Breaking The Ice

by Darklady

Disclaimer: Don't got snow. Don't got ice. Don't got ownership of these characters DC Comics - over in New York, gots all three. I figure they're still ahead of me.

Location: Hornet-verse

Rated: PG-ish most.

Pairing: Dick/

Dedicated: To Chicago - who got out of Maine alive - and to all our East Coast friends. From Darklady in sunny SoCal where...well... *ducks to avoid flung objects*... I still feel for you.
Honest I do. *grin*

Also: I'm trying to break a writers block large enough to sink the Titanic. Appologies for the lack of substance.

Archive: Why would you want to? But as always, batslash or ask

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Breaking The Ice
by Darklady
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)

"Damn!" Nightwing flung his body right, trying to compensate for the left foot that had slipped out from under him. Almost enough. He landed on his feet - but so off balance that the only choice was to keep rolling. "That does it!" He slapped the blue training mat, cracking the diamond-white crust of ice that now spotted it's surface.

The Batcave *was* a cave - which meant that strictly speaking even the historic blizzard that had sealed in Gotham ( and most of her sister cities ) should have had little effect on the stone's
temperature. Right. Except whoever wrote that geology book hadn't considered that this particular cave had a river running right below it's structural concrete flooring. Result? Mother natures own heat-sink. Complete with a differential humidity that left miniature icecicles anytime the equipment shifted even a degree below the `heated' air.

Real ice his boot could be configured to handle, but this super-slide?

"Done training?" Batman didn't turn from his post the main computer.

"Done *period*!" Dick pulled off the mask, but left his gloves on while he restacked the mats. Left down they could develop puddles. Then mold. Very bad. While cash wasn't a consideration - smell was. Another truth about caves is that they were very hard to insulate. Not to mention Alfred would nag.

The Batmobile spun on it's hydraulic hoist.

"Furgedditit." Dick reached for a towel, then dropped it as the crackle under his gloved fingers hinted that *that* against his skin would be more chilling then any post-workout sweat. Tonight he'd go upstairs to shower.

"We could do Haven Hills." The bat-voice was a stolid as always, but Dick caught the indulgence in the offer. Normally Batman spent very little time on the `borderlands' of Gotham, preferring to focus his energies on the high-crime districts such as the Gotham Wharfs, and leaving the rest to... Well, Dick refused to think of Tim or himself as `second string' heroes, but Huntress had on occasion been less... diplomatic.

It was tempting - if only because concessions from the Bat were so few. But? Dick considered the area. The Batmobile could handle the snow-clogged roads, even if they decided to head up
to Impennes point, but...? Dick hesitated, fingering the release clamps on his kevlar. Only the Batmobile could handle those roads. Any mook that tried it in the average `Haven beater would
be.. well probably damn grateful when *anybody* - even the Bat - showed up to haul then out of the snowbanks.

He said as much.

The Batmobile stilled, lowering back onto its supports.

"You want...?" The bat-voice vanished into a hopeful Bruce Wayne, as the monitor screen shifted to the interior of the Manor's `working' garage. Internal spotlights now picked out one of the hum-vee's Bruce had bought when Bab's was testing out such things. "I'm sure GCPD would welcome ..."

That was *more* tempting. Much more. Not because Dick wanted to play triple A, but because, just because... Dick shrugged out of his padded tunic and hung it up to air. Bruce offering to ride along on a *Dick Grayson* operation was... Dick headed across the Cave. Well, there had been a time when Bruce wouldn't even have *acknowledged* any non-Nightwing responsibilities. He draped his arms around he armored shoulders, resting against the sable cape.

He considered a moment. Last night he had been damn grateful for the members of the Haven Hotrods who had come out to offer engine power. Amazed, too. Same people who would have
called for the cops had the usual haven citizen even touched their shiny pet Jaguars wrapping tow chains around their over chromed fenders and doing taxi service for drenched buss commuters? But they had - laughing. For which Dick had to be grateful, even if he knew that nest wee the same drivers would calling the cops because some kid stickered the windshield.

Yeh - but that was *last* night. Before they knew how bad it would be. People had been caught in offices or had risked one last run tot he stores. By today yesterdays victims had caught on. No one needed help to get home - because they couldn't leave in the first place.

The few fools who hadn't caught on? Dick flicked to the police band. So far the Highway Patrol seemed to be handling things. At least for now.

In a day or two, if things didn't let up, the BHPD would probably have to start patrolling shelters. Not the most collegiate of companies at the best of time, and with cabin fever getting one every bodies nerves? Maybe he should give Jean Paul a call in the morning See if Leslie needed another calm body downtown.

In the morning. Not tonight. He had another body he wanted to calm tonight.

"Thank you, Br...Batman." He draped his arms around he armored shoulders, resting against the sable cape. The chilled nomex burned a moment before it softened under Dick's body heat. "But I have a better idea." Dick leaned forward, kissing the edge of skin exposed at the side of the cowl.

Wide shoulders stiffened. "The criminals will..."

"Stay home." Dick finished the sentence. Although likely not the way Batman intended.

"Even the JSA has packed it in." That was the latest word he had from Titans Tower. Superman was still out, along with the three Green Lanterns, and Captain Marvel had joined with Black Adam to clean up the avalanche that had blocked I-62, but other then that? Anyone power-rated a step below `divine intervention' had either shifted their patrol south or ( literally in the case of a frozen Plasticman ) been knocked out by the first wave of weather.

Wally had tried to help. but when a patch of ice sent the speedster skidding from Newark to Nova Scotia? Tahiti was getting extra patrols this week. Ollie and his crew were hunting
poachers in Kenya. Orin was guiding the whale migration down the Pacific Coast. J'onn was in Japan, although now that Mothra was once again defeated? Dick figured the Martian Manhunter would be moving to a different persona. Wonder Woman was moderating a peace process in Yemen. Someone from the UN had the bright idea that she - being pagan - could serve a a neutral focus. It was working - at least on some level. Both sides now apparently agreed on one thing. *She* was an evil infidel and should be condemned. Diana had laughed and called it progress.After all, she had said, the day before they hadn't been able to get together on *anything*.

After a chat with the city, Troia had officially shut down the Tower. Roy was still there, keeping the com-links open, but that was it. Even supervillians didn't want to work in weather like this.

The exterior monitor caught his eye. *Fifteen* below? Dick didn't blame them.

Thankfully, the BHPD brass had proved *almost* as bright as ...say... Solomon Grundy or Gorilla Grod. After a day when the patrol cars generated more calls then they answered, the Haven had shifted to a `response only' policy. Thus freeing the forces tow trucks for the real necessity. backing up the highway patrol.

Balancing himself of the back of Batman's ultra-erganomic chair, Dick lifted into a easy bench press and tilted forward. That cost him the use of his hand, but it brought his lips into much more amiable territory. Decent trade off, Dick considered, nibbling his way along the squared jaw.

"The only thing anyone is going to rob tonight is the blankets." Brilliant concept there. Blankets, that was. Upstairs blankets. warm, fluffy blankets covering smooth sheets full of... something a lot better then ice crystals. Warmer too.

Warm was good, Dick mused. Going into a handstand, he eased down until he met Bruce lip to lip. In reverse, granted, but? Those lips were still warm. Wonderfully warm. Lusciously warm.

Dick needed warm. He'd had his fill of cold.

Had he ever.

After his double shift yesterday on skid patrol he had been lassoed for another eight at the station. Garage duty. Voluntary, of course. Yah - the way BHPD spelled volunteer. One of the
drawbacks to letting ones fellow cops know you were a decent mechanic. He'd spent the rest of the night bundled like an Eskimo trying to unfreeze alternators that hadn't had decent maintenance since Gordon was a rookie. Tough duty - but it had put him first on the stand down rotation. Thus his free day in Gotham.

The duel of tongues almost shock Dick off his balance. Which was fine,as it gave him an excuse to spin down into a waiting lap.

"Lets do what the Commissioner *asked* this time." The space under he cape was warm. A haven for chilling fingers. At least until he could move fingers and all to a still better place upstairs. Dick slid the cowl back, exposing one ear. A cold ear, but Dick warmed it with his breath. "Be a good citizen, Mr. Vigilante, and STAY OFF THE ROADS!"