Chapter Twenty

Dick turned with that tiny tired smile to look at Harley.

She was standing, grinning at him. Her hip was popped, one pale hand resting there. A picture of outward confidence. But Dick had been trained by Batman, and more importantly, had trained with Cassandra. Dick saw what she tried not to show.

The slightest tremor in that arm on her hip. The way she had locked her knees in place, an old gymnast trick to hide nervous twitches. The tightness around her eyes that wouldn’t relax. The smile.

His own smile grew slightly. Even right now, after that clusterfluffle of a scene, she was trying to be nice. He lifted a finger and tapped the corner of his mouth lightly. “Harls, c’mon. You can drop the shield, it’s okay. I know that was a nightmare come to life for you.”

Her eyes widened, and the smile dropped, but she still surprised him by saying, “Nightmare? That was- I shouldn’t say it, but it was amazin’ Dick!”

He blinked, and raised an alarmed eyebrow. “...Me yelling at two of my oldest friends that hate me now whilst you sat like a token blonde hostage was amazing? Did I miss-”

She waved a hand through the air dismissively, “Nah, not that. Ya…” She walked closer to him and stopped, her hands hovering between them as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “Ya took my side against ya friends. I don’t, uh, don’ really have many people who’d do that, ya know? Pretty much just, uh, just Ivy. And ya shouldn’t have! Really, shouldn’t have. I appreciate it, of course, but…”

Dick’s eyes caught on her throat as it bobbed when she swallowed, the pale skin rippling smoothly with the motion. Her eyes weren’t on him anymore when he looked up, turned downcast instead, her face hidden a little by stray blonde strands and shadowed lighting. Her hands waved and gestured uncertainly in the air in front of her as she continued, “I’m not worth that, ya hear? Not ya friends. I recognised ‘em, I know ya used to date the alien chick, and ya and Wonder Girl were close. Don’ ruin that, ‘Wing, not for me-”

He grabbed her floating hands. She stopped talking and her eyes shot up to him, the question clear in them. He didn’t answer it straight away. His thumb rubbed softly against her skin by it’s own will. His voice was soft when he spoke.

“I have a reputation. With and without the mask. Nightwing is the kind, friendly one, always there with a helping hand, even if I never really help. He’s the one that pretty much knows everyone, leaving a trail of burning bridges behind him that everyone pretends are fireworks because of the reputation. I don’t think there’s a hero out there that I don’t either know the identity of, or know someone who does, because I’ve been at the middle of it when everyone started out. The Titans, Young Justice, the League. My contacts list is a who’s who of some of the best-kept secrets in the world.”

He couldn’t help the note of deprecation that entered his voice as he said, “But, when I got out, when I came home… they weren’t there. Nobody was, really. Not the League, not the Titans, not even my own family. It wasn’t any of them that gave me a hug, told me they were glad I was here still. Or that listened to me break down over a name, like it didn’t happen years ago. Or that helped me with Bludhaven because I was struggling.”

He squeezed her hands. “It wasn’t any of them that caught me on a rooftop and sat me down for a therapy session, because otherwise I was gonna take a six story swandive.”

Her voice hitched at the admission, and his smile trembled a bit when she muttered, “Nightie…” but that didn’t matter because it was still a real smile.

A hand dropped hers for a second to rip off the mask covering his face, then grabbed hers again and he continued, “Dick Grayson has a reputation too. Pretty similar in a lot of ways to Nightwing’s. Friendly to everyone, knows a lot of social circles, and… a flirty playboy. The handsome heir, charming and people-pleasing. The billionaire bicycle of Gotham, ready for anyone to take a ride.”

His words were bitter, even if his tone stayed soft. “Same with Nightwing. The easiest hero to get laid. The famous ass in blue. The slut, the whore. Everyone believes it, you know? Even my friends, they never asked or questioned it. Just nodded and laughed, ‘yep! That’s Nightwing alright’ without hesitation.”

Her voice was softer this time when she whispered his name, “…Dick…” and for once, he didn’t hear disbelief or pity. He heard sympathy- empathy, because she understood it, the power of a reputation.

He shuffled closer, stepping into her space properly, making her tilt her neck to actually look at his face. “I have this reputation, but the truth? I can flirt. I know how to profile a person faster than Batman. I can read body language like it’s neon signage. But what I’ve never been able to do is read myself. I’ve only had a couple of relationships, and none of them were because I asked. I knew I wanted something, but it’s taken years to work out how to recognise that for actual romantic interest. I can count my sexual partners on my fingers, and I only need to use one hand for the ones I wanted.”

“Dickie, ya-”

He brought his hand to her face, cupping her cheek, “Harley… I know you. Not your favourite food, or what flowers you like, that’s stuff I want to learn. But I see you, Harls. Not just Harleen, or Harley, but whoever it is you’re trying to make from the pieces of past yous. And for the first time in years, I can feel that want for something, something more than my reputation.”

His other hand joined it’s pair on her face, holding her cheeks gently, framing the absolute shock and vulnerability on her face. “That woman, whatever you want her name to be? I want everything she is willing to give me, and she can take whatever she wants from my broken pieces-”

Floating hands hooked under his arms to grab his shoulder, and shoved him down to where her lips crashed against his. If he hadn’t already been a goner for this woman, then this was the moment, for sure. It wasn’t perfect. The skin of her lips was cracked, her technique stiff and unpractised, swapping between uncertain hesitation and excessive aggression.

It was perfect for him though. Because who cared about her technique? She tasted like strawberries and bubblegum, and every part of her screamed ‘yes, please, more’, and it was Harls.

She pulled back with a gasp, and one of her hands grabbed his chin, “Do not call yourself broken. Ya hear me Bird-brain?”

He nodded, and she breathed heavily, letting him pull her close into an embrace.

They swayed slightly together. “I know your favourite colour already.” He said quietly.

“Hmm?” came the muffled reply from his chest.

He dropped his head to her ear. His voice was a husky thing as he said, “Well, we both know red looks great on you.”

The blonde’s laughter pealed out into the empty apartment, and it felt like the sound was pure warmth in his chest.

“That so?” She breathily asked, “Sure ya don’t need to check?”

—

Harley looked up at Dick through fluttering eyelashes, the beginnings of a smirk freezing on her face as reality hit her.

He didn’t miss it either. Excitement paused and gave way to concern on the idiot’s sudden open-book features. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” She pulled out of his arms and wasn;t sure if she was upset or relieved that he let her do so. “What’s wrong is me! ‘Wing, this- you-”

She spun and looked at him. Fuckin’ hell, what was she doing? This man had just bared his damn soul to her, opened **** spots that she doubted anyone had seen, and now- “We can’t! I can’t take advantage of ya like this, Nightie!”

Another situation, she would have laughed at the pure confusion on his face. Now, she just wanted to cry. “Uh…Did I miss something? I was, uh, I was coming on to you, wasn’t I?”

“Well sure, but that don’t change it!” Harley tugged on one of her pigtails, using the sting of her scalp to center herself. “Dick, listen. I’m, like, a decade older than ya-”

“Only seven years, actually.”

“-an’ even if I’m all fucked up now, I was a shrink, so I know how traumatic vulnerabilities get taken advantage of! Heck, there’s a reason I stuck with Mistah J so long, and that’s it! We can’t-”

Dick’s navy eyes blazed suddenly. “First, if I don’t call myself broken, then you don’t call yourself fucked up. That’s the rule. Second? I’ve been taken advantage of. I’ve had my trauma exploited, my weakspots used, and my body- I know the difference, Harls. Don’t you dare try and tell me that’s what you’re doing.”

“How can ya say that fo’ sure though?!” She yelled at him with a voice crack, tears stinging against her eyes.

Dick squared his jaw. “Are you conning me?”

“Wha- No, but-”

“If we sleep together, are you going to go around and brag I’m an easy lay?”

She was aghast, “Fuck, ‘Wing, never, but listen-”

“Are you going to wait until I’m dissociated then fuck me?”

“Fucking no! Dick, what the f-”

“What about drag me to a church afterwards, so you can make sure you keep me?”

“Stop it!” Her voice snapped out sharply, “Who the fuck- Who fuckin’ dared ta-”

He stepped over and grabbed her hand again, cutting off the fury rising in her. “Harls. Forget that. We’re both adults, and I don’t give a shit about an age gap, or I wouldn’t have said anything. But I swear, if you try and put yourself in the same category as- as them? I will lose my shit. You’re nothing like them, Harls. Nothing.”

They hung together in the moment, navy blue and summer sky searching each other for the hint of something unfurling that neither would name. Neither had to search particularly deep.

Very slowly, Harley nodded.

Dick smiled, and a sigh of relief left him. “Thank god…”

She reached a hand up to wipe away one of the tears on his cheek, shed unnoticed in the moment. Her returning smile was shakier, but no less real, and she said, “I’m still not…sure about this. I don’t really think ya know what ya askin’ for here, but if ya tryin’? Then I’m gonna try too.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Trust me… I think we’re both a little brok- a little fractured. Healing. This way, well, maybe we can heal together.

The quiet returned, comfortable and welcoming in the aftermath. Harley breathed deeply, and for the first time in a long time, the world actually felt quiet. No split of Harley and Harleen in her head arguing, no endless rush of questions and worries and plans for the future. No threats of **** or **** nearby.

Just the soft sound of breathing from the man in her arms. The man that, even without a mask on, was more of a hero than many of those out there. A man who gave everything to help people, and asked for nothing. A man that never should have been so alone that he had to be caught on a ledge by a crazy blonde criminal, that she was the only one to actually hear the tiny fraction of pain he hid behind smiles and jokes.

She swallowed heavily, “Dickie… I meant it. Not right now, but I wanna know who. I want ya comfortable enough ta’ tell me.”

His figure stiffened almost imperceptibly for a moment, before relaxing and wordlessly holding her closer. That was fine. The rest would have worried him, so she finished it in her mind.

‘And then I’m gonna fuckin’ destroy them.’

She didn’t care who she had to deal with. Heroes, Supers, Bats, didn’t matter. If she was gonna let this man in, then he was getting the full package. And she fucking refused to let any of the people who were meant to care about him hurt him anymore.

Harleen was a psychiatrist, with confidentiality. Harley was a criminal too insane to use her training. This new her, that Dick called Harls? Harls was a criminal with psychiatrist training, and she didn’t give a fuck about confidentiality. The only thing that leashed her was that she’d rather die than break his trust.

But every asshole that shoved him towards that fucking ledge? Sky Daddy better have some mercy for them, because Harls was fresh out of fucks to give.