Not So) Sweet Sixteen

by seby

(Batman/Robin slash, PG-13)

And now, the conclusion. More disclaimers: There will *not* be sex in this chapter. Just some slashy moments between Bruce and Dick. Verbal, emotional, physical, whatever. But no sex! As always, love you Betabecky!! Now, let's wrap this baby up, so we can move on to ... The Age Of Consent!!

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



^.^ Chapter 11 ^.^

The pizza dinner was a subdued affair. Dick had been almost too exhausted to chew, yawning between every few bites. Barbara was lost in her thoughts, as was Bruce. The silence was broken only by Alfred, who puttered about the group, offering slices of the "monstrosity," as he called it, and making sure Dick was drinking enough.

Alfred had insisted Dick drink milk with his meal, and plenty of it. Dick didn't mind, because Alfred had made one of his childhood favorites: banana milk. Alfred knew of Dick's tendency to suffer leg cramps, and the calcium, magnesium and potassium in the banana milk helped prevent cramps. Dick knew that, too, and relished the bit of "pampering" from Alfred. He felt he had aged 10 years today.

Barbara had claimed the "fried ice cream" looked disgusting, and added that she had homework to tend to, excusing herself from the tight-lipped trio. Alfred had cleaned up all but two bowls and the delivery container of dessert, and left them, saying "I have no intention of taking any part nor parcel in the destruction of your arteries."

So now, only Bruce and Dick were left. They had retired to the study with their bowls, as the night had become cool and the warmly burning fireplace in the study beckoned to them. Dick had suggested moving there, as he always felt an intimate connection to Bruce there. Bruce had agreed, clinging to their returned closeness, even though it was a troubled one. He hadn't realized how lonely he had been on those silent, one-man patrols.

They were sitting silently, Dick eating the dessert and watching the flames dance and flicker in the fireplace. He had returned to his favorite couch and wrapped up with a velvet throw that he kept there. Alfred had long since given up putting the throw away, and instead left it neatly arranged over an arm of the couch.

Bruce had left his bowl on the side table and immediately parked himself behind his protective desk. He spread various papers from his briefcase in front of him, subconsciously building a wall between him and the rest of the world. He furrowed his brow and frowned at the papers as if deeply studying them, while his mind raced.

Not turning around to look at Bruce, Dick cleared his throat. "Bruce," he called softly. Bruce winced silently, locking his gaze onto papers he no longer saw. In his mind's eye, he and Dick were flying; flying on the sapphire blue Honda SuperHawk V-twin sportbike he had arranged to purchase for Dick's 16th birthday present, even though the model had not been released to the general public.

"Bruce, when I asked if you were 'OK with this,' I meant, are *we* OK?" He sighed, sadly, and reached for the mug of hot chocolate that Alfred had left on the end table. "I don't want our relationship to be like it's been lately. It's tearing me up, man. So's the one with Batman. I can't take it. I need you, Bruce. You're my whole life..." Dick's voice trailed off as he battled the emotions within. He cleared his throat again and sipped at the warm beverage, cupping his hands around it, suddenly feeling as if he couldn't get warm.

Bruce sat frozen, Dick's voice and words almost painful to his ears. He immediately regretted coming into his study, wishing instead Batman had flown out early on patrol. He waited, silently, torn. He hoped his silence would end Dick's outpouring, all the while regretting his inability to erase Dick's pain, as well as his own.

The silence fed Dick's growing chasm of need, pushing him to continue his flood of words.

"Anyway, you were right about me not thinking things through. It was just a 'heat of the moment' thing, like you said. I mean, it was nice, but you know. It was just sex." He jumped at his own words and hurried to continue. "I mean freakin' great sex and I *really* don't regret it, cuz I value Babs as a friend, so it wasn't really just, you know, 'casual teenage sex,' it *was* a responsible decision between two mature people... well not really responsible, you know, cuz, you know, we didn't use the, um, the condom but it wasn't like we didn't care about each other, but you're right, we're not 'in love' or whatever, but, oh shit, I'm making this worse."

He gulped the mug's contents and jumped up, too agitated to sit still. He began pacing the room.

"It's just that I'm freaking 16, man. You know? My body kinda has a mind of it's own sometimes. I mean, Christ! Oh, sorry... Cripes! Sometimes my body has sex without me; ya know what I mean? I can't *not* think about sex. And all these girls at school... well, they just don't quit sometimes... and it makes me wonder.... and anyway *everyone's* curious... and anyway I'm only human, ya know? They keep shaking their tits at me and grabbing my ass and I think, 'what the hell is up with that!? And then there's Pete...'"

An indistinguishable swear left his lips as he rammed his shin into the corner of the coffee table.

"Damn! Sorry! It's just that it seems to be on my mind a lot and I can't really talk about things, you know, to anybody, really, and well you know it just kinda happened and it was just really a sucky day and Babs was there and she was so nice to me and, you know, she really is hot and I got hard and it just was turning me on and I can't be a virgin forever you know and Babs was the only one I've even thought about doing it with - well, not really, um... but, anyway - it seemed right because, I *know* her and *like* her and she likes me, but it wasn't like, you know, wedding bells and it's not supposed to be, anyway, right? And, well, it was really just sex but I guess it wasn't, really, because she means something, but... oh hell, Bruce, I don't know!"

Dick stopped in front of Bruce's desk, panting, and stared at the older man. Bruce had been watching him pacing with a dispassionate stare and now saw the despair, confusion, pain and sadness in his eyes. Chum, I feel like I'm looking in a mirror, Bruce thought sadly.

"See, Bruce, Babs has been really special to me lately, while you and I are just always fighting and fighting and I just can't stand it anymore. I've been lonely without you. She's become a good friend, but she can't ever substitute for you. I want things they way they were. But I'm not so stupid to believe they can ever be that way again," Dick gulped.

"Will you *please* say something to me?"

Dick's exhaustion hit him full force. His eyes pleaded with Bruce, while he suddenly felt his cock twitch as Bruce's eye's seemed to look through to his soul.

"God, Bruce. I *miss* you."

Those five words, and the earnest pain beneath them, cut at Bruce's heart. Slowly, Bruce realized that, for whatever reason, Dick was suffering as deeply as he was. And Bruce knew that he would do anything to halt Dick's pain. He examined Dick's face, memorizing the budding signs of his manhood that Bruce hadn't seen -- or perhaps had denied seeing -- before. The next words came automatically.

"You need to shave."

Dick's jaw dropped. "What!?"

"You've got a serious five o'clock shadow, young man."

Dick snorted. "What?" His tone was one of incredulity.

"It appears you are of the age that you need to shave, every day," Bruce said matter-of-factly.

"I know, Bruce!! I just didn't this morning. Jeez!" Dick's confusion grew to bewilderment.

Bruce's voice slowed. "I didn't know, Dick. I didn't know you needed to shave every day. I haven't been *seeing* you, lately, have I?" his voice dropped to a near whisper.

"I miss you, too."

The wave of relief washing over Dick made him weak in the knees. "God, Bruce! Oh, thank God. I'm just so sorry." He sank down to sit on the edge of the couch, looking every bit as exhausted as he felt.

"Dick." Bruce's tone was measured and strong -- stronger than he felt. "It's all right. We've both been a bit preoccupied. But I'll always be here for you, whatever you need." He felt his throat constrict with emotion. Forcing a small smile, he changed tactics. "You've been growing up, you know. It's a painful process, chum. It can be confusing, too. And not just for you."

"Have I really blown everything, Bruce? Or does it just feel that way?" Dick said mournfully.

Bruce pushed back his chair and stood, trying to break his returning feelings of despair. "What feels like a catastrophe tonight will feel like a dream tomorrow," he said, remembering some meaningless, hollow words spoken by a clueless psychiatrist he was made to visit after his parents' deaths. He hoped the statement provided Dick with the comfort it must have been intended to produce for him.

"This was a growing pain, a rite of passage," Bruce said, using the terms Alfred had spoken earlier in this room. "We're past that, now." Bruce crossed toward the door. He felt the room was growing smaller again. He knew he couldn't continue this conversation, now. Maybe later. Now he needed to get out. He hoped his hunch on the whereabouts of the suburban bandits was correct. He very much wanted to vent some frustration tonight.

Bruce put his hand on the door, turning to pass an explanation to Dick. He was startled to see that Dick had risen from his perch on the couch and was standing behind him.

"Dick! I need to patrol now. Get some sleep, you've earned it."

Dick put his hand on Bruce's arm, feeling the flex of his muscle and the warmth of his skin. "If we've finally passed this 'rite', Bruce, I don't want to launch into another one. Besides, I miss patrolling. I miss Batman, too. Terribly."

"No." Bruce's tone was firm and finite. "You can't. Tomorrow will be soon enough. You're body has had too much stress today, you know you won't be able to keep up. I suspect tonight will be slow, anyway. I look forward to Robin's company tomorrow, when I won't have to worry about him falling asleep on the roof." Bruce's lips quirked into a subtle smile.

Dick opened his mouth to protest but no words came out. It seemed his body was again acting without him. He realized he was feeling strangely aroused by the massive bulk of the man standing beside him. Instead he shook his head to clear his thoughts and agreed.

"OK, Bruce. You win. I guess I really am too tired. I can't even think straight, anymore." He stifled a giggle as the irony of his words hit him. No, he thought with amusement, I haven't been thinking straight for a while, now... Bruce, you just don't know how honest I'm being! All I think about is sex. Sex with girls, sex with guys, sex with both... Hell, I'm even thinking about sex with you!

He felt the heat of Bruce's skin burning his hand and slid it down to rest on Bruce's hand, still resting on the doorknob. He thought he felt a slight shiver from the older man.

"But only if you promise to wake me up when you get back and let me know how it went. I'm tired of not knowing what's going on," Dick said, wondering if he could, perhaps, spark a conversation about Bruce's sexual preference when Bruce returned.

Bruce snorted. "Dick, you know how impossible it can be to wake you when you're dead tired..." Bruce turned to face the door as an image of Dick sleeping in bed came to him. Bruce savored a fleeting vision of himself leaning over the sleeping teen, hair tousled and covers pushed down to expose his bare shoulders and chest. He could almost taste the gently salty flavor of Dick's face as he imagined leaning over, closer, and kissing his cheek.

He pulled the door open and yanked his hand out from under Dick's. "Just go to bed and I'll see you in the morning." Bruce pushed through the open doorway, inhaling the less sexually charged air from the hallway as if he had been drowning.

Dick smiled. He was sure he had rattled the Bat. Maybe.... "Well, I'm staying. But I'm going to go upstairs on the patio. So unless you want me to freeze to death, you're going to have to wake me up when you get home."

Bruce grunted in disgust. "Not going to give up, are you?"

"You know what Winston Churchill always said," Dick laughed. "Never, never, never, never give up."

Bruce sighed. "Brat. If Alfred catches you out there..."

"Don't worry. I'll take a blanket. A bunch of them!" Dick headed toward the stairs as Bruce turned toward the batcave.

^.^

Standing on the roof of the Gotham City bank and looking up at the clear, starry night sky, Bruce kept imagining Dick curled up in blankets on that patio. He felt as if they were both looking at the same stars, perhaps sharing the same thoughts. Yet he also still felt the space between them, in more ways than one.

Dick's "confessional burst" kept running through Bruce's head while he tried to categorize and analyze the words. One short phrase kept coming back. "...and then there's Pete." What had Dick meant? Unable to accept the suspicions creeping into his thoughts, Bruce forced his thoughts elsewhere.

He considered a sign to reassure Dick that he was trying to accept the teen's maturation. His mental, *emotional* maturation, as well as his physical. A sign that was significant, specific, and sincere. One that only he and Dick could appreciate.

He thought, again, of the SuperHawk, concealed in the garage between the cars used only for ceremonial occasions. Although the spirit of that gift would be dampened by the day's events, Bruce still intended to present him with the motorcycle, as well as the trip to the DMV for his license. That would have to wait until Monday, though. The license branch had Saturday morning hours, which had fit perfectly into Bruce's plans for Dick's birthday, but the business was closed on Sunday. Besides, Bruce had a hunch Dick would be a little too sore to take Bruce's planned road trip.

There's always next year, he thought, sadly. Staring back up at the stars, glinting in the moonlight, it came to him. The perfect sign. The perfect gift. He snapped his fingers and headed to the car, and his cell phone. This would take cashing in some favors.

^.^

Bruce cursed to himself as the batmobile glided into the secret entrance. He had spent barely four hours on patrol. He'd finally given up, knowing he was only out there to think, and all he could think about was Dick sleeping under the stars on the patio.

He knew which one without being told. It was located at the end of the hallway separating Dick's room from Bruce's suite. The lounge furniture there was well padded and the location protected from sharp winds by abutments constructed on the adjoining wings.

He found himself hurrying up the stairs and down the hall toward the patio. Glancing at his watch, he calculated how much longer before the package would be delivered. Should be just about an hour, he thought. He opened the French doors to the patio and looked down at the sleeping figure, buried beneath a cocoon of covers, a light mist emanating from a spot where his breath escaped into the chilly air. Bending over, he scooped up Dick, blankets and all, and went back into the hall, pushing the door shut behind him with his foot.

Laying Dick on his bed, Bruce extricated the blankets from his arms and legs, pulling the fluffy down comforter over the still-sleeping teen. As expected, Dick mumbled incoherently before snuggling deep into his feather bed.

Bruce gazed down at him again, memorizing the more sculpted features of the maturing face. Leaning closer, he very lightly stroked Dick's cheek. An amused look crossed his face. "Why you little... you shaved!" Bruce smiled and shook his head. He stroked the unruly curls peeking out from behind his ears. "But you still need a haircut." The love he felt for Dick surged to the surface again, leaving him surprised, confused and breathless. Sighing, he dragged his thoughts back into his "safe" zone. He glanced at his watch again before turning to leave.

^.^

Dick yawned and rolled over. Looking out his window, he noticed how high the sun was in the sky. Wow, it must be after 9 a.m., he thought. He sat up slowly, stretching, and noticed the pile of blankets on the foot of his bed.

"Damn! He didn't wake me up!" he swore, suddenly remembering his plans from last night. Or maybe he tried, he smiled, not caring anymore, instead anxious to find Bruce and find out how the night's patrol had gone. Getting up, he headed toward the dresser to change from the sweatpants he was wearing into a pair of jeans. Looking on top of the dresser, he saw the diamond earring his friends had bought him two days before.

"Hey! How'd that get there?" he said, reaching to feel his earlobe. "What the..." he realized the earring on his dresser was the one he had been wearing last night. "Damn you, Bruce, you just don't quit!" he snorted, smiling as he remembered Bruce's frustration last night when Dick had quoted Winston Churchill.

He was about to turn, when he noticed an unassuming black box sitting on the dresser, next to the picture of his parents. Opening it, he found a small piece of paper tucked in the top of the box. In the bottom of the box sparkled a beautiful diamond earring, cut in a pear shape and the most unusual color Dick had ever seen.

He grasped the small note and opened it. If he hadn't immediately recognized Bruce's writing, the words certainly would have revealed whom the gift was from. It read "Happy Sweet 16, chum."

Dick's face split into a grin. As he pulled out the earring and put it into his ear, he saw a tag tucked under the padding. Picking it up, he felt his heart melt as he read the jeweler's words.

Diamond, rare, Robin's Egg Blue.

Dick dropped the tag and vaulted toward the door, anticipating Bruce would be waiting for him in the cave. As he jumped over the stair railing, he thought to himself, Today rocks!



The End
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