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What is this? I actually wrote something? Why yes, yes I did! :D

Title: Someone Else's Dream
Author: [livejournal.com profile] aubreys_master
Fandom: DCU
Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Romance
Fic type: One-Shot
Characters: Timothy Drake, Richard Grayson
Rating: 16+ for nudity without explicit content
Warnings: Nudity, slash, mild language
Timeline: Post "Graduation Day"
Summary: Tim takes Dick to a beach, to relax.

Timothy Drake awoke with a start to the honking of a car alarm in the distance. His skin was sweaty, sticking to the damp sheets beneath him. He sighed and rolled from the bed. It was sweltering. He made a mental note to tell Dick that this had been a bad time of year to rent a seaside shack for a vacation.

Pulling the sheets from the bed, Tim watched rain splatter against the window pane. Another day in the shack. Another day stuck in the sweltering humidity. His dream kept replaying in his mind and he wondered how often Dick dreamt of his parents death. Was it as often as Tim did? Falling acrobats, little boys crying into Batman’s chest… Was that how it had happened? Dick had never told him.

Once he’d put the sheets into the rickety washing machine, Tim scoured the little shack for signs of his predecessor as Robin. Nothing. He frowned. It wasn’t that big of a house… A gust of wind blew the door open – it had been left unlatched. Tim frowned again and moved to close it. Thunder rolled outside and, through the screen door, Tim saw a faded pair of jeans lying abandoned on the sparse lawn between the shack and the shore.

His frown deepened. What the hell was Dick doing? Sighing, Tim pushed the door open and stepped out onto the porch. He scanned the shoreline and, finally, watched a black mop of hair surface from the water, followed shortly by the rest of Dick Grayson. Lightning flashed and Tim winced.

“What’re you doing?” he demanded, cupping his hands around his mouth in hopes that his voice would carry over the wind, down to the water where Dick bobbed. Dick glanced up at him and arched an eyebrow. He, in turn, cupped a hand behind his ear and shouted back,

“What?”

Tim sighed. He didn’t want to go running around in a thunderstorm just because Dick had decided to be suicidal. Especially not in his boxers. He darted from the porch anyway, grabbing Dick’s wet jeans and tugging them on as he hurried for the shoreline. They were too long on him. Dick was taller than he was.

“What are you doing?” he repeated when he reached the tide. Dick grinned at him while lightning flashed again. Raindrops pounded down on them, mixing with saltwater in Dick’s hair. “Trying to get yourself killed?”

Dick shook his head. “Too hot in there,” he denied, gesturing toward the shack. “The rain will break the heat. I wanted to be out in it.”

Tim scowled. “Didn’t Bruce ever teach you that water conducts electricity?”

“I know that.”

“Then what the hell are you doing in the ocean during a thunderstorm?”

Dick hesitated a moment, then shrugged. He walked from the water toward Tim and sat down, naked, on the beach next to him. “Thought you’d want to be alone,” he admitted. “You were having another nightmare.”

“About your family.”

Dick was silent for a moment; then he nodded. “You dream about them more than I do.”

“Thought so.”

“I dream about them a lot.”

“I know.”

A wave curled on the ocean and rushed toward them. It broke on a rock and sprayed them with seawater. Tim grimaced. Dick let out a pleasurable sigh. Tim sat next to him on the sand.

“What are you doing out here in the rain, anyway?”

Dick shrugged. “It’s soothing. Healing.”

Tim’s expression softened. “Donna?”

Dick didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “What are you doing out here?”

Tim snorted. “Looking for you.” He elbowed Dick’s ribs. Dick chuckled softly, rubbing the point of contact like it had actually hurt. “Ass.”

Dick watched him for a moment, then stood. He held out a hand for Tim and Tim took it. Dick helped him to his feet and they went inside. “You’re insane,” he accused softly. Dick said nothing. When they entered the shack, he shook his head hard, spraying water everywhere. Tim thought about yelling at him but decided not to. Dick tugged him into the bedroom, raising an eyebrow when he saw the bare mattress.

“Where are all the sheets?”

“Washer.”

Dick considered that for a moment, then shrugged. He pushed Tim into the bed and flopped down next to him. Their mouths met. Flesh met flesh, and Tim’s tears mixed with the salt water still drying on Dick’s face. Dick frowned, reached up and brushed Tim’s tears away with his index finger.

“Why are you crying?”

Tim shook his head. He choked out, “Ass.”

They would leave the beach in the morning. Tim would go back to Gotham. Dick would go…wherever Dick went to mourn. Dick tried to kiss him again, but Tim caught his lips against a finger.

“What do you dream about?” he wondered softly. Dick shrugged.

“Blood.”

Tim bit his lip. Then he rolled from the bed and grabbed Dick by his bicep, pulling him back toward the screen door. Dick sighed dramatically, “Where are we going?”

“Rain is healing.”


Car alarm
Won’t let you back to sleep
You’re kept awake
Dreaming someone else’s dream
[…]
It’s hot as hell, honey,
In this room
Sure hope the weather will break soon
The air is heavy
Heavy as a truck
We need the rain to wash away our bad luck

Electrical Storm (U2)
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scars are tattoos with better stories

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