title: First Embrace
fandom: DC Comics
characters/pairings: Dick/Garth, Titans, implied Bruce/Dick, Alfred
rating: Mature
warnings: teen sex
summary: Dick and Garth share a night to remember...
notes: this is au, since it involves the titans and i know nothing about them. so, it an au story, not a story rife with errors...=)

Garth couldn't quite figure out what he was feeling. He had never felt modest about his body, probably because in Atlantis things were different enough than this surface world to prevent such feelings. But now, he was acutely aware of every feature of his body, wet and only covered by his tight "swimsuit", a strange name for clothing. He wanted to hide behind fabric for the first time in his life. And even more so, he was aware of every feature and nuance of the body next to him, also wet and only clad in boxer shorts, that were dark, but not dark enough not to be somewhat transparent now.

He had no idea how they had gotten here.

He was stretched out next to the pool, next to Robin, Richard Grayson, the paragon of strength with compassion, his leader and friend, and, truth to be told, his idol. His favorite fantasy.

That day, the Teen Titans had vanquished a foe, and had done well. Afterwards, usually, they would stay in the tower and socialize, letting go of the adrenaline. But today, Roy and Donna had rushed off, with only the vaguest of excuses. Wally had rushed around, making suggestions, and had, after only a few seconds of frustration, speed off to go home and catch up with his uncle. Garth and Dick were about to separate and go home, much more slowly than any of their friends, when somehow, the suggestion of a swim had been made. Dick didn't have a swimsuit at the Tower, so he just put on the boxers. And now they were laying by the pool, exhausted after some play-races; play, since while Dick was exhausting himself, Garth was barely breaking a sweat.

He was sweating now.

Dick's stomach was moving up and down, and Garth badly wanted to touch the stomach, the pecs, the face, more than anything else, and he'd never felt this before. He'd had dreams, strange dreams filled with vague and uncertain desire, more so since he was so innocent in this realm. He didn't have the advantage of being part of a culture that would teach him how to feel and what to want. He wasn't part of the surface world, and whenever he watched movies with his friends he was usually too confused to follow the action, merely watching the people who included him, enjoying their enjoyment. He wasn't really a part of Atlantis either; the people there would never fully accept him, and so much of his life had been spent far away from any society.

Did the surface people have relationships with members of the same sex? It was confusing, but he didn't really remember seeing any movies or anything with men or women together. He wasn't even sure that in Atlantis men came together like this. His dreams had been partially fevered by the hint of impropriety. Would it upset Dick if he knew that while he lounged and caught his breath, his friend carefully memorized every detail of his body? The desire to touch was overwhelming, increased by his friend's unconscious sensuality. He really had no idea how desirable he was, lounging with his legs stretched out and up...

The urge to touch was so great... and Dick looked like he was practically falling asleep... Maybe it would be all right if he just... just... just brushed his fingertips across that enticing belly... He could say.. say... maybe he'd be reaching for something...

It was late, and he was tired, and totally unaware that while his mind was attempting to work out a rationalization, his body was acting on his whims, his hand reaching out, fingertips tracing the lines of muscle, swirling around the indentation of a bellybutton...

Dick shuddered but didn't move...

It had been a long day. A long night before that. A long week before that. The thing with the Titan's was practically a breather. There was just so much going on, and Dick had been looking forward to time off with his friends, which always followed a Titan's adventure. Except Roy and Donna wanted to be alone, and Wally was too excitable to sit still long enough to decide what to do. Then he and Garth decided to take a swim. It was better this way, really, his busy brain was finally slowing down. Garth was always so easy to be with; Roy was such a challenge, Donna was too... emotional, too nurturing, and Wally too, too...well. Too needy. Wally looked up to him as a big brother and a teacher and everything else... too much pressure. All around. School, he had to be the good student without giving anything away, as Robin he had to be the perfect sidekick, with the Titan's he had to be the leader, always in control and always ready for whatever was coming. That was just his 'jobs' - his personal life was much worse. Babs teased him constantly, on many levels, his friends were good but he hardly ever saw them when the world or the city wasn't in danger, and there was always the pressures there, and there were those dreams he had about Bruce he was always deciding not to think about. With Garth there was no pressure. No demands.

There was a hand moving across his stomach.

He jerked, and stilled, suddenly aware that he wanted there to be a hand moving across his stomach. He opened his eyes slowly, letting the situation flow over him. Garth was beautiful, and for some reason, the feeling of fingertips across his flesh brought the word 'magic' to mind. Was this what he lacked? Was it always so close?

He leaned up gently, and met Garth's eyes. There was so much in those purple depths, and as slowly as he moved towards them, they moved to him.

Then, he and Garth were kissing. Soft kisses, barely moving their lips with uncertainty. They both looked in each other's eyes, and finding what they sought they kissed again, tongues coming out with the ingrained memory of flesh leading them when actual experience fell short. Suddenly, the hand that moved over his belly plunged down into his shorts.

Oh! His mouth opened and he grabbed hold of Garth's strong arms, and Garth's mouth moved down, onto his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his shorts flew across into the pool and Garth stripped out of his small shorts and hands moved and teeth closed over flesh, and Dick couldn't think a single thought.

Clumsy and desperate, they pulled at each other and thrust brutally in the general direction of the other person's body, and bit and kissed and groaned...

When they were both spent and sticky, they still held each other, panting. Garth pulled his head up to meet Dick's eye with great effort and asked, blearily, "Did we just have sex?"

Dick smiled generously, and then got confused. "I... I don't know. It felt like... but nothing was penetrated..."

Garth began to kiss and touch again, pulling Dick up and leading him away from the pool and towards the dorm area. Dick let him, but tried to think long enough to figure out if they were doing it right, and how it might be done differently...

The next morning, Dick was packing up his motorcycle. Bruce was not going to happy, he hated it when Dick was out all night as Robin and came home as Dick. But it had been worth it... and when he got home, he was going to read up on this, figure out how to do it right...

"I should go, Arthur will have been expecting me all night. Unless he forgot." Garth laughed humorlessly. He then pulled Dick close for a kiss. "I can't wait to tell Tula! She thinks you have such a cute bum!" He was giggling now, and Dick buried his face in Garth's shoulder, letting the other boy hug him tightly.


It wasn't quite that Dick had forgotten about Tula, exactly... Just, well, after last night...

Garth had a girlfriend.

So what the fuck...

"Are you alright? Did I say something amiss?" Garth looked concerned.

"Of course not! I have to go too. Last night was fun. See you..." It hurt, so much, but he wasn't going to let Garth see that, no way, not now, he was probably being rude but who cared? He had to get out.

His bike packed and camouflaged, he focused furiously on the ride, the route, the other vehicles, the weather, anything, anything but last night and this morning...

He had been so sure, so sure that this was it, what he needed to be happy. So sure they were both seeking and finding the same thing. But he'd been so wrong, so badly, horribly wrong, and he felt so hurt, used, abused, debased, emasculated...

The road! Not thinking about it, or anything, he practiced litanies and focused. He focused on the road and let the hum of the engine and the whirl of the wind keep his thoughts on the moment.

Back to the cave, putting things away, and with the sound and the activity gone, it was getting harder not to think. Always his problem, his stupid busy brain...

He evaded Alfred as best he could, earning only a few disapproving 'tuts'. Oh, if he knew why he'd been out all night...!

He slipped up the back stairs to avoid Bruce, because he couldn't face Bruce, and sank into his room, just barely kicking off his boots before huddling under the covers and realizing that he had to start thinking sometime.

Bruce stood outside Dick's door for long painful moments before pushing the door open. He hated to do this, to be the authority figure with Dick. He much preferred the role of 'chum' or teacher. Alfred was much better suited to this. But whenever Dick really flaunted the rules, it was up to Bruce to set him right. And poor Alfred had been worried all night long because Dick hadn't bothered to call. It was worse now than ever, since Bruce knew that every violation and infraction was a steppingstone that would take Dick away from him and onto a path of his own creating.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed open the door, but the lecture he had practiced all night died when he saw the huddled, shaking figure on the bed.

Moving with the speed of a vigilante, Bruce made his way to the bed and was stopped cold, not sure what to do next. "Dick?" His question was as hesitant as he was.

The figure huddled a bit tighter and the muffled sob hitched, breaking Bruce's heart. What had happened?

Pulling the all-too-small form to him, Bruce sighed. "Dick... whatever it is, it's going to be ok..." Hopefully...

"I ... I forgot..." The voice was full of such hurt, and Bruce would break any number of bones to soothe that ache. Dick couldn't possibly be upset about breaking curfew, could he?

Bruce pulled the huddled form closer to himself and pressed his face against Dick's dark, thick, beautiful hair, the one feature of Dick's that spoke of his gypsy heritage.

That's when he smelled the sweat. Not too surprising, since Dick rode home on his bike, but the intangible scent of Dick was mixed with a saltier musk. And there was the other scent, deeper. It may have been a while since Bruce had smelled that scent on himself, but he still recognized it.

Dick had had sex last night.

And this morning he was crying...

Who? He had been with the Titans yesterday, and they usually spent time together afterwards. Donna? But she and Roy... Ollie hadn't said anything the other day...

"... his girlfriend..." Oh. "... why...?" Oh, no. Roy and Donna were still together. And Wally was too young, even if they were the same age. Garth... Bruce always knew he hated Atlanteans for a reason.

He wrapped his arms around Dick so tight he was sure Dick would protest. Cradled him. It was criminally unfair. Dick was so bright, so beautiful, so good, and he deserved more, much more. Why couldn't the fish-boy love him? It was unfathomable. Dick was a bright beacon of hope, a smile in the darkest night, his sanity most days. Why wouldn't anyone, everyone, love him, fully with his whole heart and soul, forever?

Startling realization broke across Bruce, and he promptly ignored it.

It hurt, but he could bear it. As long as he was in these arms, he could bear anything.

His busy brain had stopped.

If he could only stay in these arms forever, everything would be fine, perfect.

He knew he couldn't, and he didn't begrudge Bruce or Batman for that. He would rather fight by his side than stay with here. He would rather be a part of both lives than deny one.

So he memorized every detail of the arms that held him, the exact temperature of the breath on his head, the every nuance of the chest he was pressed against.

When he didn't have the arms, the breath, the chest, he would at least have the memory.