title: Salt
fandom: DC Comics
characters/pairings: Bruce/Dick
rating: Teen
warnings: licking wounds
summary: Nightwing helps Batman clean up.
notes: for my darling minion, Sue, for mother's day. *cuddles sue* set in the animated series for simplicity's sake.

It burned his tongue. The tang of it, it made him sick to his stomach. But it was better this way somehow. It was allowed. He swallowed it, though it made him want to vomit. It was allowed.

He had been surprised, to say the least, when the Bat fell into his arms. Bruce must have had him tagged. It was stupid to follow after him when he was injured. But that was the way he was. Always on his terms. This was allowed, on his terms, behind this mask, in this manner.

He could tend to the wounds, anyway he liked. There was a tacit level of trust here. Bruce was vulnerable, and he came to Dick.

Came to Nightwing.

Maybe that was the difference. Bruce wasn't allowed to touch Dick, wasn't allowed to care about Dick, Batman couldn't touch Robin, but Nightwing was entirely different.

Maybe that was why he had left to begin with.

He didn't know now, and it didn't matter. Whether it was or it wasn't, the end result was the same. He could do this now.

Leslie might not agree, but this was the best way. He could lick Bruce's wounds clean, clean his skin of the sweat and the tears, the blood, and let Bruce sleep safe in his arms, on his bed.

Behind the mask, but that was irrelevant. Names, masks, they were just labels.

He had his love in his arms. There was no need for any questions.








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