Chapter Thirteen

Dick woke up to the sound of pop music, a cheerful softly singing female voice, and the sounds of dishes being washed. He almost didn’t notice any of it though, so surprised by the fact that he actually felt well-rested, for the first time in…well, he would say days, but that’d be a lie. He had felt rested days ago, but he hadn’t felt well-rested in months at least.

However, almost meant that he did notice it, prompting a slow opening of eyes to take stock of whatever was happening, which is when he got his second surprise of the day, barely thirty seconds in. Someone, assumedly the woman washing his dishes, had also tidied the room, it appeared. Not total cleanliness, like when Jason or Alfred cleaned, but the washing was mostly thrown into the basket, and the trash was gathered in open bags near the door.

What the fuck happened yesterday-

Oh. Oh, shit.

Dick poked his head over the edge of the couch, taking in the scene on the other side in the kitchen. Harley Quinn was barefoot in jeans and a crop top in his kitchen, cleaning dishes whilst singing and dancing. What the fuck. What the fuck-

Her head turned a little bit and her eyes met his by accident mid-dance, then a huge smile overtook her face, “Bird-brain! Ya awake! C’mere, I made pancakes.”

Dick slowly made his way into the space she was working in, and silently sat down, confusion clouding everything. He had a brief moment of panic when he wasn't sure about whether he had a domino on, but the raising of his features in alarm was enough to tell him the glue was almost painfully stuck to his face still, even if the quick tap of fingertips didn't confirm it.

That still left… “You- you made pancakes.” His tone was odd, difficult to translate even to his own ear.

She didn't seem to notice, as she shook her hips lightly and finished washing the last plate, placing it on the rack, “Yup! Dunno if they'll be nice, but I tried!”

He blinked, desperately trying to get his brain in gear, “And, you washed my dishes…”

“Yepperoo!” She bounced from leg to leg as she dried her hands, sending her blonde pigtails bouncing. Then she made her way over to the fridge as she spoke, “I figured, why not? I'm here anyway, ain't I? Ya want strawberry or blueberries on top?”

And God as his witness, Dick's mind simply wasn't catching up with the blonde today. The logic wasn't linking action to knowledge today yet, so he said “Uh, strawberries…you tidied as well.”

“That's right!” She pulled out a plastic carton of strawberries and bumped the fridge closed with her hip as she turned to the table with them in hand, “No offense, but it was kinda a shithole, Nightie. I get that it's real hard to keep up with the little stuff sometimes, but ya gotta have some standards, hear me?”

He mutely nodded as she plated up an amazing-looking serving of pancakes, and the two of them ate them to the soundtrack of whatever pop music she was playing from her phone. It was really a sign of how thrown he was that it took him half of the meal to realise, as he ate a strawberry, that he didn't have any food. Definitely nothing fresh, so how… “You went and bought groceries?”

She grinned at him and raised a tidy eyebrow, “‘Course I did. Ya sure as heck didn't have food here, didja?”

Dick put his fork down with a little bit of ****, as he asked, “But why?”

The grin became a smirk as she replied, “Uh…because we needed it to make pancakes?”

“Not- I mean all of it! Why to all of it? Why would you tidy my place and feed me and clean and all that crap? It's a fuckin' waste-” Dick cut himself off, uncomfortably aware that he'd said too much.

Harley's eyes were pinning him with this analytical look he just knew could see everything behind his slip-up. Which made her response all the more surprising to him, “Eh. Even if you mess it up again, ah’ll come an’ fix it up again. If ya won't take care of ya self proper, then someone's gotta make sure you know people care.”

That floored Dick, and in spite of all his shields, walls, masks and training, he felt his jaw slacken slightly in surprise and disbelief. She clearly noticed, because she reached across the table to grab his wrist gently, “I'm here for ya, Nightwing. I get I'm not the most trustworthy of gals, but I care, ya hear me?”

He stared at her a long, long minute. He stared long enough that Harley actually looked a little uncomfortable and squeezed his wrist slightly, asking “Ya alright? Still with me-”

“Yeah, I'm fine- no, actually. Sorry, I, uh-” He took a deep breath, and made a decision. “It's…I'm not okay, Harls, actually. You're, uh, you're right. All the mess with the other Bats not getting along with me anymore, and- there's a lot of reasons, but the point is that I probably could use someone who does care. It….it really means a lot that you're giving that.”

Usually, it would have taken him longer to decide to speak, dropping certain limitations he placed on himself to keep the people he loved safe from how much he could hurt them if he slipped. Right now, he was as open as he got, having just been hit by a double-whammy of food and care, with the only person that he had actually spoken to in weeks without being sworn at.

So, for once, the words came easily to him, practically running past his lips, “When I was dead, or missing I guess, nine months ago, I was actually undercover. It was this big spy organisation, and they had the real identities of a lot of heroes, you know, the major ones. Big leaguers like Superman and Wonder Woman, and…they had all of the Bats too, had my name, so I went in, had to go in. It worked out. I managed to mess things up enough inside, fixed the problem before I eventually got out, but when I came back, none of- nobody knew about it, really. Something to do with the tech the spies had been using, it meant everybody forgot most of what I’d done. Part of the price of making everyone forget my identity, since it got revealed. So… everyone was just mad because they thought I had died all that time.”

Her breath hitched. He couldn’t look at her, no matter how hard he tried, but he could hear her. The words were slowing down now, each one more difficult to actually speak. “That’s, uh, that’s a different thing, the whole **** thing, but… Everyone was so angry or upset with me. They- they didn’t care that I was home, just wanted me to go away. S-so I did, you know? I’m not stupid, I can take a hint. Especially when enough people scream or punch the hint at you. I gave them space and stopped bothering them.”

Harley’s hand on his wrist was almost painfully tight, and her voice shook with something sharp, “No. Nah, fuck that, ‘Wing. I get they’re ya family an’ whatever, but no. If my mom walked in that door right now and admitted she’d faked ****, I’d fuckin’ cry and hug her so tight she’d never get out, an’ she’s been dead since before ya wore the shorts. Family don’t do that shit ya talkin’. Did they even say they’re glad ya back?”

Dick swallowed past the lump in his throat. “They- It doesn’t matter. I don’t blame them, can’t blame them. They’re right to be mad, it would’ve been easier if I’d actually stayed-”

Suddenly the blonde was next to him, and pulling him into a hug so tight he could barely breathe. Either that, or it was just that his chest wouldn’t actually let him breathe from that weirdly heavy emotion. Her voice had a catch in it when she spoke, as if barely holding back tears, “Ah’m so fuckin’ glad ya didn’t die, Nightie. Glad ya ‘ere.”

She pulled back, holding him by the shoulders, and Dick swears there’s unshed tears in her eyes that she blinks back. “I don’t know even a half of what ya do for them heroes, but if they won’t care for ya, I will. Listen ta’ me, Nightwing- Robin. The world would be so much fuckin’ darker if ya weren’t here. I am glad ya aren’t dead, okay?”

He could feel the tears pressing against the mask and that was the moment things changed. He paused. There was a part of him which recoiled from the thought that passed through his mind, every iota of his training rebelling against the very concept. Not just the bat-training, but all of them. Robin, Renegade, Agent 37, Nightwing. There were only two things that they all shared in their training- Never lose, and…

But Harley had been working with him for a couple of months now, and every bit of research he did, every stakeout and monitoring program he put on her came back clean. She'd turned over a new leaf, and was genuinely trying to help Nightwing as a Hero…and apparently, also as a caring friend. And now, she’d managed to sneak right through every wall and boundary he had with a gentle smile that listened without prodding, and she tried to heal that ugly mess inside.

So, why wouldn't he tell her who he was? He did it with the Titans, and Young Justice. Wally knew, pretty much as soon as Dick realised what a good friend he was- or, used to be. Dick couldn’t really claim he was anymore, he didn’t have a clue now, but that wasn’t Wally’s fault.

He could almost hear Wally's encouraging tone, pointing out her good qualities and the effort she's making, his words going a mile a minute trying to convince him to let her in. He could also almost hear Slade’s reprimanding shout, the unforgiving monotone of the Hypnos system ordering him. And Bruce's stern voice, Batman’s demanding growl, insisting that he not go through with it- it was that which pushed him over the edge.

Bruce didn't get to have any say in his life, not anymore.

“Harls, I-” he gulped, forcing down the tremor in his voice, “I trust you.” He ran to the bathroom, and came back with the glue dissolvent. His hands made their way up to the mask and applied it, then peeled it away from his face.

—

Harley admitted to herself, she saw him opening up to her coming. She had a good handle on analysing therapeutic relationships, after all. The issue was any other relationship. Which was probably why she never saw what he then did coming.

Nightwing was taking off his mask. Nightwing was taking off his mask. This was abso-fucking-lutely not on her bingo card for today, but damned if it wasn't fuckin' happening!

The black domino peeled off as he applied some kinda liquid to the edges. She realised quickly that it was glued on, so the liquid would be to undo the glue, but then she forgot about glue and all that minor crap, because holy fuck he was actually hot.

Like, she knew he was hot. Everyone knew he was hot, his ass was downright famously good. And it wasn’t like his suit hid much, really, or that his mask covered much. Those tiny little things were basically just fancy eyepatches ya could see through.

But when it came off, everything clicked together just right. The iconically messy hair, pitch-black and beggin’ her to run her hands through it. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass paired perfectly with a jawline better than any model’s she’d ever seen. And then, the mask was gone, and she could see the final ingredient, those fuckin’ beautiful baby blues. Might as well have lit up a sign wavin’ hello to her damn heart with how it thumped in her chest.

His expression dropped. Eyes went downcast and a sad frown pulled his lips down- god, even his lips were hotter with the mask off, how did that even work? “I, uh… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put this on you. I’m realising now that it’s kind of a big reveal. You don’t need to-”

Her brain finally rebooted enough to cut off whatever he was saying, “Stop apologising Bird-brain! What’re you even apologising for? Havin’ prettier blues than me?”

He blinked a few times, and quirked an eyebrow in confusion. Very slowly, he said, “... One, yours are definitely nicer. Two, uh… Do you- Do you not recognise me?”

“Should I?” Harley asked, a smirk blooming, “Listen Nightie, you’re hot, but-”

He interrupted, “Dick.”

“Wha- Ayy, listen here, ya-” Harley started to raise her voice, but then Nightwing raised his hands in surrender, a grin starting on his face.

“No, sorry, as in, my name is Dick.” He clarified, still holding his hands up as if trying to pacify her.

Harley paused for a moment. Her lips twisted. Her eyebrows twitched. “You- Your name is Dick?” She lost the fight with a snort, and the laughter broke free.

Dick sat back down with a huff and a exasperatedly patient smile, “Yes, my name is Dick, Harley. You want to make any jokes? I can assure you, I’ve heard them all already.”

He waited patiently as she wheezed to herself, trying to get ahold of her laughter. It didn’t work. What did, however, was the realisation that dropped like a bucket of ice on her. She’d been a Gothamite basically her entire life, and had been a very high-profile villainess too. If there was one thing she did, it was read the papers. Everything from the big sheets to the rag-mags, and if there’s one thing they all loved to do, it was stalk a playboy with a cutting jawline, messy hair, and beautiful navy eyes.

He nodded, “Yep.”

“You’re Dick Grayson.”

He nodded again, popping the end of the word, “Yep.”

An insane theory presented itself, her mind racing at the speed that got her a PhD so young, a speed she thought she’d lost alongside Harleen to that damned laugh. “Wait, your family- you said- Does that mean the Bats are-?”

“...Yes, but you know you can't say anything, Harls. I'm trusting you, and I really shouldn't be without asking, but...”

She leant back in her chair slowly, the cheap wood creaking. “...Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Buzzfeed was goddamn right.”

That was the point at which Dick absolutely lost it, and Harley couldn’t help but join in with the laughter.