peektuttut | [RL, Dick & Tim] I Say Your Name In Silence

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[RL, Dick & Tim] I Say Your Name In Silence

Livejournal was officially a thing of evil. It was a fucking wonder she hadn't broken the laptop, honestly; her phone was off and buried under a pile of laundry on the floor. That had to be what Bruce had used to film it; it was the only thing at that angle. And Tim was on her bed, turning a Rubik's cube in her hands continuously, only sometimes paying attention to it.

The worst part about all of this, though, the absolute worst part? Tim was still a girl. She was still down one Y-chromosome, she still couldn't go out on patrol, and when she'd tried to work off the fury, she'd actually hurt herself. This body had not trained for years, and though she still knew every skill, form, and martial art she'd known as a boy, she couldn't do half of it without the physical conditioning. It was maddening.

She retreated - with an icepack on her shoulder - to her room, still frustrated, but mostly brooding. Upset just sounded too feminine to deal with right now. It was entirely sexist, but Tim could worry about that later. She'd gotten drunk. She'd let Tony kiss her - sort of - and she'd kissed Nygma. Not was kissed, initiated it. Her hands tightened on the cube, turning it faster. Blue, orange, blue, blue, white. Turn. White, white, green, red. Turn - fuck. She was holding it so tight it was getting hard to actually turn.

Closing her eyes, Tim's grip slacked and she rolled onto her side, holding it on the bed beside her. So Eris was a liar, Eddie just kept talking about it, even if it was embarrassment, and Bruce was disappointed in her. He wasn't her Bruce, and it was obvious that he didn't understand - well - a lot. But he was still Bruce Wayne, and for whatever reason - no, not whatever reason, it was because Tim had talked to him, he wasn't just a random multiversal double - his opinion still mattered. Hearing him tell her flat out that he was disappointed was only slightly worse than him telling Dick that Tim had been over estimated.

Her stomach rolled and she pressed her face into the pillow under her head. She was still glad she'd hacked into their talk; at least, she was still telling herself she was glad. It was better than not knowing exactly what he thought of her.

The only upside to this - maybe, she thought, maybe - was Dick's 180 defense. But she didn't want to read too far into that.

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Making a distinctly displeased noise at her rather impassive tone, Dick freaking hobbled over to her and snatched the damn thing out of her hand. "You're not talking to a piece of plastic." The agitated look on his face was mostly because oh his knee throbbing and nearly buckling beneath him.

Holding the toy out of her reach, Dick looked down at her, hard. "Why?" Was the only word he let pass through his lips next. Not accusatory, not judgmental. Just. Why.

She half heartedly reached for it before dropping her arm, glancing away. Staring at her hands in her lap, Tim sat in silence for a moment before sliding off the bed. She went to her desk, dragging the chair over and stopping in front of Dick. "Sit," she ordered, frowning at him. "What did you do to your leg?" Yeah, she wanted to avoid this as long as possible, and wasn't looking at Dick.

"No, I'm not going to sit, Tim. I want an answer." He wasn't getting angry this time, wouldn't let himself. Frankly he was too mentally and emotionally exhausted by now to even get more than mildly agitated, which he was. "Stop avoiding it and just tell me." He said with a heavy sigh, completely stubborn about standing up and waiting for his answer.

"Please sit?" She asked, glancing toward the bed. Sighing, she slid back up to sit cross legged again. Why. Okay, here goes nothing. "Artemis...or Eris, really, told me she'd change me back if I kissed Nygma. Then he found out and it got complicated. I just - well. Either she lied, or forgot, because I haven't heard anything yet."

"No," he replied to her plead. Dick tended to make his injuries worse before he allowed himself to get better. Call it stupid, call it masochistic, call it whatever the hell you want. He just listened to her, and closed his eyes as he tried to comprehend what Tim was saying. It got complicated because Nygma found out? Why did that make him feel disgusting inside?

He had nothing to say to her, so he just sort of stood there, still. Quiet and still, Dick was defying his own nature by doing both things. And he didn't quite care. Trying to make heads and tails of this was impossible.

Tim, who was so used to the quiet, who mostly enjoyed it, was unbearably uncomfortable. Couldn't quite handle this now, Dick. Please. "Say something," she finally spouted, looking up at him. Just say something so she could figure this out.

"I don't have anything to say," he said, calmly, mostly just because she had prompted him to say something. She never told him to say anything of worth. He really didn't have anything to tell her. Looking down at her, the silence still pervading after a long awkward pause, Dick sighed.

"This isn't my fault, don't shift the weight of this onto me," Dick ruminated actually just a little bit bitterly, and he turned away. Hobbling toward the window, the older hero just couldn't face her directly right now.

She frowned at her hands, head lifting to watch him move. "I wasn't trying to." Watching that hobbling was just painful; she wished he'd just sit down already. Running a hand through her hair, Tim stayed where she was, uncertain and uncomfortable.

For a while, she kept her silence, just toyed with the cuffs of her pants to be doing something. Anything. And when that stopped working, she started talking. "I made a mistake. I-" Tim paused, finally risking a glance up at him again. "I'm sorry." And beyond that, she had no words.

Leaning against the window frame with his empty hand, he allowed himself to press all his weight against the wooden surface. Placing the toy on the sill, Dick just stared out of the window as he listened to her few words. Making a distinctly annoyed sound at her cut off sentence, Dick didn't make another sound until she apologized.

Turning to look at her over his shoulder, Dick shook his head. "Sorry for what? For all intents and purposes telling me that my motives were different than what they were, and then going and doing fuckall whatever with Nygma? Because yeah, that you should be sorry for." And no, he was not going to sit down but slowly make his way over to her again.

"And I'm sorry for putting a hole in your wall." Maybe he was going to bring it up - oh well.

She turned to glance at the wall, grimacing lightly. "I'll fix it before Alfred notices," Tim mumbled, staring at the wall so she wouldn't have to look back at him. For a while, she was silent again. Fuck. Yes, that's what she was sorry for. Tugging at her hair, she turned back to Dick, letting out a slow breath.

"I was wrong. About - a lot of stuff, and I'm - sorry." She didn't know what else to say anymore. Begging him to understand wasn't something Tim could bring herself to do, even if it sounded like it would fix things. Pride and self-confidence were holding on by a thread, and she couldn't quite stand to cut them away completely.

"And I guess I was wrong about some things too," that bitterness was coating his tongue and tainting every word that spilled forth from his lips. Why couldn't he just leave this alone and move on? Tim didn't need him harping at him, but then again Dick could not just... not care for Tim. That was something that was ingrained in him. But he was just so bitter about this because the way he had opened himself to Tim and now that was more like a festering wound in his side.

He would not be surprised if one of the small contusions across his torso were actually infected, but that did not quite matter now. Now he just limped back toward her, and actually settled himself stiffly onto the edge of her bed sort of far away from her. "I know you're sorry, but apologizing isn't changing anything... I'm only in here because I'm some sort of masochist and want to know why you did that. Then maybe I can forget that it even happened."

She didn't look away, but she did grow very still. Oh. That - that was part of what she was afraid of. Teeth pressed tight together, Tim hid the discomfort (she wouldn't admit to being hurt) under a blank mask.

He was sitting, though. At least there was that.

"I told you why." When she spoke, it was quietly. "I was trying to be a boy again. I-" Wanted to make absolutely certain about how Dick felt...But she was fairly certain that that was not something she should tell him.

"You what? Tim, I am so sick of you not saying what you want to say. I need to hear it," he snapped when she cut herself off because damn it all, this was frustrating. There were a thousand different things that she could be thinking, and every time he thought of a new possibility it got worse and worse in his head. The only thing that kept him from getting back up again was the knowledge of how just utterly exhausted he was. This just needed to come to a head or conclusion, and now.

Watching her the best that he could, Dick reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I just need to know if I was wrong in thinking it was okay to try and get closer to you. I already told you how I felt, you didn't believe me but I'm still..." He paused, sighed heavily and leaned forward, bending enough to press his forehead against his knees. "I still need to know if you're bent on rejecting me." Regardless if it hurt more than he'd ever admit.

Tim stayed silent, staring straight ahead of her at the wall. She didn't want to have this conversation, she was already sweating as worry and discomfort spread. He wasn't asking her for much, really; she knew that. But it was enough to be afraid of. They'd fought before, they'd disagreed before. But it was never...never always something like this. It was always about Bruce, or the mantle, or...she couldn't even think of anything else they'd fought over. They didn't fight. They had a good relationship. That's why this was so fucking hard.

"I was too-" No, change tactics "-I didn't believe. I want to be changed back so I'll know." She made her voice hard to say it, still not looking at him. Tim shouldn't have said that; she knew she shouldn't have. And now her stomach churned uncomfortably, afraid he'd leave, and nothing would be the same.

Listening to her, waiting for her to struggle through whatever it was she was trying to say felt like waiting for the noose to tighten around his neck. A vice like worry settled in his chest, prompting him to shift uncomfortably especially when she got her point across. That worry took home in his chest cavity around his heart, changing into disappointment and grief when he got her point. She still didn't believe him. Well, if she didn't believe the fact that he really did have feelings for Tim, and not just Tim as a girl, well, what was there to say that Tim would even believe him when he got changed back.

Which just meant that Tim was looking for a way to pin this all back on Dick - if Tim really cared for him more than the sibling like relationship they had been carrying out, she wouldn't be questioning him so much. Not saying anything, just shaking his head slowly, Dick stood up with a grunt. And promptly tottered back and sat on the bed when his knee gave out. "Fuck," he spat and his hands instantly were on his knee.

Dick just laughed kind of bitterly at the fact that he was stuck here now. He wanted to leave, damn it. There was really no reason for him to stay now as he got his answer, but his body wasn't letting him leave. "You already know. But you just don't want to acknowledge it. Fine. I understand Tim. You could have saved yourself the trouble and told me to leave you alone."

When he got up, she stiffened; when he fell, she moved. On her knees on the bed, one foot already pushing herself up to get to him. God damn it, Dick, why do you hurt yourself so much? She wanted to shout at him for letting himself get so banged up, but now wasn't the time. Or maybe it was, but Tim was trying hard not to say anything.

"I don't want you to leave me alone!" And that blurted out instead, still nearly yelling. She wanted to grab his shoulder and shake him, but that would hurt both of them. Idly, she wondered where the ice had gone. "I don't want to - just think about, it, Dick, what would you do if it was reversed? You wait until now - until I'm a girl, until I'm barely me to say anything! How did you think I'd react?" She felt like she was years younger, having a similar discussion with Dick: could Bruce be a murderer. Tim hadn't wanted to believe it, but she - he, then - couldn't ignore the facts. Another time he'd argued with Dick.

"I can't lose-" She bit off her words, sitting back on her heels, hands clenched around the edges of her shirt. Fuck, no point denying what she'd already said. "I can't lose you."

Even though he was hunched over his leg, Dick still spouted at Tim, pain tinging his voice. "Yeah, and I am sorry I freaking waited but think about it! You're supposed to be my little brother. How the hell is it all right for me to have these feelings for someone who I really shouldn't?" And by shouldn't Dick meant that it was somewhat odd for an 'older brother' to love his 'younger brother' in a more than platonic way, despite there being absolutely no blood tie, or even legal tie between them.

"I tried to ignore them, Tim, but I can't. I tried to push away my feelings, that clearly didn't work." Dick said as he sat back, face pulled taught in both physical and mental anguish. This was so hard to do like this, but he was using the pain as a way to just get through this, to just keep talking. It was a good way to ignore his knee, actually. "But I also couldn't just make a move on you when all I can think about is you rejecting me and I'm sorry that you turning into a girl was the first opportunity that I leaped on. It was wrong."

Sighing heavily, Dick just sort of flopped back, mouth pulled into a grimace. "You're stuck with me, moron." He said after a long, tense moment of staring up at the ceiling. There was no way that Tim was going to lose him, because even if she rejected him fully, yeah he'd run away. Get banged up (oh this sounds so familiar), but he'd always come back despite his better judgment. Which was why he was still here. "I can't say that I'll always be around because I'm not that foolish, but I'm not going anywhere as long as I can help it, damn it."

Tim let him talk, listening in silence and watching like a hawk. When he laid down, Tim's hands tightened. It wasn't the insult, or the proximity: it was the content of his words. She wanted him to say he'd always be around, even though she knew she'd call him on that bullshit. Though they'd been at odds lately, though their conversations were heavy with barbs, Tim didn't know what he'd do if he lost Dick. Besides Alfred, he was all that was left, until Bruce came home.

"We're not related," she said, and quickly tried to amend. "I mean we're family, but not - you know what I mean." She didn't need Dick taking that badly, now. Tim stopped trying to fix her wording, and leaned forward slightly. Then further, as if she'd kiss him. Hair fell forward to brush his shoulder. But then she jerked back and looked away. Fuck. "Dick, I don't have an answer for this." Tim was too afraid of fucking up that brotherly relationship to risk this, right now.

He groaned when she pulled away, hoping that he'd been inexorably wrong in the way he'd been reading things. But Tim was there. And then she wasn't. Dick sorely wished she would just stop playing with him. Even though she probably wasn't doing it on purpose. "You already gave me your answer. You don't believe me when I tell you that I love you, and that it has no condition pertaining to your gender. I get it. I just... don't want to."

Dick reached out to put his hand on her leg, not really looking where he was throwing his hand. "I don't see why it's so hard for you to let me love you," he said mostly to the ceiling because he still wasn't looking at Tim. Dick didn't even mean for that to come out but he flushed severely and turned his head away from her. Fuck. Why. Does he fuck things up so hard?

She would be blushing, but was staring at the hand on her knee. And. Well, no, just staring, for a while. Then she was looking away, face red and hot. Tim stayed silent a few moments longer, staring hard at the wall. She didn't move his hand, but she sure as hell wasn't relaxed.

"I said I didn't believe you," Tim finally s tarted, slowly. "I just-" She paused, not sure what to say. She wasn't sure if Dick understood what he meant to her, what he stood for in her eyes. And she didn't know if she could make him understand how that played into the idea of being with him terrified her. "I need some time. Can you...I just need time."

"Like I said, I'm not going anywhere," he replied, a bit more softly as he turned his face to look at her. For as much as they disagreed on certain things, and how they approached life, Dick would be utterly lost without Tim. His nightmares used to consist of falling, of watching other people helplessly fall to their deaths and him not being able to save them. His parents mostly were the stars of his nightmares for a while, which was normal, he thought. But then... then there were the nightmares that involved losing Tim. That explosion at the bar where he'd thought Tim had been caught inside had been the third real panic attack he'd had in his entire life.

He wasn't going to ever be able to let go of Tim no matter what happened between them. Whenever his head got stuck too far up in the clouds, Tim was there to pull him down and ground him. Sometimes he was a buzz kill, but Tim was a moral conscience when Dick couldn't find his own. There was a whole repertoire of things that Tim was for Dick that he couldn't even enumerate if he tried to. And if Tim needed time, then there was nothing he could do but give her time. "Especially not going anywhere when I can't walk." He muttered this bit post haste because that was also true.

And it was something to latch onto. Tim frowned, and reached out to flick Dick's ear. "You're an idiot, by the way." Shifting, she slid off the bed to stand in front of him, hands on her hips. It felt fucking weird, doing this as a girl, like she was a socialite having a bitch fit. Maybe it was because her hips didn't feel the same; it was so much less manly than was comprehensible.

"What did you do to yourself this time? Let me see your knee."

... Dick hated when Tim did that. Changed the subject abruptly, and flicked his ear. Hated the subject changing so hard that he wished that he would just say something about it someday, but he wasn't going to force them into another fight right about now. Sitting up a little when she stood in front of him, looking like a rightly pissed off debutante (honestly, why Tim was so pretty as both a girl and a boy was beyond Dick), he might have smirked at her. But it went away when he moved his leg and winced at the sharp pangs that radiated from his knee.

"Not an idiot," he muttered and moved to pull his pant leg up but found that that was too painful of a move, and his knee had swelled up something awful. Which meant that it was worse than he thought, shit. "Totaled my bike, it's not... that bad." He just so happened to stop himself from hitting the tree by using his leg as a point of propulsion to throw himself off of it. Dick's knee took the brute force of it, and he was banged up in other places but none as serious as his knee.

It was bad enough that he couldn't get his pant leg up over it which meant he'd need to take his pants off to let her see. He just sort of sat there.

Tough, her hands were staying on her hips. And Tim just stared at him for a moment. "Not that bad," she repeated, and gave him a look. A 'that is complete BULLSHIT' look. Frowning when she realized he couldn't get his pant leg up, Tim dropped her arms and let out a slow breath. Okay. Well. "Take them off."

And she was moving around the bed, searching for the ice pack she'd been using for her shoulder. Retrieving it from under her pillow, she moved back to stand to the side, letting him get his pants off.

God, that hurt so freaking much, bending down to undo his pants and work them off over his knee. It was clear that his kneecap was not in the right place. His patella was partially dislocated, and he could see that from the odd angle in which it was shifted. His knee was massively swollen and just looked rather gruesome. He'd seen his father get this sort of injury when he was younger when he'd stick a landing incorrectly.

And if Dick's father always got back to the grindstone with this sort of injury, Dick could to. "Really. It's... not a full dislocation," he said quietly and tried to not look at it too much. Damn.

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