Night and Day: Old Times' Sake
Archive: With permission only.
Feedback: Is always appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own the DC Comic characters and aren't making any cash off them.
Notes: The idea for this fic came about because of a question: what if it hadn't been Koriand'r the Teen Titans saved way back when, but Ryand'r? What if it had been Ryand'r who kissed Robin back in Teen Titans #2? So, that's the premise. Consider this story to be set in an alternate DC Universe. Enjoy! - xoxo MEL
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Late night in Bludhaven. Aching from a half dozen wounds, Nightwing crawled through the window of his apartment. His bodysuit hung off him in tatters, revealing bruised and bloody flesh. He reacted instinctively to movement on his right, turning to it, slipping into a fighter's stance. For an instant the pain from his bruised ribs was forgotten in the rush of adrenalin.
"You look horrible, Dick."
Nightwing blinked and relaxed. "I feel worse."
Sighing, Ryan stepped forward and helped Nightwing to the couch. With practiced ease he pulled Nightwing's clothes off him. His face tightened with worry and anger at the sight of the bruises marring Nightwing's ribs.
Nightwing sighed and pulled his mask off. "I went ten rounds with Blockbuster tonight."
"Did you win?"
"What do you think?"
Ryan's fingers were moving over Dick's torso, prompting little gasps of pain from the acrobat. "I think you've got a few too many bruised ribs. Should I bother asking if you want to go to the hospital?"
Dick shook his head. "No, I've had worse."
"When?" Ryan asked, standing and heading toward the bathroom.
"Back in my circus days," said Dick, leaning his head back on the couch and closing his eyes. "I fell a lot before I learned to fly."
He felt Ryan return to the couch, sit next to him, but didn't open his eyes.
"It's hard picturing you falling."
A warm sponge touched Dick's chest, gently moving over his aching flesh. Dick sighed and felt the tension in his shoulders start to ease.
"What brings you to the Haven tonight?"
The sponge paused in its travels down Dick's torso.
"You," said Ryan. "I wanted to see you."
Dick opened his eyes and looked at the other man. "Why?"
Ryan looked at him for a moment, then shook his head and returned to his work. "Do you have to ask?"
He was gripping the sponge tightly, forcing water from it in tiny rivulets. His movements were practical and efficient, but still gentle.
"You're getting more like him every day," Ryan said.
Dick frowned. "Like who?"
"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Dick. He hissed as the sponge moved gently over his battered ribs.
"Sorry," muttered Ryan. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," said Dick. "Not really."
Ryan paused and looked up again. His golden eyes met Dick's dark blue orbs. "I wish I could say the same."
"Ryan, that's not fair."
"Life's not fair, Dick. You should know that."
Dick frowned and heaved a sigh of exasperation. "Maybe you should go."
Ryan nodded. "Not before I do what I came here to do."
"What's that?" Dick asked warily.
Without a word, Ryan leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. His tongue slipped briefly into Dick's mouth, and then the kiss was over.
"What was that for?" Dick asked, a little breathless.
"Old times' sake," said Ryan. He stood, a golden shadow in the dark room. "Do you remember the first time we kissed?"
"It was right after the Titans stopped those gun runners. You tackled me when I was blasting them because you thought I was out of control."
Dick nodded. "I thought you were going to kill someone."
"You were trying to get me to understand so hard," said Ryan.
"And you kissed me, right there in front of the others."
"So I could absorb your language."
Dick nodded, smiling faintly. "I thought Wally was going to die when you did that."
"And then we went back to your apartment," continued Ryan, "and the rest is history."
"Yes," said Dick. "History."
"You were so . . . shy," said Ryan softly. "So hesitant."
"I know." Dick looked down at his hands. "We had a good time, Ryan."
"And that's all it was to you," said Ryan, a bitter edge to his words. "A good time. Like sports or dancing."
"I didn't mean to hurt you, Ryan. You know that."
"Yes," said the golden skinned alien. "I know. But you did."
He walked to the window, stopped and glanced back at Dick. "You should remember that when you're with Barbara."
Then Ryand'r was gone, soaring through the dark night like a golden comet, leaving Dick alone on his couch, aching from the present and the past.