on his list of things to talk about; he hadn't needed the reminder.

That done, he gave Nightwing a thoughtful look, tone contemplative, "Okay. Fine. You want me, Bruce, and Babs. If you could have us all, you would. I don't agree with you on Bruce because I think he's a jerk and I don't like the way he was acting with Tim last night - long story, I'll explain later - but Babs is pretty cool. I don't really think you should give up on her. Admittedly, you're kinda not all that great at explanations, but she does seem to love you in her universe a lot, and she's important to you, so I actually think you should keep trying with her."

Cue a small smile, Ryuuji offering (and thinking to himself that it might be fun to watch Nightwing choke on something out of surprise), "So I'll help you try to court her but in exchange, you let me choose one person to be involved with. And then nobody's second choice."

Because he wasn't together with Terry (yet), and he was allowed to be with someone as a rebound and Nightwing was definitely not going to fall for him. So Nightwing was safe. Fun, and good in bed, and not the type of person that would end up broken-hearted as long as he and Ryuuji stayed friends.

Dick had been kind of hoping they could move on to the more interesting type of sucking – he really wanted to work on his technique – but Ryuuji, depressingly, kept trying to be all adult and 'talk things out'. Even though he knew it was probably the wiser decision, Dick couldn't help but feel a bit . . . resentful. Conversation had its place, but . . .

. . . On the other hand, when that conversation involved getting permission to be polyamorous in his habits, perhaps he ought to be grateful it was happening. Dick did not actually choke on his mouthful of fruit, but it was a near miss. "Wait, I – you're cool with me going after Babs?" Having a partner who didn't mind sharing wasn't a completely new experience for him, but he hadn't quite put Ryuuji down as the type to be interested in that.

Which raised the question of how he, Dick, felt about it. In principle Dick had always strongly favored commitment and monogamy, and he had certainly never cheated on someone, but . . . he had to admit his natural tendency was to love multiple people at once, just as strongly, and the Gryffindor wanted Babs – even this new, somewhat disturbing Babs – just as much as he wanted Ryuuji.

On the other hand, it meant he would have to share Ryuuji. Which would be all right if it was somebody he liked, but if it were, say, Terry . . . but it wasn't his place to ask, really, especially not in the fact of a generous offer. And he could deal, right? So Dick nodded, carefully. ". . . I guess that could work. But you don't need to help me 'court' her, I'll be fine."

Honestly, if Terry hadn't come along, Ryuuji's willingness to share would have been somewhat less strong. For one thing, he knew his own tendency to be possessive and insecure. Having to let Nightwing be with someone that was an alternate version of what was more-and-more starting to sound like Nightwing's One True Love and wonder all the time if he was just a diversion, something obtainable - that would have killed him. Maybe not really killed him, but it would have itched at him, nagging at him all the time. Plus, Ryuuji hadn't been in any relationship that wasn't completely faithful before, but at the same time, he'd also actually been loved (in a romantic sense) the person that he was with.

This was different. This was kind of weird-different really, with him and Dick not actually in love with each other, but still married to each other and having sex. With each other. Which, again, was kind of weird. Kind of like a legalized version of fuckbuddies, in a sense, except that you normally didn't mess around with fuckbuddies while trying to have a relationship at the same time.

...Ryuuji was starting to get a bit of a headache from trying to figure out exactly what was going on right now. So, he discarded thinking about that in favor of focusing on the actual conversation at hand.

He shrugged with one shoulder, and gave Nightwing a smile that was just a little more serious than he'd intended it to be. "You're my friend. That kinda means I want you to be with someone that's good for you and that you want. And I've spent about five months listening to you talk about her and Bruce, and she's actually here, and within your reach, and I approve of her. I think she'd be good for you."

Cue a short pause, barely half a second, "Not that I'm not good for you or anything, but I'm not the one you have history with and have been pretty much obsessing over, when you're not obsessing over Bruce. I really do think that you need to get that settled one way or another, and you being together with her sounds like a much better way of resolving the situation than you being with me and trying to pretend you don't want her. Or not even bothering to not pretend, but just holding back because you're worried that I'd get upset or feel replaced or something. Not only would be that highly depressing - though, sorta sweet on your part - it would also be pretty stupid."

Ryuuji shrugged again, folding his hands in his lap, still sitting cross-legged and looking like he'd fit perfectly well in a monastery were it not for the casaul attire, serene and calm. "So, yeah. No issue with Babs."

Because she'd be good for Nightwing, and Nightwing was his friend, and in the end, that was what it came down to for Ryuuji; doing what was best for his friends.

Had Dick been privy to Ryuuji's private thoughts, he would have had plenty of protestations to make; he didn't think of Babs as being his One True Love, just someone whose personality happened to sometimes mesh very well with his own. He still wasn't even completely comfortable with the thought of himself and this Babs – it felt like poaching from himself, even though she had indicated plenty that his overtures were welcome – and having Ryuuji treat it was a given was a little obnoxious.

Possibly he should have watched his tongue over the last few months, when he spoke about her, and made sure not to give Ryuuji the impression it was Meant To Be. For one thing, from what Terry said, it really wasn't. Really, really wasn't.

Not that he would have really denied that he wanted Ryuuji as someone he could comfortably sleep with and get the itch out of his system. Still, it wasn't as simple as Ryuuji being just a stand-in.

"I – look, you're not second-best, okay? I'm attracted to her, yeah, and I wouldn't mind pursuing it, but I wouldn't be pining away with love if you didn't want me to see her. She's not exactly my Babs, and even my relationship with my Babs isn't exactly smooth-sailing. And –" this was an awkward thing to admit, because Dick really did believe monogamous behavior was best, and he wanted to want to commit – "I can want multiple people at once, you know? And I'm mostly okay with a lover feeling the same way. So if there's someone else you want -" please let it be Kira or somebody, not Terry "- then I'm fine with that."

A little frustrated, Dick stabbed a piece of cantaloupe into his yogurt, using the time it took to eat the dairy-coated produce to try and work out what he was trying to say. "But if – knowing all that – you're still okay with not requiring either of us to be strictly monogamous, then . . . okay. We didn't choose to get married, I think we're allowed to determine our own way to set things up."

Not quite believing that he wasn't actually second choice, Ryuuji's eyes still softened a little at being told that Nightwing wouldn't be pining away if he did have to give up on Babs. A slightly amused smile quirked his lips at being told that Nightwing could want multiple people at once - that was really just stating the blindingly obvious as far as Ryuuji was concerned. He'd been the one to listen to Nightwing talk about Babs, and Bruce, and Tim after all. And Mystique as well, for a little.

Oddly enough, Ryuuji tended not to want that when he was actually in a relationship with someone. He liked looking, yeah, and flirting, but he didn't usually actively desire people apart from whomever he was with. He just locked onto target, in a way, and stayed there. Other people might catch his eye, but not enough for him to actually want to do anything more than playfully flirt with them. It just didn't cross his mind to want them. He felt too off-limits for that.

Except this, with Nightwing, wasn't really a relationship, so it would be okay for him to be with Terry. When they did finally get together and Ryuuji managed to get over his wild oats stage.

Because otherwise, if it had been, then Ryuuji would have been cheating on Nightwing with Terry. Or, if he'd already been in a relationship with Terry, which he wasn't yet, then would have sleeping with Nightwing been considered cheating even though Nightwing was his husband?

Trying to figure that out was also giving him a headache.

"Does our own way involve still keeping this secret? The marriage, I mean, as well as the fact that we've actually consummated it." Slightly confused, Ryuuji brushed a lock of hair back from his face, and a tiny black bat flew out, buzzing angrily like a mosquito would. It hovered in front of Nightwing and attempted to scold him, Ryuuji going wide-eyed as he realized that it wasn't content to just bite him but was now apparently trying to tick Nightwing off as well.

Dick had a hard time imagining not having a bit of a wandering eye. Oh, it wasn't bad enough that he had ever been driven to cheat (having sex with someone other than your current SO didn't count if you had said SO's permission) but he couldn't quite help himself from . . . thinking. And he took it as a given that everybody thought. There were plenty of aspects of sexuality that bothered him, (as Ryuuji damn well had to have noticed by now) but that one didn't.

Besides, he was a member of the Batfamily. And it was never just two people in a bed, with them. Not really.

Speaking of Batfamily traits . . . secrets. Dick mused. "I . . . really don't mind, if people know. But it's up to you; I'll deal just fine whether we're incredibly discreet or fucking on the head table in the Great Hall, or anything in between." He downed a quick mouthful of yogurt. "That being said, it might not be a bad idea to be a little quiet about it for now. Just so we can see how things work out."

A tich of vulnerability crept into his voice. "It might be better for both of us to take things a little slow. I mean –" there are a ton of people after you, and I don't want to be part of that drama "- being public with things can put some strain on them."

He was going to say more, but then – was that a tiny little bat? With well-trained eyesight, he tracked the miniature creature, eyebrows furrowing deeper as he realize what it was, and then shot out his hands, trapping it inside. And . . . ouch, those were definitely operable fangs. "Ryuuji – why do you have a tiny little . . . bat? In your hair?"

Okay. Bat first, secrecy question second. Trying to be nonchalant about it, Ryuuji brushed the hair away from his ear and showed off the tiny black opal cuff-piercing that was looped over one of the holes in his left ear, where the cultists had pierced it. He doubted that Nightwing could see that it had Wayne manor engraved on it, but at least it was clearly the bats perched. In as casual a manner as he could manage, he explained, “It’s the counterpart to Terry’s collar – he has a little dragon attached to his that can animate itself and fly about and breathe fire. Mine has that bat, which mostly bites. And we can inanimate them or use them as communication devices, if needed.”

He held out his left hand to Nightwing to have the bat returned to him, absently noting that he and Terry had complementary items whereas he and Nightwing didn’t have rings. Or the burn, which was actually kind of a scary thought, because that made the burn a Terry-specific thing. A very, very specific, out-of-control, not his choice at all thing. Though, on one hand, at least it meant Ryuuji wasn’t losing control around just anyone during sex. Or wanting to jump just anyone. He’d hate to think that he had lost all of his standards just because of a sudden, inexplicable inability to not keep his hands off Terry. The downside was that Terry still had the ability to just make Ryuuji want him. No control. Which was really, really worrying, but something that he ought to figure out later because right now, he was still dealing with Nightwing and still had things to talk about.

Like secrecy.

Taking a second to be amused at the idea of fucking Nightwing on the head table in the Great Hall – hell, they could probably sell tickets for that, considering what the school was like – Ryuuji considered that for a little. On one hand, it would be nice to publicly show that he was married and not a whore but on the other hand, that would make things weird with Terry. Whom he’d been pretty blatantly claiming during the Masquerade, after all. How much of the school would get the idea of having a fuckbuddy and a lover at once? …I wonder who would guess which of them to be the lover? So it was either have people thinking of Terry as some sort of bit on the side, or keep things quiet with Nightwing, which was what Nightwing seemed to prefer anyway.

With a shrug, Ryuuji easily replied, “I opt for secrecy as well, then. Though, obviously, I need to tell my choice, and Mai as well just because we’re best friends and she’d tell me as well if something like this happened with her. Anyone I should assume you’ve told?”

. . . Now Dick couldn't avoid the question he really hadn't wanted to ask. "So Terry's the other one for you, huh? With the collar and everything." His voice was calm and unconcerned, but the clean (mostly – it was broken by one particularly jagged scar) line of his back was fraught with tension. He wasn't fooling anybody, and he knew it, but there was something to be said for having a little pride.

It occurred to him, suddenly, a horrible insinuating little voice in the back of his head, that for all Ryuuji's talk about not wanting to be second choice, Dick wasn't really surehe wasn't that for Ryuuji. If you hadn't played hard to get, purred that smug, awful voice, he probably would have gotten tired of you months ago.

He tried, quickly, to push it away. It was okay. He loved Bru Babs. He didn't need Ryuuji to be anything but a good friend, and sex was just a benefit, right? Right. He could deal with this, and he would NOT strangle Terry, and he would NOT get upset, and -

Hurriedly, he focused on what Ryuuji was actually saying. "It's fine with me if you tell her, sure. Babs already knows. I should probably tell Tim." For a moment, Dick weighed the pros and cons of what he was about to say, before deciding that Ryuuji could deal. And he was feeling, just a little, like being an ass. "And Bruce, of course."

"Yes." And the simple statement was accompanied by an equally simple shrug, Ryuuji making the bat go inanimate again after raising his hand to his ear to settle it back on the hoop. Because that was all there was to it. Terry was Ryuuji’s choice. That simple.

…So why did Nightwing look hurt by it? Eyes concerned for Nightwing, easily reading the tension in the other's body, Ryuuji reached out to take Nightwing's hand, spotting the little swell of blood from where the bat had bitten it. Leaning over the breakfast table between them, he dropped the lightest of kisses on first the wound, and then the palm of the hand, letting his lips linger just a little longer there.

Hopefully that should make him feel better.

Of course, once Nightwing mentioned that he was going to tell Bruce, whom Ryuuji was starting to detest all over again, thoughts of making Nightwing feel better flew right out of the window. Letting go of Nightwing's hand, Ryuuji leaned back and widened his eyes at the other, "What? Why? He's not your Bruce. You weren't his Robin. It's not like he has a right to know whom you're sleeping with the way that he might back in your universe."

Pause. "Unless you meant your universe and the version of Bruce there, because I can see why you'd feel like you have to tell him. And I could take you back there, if you wanted me to meet him, or something." Though, considering how much Ryuuji wanted to say to that Bruce, Ryuuji wasn't sure that would be the friendliest of meetings, though he'd try to contain himself for Nightwing's sake.

". . . Oh." Dick stared down at his hand as Ryuuji touched it, an odd expression on his face. He bit his lip, on the verge of saying something, before deciding that discretion was the better part of valor on occasion and fighting back the urge. Ryuuji's life wasn't his to run. And he could deal. He could definitely deal.

But did it have to be Terry?

But he could deal. Still, it was a little too much to ask for him to not be juuuust a little mean, now that he had an opportunity. "No, this one." The thought of going and talking to HIS Bruce was, just a little, painful and awful (and something he desperately wanted to do god help him). "He's still Bruce, even if he isn't my Bruce. And I've been thinking I should maybe try to build some ties with him, see if I can't finally manage to have a semi-functional relationship with some Bruce."

He was, it should be noted for posterity, thinking 'relationship' in the platonic sense, but felt no real need to clear that one up unless Ryuuji asked. "Besides, he'll hear from Babs, or Tim. And if I know Bruce, he'll feel hurt if he's the last one to know, even if he doesn't have the emotional investment in the rest of us."

Oh gods. 'semi-functional relationship'?! RELATIONSHIP?! Ryuuji was tempted to say something about Nightwing's taste, but refrained from doing so - after all, he had Tom in his past. Nightwing could easily just point that out, especially since he'd been the one stuck dealing with Ryuuji after that, for Ryuuji still felt he owed the other. Because really, fun as that trip had been, it had also been pretty stressful in certain highly suspicious ways.

Biting down on his lower lip until he felt himself on the verge of starting to bleed to stop himself from saying anything about that, Ryuuji suggested (helpfully, HELPFULLY, he swore it was helpfully!), "Maybe you should try turning into a girl if you want a relationship with him? I mean, Tim's a girl now and he seemed to get on really well with Tim. A little too well, really, since he was dancing much too close to her considering that she's only sixteen and most likely still going through some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder from having her gender changed so abruptly, but if you want him to get on 'too well' with you, then that I'd guess that wouldn't worry you."

Cue a pause, and Ryuuji added thoughtfully, "Of course, I'd personally be rather worried if anyone needed me to change genders just so that they could be with me. It sounds so conditional, doesn't it? I'll only love you if you do this - it just screams of exploitation, really, but it's up to you, of course."

Could you tell he didn’t like Bruce? Because he really, really didn’t. He just didn’t think that Bruce was good for Nightwing; hadn’t been so far, and probably wouldn’t in the future.

". . . I didn't mean it quite like that," said Nightwing, almost primly. Still, secretly, he kind of enjoyed the knowledge he'd scored a hit. Oh, he felt bad for enjoying it, very bad, but he enjoyed it anyway. "I thought we should maybe try to form some kind of bond, though. It's just . . . it's Bruce, you know? I realize he maybe hasn't been showing them to you, but he has a lot of really good qualities, and I wonder if things between he and I can't be better here than they are with the Bruce I grew up with."

Still, the talk about Tim made Dick stiffen. "I'm sure there was a good explanation for it," he said, though he didn't much believe it himself. "And Tim's Robin. Switching genders probably isn't even in the top ten weirdest things which have ever happened to him. And besides, Timmy has enough sense, he can take care of himself."

Dick absolutely DIDN'T believe that, but Dick had no desire to admit to Ryuuji that he was hoping he could talk to Bruce about Tim and maybe find out that the two had been standing close to whisper top-secret information on a case to each other. Clearly there were innocent explanations. He just had to find them.

And he definitely stiffened at Ryuuji's comment about it being 'conditional'. "Do you really think I would go that far for someone's affection? Besides, it's not his fault if he's not interested in guys, Ryuuji, not everybody swings both ways."

Slightly relieved, knowing that at least he wouldn’t have to deal with Nightwing getting into an emotionally abusive or one-sided relationship, Ryuuji relaxed slightly and allowed himself to be amused by Nighwing’s primness. Maybe he should send Nightwing a striped pinafore with a little folded note in a pocket about how the Miss Manners didn’t suit him.

“…Yeah. Okay, fine, I see your point. Maybe this one isn’t as bad as yours is.” Taking a second to think over what Nightwing said, Ryuuji finally nodded. Because yeah, he could see that. If he could meet his father before he went crazy, then he’d want to see what that could be like. And – and Tom. Because he’d trusted Tom and cared about him, even though Tom was just a younger version of Voldemort. Except Ryuuji had liked and pitied Voldemort as well, so it possibly wasn’t the best comparison. Because Ryuuji liked and pitied almost everyone, excepting child abusers, child molesters and rapists (and he didn’t think about why those people got no pity from him).

Instead, thinking about Tim again, he added, “But seriously? I think you should talk to Tim about the dance. Because that was just flat-out freaky. Jason, Terry and I all descended on him and Tim at the same time to try to save Timmy so it's not like I was overreacting or I was the only one to think that something was off.”

With a flip of his hair, tugging at Nightwing's sweatshirt lightly, he stretched out and shot Nightwing a teasing smirk, "As for how far you'd go for someone's affections - vibrators. Strap-ons. Not even going into everything else you listed in Paris - I really don't think that turning into a girl would be all that much of a leap. And no, it's not his fault if he doesn't like guys, but dancing with Tim as a girl when Tim's crushing on him is just a tad bit cruel to my way of thinking. But maybe that's just me and-"

His earring suddenly buzzed, the die lighting up, and a green, holographic woman without a face appeared to the left and behind him, standing on the floor. Tone clipped but unemotional, she warned him, "Dragon, you're needed in the fourth quadrant of sector 1954. Rogue demi. A Urite squad has been dispatched for holding purposes." She disappeared, and Ryuuji blinked, continuing without skipping a beat, "And I'm apparently needed to go off and be all dangerous."

Cue a faint, embarrassed flush, Ryuuji scrambling off the bed quickly and giving Nightwing an apologetic look, "Sorry. Seriously. The universe has sucky timing."

Dick had worn many strange things in his life, but a pinafore would be beyond even his tolerance for questionable clothing choices.

"Sure, I'll talk to him." It had been embarrassingly long since he'd pinned his 'little bro' down for a nice friendly talk, anyway. He was clearly remiss in his duties as a brother. "But – I really don't think Tim has a crush on Bruce, and I'm not sure where you get that idea from. Or that Bruce dancing with him necessarily had a sexual element. If I hadn't been a little preoccupied, I would have asked Tim to dance with me too, and Timmy's hardly at the top of my list of people I'd like to sleep with. Hell, he's not even at the top of that list when it's restricted to people just in my family." That Dick could easily figure out, without even thinking about it, how said list would go bothered even him. Just a bit.

The dig at his wide and diverse history of past kinky behavior made him raise an eyebrow, leaning lazily back on one hand. A position which, as it happened, nicely showed off those excellent abs. "First off, I enjoy those things, and I don't think I'd enjoy suddenly being the wrong gender. And second off, I still don't get this irrational horror of strap-ons and vibrators with you. Especially now. If it weren't for the fact that I enjoy that kind of stuff, you probably wouldn't be in my bedroom right now with me wondering whether I can talk you into a morning –"

What Dick was thinking of trying to talk Ryuuji into, however, would remain a mystery for posterity. ". . . Wow, this is the first time ever someone's done this back to me." 'This', of course, being 'run off just when I was about to try to get into your pants'. Reflectively, he commented, "Now I know how my poor girlfriends felt every time I suddenly ran off in the middle of a conversation," then waved a hand in a shooing motion. "Go take care of whatever it is, and good luck."

"Yeah, well, I bet that you at least stayed in the same world. Or the same universe." Ryuuji mock-grumbled, leaning over just enough to brush a quick, apologetic kiss over Nightwing's lips. Straightening up, he glanced down at the jeans and and sweatshirt, curling both fingers under the cloth and tugging it over his head, dropping the pale grey cotton top onto the bed. He could change into proper fight gear once he got to the hub.

With a quick grin, he promised, "I'll have the jeans washed and sent back to you as soon as I return. With a bottle of water, because it's important to stay hydrated."

And it was a miracle that Ryuuji could say that with a straight face, even as he took one, two, threefourfive running steps to the window, still open from last night, and jumped out, launching himself into the air while only in a pair of jeans that weren't his. Twist-tuck-tumble-fall, and Ryuuji was torn between Accioing a carpet, summoning his dragon, and just merge-summoning with his dragon directly to let his own wings carry him. He settled for opening up the Shadow Realm and falling into that, disappearing into a splotch of blue-purple shadows that twisted in on itself and disappeared as he did.

Never let it be said that he didn't know how to make a dramatic exit.

". . . Heh." Dick had followed Ryuuji to the window, and, leaning on the sill, watched the other's fall turn into a disappearing act. "I'm never gonna get tired of watching him do that," he muttered to himself.

Show over – and possibility to getting some nice late-morning action gone – he stepped away from the window, mouth twisting as he debated what to do with himself. What he absolutely didn't want to do was spend the day worrying – Ryuuji was perfectly capable of handling himself – but that would require some kind of distraction.

"Hm." Well, he hadn't talked anyone into sparring with him for a few weeks, and he was starting to lose his edge. And there were a few family members he really needed to talk with . . .

. . . But first he would have to get rid of some of these bitemarks.