Not a Couple

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Dick paced the floor of his neatly decorated room, chewing on his bottom lip, just enough for it to begin to swell. His shaky breathing filled the air around him, every inhale a reminder of the nerves currently running through his body. A million thoughts raced through his mind, piling up against his skull and leaving a dull ache around his temples.

It was two in the morning, and under any other circumstance, Dick would be dead asleep under his freshly washed covers, basking in the feeling of warmth and security offered by his king sized comforter.

But instead, he stood wide awake in the darkness of his room, replaying the phone call he had received just moments ago, ruining any semblance of peace and deep sleep he planned on getting.

Bruce's voiced played on repeat in his head, words as heavy as stone.

"It's time to come home, Dick. You have responsibilities."

Dick grimaced, letting out a small puff of air from his nostrils as he remembered the conversation.

What started as a stiffly cordial greeting quickly turned into an attempt to exert control and dominance over Dick, who had tried his best to stay calm and collected through the disapproval expressed by his adoptive father.

For the past three months, Jump City had been relatively villain-free, most crimes consisting of low level offenses that left the police department employed and the Titans unneeded.

To any normal person, this was a good thing.

Which is exactly what was expressed by the news outlets who chose to interview Dick after him and his friends were awarded with yet another stack of medals for their efforts and success in keeping the city safe.

The Titans had spent the last few weeks being celebrated, hailed for their ability to both lower the rate of crime and keep villains from popping back up every other day.

And they had reveled in it. Dick had reveled in it. There was no greater feeling than knowing he and his team had been able to keep their community safe, had successfully eradicated the existence of villains within their home city.

Again, to any normal person, this was a good thing.

But to Bruce, this was a reason to force Dick back into his clutches.

There had been no congratulations to Dick over the phone, no acknowledgement of his ability to lead. Not once had he showered his son in pride for succeeding in the one thing he himself had never been able to do.

Instead, Bruce took this news and twisted it in a selfish attempt to benefit himself, reprimanding Dick for not disbanding The Titans and returning home the second the crime reports had come back so low.

It didn't matter that Dick had spent the past four years in Jump City. It didn't matter that he had created a home for himself, a family. Nor did it matter that he had found a community that accepted him and gave him a true sense of purpose.  The only thing that mattered to Bruce was his son's newfound free time, and how that seemingly justified dragging him back to the Batcave and back to him.

And after spending a whopping 45 minutes trying to reason with the unreasonable, Dick lost both his patience and respect for Bruce. Which naturally, led him towards the most appropriate course of action (or so he told himself).

Dick hung up.

It felt good for about five seconds, which is all it took for the panic and fear to set in.

He had just hung up on Bruce.

Nightwing had just hung up on Batman.

As realization set in, Dick began his pacing, which led to the lip chewing, which led to the shaky breathing, which ultimately led him to his current situation: one conversation replay away from having a full blown anxiety attack.

So now here he was, holding back the urge to throw up as his stomach twisted itself into knots, practically choking on the lump that had somehow formed in his throat.

He was feeling way too much, breathing far too heavy, and thinking excessively loud. All mistakes he wouldn't realize until the knock that came to his door.

Dick jumped, something he hadn't done in a very long time. Looking towards the clock on his wall, he was reminded of just how late it was, and couldn't help but wonder who else would possibly be awake at such an ungodly hour.

He ran his hands through his hair, swallowed the lump in his throat, and did the best he could to otherwise pull himself together, sucking in two deep breaths of air before reaching for the keypad on the wall next to his door.

He pressed the green 'OPEN' button, letting the light from the hallway bathe his form in a warm, bright glow that stung his eyes at first, but he quickly adjusted to.

Standing in Dick's doorway was Rachel, clad in her pajamas and  holding two cups of steaming liquid in her hands while a pair of coasters encased in dark matter floated next to her head.

Despite the attempt to calm himself, Dick's mind was still so muddled that the only thing he could think to say to her came out in the form of a question.

"Are those the pajamas I got you for Christmas last year?"

Rachel blinked, pushing past him and making her way towards his desk, paying no mind to Dick as he dodged the flying coasters which followed behind her.

She let the coasters land lightly on the mahogany, straightening them out before placing the cups down gently, her pale fingers tracing the wood grain of his desk as she spoke.

"They are. They happen to be my favorite."

Dick couldn't help but smile, letting his door close and turning to face her, feeling the pit in his stomach start to fade as he watched her pull out his desk chair and take a seat.

With anyone else, he would've turned them away at the door. As a rule, no one was allowed into his space. Dick protected his privacy at all costs, keeping his room strictly off limits.

Rachel was the one exception.

Ever since their bond had been created through the mind meld, Rachel and Dick had relied on one another. They went from solitary creatures to creating their own, two person flock that allowed them to break each others' rules and step into their respective spaces.

"I felt your discomfort. Do you wanna talk about it?"

Her voice was warm and low, mixing together care and caution in a way that made Dick feel acknowledged and respected.  This way of speaking was one of the reasons Dick loved talking to her. She never failed to make him feel safe.

He made his way to the desk, feeling her violet eyes on him while he did so. She slid one of the coasters closer to him as he met her at the edge, waiting for him to pick up the mug before lifting her own to her lips.

"It's chamomile," she said, sipping the warm liquid quietly before adding, "with a little bit of honey."

Dick smiled at her, nodding his head in thanks before taking his first sip, letting the warm, soothing liquid make its way down his throat, feeling a sense of calm wash over him as he did so. After taking a few minutes to absorb and hold onto this relaxation, Dick allowed himself to speak.

"Bruce wants me to go back to Gotham City."

Rachel met his ocean blue eyes, searching them for a moment before nodding, looking down at her mug which she now cradled in both hands, resting against her lap.

"What do you want to do?"

Dick sighed, rubbing his thumb against the side of his own mug, staring into the golden swirls of tea and honey that chased each other around in a circle.

"I don't wanna go. This is my home. And I told him that."

"I imagine he took that very well."

Dick took another sip of tea before placing his mug back down on its coaster, letting his hand rest on the desk.

"Well enough for me to hang up on him."

Rachel's head snapped up and her eyes widened, something Dick failed to notice as he currently had his own gaze glued to a very interesting piece of thread in his carpet.

"Dick, you did not hang up on your father."

"Adoptive father," he corrected her, a slight pout in his voice.

She let out a wry laugh, placing her mug down on its coaster and pulling herself from her chair, lifting his chin with her hand to meet her gaze.

"Don't get stuck on semantics with me. You hung up on your father, adoptive or not."

He stared into her eyes, taking note of the slight twinkle within them. She thought it was funny. She was trying to hide it, but she thought it was funny.

He felt a small smile tug at his lips once more, and became acutely aware of the way her fingers rested against the underside of his chin, her thumb resting against the bottom of his lip ever so lightly, just enough for him to lean into her touch.

Dick felt the sudden urge to grab the hand beneath his chin, and so he did, taking it in his own, much to her surprise. She tensed up for a moment, but allowed her guard to drop as he lifted her hand up, interlocking their fingers and squeezing just enough for Rachel to feel a tingle cascade down her spine.

He rubbed her knuckles with the tips of his fingers, and she stared at him through dark lashes, taking in his relaxed stance and the way his breathing slowed to a comfortable pace. She stayed silent as his fingers pulled away from hers, and for a moment she felt a twinge of disappointment, thinking he was going to wish her goodnight and send her on her way.

Instead, he began tracing the lines of her palm with his forefinger, silently mapping out every curve, callous, and crease she had.

She felt his fear dissipate with every line he followed, and Rachel softened even further, allowing her pale hand to become a distraction from his current conundrum.

She watched intently as his finger left butterfly touches against her skin, patiently waiting as the waves of relief poured through him, giving him enough time to collect his thoughts and formulate a response with a clearer head.

Finally, Dick spoke, never once losing the rhythm he had found while getting lost in the lines of her palm.

"I'm not going back, Rach. I wanna be here with the team. I feel whole with them. With you."

Rachel nodded slowly, pulling herself from her own inner dialogue to give him the acknowledgment and care he so desperately needed.

"It's your decision, Dick, not his. Wherever you feel the most secure is where you should be."

At this, he paused. The one thing he appreciated about Rachel was the fact that she always knew what to say. He didn't need to go into excruciating detail for her to listen and respond in a real way. She didn't demand vulnerability from him as payment for her advice and comfort. She had no expectations of him and offered her care solely from the kindness of her heart.

"Rachel?"

She looked up at him, blinking in permission to continue with what he wanted to say. Expecting a question, she carefully cleared her throat and prepared herself to listen undistracted.

But, instead of words, Dick pulled her into a soft, cozy hug that had her melting into his touch, her hands coming up to find his shoulder blades. She felt him fully relax against her, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder while his own arms wrapped around the small of her back, pulling her as close as possible.

They stayed like that for some time, Rachel thinking about how nice it felt to be held in his arms, and Dick silently reminiscing on every moment that led up to her touch, allowing the thoughts to both distract and comfort him.

His fingers traced patterns on her back, their breathing in sync as they became in tune with each other, neither aware of how much time had passed, and neither caring.

This is what they had. This is what they shared. Dick could tell her he hung up on his father, and Rachel could jokingly reprimand him while standing by his side.

They gave each other distractions when they needed them, advice when they required it, and love when they craved it.

And Dick wasn't willing to give this up for Bruce.

He wasn't willing to give her up for anything.

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Hi all. I know it's been a long time. I don't have much to say, but it did feel really good to get back into writing, if only for a minute.
I hope you enjoyed.

Nyx-Ships