(Not So) Sweet Sixteen

by seby

(Batman/Robin slash, PG-13)

The plot thickens... Confrontations are ahead!

Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. I just play with them.



^.^ Chapter 10 ^.^

Bruce was at his desk, holding his head in his hands. He was lost in thought when he heard a soft knock at the door. Sighing, he took a deep breath to steel himself for the oncoming confrontation. Looking up, he called, "Come in, Miss Gordon."

"I beg your pardon, Master Bruce. But I must interfere." Alfred stood firmly, not looking away from the younger man's face, watching the hooded eyes. "I am afraid the emotional discomfort as of late has become increasingly more difficult to bear. Could I quite possibly be of any assistance in these matters? Might I remind you that I, too, once struggled with a lonely, teenage boy matured beyond his years and burdened with an extremely independent will?"

Bruce had been chastised and reprimanded in Alfred's subtle manner many times. But it never ceased to surprise him. Now he looked at the older man, and considered the determined set to Alfred's jaw. He felt warmed by the sudden realization that he wasn't completely alone in this house, nor in this world.

"Alfred." Bruce almost had an urge to smile. "Perhaps you had better sit down."

Without preamble, Bruce related the most recent event. He knew Alfred would get a barely veiled look of pride on his face when he heard Bruce admit that, perhaps, Dick was a bit more mature than Bruce had given him credit for. Also, Bruce was almost grateful that Alfred volunteered vague suggestions as to what Bruce could do, without making Bruce admit that he was at a loss as to how to react. What Bruce hadn't expected, though, was for Alfred to recover so quickly from the news of what had happened in the Jacuzzi. Bruce hadn't given details, but still. Alfred almost acted as if he had expected something to happen. Something of a... sexual nature. He had gone on about some sort of "obvious building tensions" or something. Bruce wasn't sure. He hadn't been listening. He was trying to figure out how Alfred had deduced something before he had.

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked. "Barbara hasn't been here that long."

"I was not referring to the tension between Master Dick and Miss Gordon. I was referring to tension that began quite some time before Miss Gordon arrived," Alfred answered. "Might I add, it has been proven, historically, for some of the most lasting, romantic, relationships to begin as close friendships." Bruce looked at Alfred as if he were speaking Greek.

"What are you talking about? How could there have been sexual tension here when there's only been Dick and I?" As the words left his mouth, Bruce's stomach flopped. Alfred couldn't mean... And how could he possibly think... No.

"The only tension around here is because Dick doesn't want me to treat him like a child. And he doesn't want me to act like his father. And how could he have some sort of lasting relationship with a girl he's only known a few weeks?" Bruce looked at Alfred, his chin jutting out defiantly, but with an imploring glint in his eye. He's got to back off, now, he thought.

Alfred met Bruce's gaze directly. "I believe we have agreed that Master Dick is not a typical 16 year old. Nor has he been living a typical teenager's life. And I believe you also know, Master Bruce, that it is *you* that Master Dick thinks of as a close friend. A very close friend. It was not his relationship with Miss Gordon that I was speaking of, if you'll beg my pardon for saying so." Alfred took a step closer to the desk. "Nor am I at all confused about the nature of the tension between you and Master Dick."

Bruce was still mentally reeling from Alfred's words when Barbara and Dick knocked at the door. He clenched his jaw even tighter, unwilling to reveal the shock he felt.

Bruce felt the room closing in on him. Alfred was smiling ever so slightly at him, but his eyes revealed a touch of sadness, as well. He was close enough to Bruce, now, to touch his shoulder, gently. Bruce dropped his gaze to the smooth, glass-like surface of the desktop, refusing to allow any emotion to the surface; refusing to see anything but the random grain patterns in the wood.

Giving Bruce a reassuring pat, Alfred turned toward the door. He opened it and bowed slightly. "Welcome Miss Gordon, Master Dick. Master Wayne will see you now."

Bruce's head shot up. "Dick?!" he said in a nearly strangled cry. "I thought I told you to go to your room!"

"Yes, you did, Bruce. But I'm not going there. We need to talk." Dick's cool blue eyes gazed nearly through Bruce, who still felt as if he wished a spaceship would beam him off the planet. Why has everyone gone crazy? Can't anyone do something predictable, just once? He contemplated Dick carefully, schooling his features into his customary blank slate. First Alfred, and now you? What are you all trying to do to me?

"You're right. We do, chum." The affectionate term slipped out before he could stop it. It surprised all of them. So now I've lost it, too, he thought, his body more rigid than it had been before. He listened to the words that he must have been speaking. It sounds like my voice, but what the Hell am I saying?!

"Sending you to your room isn't going to work anymore, is it?" he said, his voice carefully neutral in a tone Dick would recognize as respectful. "I'm afraid you've matured more than I've realized, Dick. I apologize. But I'm not sure we can talk right now." Even while Bruce was grateful that he was speaking - not shouting - at Dick for the first time in several days, he continued to wonder who had taken over his mouth and what had taken over his mind.

The silence was heavy. Dick further surprised Bruce by making the first move, again. "I just don't think you should jump on Barbara, or kick her out, because of a mutual decision we made. And, um, I wanted you to know that I'm sorry for how I've behaved toward you the last couple of days. I'm really sorry if I hurt you." Only now did his voice falter slightly.

Again, the silence took over. Bruce was still grasping at the remnants of control he had over his emotions, trying to wipe them from the surface. Finally collecting his thoughts enough to speak, he considered his words carefully. He was still shell-shocked and confused by Alfred's words. He felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of him and his world turned upside down. He didn't want to think about the last couple of days. And he most definitely didn't want to think about the last couple of hours. Mostly, though, he didn't know *what* to think about the last couple of minutes.

It took quite some effort to drag his mind back to what he had intended to be thinking about. A lecture for Barbara, and now, it seems, a lecture for Dick, as well. Bruce wasn't sure he was up to it. He looked at Dick. God! When did he grow up? And when did he get so handsome? And when did I start thinking *that*!? He stifled a fleeting thought of panic, instead allowing a feeling of sadness to creep into his bones. What the Hell is Alfred talking about?

Bruce had allowed himself to garner a playboy reputation with women to protect his mission, and the family name from homophobic, closed-minded people still so prevalent in today's society. But he preferred men, and Alfred knew it.

Nothing was ever said about his occasional "business trips" to Florida or San Francisco, where he could enjoy the company of like-minded casual friends without repercussions or pressures. But that was Bruce. Not Dick. What the Hell are you talking about, Alfred?! How dare he accuse Bruce of thinking "that way" about Dick! Besides, Dick obviously has no interest in men! Hadn't Alfred been listening to the part about Barbara and Dick in the Jacuzzi? Apparently not. If he had, he wouldn't be putting Bruce through all this craziness now. Bruce realized that he was still staring at Dick and that the younger lad was beginning to squirm.

It would be so wrong. No, Alfred just doesn't "get it." Dick has no interest in me.

"Bruce?" Dick tried to reach through Bruce's protective mask. "I really am sorry, man. I never meant to hurt you. And you're right. I was pretty thoughtless yesterday."

Bruce was still staring at Dick, feeling like the teen was a hologram, soon to fade from sight forever. Isn't that just how it goes, Bruce thought wryly. That song. "You don't know what you've got till it's gone..." This, of course, screwed things up more than any of the Joker's and Penguin's tricks put together. He didn't want to lose Dick. But after what he saw in the gym... he guessed it was a moot point.

Again, the words came from Bruce without his input. But this time, the Bat armor had been firmly jarred back into position. "You've paid for yesterday's mistakes, today. And you know I've always said that if you've learned from a mistake, then it becomes a lesson, instead. It seems we've both learned a lot, today."

Dick's face flushed, no doubt thinking of his ecstasy with Barbara. Seeing his flush, the scene snapped to the forefront of Bruce's mind, causing him to flush, as well. He clung to his drive to make this conversation clinical, keeping his emotions stuffed away. Ruthlessly bringing his body under control, he took a deep breath and began again.

"Yes. Well. That brings us to this afternoon. Unfortunately, as your guardian, I feel it's my responsibility to discuss the... event... with you." He cleared his throat. "As your father asked me to 'take care' of you, Miss Gordon, I'm afraid I must have this discussion with you, as well."

No one had moved since Alfred had opened the door. With this invitation by Bruce, Alfred took over. "I'm sure you must be hungry, or thirsty. Please sit down and I will bring some tea."

Bruce felt stricken. "You may stay, Alfred," he said. Facing a dozen of the Riddler's henchmen, alone, he could handle. But he wasn't sure he could discuss safe sex with these two, alone. Especially not with Dick. Bruce was finding it exceedingly difficult to think of Dick and sex without placing himself in the mix.

Alfred smiled gently. "No, thank you, sir. I must start dinner, as well."

"Hey Al?" Dick looked exhausted as he gingerly stretched out onto his favorite overstuffed, forest green leather couch. "Since it's my birthday, can I pick dinner?"

"But of course, Master Dick," Alfred smiled at him warmly.

Dick's glance at Bruce appeared casual. "OK?" Bruce nodded. "Cool. I want the 'Kitchen Sink Special' from Gotham Pizzeria. And I want it delivered, with fried ice cream for dessert." He was smiling broadly. The giant pizza had some 23 different toppings on it, hence its name. As for the fried ice cream, Alfred had always told the two younger men he'd rather they drink melted butter than eat that unhealthy dish.

Despite the day's difficulties, Bruce and Barbara couldn't stifle their chuckles as Alfred's face twisted in horror. "Good Heavens! Master Bruce, surely you aren't going to allow it, are you?"

Bruce shrugged as if he had no control. "You've been telling me Dick's maturing. Guess that means he's old enough to decide what to eat." It may have been a small victory, but Bruce was glad to serve the old man's words back to him, for once. Alfred turned stiffly and stepped out, closing the door on the sounds of their laughter.

As soon as their laughter died, Bruce realized it. That whole look of horror had been a ruse by Alfredto break the ice and get out of the room. Damn that clever old bird! Bruce thought disgustedly. He looked at Barbara, sitting awkwardly in the plum colored overstuffed chair that always had too many chenille pillows on it for Bruce's liking. He glanced over at Dick, who was watching him with an odd look on his face. No sooner had he turned toward Dick, then their eyes met and locked. Bruce felt himself falling into the serene blue and realized his denial had been stripped clean. His protection was gone. And he knew Alfred was right.

Oh my God. I love him. Bruce's jaw clenched with the realization. And not like a son. I *want* him. God damn you, Alfred. I can't have him! I *shouldn't* have him. He doesn't want me, anyway. He likes girls. He likes... He looked over at Barbara. She had taken the towel off her head and was drying her long, crimson ringlets. As if his eyes had been opened to his surroundings for the first time, he realized how beautiful she was. I should be happy for him, Bruce decided. At least I'll still have him as... what? My "ward?" A friend? Does he want that? Do I? What in ever-loving Hell was Alfred talking about? Bruce turned back toward Dick and found that the younger man's stunningly blue eyes were still fixed on him.

"Bruce?" He heard her voice through a fog. He knew he should respond, but Dick's eyes were too deep to pull out of just yet. And he didn't really want to. Hmm. That's odd. Why is he still staring at me? Babs tried again, louder.

"Umm. Bruce?" He struggled to pull himself from Dick's eyes and look at Babs. He felt drunk. He blinked, trying to focus on the confused, quizzical look on her face.

"You wanted to talk to us," she reminded him, looking demurely at Dick. The word hit him. *Us.* I'm just imagining things, he told himself. His most efficient emotion, denial, burst in like the cavalry.

"Yes, Barbara." He pulled himself to the task at hand. "This won't be comfortable, but I need to say this." He couldn't look at Dick. But it wasn't easy watching Barbara darting furtive glances at Dick, either. He focused on a wayward curl on top of her head. "In the Jacuzzi just now. Did you use protection?"

"Huh?" Dick asked. Bruce scrutinized the top of Babs' head. She looked down.

"No, we didn't. But I'm on birth control. Um, for my skin. And because it helps with, um, cramps and things..."

Bruce didn't care if Barbara was promiscuous or not. Nor did he care about her reasons. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Pregnancy is not the only worry here, Miss Gordon. There are other, life-threatening things to consider." He forced himself to look toward Dick, but was still unable to look him in the eye. He stared intently at Dick's thick, dark hair, noticing how it curled gently when it was left to dry naturally. While part of Bruce decided it was time for Dick to get a haircut, another part of him was admiring how sexy the teen looked with the damp, wavy locks. He thought of the few times Dick had fallen asleep in the batmobile on the way home from a long night. A vision came to mind of the tousled hair, flushed cheeks, full lips and incredibly long lashes brushing softly on his sleeping face. Bruce felt himself getting hard. He quickly averted his eyes to glare at a spot over Dick's shoulder.

"There are serious diseases to consider in addition to the matter of an unplanned pregnancy. Richard, did you ask if she was on birth control? Did you even think about using a condom? When you choose to become sexually active, you must do so for the right reasons, not just because you get carried away in the moment. An intimate sharing between two people should be a mature, responsible decision made after consideration of the consequences, both physically and emotionally. Teenagers having casual sex is not a mature decision. When you choose to become sexually active, Richard, you must always use a condom. No exceptions. There are too many risks. If you're not ready to accept that responsibility, then you're not ready to make the decision to have intercourse, either." Bruce stopped. He hoped that Dick couldn't tell how uncomfortable he felt. He immediately denied the fleeting wish that he could have been the first to share the ultimate act of intimacy with Dick, when the youth was older. Dick was still too young. He wasn't ready for sex, and all the emotional baggage that came with it. At least, Bruce wasn't ready for Dick to be ready for it. He leaned appreciatively against his desk; grateful the massive piece of mahogany hid his suddenly weak knees.

Dick cleared his throat. "Yes sir. Um. I'll remember that. Umm. So you're umm, OK with this?"

Bruce's eyes defied him again, melting into Dick's vivid blue eyes looking back at him so hopefully.

"No! Of course not!" He wished he hadn't snapped those words out so quickly. "That is, I don't believe you've thought this through. And I don't appreciate where you chose to... I mean I'm very disappointed... You, Barbara," he whipped around to look at her. "I trusted you in my home. Richard won't appreciate hearing this, but legally..."

Dick cut him off. "Yeah, yeah, I know. It just depends on whose law you're going to follow. Babs isn't some cradle-snatcher, for Chrissakes!"

Bruce's head snapped back toward Dick again. "Richard! You will not use that language in this house!" He returned to focusing over Dick's shoulder. "The age of consent in this state is 17 years old. While I'm aware that 16 is an acceptable age in your culture, Richard, state law supersedes any other guidelines. Which I'm sure you are clearly aware of, Miss Gordon." He turned to focus on her neatly shaped eyebrows, annoyed that he was unable to look her in the eye, either.

"I would think you would have had more respect for your father's profession. How do you think he's going to feel about this?"

Her eyes popped wide. "You're going to tell Daddy! Oh, Bruce, no! I'm truly sorry. As Dick said, I never meant to hurt you, either. I know you've been so kind to me, I wouldn't dare ask anything more of you. I'll honor your wishes. If you demand I stay away from Dick, I will. But please, don't tell my father. He'll be so hurt. He'll be furious! He wouldn't understand! He'd be completely irrational! Dick doesn't deserve the wrath of my father!"

Bruce had returned to watching Dick again, during Babs' appeal. He felt a nearly telekinetic connection to the younger man. Unable to resist the teen's eyes, he fell into them again, his body screaming to hold Dick, his mind screaming to let go.

"I can't demand you stay away from Richard, Barbara." How could I? he thought. "I know you two have become friends. I have no choice but to trust the two of you to make the right decision in this matter." He tore away from Dick's eyes again. "As far as telling your father, I'm afraid you're right. I have no desire to inflict that hurt upon him." Bruce tried to steel his heart against Babs, but couldn't. How could he blame her? His thoughts were so full of sadness and envy, there was no room left for anger.



To be continued...