[email log] coffee guy and the life worth having
Summary: Not long after the first Council elections of Dick's stay on the island, he strikes up a flirtation with Josh Lyman, mostly out of boredom, but it turns out to be something worth doing right. Warning: seduction, PG-13. Takes place over several months, ending in early January.
I miss Manhattan. I miss buildings I can't see the top of from the ground. Papaya King hot dogs. The little Chinese place with no name and the best mu shu you ever tasted. Tandoori Palace. Sawadee Thai.
The rumble of the subway. Swearing in fifty different languages. Cab drivers shaking their rolled up newspapers or cursing pedestrians out their windows in the middle of a busy street.
People. My people. Not my team, even though I miss them and the JSA too. But the kids at Bones. Deb, but not as much as I should. The kids on the street corners who stand up straighter when Nightwing passes by. The gangs that have taken to protecting their neighborhoods instead of destroying them. The staff at the Cloisters...
Rockefeller Center, and ice-skating. Broadway and the Met. All the things I never had time for at home but were there in the background, a part of me.
I miss the way the guy you see at the coffee shop on the way to work, you know the one, with the triple non-fat caramel latte extra shot extra hot no whip to go, becomes a guy you smile at, then maybe you buy him a cup and get his name, and it turns out that he works next to the museum and you both like Thai and epic love stories (even though Roy mocks you for them), and you agree to meet for lunch.
Probably nothing comes of it, because you're Bruce Wayne's heir and you have to think about these things, but it might. It doesn't have to because it's the way it fits into the flow of life that makes it worth doing as much as Coffee Guy himself.
Yeah. I miss Manhattan. I miss my life.
Dick sulks at the coffee maker while it brews, plain coffee, hold the frou. He's never been a fan of syrups and sugars and creams - Bruce raised him - but it'd be nice to have the option. Or Coffee Guy to flirt with while he waits.
Instead of watching it, Dick leans his shoulders against the wall, kicks his feet out in front of him crossed at the ankles, and crosses his arms over his chest. People filter in and out of the kitchen and he smiles lazily, hoping he'll be Coffee Guy for one of them. He's not. He knows them all already.
It was too early for human life, really, if Josh had anything to say about it, except it really wasn't, he was just complaining. He had gotten into his own routine, and part of that was pulling himself out of bed sometime before noon. After turning himself nearly nocturnal in the first month from oversleep, he promised himself he wouldn't be quite so much of an idiot and rejoined the ranks of humanity. Or so he told himself.
He'd showered (it helped with the appearing-like-humanity part) and threw on jeans, a tee shirt, and a v-neck sweater; since it had turned somewhat frigid, he'd added the last to his wardrobe. He shuffled into the kitchen to the pure and utter joy of someone having already started the coffee. "Coffee? Really?" He turned with a smile, recognizing the figure leaning against the wall. "You shouldn't have." His eyes twinkled, only a little mischievous.
Josh. Dick's smile deepens, less lazy, more smoldering, while he looks him over. Messy, damp curls, lived-in face and eyes, and that great smile. Yeah, Josh could've been Coffee Guy. Maybe he likes epic love stories and Thai.
Dick arches out of his lean to pour two cups without answering him, then doctors Josh's with the equivalent of two and a half sugar packets. Gaze dipping to touch his mouth - their flirtation's a little more advanced than Coffee Guy smiles and mouthed 'hi' from opposite ends of the line, he offers the cup at full extension of his forearm and purrs, "Oh, no. I definitely should have."
"Just sug--" Josh opened his mouth as Dick turned to pour the coffee, but he'd already reached for the sugar. Josh smiled widely, eyes twinkling as he took the mug. I definitely should have. His smile deepened, dimples showing. Damn. Josh wasn't clueless. Not totally, at least. But this was definitely flirting. He took a long pull on the coffee, lips curling into a smile as he pulled away, leaning against the table.
"How'd you know?" Dick had known just how to make it. Just sugar (two, maybe three), and no milk. Bittersweet.
Hm. Dick has about three seconds to decide whether Josh is short-seduction or long. He takes a slow sip of coffee, watching Josh intently over the mug. Instinct tells him 'long' before his mind parses the cues that back it up: lean invites the look, smile says yeah go ahead, dimples say oh hell yeah, but he moved away not toward and instead of turning Dick's knowledge of his coffee habits into the obvious flirtation, he went for intellectual curiosity.
"I make it a point to learn what makes people smile," Dick answers, recalling for Josh how they met after his election speech, but he doesn't pause to sit. His fingers brush Josh's elbow and bicep on his way by; he makes deliberate eye contact, smiles bright, then disappears into the hall before Josh can answer. When he turns the corner and he's out of sight, he grins and takes another slug of coffee before hurrying off to the gym.
* * *
It was just after midnight, and Josh couldn't sleep. He'd tried quiet music, meditation, counting sheep... He just couldn't. He could probably blame the two hour nap he'd taken just after dinner, but instead he felt like muttering to himself grumpily for a half hour or so before getting up. With no one else to blame, at least he could bitch about being up, instead of laying in bed. He threw on some shorts and a tee shirt, heading down to the beach, his stride hitting a strong jog. He got a few miles up the beach and slowed down again, his tee shirt nearly soaked through with sweat in the late night heat. He took a break, bent over and nearly wheezing for a moment. He pulled his shirt off over his head, wiping the sweat off his face before tucking it into the back of his shorts and heading back up the beach, his gait strong and sure.
He finally came to a stop back near the end of the path, somewhere between the Pyramid Court and Serenity, dropping into the sand, catching his breath and grinning out at the dark, black, ocean. His knees were bent in front of him, his elbows resting on them and his hands dropped between his legs. His body was tight, strong, well-used. It felt good.
They're out late on patrol, having been waylaid by a family of monkeys interested in their human counterparts swinging through the trees. He and Tim stopped to play tag, so they're laughing and smiling behind their masks when they catch sight of a lone figure running on the beach. They hush instantly and move past, close enough for Dick to identify the runner as his erstwhile coffee guy but not close enough for Nightwing and Robin to be spotted. He drops Tim back at the Treehouse, kisses him goodnight after sponging off, and tells him he'll be to bed in awhile if Tim wants to sleep in his, and if not, they'll make up for it tomorrow.
Tim nods and blinks sleepily while Dick pulls on sweat shorts, a T and sneakers, then tumbles into bed. Dick tumbles out of the Treehouse, heads closer in by treetop express, and runs flat out to where he projects Josh could be. Turns out he's right, and when he sees him, Dick drops into an easy lope then handsprings the last bit of the distance and slides gracefully into the sand next to Josh, sweaty again and a little sleepy, but barely breathing hard. "Moonlit walk on the beach, for me?" he asks, bright tease in his voice for the deliberate callback to the coffee. "You shouldn't have."
Josh's eyebrows shoot up as the figure slides in next to him, pulling in a breath of somewhat belated surprise. When he recognizes him he relaxes, smiling wide. "Yeah?" His lips twitch a bit, smile widening. "Maybe I should have." Leave it at that. Easy, quick. Evasive but flirty. God, why is this so easy?
"Just maybe?" Dick's voice drops low and takes on a hint of a purr to answer the smile and the flirtation. It's tempting to roll to his back in the sand, stare up at the stars and see if Josh will make the next move, but he's not ready for it - Josh isn't. Close. Very close. Instead, Dick pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them, but stays open and loose. Casual, not closed off. He could add a quip about wine and roses, but he's more interested in how Josh responds than in being cute.
He was staring at Dick, eyes locked on him. He can't miss the purr or the smile, both hitting him low in his gut. "Okay," He purrs back, eyes locked on Dick before he licked his lips softly. "I definitely should have." He leaned back on his palms, first the one close to Dick, bringing them even closer, and then the other; he stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He'd lost some of his donut-weight since he got stuck here; between the lack of pizza and beer and having to walk everywhere, he'd slimmed out even more.
Dick decided weeks ago he wants to Josh when the time was right, and it had nothing to do with the toned-up civilian-body, or even the curls that begged for his fingers, or the mouth that would look damned good wrapped around him. It's the crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiles, the light in them, and the clever mind. But it'd be rude not to look when Josh is offering, so he does, lets his gaze skim obviously over the body offered up for his attention, then locks it with Josh's again before rolling down onto his side, propped up on his elbow and body stretched long and lean across the sand. "Next time, wine and roses," he quips this time, because he can, then grins, the charming Grayson grin.
He watched Dick take the slow graze down his body, suddenly even more aware that he was without a shirt. He'd realized it when he laid back, but now he realized just how sexual it could be. Damn. "How about moonshine and sand, instead? S'all I got." He flashed back with a grin of his own, trademark dimples and all.
"Mmm." It's a thoughtful sound, not dubious, but definitely skeptical. He's easy when it suits him and his partners, but easy doesn't suit Josh. Josh needs - Dick tilts his head a little to consider him, draws effusive swirls in the sand - the comfort of familiar patterns and the allure of the forbidden wrapped up in them. "Coffee and conversation." His fingertips dance out across the edge of Josh's hand, then deliberately trace the whole of it, leaving an imprint in the sand. "And chance meetings in the elevator. Or the shower."
Josh nodded, eyes drifting down to Dick's fingers in the sand. A smile played on his lips and he glanced up at the other man softly, head still tilted down. He pulled in a quick breath as he felt the sand against his skin, his eyes darting back down to watch Dick's fingers. "Coffee, sure." He lifted his chin finally, his head tilting to look at Dick thoughtfully, an easy smile on his lips. "But I don't think we have an elevator." He paused, catching Dick's eye. "We do have a shower."
"It's too bad about the elevator." Crowding Josh up against the back wall and talking over his mouth without doing anything would be a lot of fun. He smiles, wicked, bright blue eyes catching the gleam of moonlight off the ocean, and the shadows gathering around him like old friends as he pushes up to his feet. "Some of us have to sleep." The irony makes his smile that much more wicked as he brushes the sand off his ass. "See you for coffee..." He pauses, then offers a hand down, if Josh is getting up. "Or a shower, in the morning."
Josh takes the hand, suddenly feeling like his insomnia would be cured. "I was out here because I couldn't sleep." He paused, cocking his head to the side with a sassy curve to his mouth. "Maybe the next time you don't have a curfew we could not sleep together." He paused. "Over coffee." He full-out grinned, shaking his head and letting it roll back a bit, smiling. "See you." He didn't say when, but he was planning to hit the compound the next day for a shower, so... Who knows, right?
* * *
He has absolutely no reason to be in the elevator. Absolutely no legitimate reason to be in the elevator. As dumb as it is, he misses them. The Cave. Titans Tower. The Clocktower. His apartment building in Manhattan. They all have elevators, he misses home, so he's taking his fourth pointless ride of the afternoon. If he keeps it up long enough maybe someone will show up to flirt with.
Josh was heading for the laundry room, and he'd usually take the stairs, but it had been a while, so he had what could only be described as a MOUNTAIN of laundry; after he'd moved out, he'd managed to dig a laundry bag out of the clothes box; after it had first given him a slew of pink ones, with butterflies and rainbows, of course, it had consented to give him a plain blue denim bag to stash his clothes. He lugged it in from his hut, dropping it in the hallway and hit the button next to the elevator; this sucker weighed a TON, and there was no way he was going to throw out his back going down those stairs.
The elevator pings. The door opens on Josh, curls mussed and lugging what looks like a workout in a bag. Dick smiles, lips curving an unrestrained and graceful arc, eyes bright blue under dark lashes. Josh is the perfect person to share a pointless elevator ride with. "Hi." If it's possible to purr cheerfully, he's just done it. "Need a hand with...anything?"
Josh blinks up at Dick with a surprised look, his mouth a tiny 'o' of confusion. "Oh-" He said, fiddling with the ties for a moment before straightening up. "Hi." He paused, hand reaching up to scratch behind his ear. "No, ah. I think I've got it. I just need to get this downstairs before it gets its own zip code."
Now he wishes the Compound had about 100 more floors between here and the laundry. He steps to the side to let Josh in, fingers on the buttons. "I'm just heading down there myself. Date with the clothing box." His smile curls like a wisp of steam off hot chocolate, hot and lazy and seductive. "But you're much better company."
Josh shoved the bag into the elevator with a soft grunt, kicking it all the way in and stepping beside it. "Sounds awesome." He grinned softly. "Taking it out somewhere nice? Owe it a couple drinks??" It was easy, really. And he liked easy.
"I don't think giving it alcohol's a good idea. It's color sense is bad enough sometimes." Only sometimes, since he actually has a pretty good relationship with the box. But it suits his conversational purposes, so he runs with it, eyes bright as he leans his shoulders against the side of the elevator, not bothering to hide the way he's looking at Josh. "I could be talked into having a few with you, though."
"Oh, man, can you imagine it after a few shots of tequila?" He winced. "Painful." He smiled, glancing away, somehow shy. Dick wasn't ever shy about his intentions, but as Josh warmed up to them more and more, he got more and more nervous. He licked his lips, glancing back at Dick. "A few drinks wouldn't be bad." He paused, smiling. "What's your poison?"
"Tequila might just make it mean." Dick shudders, then nudges Josh's instep with his toe. More rubs it than nudges it, then glances up to meet his gaze again, expression smoldering. "Decent but not good beer. Guinness, which isn't beer. Lagavulin, Oban, or JW Blue. Perrier Jouet Belle Epoque. Just about any earthy red." The smile shifts, softly wicked and slightly wry. "Nothing in ready supply--except someone to share it with."
Josh kept his eyes on Dick, beyond conscious of the contact at his feet. He opened his mouth to say something when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. His mouth snapped shut and he hauled the bag up and out the door, headed for the laundry room.
Shaking his head, he follows Josh out of the elevator, passing him to hop up onto one of the dryers and rest on his hands flat against the top just behind his hips. He watches, attention obvious but not aggressive. One minute open and inviting, the next closed-down or fluttery, Josh is a puzzle. Dick likes puzzles. "I told you mine. Now tell me yours," he asks, the slightest hint of playful sing-song in his tone.
Josh had dumped the bag by a washer and was unloading clothes into it. Thankfully, though it felt like it weighed a ton, it looked like it would fit in one load. "Hmm." He loaded the last of the dirty shirts and pajamas and trousers into the machine, dumping in some detergent and turning it on. He turned, pushing himself onto the washer (conveniently across from Dick) and leaning his forearms on his knees. "Beer. Whiskey. The usual." He lowered his chin, eyebrows raised, mouth curled in a smirk. He liked making Dick work for it.
And now Josh is playing with him. Not playing him, Dick's sure of that. Josh's reactions are too all over the map to be disingenuous. Educated guess: Josh's job requires as much thinking on his feet as Dick's and a lot of trying to stay ahead of the curve. He does it instinctively with Dick, working to keep control. "Vague." As tempting as it is to hop down and cozy up between Josh's knees - and it is tempting, since he's pretty sure if he does, Josh won't stop him from tangling his fingers into that always messy hair and kissing him breathless...oh, yeah, it's tempting - he leans back a little, opening his posture (and his knees, sue him), to invite Josh toward him. "How am I supposed to get you exactly the right drink with only that for guidance?"
Of course, he could just spy on Josh at the Hub or island parties and learn like he did with the coffee. And he will.
"Well, if I'm only having one or two, it won't matter what kind it is, will it?" His eyes were dark, intentional. He had noticed Dick relaxing (yeah, relaxing) with a glance, smile creeping across his face.
"Au contraire," Dick answers, head tilting just enough that his bangs - grown too long, but Monet, Tim, and Roy like them - feather over his eyes and soften the intensity of his gaze. "Maybe the second drink doesn't matter, but the first--" A tiny pause, slight emphasis, suggestive of firsts beyond first drinks. "--should always be significant. Memorable."
Josh snorted out a laugh. "I suppose, probably." He shrugged. "I'm so out of practice, I'm lucky if I remember that I'm supposed to buy someone a drink at all." He pushed off his knees, shaking his head, smile crooked and growing sly. "I just follow my gut."
"Lucky for you we don't have to buy drinks here at all." Dick grins, charmed and charming. The puzzle that is Josh Lyman gets more interesting by the second. "So," he says after a significant pause, but not too significant, in which he points his toes down and then stretches them back up, and reaches across - boyish - to nudge Josh in the knee with his toe. "Where's your gut leading now?"
Josh rolled his eyes, grin widening. "Nowhere, actually." He paused, pursing his lips and cocking his head to the side. "My gut is telling me to stay right here." He pushed his knee out, against Dick's toe, his legs spreading a bit, an echo to Dick's stance.
Laughing, Dick lifts his hand to push his hair out of his eyes and just look at Josh for a minute. "Maybe," he says when his mouth stops twitching with laughter. "I should've asked where your gut is leading me."
Josh grinned wide, shaking his head. "You could've asked that." He pursed his lips, chin tucked in and an eyebrow arched. "I don't know how much that would have told you, though." He looked down at the floor for a minute, biting his lower lip. Jesus, way to be a twelve year old girl, Josh. Man up. He shook his head, grinning up at Dick. "My gut is leading you exactly where I want it to." He shrugged, grin still in place. "I'm just not telling where that is. Yet."
"Any chance it's leading us back into the elevator?" Nerves again from Josh, and Dick moves to put him out of his misery. He pushes off from the washer, body arcing through space to land lightly in front of Josh. Curling one hand around each of Josh's knees, he tugs him forward, just a little and drops his voice. "As dumb as it is, I seriously miss them." And elevators make great places for first, heated kisses. Then again, so do washing machines. He's not picky.
Josh watches Dick move, his body lithe and strong. He smiled at him for a moment before Dick grips his knees, pulling him forward. His breath hitched, jaw dropping open as he stared at Dick. "Really?" Josh's voice is an even, low, rumble; he's mostly just glad he didn't squeak like a girl. "Elevators?" He glanced down to let his eyes graze over Dick. "I took you for more of a dark back rooms and rooftops kind of guy." Dick wanted it, and Josh knew it. Hell, Josh wanted it, but he liked letting Dick come to him.
"I'm an equal opportunity kind of guy, but if we're talking preferences, beds under skylights in the morning sun or moonlight do for me." His bright blue gaze holds steady, pooling dark, while his thumbs rub intimate circles against the inside of Josh's knees before skimming higher toward his hips. "But anything that sounds like a city here is a serious aphrodisiac." He lets the word hang there, the first open acknowledgment of interest between them and waits for Josh to yield enough to touch him. Consent consent consent. The line between seduction and coercion stretches taut between them; he needs to see Josh cross to the good side.
Josh is leaning back on his hands, his legs burning where Dick's hands are near his knees, the contact hot and surprising, still. He smiled, caught in Dick's gaze as he smirked softly. "Beds are nice. Comfortable. Plenty of room for..." He trailed off, shrugging. "Extracurricular activities." His eyes twinkled, and he pulled in a deep breath. Mean it, Josh. Own up to it.
"City, mmm?" He pushed off his hands, closing the distance so he and Dick were inches apart, sharing breath, and slid his hands up to cover Dick's on his thighs. "You ever been to the roof of this place? Concrete and metal, all the way up." He paused, dimples deep. "And my hut isn't exactly urban, but it's got a bed." There it was. Not a suggestion, yet. But a reminder. That one day, though maybe not tonight, Dick would be seeing it.
"City boy," Dick agrees, breathing going soft and quiet, time slowing the way it does in the seconds before a kiss. The consent he was looking for he's got, hand-delivered, and something like a promise besides. He tilts his head just enough, brushing his mouth over Josh's so gently it might be an accident except that it's not, it's a seduction, a whisper across silk sheets in a penthouse apartment. "I've been to the roof. I like high places."
He kissed back, soft and quick, could almost miss it. His lips quirked into a smile, leaning in for another quick kiss. "Mmmm, really." He grinned, biting his lower lip before pushing forward for another kiss, just a little deeper. "The roof it is, then."
* * *
They'd kissed and flirted and talked about the roof, and when it finally came down to it, Josh still was kind of surprised it was happening to begin with. They'd parted ways after only a couple kisses, last time, and Josh wouldn't be averse to a little more than that this time around. This was just, plain, hot, fun, which he wasn't opposed to. Things with Donald had gotten serious quickly, and Josh was doing his best to avoid that here. Thankfully, Dick seemed to have the same thing in mind: fun, and lots of it.
He leaned against the edge of the roof wall, a hand smoothing down his black button down, picking a piece of lint away. They'd arranged to meet up on the roof just before sunset, and Josh had procured a bottle of something-or-other (palm wine? rum? he really wasn't sure) for them to share. Now all that was left was to wait.
Because he can and he's good at it, Dick has been watching since before Josh showed up, tucked behind the exit to the building against the wall. When Josh comes up and leans facing away from him, he turns silently, crouching to watch for another minute while his quarry neatens a black button down and turns a bottle of something around in his hands. Not nervous, Dick decides with a smile, just a little fussy. Like Tim. That makes him smile brighter as he flows off his perch to the door which he positions himself in front of before opening it and shutting it again with a deliberate click of door into frame.
"I still say you should've brought me roses." His voice dips into a soft purr, no pretenses this time, and no restraint either, as his arm curls around Josh's waist and his lips graze the back of his neck.
Josh shuddered at the breath on his neck, eyes sliding shut and leaning back to the touch. He opened his eyes reluctantly, smile crooked. "Roses are overrated. And unavailable." He raised his eyebrows, grinning, now. "Besides, booze gets us drunk. Which I heartily approve of."
"You're not saying you need to be drunk to enjoy me." He puts just the right amount of hurt into his tone. Enough to be playful without sounding sulky or needy. He backs it up by tilting his head to press his mouth against the corner of Josh's jaw. "I know you're not." He slides his hand up Josh's chest, leaning back enough to let Josh turn if he wants to, but Dick likes him right where he is.
"I'm really not," Josh breathes, a low rumble at the breath against his skin. He presses against the hand, letting his head roll toward the mouth at his neck, his eyes sliding closed again.
"I knew you weren't." The words don't matter. He could say anything. The heat in his whisper's all important, and the raw, shimmering heat between their faces when he leans around Josh to catch his mouth. A quiet kiss hello before his front hand makes short work of the top buttons of the shirt to slip beneath for skin and his other slides up into that curly, messy mop to tug Josh's head aside to give Dick access to his throat. He'll have a drink in a few minutes.
"Jeez-" He can't finish the word, instead moaning into Dick's mouth. Before he knows it, Dick has undone some buttons and he can feel his hand against his chest, hot. He goes with the tug at his hair, opening his neck up to Dick's lips, pulling in a hot breath. At this rate, I didn't need to wear clothes, let alone bring wine. He dragged his eyes open and pushed away from Dick, turning to press a kiss to his lips. He pulled back, and pressing his lips together softly. He huffed out a breath, smiling crookedly. "Wine?"
Laughing brightly at the easy heat, Dick hops up on the edge of the roof. He reaches out for the bottle, curves his fingers around Josh's wrist, caressing, before he takes the wine. "Thanks." Opening it, he hands it back to Josh. "What should we drink to?" While he waits for an answer, he walks the ledge like a tightrope and does several effortless aerial walkovers in a row without touching down with his hands.
Josh's eyes grew wide. "The fact that you're not dead." He followed along with Dick, eyes glued to him. "Jesus, Dick."
"You can take the boy out of the circus..." Dick grins, pivots at the end of the ledge, pops two more aerials for the fun of it, and then starts a third into a one armed handstand which he holds for thirty seconds before adding the second hand and piking his legs around and through to leave him sitting on the ledge in front of Josh. Reaching out with both legs, quick, he wraps them around Josh's hips and pulls him in. "I'm definitely not dead."
Dick had been a tumbler in the circus? He watched him spinning gracefully, his body perfectly in time, tensed and precise. Hmmm. Flexible. He blinked for a moment before taking a swig from the bottle in his hand.
A smile spread across Josh's face, watching Dick's antics, before being pulled toward him. He smiled, eyes twinkling. "Thank goodness. That would made for a more depressing night." He transferred the bottle to his left hand, and looked down at his right one, a forlorn look on his face. "Just you and me, old pal." Crude, yes. But it was Josh, after all.
If Dick had fallen from the roof, even if he hadn't died, Josh wouldn't have been spending a pleasant evening alone with Rosy Palm. No matter how stupid they could be when the inspiration struck them, the Titans and Exiles would never believe he'd 'fallen'. They'd have launched a full out inquisition to find whoever was responsible and see him punished. Probably Tim and Roy would take the punishing on themselves and-- Way to delve into depressing thoughts in the middle of a date there, Grayson he chides himself and covers seamlessly by lacing his fingers into Josh's right hand and taking the bottle with his left.
He drinks a slow sip before saying anything at all. When he does, he licks over his mouth to catch the last drop of the wine - if you could call it that - then says, "I don't think you'll have to worry about that tonight."
Josh lets their hands twine together, smile crooked. He watched Dick take the sip, eyes tracing the movements of his mouth. His smile widened, eyes twinkling. "Really? Sounds like a promise, Grayson." He stepped forward, unlacing his fingers from Dick's to take the bottle, and pull a long sip himself.
His eyes sparkle back, dying rays of the sun catching off glossy black hair to tinge the smile wicked in all the best ways. He watches Josh, making no bones about the way his gaze lingers on his mouth and his fingers, and when he's done swallowing, Dick steps up again, curls his hand around the back of Josh's neck and traps the bottle between them. "Offer and acceptance. If we've reached accord, we can get to work on satisfaction."
Josh smiled crookedly at the man now comfortably settled his personal space. "You really don't mess around, do you?" He curled his hips just a bit, a tiny movement, a little pressure. He bit his lower lip, glancing up at Dick. "I can appreciate that."
"I like to play, but I don't really do casual," Dick tells him, letting the heat build and stretch between them, and moves his mouth within kissing distance but not kissing. "If you want to sit and talk and flirt, that works for me, but I know what we both want, and I'd just as soon start doing it so we can take our time about it." His lips curve, almost caressing Josh's. "Doesn't mean we can't talk and flirt while we're at it."
Josh's mouth falls open as Dick steps up, sharing space. His eyes graze his face, hungrily, distracted by the mouth only inches away. "You talk a good argument. Have you ever considered being a politician?" Before Dick can say anything, Josh's mouth is on his, his hand drifting up Dick's neck and burying his fingers in his hair.
Since they met with Dick giving a council speech, laughter wells up, warm and sweet, bubbling over like a Zesti left too long in a car in the sun. God, he misses those simple, stupid things, getting into the Redbird with Tim or onto his bike and having somewhere to go, lines at coffee shops, elevators. Part of him knows what he's doing with Josh is a stand-in for all of the things he doesn't have, but the feelings, Josh finally committing his body to the path his mind decided on over a month ago, the welcoming tilt of his head and cant of his hips to rub his cock along the line of Josh's, those things are real.
A rooftop date to culminate a long flirtation. It's not quite cat-and-mouse with a new cape, recruiting a new teammate, solving a mystery, but the satisfaction's the same. The gain of trust and affection's the same. And like coffee guy in Manhattan, it makes life on the island richer, more textured, worth having.
I miss Manhattan. I miss buildings I can't see the top of from the ground. Papaya King hot dogs. The little Chinese place with no name and the best mu shu you ever tasted. Tandoori Palace. Sawadee Thai.
The rumble of the subway. Swearing in fifty different languages. Cab drivers shaking their rolled up newspapers or cursing pedestrians out their windows in the middle of a busy street.
People. My people. Not my team, even though I miss them and the JSA too. But the kids at Bones. Deb, but not as much as I should. The kids on the street corners who stand up straighter when Nightwing passes by. The gangs that have taken to protecting their neighborhoods instead of destroying them. The staff at the Cloisters...
Rockefeller Center, and ice-skating. Broadway and the Met. All the things I never had time for at home but were there in the background, a part of me.
I miss the way the guy you see at the coffee shop on the way to work, you know the one, with the triple non-fat caramel latte extra shot extra hot no whip to go, becomes a guy you smile at, then maybe you buy him a cup and get his name, and it turns out that he works next to the museum and you both like Thai and epic love stories (even though Roy mocks you for them), and you agree to meet for lunch.
Probably nothing comes of it, because you're Bruce Wayne's heir and you have to think about these things, but it might. It doesn't have to because it's the way it fits into the flow of life that makes it worth doing as much as Coffee Guy himself.
Yeah. I miss Manhattan. I miss my life.
Dick sulks at the coffee maker while it brews, plain coffee, hold the frou. He's never been a fan of syrups and sugars and creams - Bruce raised him - but it'd be nice to have the option. Or Coffee Guy to flirt with while he waits.
Instead of watching it, Dick leans his shoulders against the wall, kicks his feet out in front of him crossed at the ankles, and crosses his arms over his chest. People filter in and out of the kitchen and he smiles lazily, hoping he'll be Coffee Guy for one of them. He's not. He knows them all already.
It was too early for human life, really, if Josh had anything to say about it, except it really wasn't, he was just complaining. He had gotten into his own routine, and part of that was pulling himself out of bed sometime before noon. After turning himself nearly nocturnal in the first month from oversleep, he promised himself he wouldn't be quite so much of an idiot and rejoined the ranks of humanity. Or so he told himself.
He'd showered (it helped with the appearing-like-humanity part) and threw on jeans, a tee shirt, and a v-neck sweater; since it had turned somewhat frigid, he'd added the last to his wardrobe. He shuffled into the kitchen to the pure and utter joy of someone having already started the coffee. "Coffee? Really?" He turned with a smile, recognizing the figure leaning against the wall. "You shouldn't have." His eyes twinkled, only a little mischievous.
Josh. Dick's smile deepens, less lazy, more smoldering, while he looks him over. Messy, damp curls, lived-in face and eyes, and that great smile. Yeah, Josh could've been Coffee Guy. Maybe he likes epic love stories and Thai.
Dick arches out of his lean to pour two cups without answering him, then doctors Josh's with the equivalent of two and a half sugar packets. Gaze dipping to touch his mouth - their flirtation's a little more advanced than Coffee Guy smiles and mouthed 'hi' from opposite ends of the line, he offers the cup at full extension of his forearm and purrs, "Oh, no. I definitely should have."
"Just sug--" Josh opened his mouth as Dick turned to pour the coffee, but he'd already reached for the sugar. Josh smiled widely, eyes twinkling as he took the mug. I definitely should have. His smile deepened, dimples showing. Damn. Josh wasn't clueless. Not totally, at least. But this was definitely flirting. He took a long pull on the coffee, lips curling into a smile as he pulled away, leaning against the table.
"How'd you know?" Dick had known just how to make it. Just sugar (two, maybe three), and no milk. Bittersweet.
Hm. Dick has about three seconds to decide whether Josh is short-seduction or long. He takes a slow sip of coffee, watching Josh intently over the mug. Instinct tells him 'long' before his mind parses the cues that back it up: lean invites the look, smile says yeah go ahead, dimples say oh hell yeah, but he moved away not toward and instead of turning Dick's knowledge of his coffee habits into the obvious flirtation, he went for intellectual curiosity.
"I make it a point to learn what makes people smile," Dick answers, recalling for Josh how they met after his election speech, but he doesn't pause to sit. His fingers brush Josh's elbow and bicep on his way by; he makes deliberate eye contact, smiles bright, then disappears into the hall before Josh can answer. When he turns the corner and he's out of sight, he grins and takes another slug of coffee before hurrying off to the gym.
* * *
It was just after midnight, and Josh couldn't sleep. He'd tried quiet music, meditation, counting sheep... He just couldn't. He could probably blame the two hour nap he'd taken just after dinner, but instead he felt like muttering to himself grumpily for a half hour or so before getting up. With no one else to blame, at least he could bitch about being up, instead of laying in bed. He threw on some shorts and a tee shirt, heading down to the beach, his stride hitting a strong jog. He got a few miles up the beach and slowed down again, his tee shirt nearly soaked through with sweat in the late night heat. He took a break, bent over and nearly wheezing for a moment. He pulled his shirt off over his head, wiping the sweat off his face before tucking it into the back of his shorts and heading back up the beach, his gait strong and sure.
He finally came to a stop back near the end of the path, somewhere between the Pyramid Court and Serenity, dropping into the sand, catching his breath and grinning out at the dark, black, ocean. His knees were bent in front of him, his elbows resting on them and his hands dropped between his legs. His body was tight, strong, well-used. It felt good.
They're out late on patrol, having been waylaid by a family of monkeys interested in their human counterparts swinging through the trees. He and Tim stopped to play tag, so they're laughing and smiling behind their masks when they catch sight of a lone figure running on the beach. They hush instantly and move past, close enough for Dick to identify the runner as his erstwhile coffee guy but not close enough for Nightwing and Robin to be spotted. He drops Tim back at the Treehouse, kisses him goodnight after sponging off, and tells him he'll be to bed in awhile if Tim wants to sleep in his, and if not, they'll make up for it tomorrow.
Tim nods and blinks sleepily while Dick pulls on sweat shorts, a T and sneakers, then tumbles into bed. Dick tumbles out of the Treehouse, heads closer in by treetop express, and runs flat out to where he projects Josh could be. Turns out he's right, and when he sees him, Dick drops into an easy lope then handsprings the last bit of the distance and slides gracefully into the sand next to Josh, sweaty again and a little sleepy, but barely breathing hard. "Moonlit walk on the beach, for me?" he asks, bright tease in his voice for the deliberate callback to the coffee. "You shouldn't have."
Josh's eyebrows shoot up as the figure slides in next to him, pulling in a breath of somewhat belated surprise. When he recognizes him he relaxes, smiling wide. "Yeah?" His lips twitch a bit, smile widening. "Maybe I should have." Leave it at that. Easy, quick. Evasive but flirty. God, why is this so easy?
"Just maybe?" Dick's voice drops low and takes on a hint of a purr to answer the smile and the flirtation. It's tempting to roll to his back in the sand, stare up at the stars and see if Josh will make the next move, but he's not ready for it - Josh isn't. Close. Very close. Instead, Dick pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them, but stays open and loose. Casual, not closed off. He could add a quip about wine and roses, but he's more interested in how Josh responds than in being cute.
He was staring at Dick, eyes locked on him. He can't miss the purr or the smile, both hitting him low in his gut. "Okay," He purrs back, eyes locked on Dick before he licked his lips softly. "I definitely should have." He leaned back on his palms, first the one close to Dick, bringing them even closer, and then the other; he stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He'd lost some of his donut-weight since he got stuck here; between the lack of pizza and beer and having to walk everywhere, he'd slimmed out even more.
Dick decided weeks ago he wants to Josh when the time was right, and it had nothing to do with the toned-up civilian-body, or even the curls that begged for his fingers, or the mouth that would look damned good wrapped around him. It's the crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiles, the light in them, and the clever mind. But it'd be rude not to look when Josh is offering, so he does, lets his gaze skim obviously over the body offered up for his attention, then locks it with Josh's again before rolling down onto his side, propped up on his elbow and body stretched long and lean across the sand. "Next time, wine and roses," he quips this time, because he can, then grins, the charming Grayson grin.
He watched Dick take the slow graze down his body, suddenly even more aware that he was without a shirt. He'd realized it when he laid back, but now he realized just how sexual it could be. Damn. "How about moonshine and sand, instead? S'all I got." He flashed back with a grin of his own, trademark dimples and all.
"Mmm." It's a thoughtful sound, not dubious, but definitely skeptical. He's easy when it suits him and his partners, but easy doesn't suit Josh. Josh needs - Dick tilts his head a little to consider him, draws effusive swirls in the sand - the comfort of familiar patterns and the allure of the forbidden wrapped up in them. "Coffee and conversation." His fingertips dance out across the edge of Josh's hand, then deliberately trace the whole of it, leaving an imprint in the sand. "And chance meetings in the elevator. Or the shower."
Josh nodded, eyes drifting down to Dick's fingers in the sand. A smile played on his lips and he glanced up at the other man softly, head still tilted down. He pulled in a quick breath as he felt the sand against his skin, his eyes darting back down to watch Dick's fingers. "Coffee, sure." He lifted his chin finally, his head tilting to look at Dick thoughtfully, an easy smile on his lips. "But I don't think we have an elevator." He paused, catching Dick's eye. "We do have a shower."
"It's too bad about the elevator." Crowding Josh up against the back wall and talking over his mouth without doing anything would be a lot of fun. He smiles, wicked, bright blue eyes catching the gleam of moonlight off the ocean, and the shadows gathering around him like old friends as he pushes up to his feet. "Some of us have to sleep." The irony makes his smile that much more wicked as he brushes the sand off his ass. "See you for coffee..." He pauses, then offers a hand down, if Josh is getting up. "Or a shower, in the morning."
Josh takes the hand, suddenly feeling like his insomnia would be cured. "I was out here because I couldn't sleep." He paused, cocking his head to the side with a sassy curve to his mouth. "Maybe the next time you don't have a curfew we could not sleep together." He paused. "Over coffee." He full-out grinned, shaking his head and letting it roll back a bit, smiling. "See you." He didn't say when, but he was planning to hit the compound the next day for a shower, so... Who knows, right?
* * *
He has absolutely no reason to be in the elevator. Absolutely no legitimate reason to be in the elevator. As dumb as it is, he misses them. The Cave. Titans Tower. The Clocktower. His apartment building in Manhattan. They all have elevators, he misses home, so he's taking his fourth pointless ride of the afternoon. If he keeps it up long enough maybe someone will show up to flirt with.
Josh was heading for the laundry room, and he'd usually take the stairs, but it had been a while, so he had what could only be described as a MOUNTAIN of laundry; after he'd moved out, he'd managed to dig a laundry bag out of the clothes box; after it had first given him a slew of pink ones, with butterflies and rainbows, of course, it had consented to give him a plain blue denim bag to stash his clothes. He lugged it in from his hut, dropping it in the hallway and hit the button next to the elevator; this sucker weighed a TON, and there was no way he was going to throw out his back going down those stairs.
The elevator pings. The door opens on Josh, curls mussed and lugging what looks like a workout in a bag. Dick smiles, lips curving an unrestrained and graceful arc, eyes bright blue under dark lashes. Josh is the perfect person to share a pointless elevator ride with. "Hi." If it's possible to purr cheerfully, he's just done it. "Need a hand with...anything?"
Josh blinks up at Dick with a surprised look, his mouth a tiny 'o' of confusion. "Oh-" He said, fiddling with the ties for a moment before straightening up. "Hi." He paused, hand reaching up to scratch behind his ear. "No, ah. I think I've got it. I just need to get this downstairs before it gets its own zip code."
Now he wishes the Compound had about 100 more floors between here and the laundry. He steps to the side to let Josh in, fingers on the buttons. "I'm just heading down there myself. Date with the clothing box." His smile curls like a wisp of steam off hot chocolate, hot and lazy and seductive. "But you're much better company."
Josh shoved the bag into the elevator with a soft grunt, kicking it all the way in and stepping beside it. "Sounds awesome." He grinned softly. "Taking it out somewhere nice? Owe it a couple drinks??" It was easy, really. And he liked easy.
"I don't think giving it alcohol's a good idea. It's color sense is bad enough sometimes." Only sometimes, since he actually has a pretty good relationship with the box. But it suits his conversational purposes, so he runs with it, eyes bright as he leans his shoulders against the side of the elevator, not bothering to hide the way he's looking at Josh. "I could be talked into having a few with you, though."
"Oh, man, can you imagine it after a few shots of tequila?" He winced. "Painful." He smiled, glancing away, somehow shy. Dick wasn't ever shy about his intentions, but as Josh warmed up to them more and more, he got more and more nervous. He licked his lips, glancing back at Dick. "A few drinks wouldn't be bad." He paused, smiling. "What's your poison?"
"Tequila might just make it mean." Dick shudders, then nudges Josh's instep with his toe. More rubs it than nudges it, then glances up to meet his gaze again, expression smoldering. "Decent but not good beer. Guinness, which isn't beer. Lagavulin, Oban, or JW Blue. Perrier Jouet Belle Epoque. Just about any earthy red." The smile shifts, softly wicked and slightly wry. "Nothing in ready supply--except someone to share it with."
Josh kept his eyes on Dick, beyond conscious of the contact at his feet. He opened his mouth to say something when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. His mouth snapped shut and he hauled the bag up and out the door, headed for the laundry room.
Shaking his head, he follows Josh out of the elevator, passing him to hop up onto one of the dryers and rest on his hands flat against the top just behind his hips. He watches, attention obvious but not aggressive. One minute open and inviting, the next closed-down or fluttery, Josh is a puzzle. Dick likes puzzles. "I told you mine. Now tell me yours," he asks, the slightest hint of playful sing-song in his tone.
Josh had dumped the bag by a washer and was unloading clothes into it. Thankfully, though it felt like it weighed a ton, it looked like it would fit in one load. "Hmm." He loaded the last of the dirty shirts and pajamas and trousers into the machine, dumping in some detergent and turning it on. He turned, pushing himself onto the washer (conveniently across from Dick) and leaning his forearms on his knees. "Beer. Whiskey. The usual." He lowered his chin, eyebrows raised, mouth curled in a smirk. He liked making Dick work for it.
And now Josh is playing with him. Not playing him, Dick's sure of that. Josh's reactions are too all over the map to be disingenuous. Educated guess: Josh's job requires as much thinking on his feet as Dick's and a lot of trying to stay ahead of the curve. He does it instinctively with Dick, working to keep control. "Vague." As tempting as it is to hop down and cozy up between Josh's knees - and it is tempting, since he's pretty sure if he does, Josh won't stop him from tangling his fingers into that always messy hair and kissing him breathless...oh, yeah, it's tempting - he leans back a little, opening his posture (and his knees, sue him), to invite Josh toward him. "How am I supposed to get you exactly the right drink with only that for guidance?"
Of course, he could just spy on Josh at the Hub or island parties and learn like he did with the coffee. And he will.
"Well, if I'm only having one or two, it won't matter what kind it is, will it?" His eyes were dark, intentional. He had noticed Dick relaxing (yeah, relaxing) with a glance, smile creeping across his face.
"Au contraire," Dick answers, head tilting just enough that his bangs - grown too long, but Monet, Tim, and Roy like them - feather over his eyes and soften the intensity of his gaze. "Maybe the second drink doesn't matter, but the first--" A tiny pause, slight emphasis, suggestive of firsts beyond first drinks. "--should always be significant. Memorable."
Josh snorted out a laugh. "I suppose, probably." He shrugged. "I'm so out of practice, I'm lucky if I remember that I'm supposed to buy someone a drink at all." He pushed off his knees, shaking his head, smile crooked and growing sly. "I just follow my gut."
"Lucky for you we don't have to buy drinks here at all." Dick grins, charmed and charming. The puzzle that is Josh Lyman gets more interesting by the second. "So," he says after a significant pause, but not too significant, in which he points his toes down and then stretches them back up, and reaches across - boyish - to nudge Josh in the knee with his toe. "Where's your gut leading now?"
Josh rolled his eyes, grin widening. "Nowhere, actually." He paused, pursing his lips and cocking his head to the side. "My gut is telling me to stay right here." He pushed his knee out, against Dick's toe, his legs spreading a bit, an echo to Dick's stance.
Laughing, Dick lifts his hand to push his hair out of his eyes and just look at Josh for a minute. "Maybe," he says when his mouth stops twitching with laughter. "I should've asked where your gut is leading me."
Josh grinned wide, shaking his head. "You could've asked that." He pursed his lips, chin tucked in and an eyebrow arched. "I don't know how much that would have told you, though." He looked down at the floor for a minute, biting his lower lip. Jesus, way to be a twelve year old girl, Josh. Man up. He shook his head, grinning up at Dick. "My gut is leading you exactly where I want it to." He shrugged, grin still in place. "I'm just not telling where that is. Yet."
"Any chance it's leading us back into the elevator?" Nerves again from Josh, and Dick moves to put him out of his misery. He pushes off from the washer, body arcing through space to land lightly in front of Josh. Curling one hand around each of Josh's knees, he tugs him forward, just a little and drops his voice. "As dumb as it is, I seriously miss them." And elevators make great places for first, heated kisses. Then again, so do washing machines. He's not picky.
Josh watches Dick move, his body lithe and strong. He smiled at him for a moment before Dick grips his knees, pulling him forward. His breath hitched, jaw dropping open as he stared at Dick. "Really?" Josh's voice is an even, low, rumble; he's mostly just glad he didn't squeak like a girl. "Elevators?" He glanced down to let his eyes graze over Dick. "I took you for more of a dark back rooms and rooftops kind of guy." Dick wanted it, and Josh knew it. Hell, Josh wanted it, but he liked letting Dick come to him.
"I'm an equal opportunity kind of guy, but if we're talking preferences, beds under skylights in the morning sun or moonlight do for me." His bright blue gaze holds steady, pooling dark, while his thumbs rub intimate circles against the inside of Josh's knees before skimming higher toward his hips. "But anything that sounds like a city here is a serious aphrodisiac." He lets the word hang there, the first open acknowledgment of interest between them and waits for Josh to yield enough to touch him. Consent consent consent. The line between seduction and coercion stretches taut between them; he needs to see Josh cross to the good side.
Josh is leaning back on his hands, his legs burning where Dick's hands are near his knees, the contact hot and surprising, still. He smiled, caught in Dick's gaze as he smirked softly. "Beds are nice. Comfortable. Plenty of room for..." He trailed off, shrugging. "Extracurricular activities." His eyes twinkled, and he pulled in a deep breath. Mean it, Josh. Own up to it.
"City, mmm?" He pushed off his hands, closing the distance so he and Dick were inches apart, sharing breath, and slid his hands up to cover Dick's on his thighs. "You ever been to the roof of this place? Concrete and metal, all the way up." He paused, dimples deep. "And my hut isn't exactly urban, but it's got a bed." There it was. Not a suggestion, yet. But a reminder. That one day, though maybe not tonight, Dick would be seeing it.
"City boy," Dick agrees, breathing going soft and quiet, time slowing the way it does in the seconds before a kiss. The consent he was looking for he's got, hand-delivered, and something like a promise besides. He tilts his head just enough, brushing his mouth over Josh's so gently it might be an accident except that it's not, it's a seduction, a whisper across silk sheets in a penthouse apartment. "I've been to the roof. I like high places."
He kissed back, soft and quick, could almost miss it. His lips quirked into a smile, leaning in for another quick kiss. "Mmmm, really." He grinned, biting his lower lip before pushing forward for another kiss, just a little deeper. "The roof it is, then."
* * *
They'd kissed and flirted and talked about the roof, and when it finally came down to it, Josh still was kind of surprised it was happening to begin with. They'd parted ways after only a couple kisses, last time, and Josh wouldn't be averse to a little more than that this time around. This was just, plain, hot, fun, which he wasn't opposed to. Things with Donald had gotten serious quickly, and Josh was doing his best to avoid that here. Thankfully, Dick seemed to have the same thing in mind: fun, and lots of it.
He leaned against the edge of the roof wall, a hand smoothing down his black button down, picking a piece of lint away. They'd arranged to meet up on the roof just before sunset, and Josh had procured a bottle of something-or-other (palm wine? rum? he really wasn't sure) for them to share. Now all that was left was to wait.
Because he can and he's good at it, Dick has been watching since before Josh showed up, tucked behind the exit to the building against the wall. When Josh comes up and leans facing away from him, he turns silently, crouching to watch for another minute while his quarry neatens a black button down and turns a bottle of something around in his hands. Not nervous, Dick decides with a smile, just a little fussy. Like Tim. That makes him smile brighter as he flows off his perch to the door which he positions himself in front of before opening it and shutting it again with a deliberate click of door into frame.
"I still say you should've brought me roses." His voice dips into a soft purr, no pretenses this time, and no restraint either, as his arm curls around Josh's waist and his lips graze the back of his neck.
Josh shuddered at the breath on his neck, eyes sliding shut and leaning back to the touch. He opened his eyes reluctantly, smile crooked. "Roses are overrated. And unavailable." He raised his eyebrows, grinning, now. "Besides, booze gets us drunk. Which I heartily approve of."
"You're not saying you need to be drunk to enjoy me." He puts just the right amount of hurt into his tone. Enough to be playful without sounding sulky or needy. He backs it up by tilting his head to press his mouth against the corner of Josh's jaw. "I know you're not." He slides his hand up Josh's chest, leaning back enough to let Josh turn if he wants to, but Dick likes him right where he is.
"I'm really not," Josh breathes, a low rumble at the breath against his skin. He presses against the hand, letting his head roll toward the mouth at his neck, his eyes sliding closed again.
"I knew you weren't." The words don't matter. He could say anything. The heat in his whisper's all important, and the raw, shimmering heat between their faces when he leans around Josh to catch his mouth. A quiet kiss hello before his front hand makes short work of the top buttons of the shirt to slip beneath for skin and his other slides up into that curly, messy mop to tug Josh's head aside to give Dick access to his throat. He'll have a drink in a few minutes.
"Jeez-" He can't finish the word, instead moaning into Dick's mouth. Before he knows it, Dick has undone some buttons and he can feel his hand against his chest, hot. He goes with the tug at his hair, opening his neck up to Dick's lips, pulling in a hot breath. At this rate, I didn't need to wear clothes, let alone bring wine. He dragged his eyes open and pushed away from Dick, turning to press a kiss to his lips. He pulled back, and pressing his lips together softly. He huffed out a breath, smiling crookedly. "Wine?"
Laughing brightly at the easy heat, Dick hops up on the edge of the roof. He reaches out for the bottle, curves his fingers around Josh's wrist, caressing, before he takes the wine. "Thanks." Opening it, he hands it back to Josh. "What should we drink to?" While he waits for an answer, he walks the ledge like a tightrope and does several effortless aerial walkovers in a row without touching down with his hands.
Josh's eyes grew wide. "The fact that you're not dead." He followed along with Dick, eyes glued to him. "Jesus, Dick."
"You can take the boy out of the circus..." Dick grins, pivots at the end of the ledge, pops two more aerials for the fun of it, and then starts a third into a one armed handstand which he holds for thirty seconds before adding the second hand and piking his legs around and through to leave him sitting on the ledge in front of Josh. Reaching out with both legs, quick, he wraps them around Josh's hips and pulls him in. "I'm definitely not dead."
Dick had been a tumbler in the circus? He watched him spinning gracefully, his body perfectly in time, tensed and precise. Hmmm. Flexible. He blinked for a moment before taking a swig from the bottle in his hand.
A smile spread across Josh's face, watching Dick's antics, before being pulled toward him. He smiled, eyes twinkling. "Thank goodness. That would made for a more depressing night." He transferred the bottle to his left hand, and looked down at his right one, a forlorn look on his face. "Just you and me, old pal." Crude, yes. But it was Josh, after all.
If Dick had fallen from the roof, even if he hadn't died, Josh wouldn't have been spending a pleasant evening alone with Rosy Palm. No matter how stupid they could be when the inspiration struck them, the Titans and Exiles would never believe he'd 'fallen'. They'd have launched a full out inquisition to find whoever was responsible and see him punished. Probably Tim and Roy would take the punishing on themselves and-- Way to delve into depressing thoughts in the middle of a date there, Grayson he chides himself and covers seamlessly by lacing his fingers into Josh's right hand and taking the bottle with his left.
He drinks a slow sip before saying anything at all. When he does, he licks over his mouth to catch the last drop of the wine - if you could call it that - then says, "I don't think you'll have to worry about that tonight."
Josh lets their hands twine together, smile crooked. He watched Dick take the sip, eyes tracing the movements of his mouth. His smile widened, eyes twinkling. "Really? Sounds like a promise, Grayson." He stepped forward, unlacing his fingers from Dick's to take the bottle, and pull a long sip himself.
His eyes sparkle back, dying rays of the sun catching off glossy black hair to tinge the smile wicked in all the best ways. He watches Josh, making no bones about the way his gaze lingers on his mouth and his fingers, and when he's done swallowing, Dick steps up again, curls his hand around the back of Josh's neck and traps the bottle between them. "Offer and acceptance. If we've reached accord, we can get to work on satisfaction."
Josh smiled crookedly at the man now comfortably settled his personal space. "You really don't mess around, do you?" He curled his hips just a bit, a tiny movement, a little pressure. He bit his lower lip, glancing up at Dick. "I can appreciate that."
"I like to play, but I don't really do casual," Dick tells him, letting the heat build and stretch between them, and moves his mouth within kissing distance but not kissing. "If you want to sit and talk and flirt, that works for me, but I know what we both want, and I'd just as soon start doing it so we can take our time about it." His lips curve, almost caressing Josh's. "Doesn't mean we can't talk and flirt while we're at it."
Josh's mouth falls open as Dick steps up, sharing space. His eyes graze his face, hungrily, distracted by the mouth only inches away. "You talk a good argument. Have you ever considered being a politician?" Before Dick can say anything, Josh's mouth is on his, his hand drifting up Dick's neck and burying his fingers in his hair.
Since they met with Dick giving a council speech, laughter wells up, warm and sweet, bubbling over like a Zesti left too long in a car in the sun. God, he misses those simple, stupid things, getting into the Redbird with Tim or onto his bike and having somewhere to go, lines at coffee shops, elevators. Part of him knows what he's doing with Josh is a stand-in for all of the things he doesn't have, but the feelings, Josh finally committing his body to the path his mind decided on over a month ago, the welcoming tilt of his head and cant of his hips to rub his cock along the line of Josh's, those things are real.
A rooftop date to culminate a long flirtation. It's not quite cat-and-mouse with a new cape, recruiting a new teammate, solving a mystery, but the satisfaction's the same. The gain of trust and affection's the same. And like coffee guy in Manhattan, it makes life on the island richer, more textured, worth having.