Steady On Forward

Chapter 4

"No, that's fine," Dick said, pausing his typing to tilt his head up for a quick kiss on the lips. "Good luck with your meeting."

And then Jason was putting his helmet on and climbing out the window, and Dick was left to his own devices.

He worked quietly for several hours, shifting stretch positions twice, until Jason came back. Dick was currently in leg-behind-head pose as he looked over a spreadsheet when Jason came through the window, smelling of gunpowder but apparently no worse for wear.

"You know you're apparently my 'little blue boy' now? Makes you sound like a pet smurf." Jason imitated Black Mask's voice as he began to get undressed: "'I'm sorry to hear you aren't...amenable to my terms as they are. I'm sure my men would enjoy hunting down your little blue boy and putting the screws to him until you are.'"

Dick cracked a smile, and carefully eased himself out of his stretch, shifting into a simple butterfly pose. "Ooh scary," he said sarcastically. "I'm a bit offended he doesn't see fit to torture me personally, though. What'd you say?"

"I couldn't help but laugh." Dick heard the secret compartment in their closet snick shut and one of the dresser drawers was pulled open. "Told him I'd pay to watch them try. You know what it does to me to really watch you fight."

"Mm, bet he wasn't too pleased with that."

"No, not at all. Kind of want him to follow through. I can see it in my mind: you doing cartwheels around them and knocking out every single dumb motherfucker who's stupid enough to come after you. Figurative cartwheels," he added. "Maybe a couple literal cartwheels. You ever done that?"

"What, cartwheeled into someone? No, not a very practical way to land a kick."

"Hm. Bet it'd be hot though."

"You think everything I do is hot."

Jason came up behind him and pressed a kiss to the side of his face, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "Can't argue that. Whatcha workin' on?"

"Trafficking case. I could use another pair of eyes on it." He scrolled up to the top of the spreadsheet. "It's not much of one, but there is a pattern here, right? I'm not imagining it?"

Jason scanned the screen. "Yeah, I'd say that's a pattern that's trying very hard to look like it's not one. No repeats. What do you bet they've got the numbers... oh, three through fourteen or so in a hat, drawin' 'em out at random to see how many days to wait 'til the next abduction? Don't wanna wait too long, don't want it to be a sudden string, don't want a predictable pattern. Somebody fancies themselves smart, I think."

"Oh good, that's what I was thinking. I love the ones who think they're clever."

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❥ Dick woke up from the most delightfully erotic dream alone and painfully hard.

Oh this had to be a form of torture.

Please, please, please don't go away, he prayed, before carefully attempting to touch himself, and...yeah things were fading fast.

No no no no. He squeezed harder, but, nope. It was gone.

Fuck. He kicked at the mattress moodily.

God, that dream...Jason had been in a nice, big office with a skyline view, similar to Bruce's office at Wayne Enterprises.

He'd been in full Red Hood gear, with his helmet on the desk beside where he leaned back in the leather chair, legs spread casually.