Cereta's Web: Aiding and Abetting I: Declaration of Intent

Aiding and Abetting I: Declaration of Intent
by Lucy Gillam

Batman studied the map of Gotham, torn between pride and impatience. The rebuilding would start today, under the auspices of Wayne Industries rather than LexCorp. It was a good plan, but the process would be long and arduous, and the people who were still in the city had little enough left to sustain them.

"We should make sure Lucius has appointed someone trustworthy to oversee the shelters," he said.

"Of course," Alfred replied. He cleared his throat in that impeccable way that always prefaced a suggestion. "If I might suggest, sir," he said right on cue, "perhaps it is time for Bruce Wayne to begin making more appearances in Gotham, rather than conducting business from afar? Suitable living quarters could be available on the manor grounds in a matter of weeks."

Batman frowned. "We shouldn't divert workers and materials from the rebuilding effort," he said. They had already begun work on the cave, of course, but that was another matter.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Admirable concern, but I should think the return of a Wayne to Gotham, and to Wayne Manor, would inspire some confidence in that rebuilding, perhaps incline others of your status to return as well. It would be a powerful symbol of Gotham's rebirth for a member of one of her oldest families to take up residence here again."

Batman felt his hands clenching into fists, and he forced them to stop. Alfred was right, of course, as he usually was about such things. Bruce Wayne would have to come back eventually, and they were at the point where he was almost more needed than Batman, a thought that caused Batman to grimace.

He told himself that his reluctance came solely from habit: he had gotten used to the freedom of being only Batman, without the necessity of Bruce Wayne's appearances and meetings and facades. He'd had to put the persona on, of course, in the negotiations to rebuild Gotham, but only to the extent of conference calls and emails. The thought of putting on his suits, last worn for those humiliating Congressional hearings and their aftermath, was suffocating.

That was the only cause of his reluctance.

"Of course," Alfred said, tact infusing every syllable, "you may wish to discuss the matter with young Mr. Grayson. Perhaps he will be needed to pick up the slack, as it were, while you are otherwise occupied?"

Of course. The greater the demands on Bruce Wayne's time, the less Batman would be available. Dick would be needed to deal with those evenings. For a while, anyway.

If he wanted to stay, now that the blockades had been lifted.

If he wanted to stay rather than leave to find Selina, rejoin her, be her partner again.

If he wanted to keep working with Batman until there was no longer a need.

Whenever that might be.

~~~

Dick knew as soon as he came back to the warehouse that something was different.

Batman was there alone, no sign of Alfred anywhere, and instead of marking the large map of Gotham, or listening to any of the news reports that were still coming in, he was in an entirely different corner of the warehouse, just looking at…well, nothing, really.

Dick swallowed. He had a pretty good idea what was coming.

Batman spoke first, without looking at him. "It's time for Bruce Wayne to come back to Gotham," he said. "He needs to be here for the rebuilding, needs to be visible. There can't be any chance of LexCorp getting back in."

Dick nodded. "That makes sense," he said. His voice was steady, but his head was swimming.

Bruce was going back to his life. Back to his dual identity, to being Bruce Wayne, upstanding citizen during the day, and Batman, defender of Gotham only at night. Back to being…whoever he was when Dick wasn't around.

Dick suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Okay, this is stupid, he told himself. He had a life to go back to, too. He'd only spoken to Selina once since Bruce revealed his identity, and thus the existence of a few working cell phones, but it wouldn't be hard to reach her again. He still had his cushion fund, and for that matter, the small stash he'd set aside right after the quake. He could go somewhere for a while. Someplace warm, maybe, with running water and cable TV.

Of course, he could have done that months ago.

It had been easy enough to explain, then, easy enough in the crisis to justify staying. What was there to explain it now?

"So, I guess you'll be spending a lot of time as Bruce Wayne, then," he said.

"Probably," Batman responded flatly.

"You'll be rebuilding your home, too, I suppose."

"Very likely."

Dick nodded slowly, trying to push down the panic that kept threatening to take over. "So I guess… I guess I have to figure out what to do next, too. I mean, you won't need me much longer."

He let the silence stretch for nearly a full minute, hoping desperately to be contradicted.

Batman said nothing.

Finally, Dick cleared his throat. "I don't think…" He could hear the desperation creeping into his voice, and he cleared his throat again. "I don't think I could go back to work here in Gotham, so to speak. I mean, not after… I wouldn't want that."

Still nothing.

"Or maybe I…I don't have to go back to doing what I was doing," he blurted out. "I could… We worked pretty well together."

Batman finally looked at him, and for one hopeful moment, Dick thought the man would speak, but...

Silence.

"Will you at least say something?" Dick finally demanded. "For ten years, you've been telling me I had other choices, and now that I finally want to make one, you act like you don't care." Dick raked his hand through his hair. "Do you even want me to stay?"

Batman still didn't speak, and Dick was just drawing breath to sigh when he slowly pushed the cowl back from his face. Even after nearly eight months of seeing Bruce Wayne's face, it still make Dick's heart jump when he did that.

Batman approached him unhurriedly, and briefly cupped Dick's face before sliding his hands back to lock in his hair. "I want you to stay," he said roughly, and then his mouth was on Dick's, kissing him with same intensity he had the first time, taking possession of him. He pressed them both backwards until Dick could feel the edge of the old workbench digging into his ass. He reached up to grab at Bruce's shoulders, unable to do anything more than hang on, not wanting to do anything else.

"I want you to stay with me," Bruce said against Dick's cheek as he moved down to his throat. He was no less aggressive there, and as he soothed one particularly hard point of suction with a kiss, Dick wondered giddily if he should point out that they didn't all have costumes that covered the neck, you know. And then Bruce's hands were moving down his back to find where the top and bottom of his costume met, and he no longer cared if anyone saw him with a hickey.

"I want you with me out there," Batman said as he slid his gloved hands up the back of Dick's shirt. "As much as it kills me to know you're in danger because of it, I want you by my side at night."

Dick tried to wrap a leg around Bruce's waist, only to have him firmly push it back down. Before he could protest, he was turned around and pulled back against Bruce's body, and Bruce's mouth was once again on his throat. His hands (in those gloves, God, those gloves) moved up Dick's chest under his shirt, stroking and pinching, one just lightly circling his navel, another sliding up to his throat.

Then Bruce's hands were gone for a brief moment, and he heard something hit the floor just before Bruce slid a bare hand down under his cup.

"Oh, shit," Dick sighed, reaching back to slide a hand into Bruce's hair, and thanking whoever might be listening for the arm around his waist keeping him steady. "Okay, maybe I believe you."

He felt Bruce smile against his throat, and then he was pushed forward over the table.

"I want you to stay with me in here, too," Bruce said as he slid Dick's costume down over his hips, "or wherever we rebuild. I want you," he said, and his voice was low and dark. He ran his hand over Dick's ass, then squeezed lightly before stepping back, only a few inches, but enough to leave Dick feeling exposed. Dick heard the unmistakable sound of Batman taking something from his belt and…

Oh. "Is there anything you don't carry in that?" he gasped as a slick finger slid into him.

Batman chuckled and leaned over him. "You never know what might come up," he said against Dick's ear, pausing to nip lightly at the lobe. He could feel the fabric of Batman's costume against his ass, the fabric just textured enough to provide fiction as he moved.

"Oh, God." Dick pushed back as Bruce added a second finger. "Tell me-- Oh, fuck, there, there --tell me you didn't just make a pun."

His only answer was another chuckle and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, and he really hoped that was Batman's belt, because if the man didn't get on with it, Dick was going to have to…

And then the fingers were gone, replaced by something larger and hotter entering him slowly, too slowly, and Dick pushed back impatiently and oh, God, that was it.

Bruce's hand was on him again, and he leaned forward so that he covered Dick entirely. "I want you to stay," he whispered as he began to move slowly and steadily.

"Almost convinced." Dick tried to change the rhythm, tried to get him to move faster, or harder, or something, but Batman only grasped his hip and held him still. "Oh, fuck," he groaned.

"Yes."

"God, I knew it was a mistake to work on your sense of humor."

Dick could feel Batman's cape draped around them, and Bruce was taking advantage of the increasing slickness of Dick's cock to work him faster. Dick grabbed the edge of the table and pushed himself back hard, twisting his hips as he did.

That earned him a very satisfying sound.

Bruce nuzzled his hair, and Dick could hear that his breath was as uneven as Dick's own, could feel his thrusts becoming less controlled.

"Bruce," he gasped. "I lo--" But he couldn't say it yet, couldn't risk Bruce freezing up and pulling away, and not just because what the man was doing with his hand was probably illegal in several states. He couldn't chance it now, when Bruce had finally said… "I want to stay," he said instead.

"Then stay," Bruce said, punctuating his words with his thrusts. "Stay with me. I need you to stay."

That one word, that one small change in what Batman said, was all it took, and Dick bit his lip as he came, not knowing what name would escape, not knowing if it mattered anymore, but unwilling to do anything that might ruin this.

Bruce's hands gripped his hips hard enough to bruise. He let out a groan that was the most uncontrolled thing Dick had ever heard from him, then let his weight fall on Dick's back.

After several long moments in which they both tried to regain their breath, Bruce carefully pulled away. Dick straightened, wincing a little as he pushed back from the table, but stayed with his back to Batman as they pulled their clothes into as much order as they could manage. Bruce would need a moment to collect himself, and Dick could afford to give him that. He was rubbing his neck to work out a slight kink when a gloved hand pushed his own away and began working at the muscle.

"Thanks." God, it felt good. After a moment, he turned to face Batman. The mask was back in place, the belt securely fastened, and unless someone got close enough to smell him, there was nothing about Batman's appearance to indicate he had been doing anything more than perhaps running after a crook. But still, Dick knew what he needed to know now, and not just because he'd been fucked within an inch of his life.

Dick smiled. "So," he said. "I guess this means you want me to stay." It wasn't a question. Bruce had asked him to stay, said he needed him to stay. There were a hundred other questions that would need to be answered, but not this one. Not anymore.