Chapter Twenty Four

Later that week, Harley had been around when Dick got a delivery.

She paid it no attention, focused on her laptop and the psychology refresher course she was doing. With how Dick had started trusting her, she wanted to make sure that he was getting the best she could give, not outdated info from over a decade ago.

He went past her, to the door, opened it. He spoke with the delivery guy, all normal stuff. A bit more talking than she’d expect, but Dick was a chatty guy. He pulled a large box in and went back to the door. Then another box. Then another. Then-

Harley finally looked up after the fifth box, and blinked with bafflement at the steadily growing array of unmarked boxes that were steadily encroaching into the living room as Dick ran out of space. All different sizes, some weirdly proportioned, not one of them with anything other than a delivery label.

Dick thanked the guy at the door, and pulled the last one inside with him. He closed the door and flicked the lock, then turned and froze when he saw Harley. She was stood with her arms crossed, a foot lightly tapping, and eyebrow raised judgementally. “Ya gonna explain why this place looks like an 8 year old’s buildin’ a box fort, Dickie?”

His eyes lit up and he grinned at her widely, “You’re right, I could totally make a box fort-”

“Not what I meant.” She tried to make her tone flat, but the smile she was fighting leaked through.

Dick laughed loudly, then explained, “It’s, uh, stuff for the thing you suggested. The music. I got some instruments, some recording equipment, some sound baffles… I was, uhm, I was going to set it up in the spare room.”

He lowered his eyes, and his expression slowly bled into uncertainty and doubt, “But… you’re right, it’s way too much, right? Maybe I should send it b-”

“Dickie.” She interrupted gently. “If ya want to, then do it. It’s your place, and your cash. I think whatever you make would be great.”

Harley felt her heart break a little more for him when he searches her eyes with an expression of such hesitant vulnerability. It was a look that had slowly been creeping out from him more often recently, whenever he shared something that mattered to him. As if he expected her to tell him off. As if he didn’t expect her to support him in something he enjoyed.

She picked up a box to give herself the chance to bury the tears that wanted to emerge. When her eyes were safe and dry, box in her arms, she smiled a big toothy smile at him, “How ‘bout I help ya set up? Where’s this one goin’?”

—

Dick stared at the phone screen with wide eyes.

He’d been nervous about releasing the music he’d spent days pouring his soul into. It didn’t have any names in it, and there wasn’t really anything identifiable in the one song he’d recorded, but… An unfamiliar anxiety had hit him at the thought of releasing it online.

He’d always been a performer, always would be, but it was different like this. It wasn’t a performance, it was… like art, or something. And he’d always been really awful with art. Then, when you added the deeply ingrained habit of secrecy about anything and everything to do with hero work, the Bats, his past, his trauma, and basically anything past the smiling surface?

Well, he’d sat thinking about it so long that Harley had eventually noticed and yanked the laptop from him, pinning him with that specific look she sometimes had just for him, when she was about to call him out on something.

She had asked, “Why are ya makin’ the music, ‘wing?”

He had blinked in confusion. She’d been the one to suggest it, she knew why. Still, he had replied, “To… write it down, so I can…understand it? Like, all the stuff I can’t actually say-”

“Exactly.” She had interrupted, “It’s therapy, right? So why ya wanna release it?”

That had stopped him. He’d had to think about it. Slowly, he had told her, “I… The music only really matters to me? In the way it does? But… maybe other people can get different meanings from it?” He had looked up at her and said, “Does that make sense?”

She had then smiled a huge dazzling smile, and said, “Abso-fuckin’-lutely. And in that case, ya don’t need to be tha’ one to release it.”

She then tapped away at the laptop for a few moments, effectively taking over as online manager for him, and then stopped and pointed her smile at him again, “All done.”

Then, before the thought could even occur to him, she grabbed his hand. Her eyes had caught his seriously, and she had said, “Dick, I’m not gonna listen to it. Tha’ music? It’s yours, and ya can keep the privacy. If ya want me to hear it someday? I will. But I’d prefer ta’ hear ya past from ya, not by listenin’ to all ya secrets.”

He’d been surprisingly relieved, and then went back to writing and creating, forgetting all about the release. He trusted her to do it for him…and even if he didn’t, this meant he didn’t have to think about it.

Which meant that, when he saw an article talking about the fake name he’d chosen- He went with ‘Golden Boy’, enjoying the idea of publishing all of his secrets, all of his awful flaws that he had to bury deep down, under the idolising nickname he’d always hated- he had opened it and realised too late that it held the statistics of the couple of song releases.

That led him to this moment.

It was dark outside. A light rain fell, more of a haze than real rain. He still wasn’t going out unless there was an emergency. Instead, he and Harley were settling in for the night. He was still staring at the phone.

He hadn’t blinked in too long.

Should he blink? Or would that make reality change?

Harls dropped lightly next to him, peering at the screen then smiling brightly, “Hey, that’s ya song! Damn that’s a lotta listens.” She turned her face to his, “I ain’t surprised, Dickie. They’re just late ta’ the party.”

She plucks the phone from his hand, tossing it to the couch over her shoulder. Her leg swings out, her hands grab his shoulders for balance, and she straddles his laps. Dick sees a flash of a cheeky smile full of pride, before she nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck.

His hands find her hips on instinct, his fingertips pressing against the small of her back. For a moment, he’s overcome with just a wave of affection for this woman. This crazy blonde woman that he grew up fighting, who had kidnapped him at least a half dozen times. This wonderful psychiatrist who had found him when it counted and helped him find something worth living long enough to see grow. This villainess turned heroine who had broken into his heart like it was a heist target, then got inside and started trying to rebuild what she found.

And then he just wanted her. Wanted to feel her. As if sharing the thought, Harley begins to rock her hips against him at the same time he slowly thrusts up against her.

In unison, they let out involuntary noises of satisfaction, a low grunt and an extended breathy feminine exhale overlapping. Her teeth nipped at his neck, too lightly to leave a mark but enough to make his pupils flare.

He slides his hands down to press into the jean-covered globes of her ass, an urgency growing in both of them-

A high-pitched beeping cut through the growing lust, and Dick threw his head back forcefully into the cushion behind, groaning loudly.

Harley just giggled, and said, “I’m guessin’ that’s some alarm?”

Without moving his head, he replied, “Yep.”

“From who?” Her fingers walked along his chest, nails lightly pressing through the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Bats, League, Titans- Who knows? Could be anyone. I’d need to check it to tell you.” He still doesn’t move.

The blonde on her lap rolls her eyes, and gets off him, slapping his chest lightly, “C’mon Boy Wonder, up an’ at ‘em!”

Dick groans again, but does as she says. He wanders over and pulls the device out of the cabinet, silencing it. His eyes scan over the information, and he relates it to Harley, “Huh… looks like the League- no, just coming from the Watchtower. Small team, target… oooh, magic artifacts? Zatanna in lead, asking if I can bring…”

His eyes lift from the small tablet and look over at Harley speculatively. It’d be a risk. Plenty of people recognised Harley as a villain, even now, after the past few months in Bludhaven. But Zee had been pretty relaxed, back when they were younger. If he could present things right… He nodded, pushing himself to do it before he backed out, “Harls, suit up. You’re gonna be an honourary member of the Justice League for a day.”

Dick smirked as he went to the bedroom to change into the Nightwing costume, leaving the blonde to gape in shock in his living room.