Hoping We'll Catch One Another (DC) (Archival)

[salvadore_hart]

Parts One and Two originally on tumlbr
young justice, post s2, kaldur/dick (more like a whole heck of a lot of pining) for @corruptedempires

One.

There’s this moment after Kaldur has propelled himself bodily at Dick and the momentum sends the two of them crashing to the floor with the blast missing them by inches that time slows. Their faces are so close as Kaldur hovers over Dick, heart racing with the adrenaline. There are fingers curled instinctively around his biceps, and the heat of proximity as their bodies are pressed close. He’s staring as Dick’s lower lip curls in, tongue peeking out as he licks over it. When Dick opens his mouth to speak the fingers clutch a little more. And Kaldur thinks if there was ever a moment to kiss him, it would be now.

It passes. Time snaps to normal, and Dick says, “Hey there partner,” like it hasn’t been four months since Dick stepped back from the team. He smiles up at Kaldur like there hasn’t been radio silence from him since then.

Kaldur doesn’t know if it should be this easy to slip into familiarity, to smile back at Dick and say, “It’s been a while, my friend." 

For the last twenty-four hours Kaldur has been consumed with worry, directing the team to find Dick after a distress signal went out from Blüdhaven. And now he has him here, staring up at him with those bright white lenses in his domino; Kaldur just wants to be reassured by looking Dick in the eye. He vaguely remembers that they’re blue from one of the rare instances of having seen them.

Kaldur is trying to remember the last time that was exactly when suddenly Dick is lifting his knees, and  squeezing them tight against Kaldur’s hips. There isn’t time to react beyond a shudder running through Kaldur because with a bucking motion of his hips Dick has them flipping and rolling across the warehouse floor.

The place where they’d been taking a beat to breath is blasted into a crater by Lex Luthor’s latest henchmen-bots  - the mayhem machine that they’re supposed to be fighting, Kaldur reminds himself.

“Follow my lead!” Dick yells from where he’s settled straddling Kaldur’s waist. He’s got a hand braced and grasping at Kaldur’s arm still, but his attention is on Wonder Girl and Superboy now. All the mirth he’d displayed after Kaldur tackled him is wiped away with the responsibility to command the team. Kaldur takes one more moment to take it in, the sight of Nightwing in his element, and how lucky Kaldur feels to be able to reach out and cover the hand on his arm. Let the battle surrounding them paint the touch as brotherly – the reassurance of a teammate. Nothing more than that.

Then the time for action is on them, and Kaldur rolls out from beneath Nightwing. Escrima sticks slip into Nightwing’s hands as he flies at one robot and Kaldur charges another.

Two.

The holidays hit, and Kaldur and Dick draw the short straws to keep an eye on the Watchtower while the League is either away or home with their families.

Dick gets up there before Kaldur. He’s curled up in one of the chairs in the common room when Kaldur finds him, arms wrapped loosely around his legs, feet on the chair. He leans forward to get a better look at the computer open on the computer in front of him. 

The Watchtower is quiet, for once, without the usual clatter of capes and bodies in collision course. Standing in the doorway, Kaldur can hear the thrum of the machines keeping air circulating and the tower in orbit. He can also hear his heart pounding in his ears and the rustle of fabric as he tightens his grip on the strap of his bag.  

He isn’t surprised Dick hears him arrive. He turns toward Kaldur, and smiles so easily at him as he greets Kaldur.

“Hey,” Dick says. He’s in as casual of clothing as Kaldur has seen on him since his days as Robin. The domino is as ever present as always, but he’s in a soft blue hoodie over what looks like a stripped down, utility belt free version of the Nightwing suit. The blue knuckle guards on his black gloves are on but all in all, Kaldur imagines Dick could go unnoticed amongst the joggers Kaldur sees making laps in the early hours near his apartment.

Kaldur thinks that he looks at home, and he hates to see Dick starting to stretch his legs and move to stand up. As if he might think Kaldur’s presence might call for custom or protocol.

“No need to get up,” Kaldur says, quickly. “It’s just us, old friend.”

He doesn’t say, No danger here, but it seems to ring in the quiet anyway. They both tense, pausing with baited breath. As if merely thinking it had been enough to jinx them.

But the alarm doesn’t ring.

Kaldur’s chest hurts watching the way Dick carefully exhales. Relief is clear in the way he shoots another smile Kaldur’s way. Though this time it’s wane and tired. The thing that scares Kaldur is that there’s shades of Nightwing under the comfortable sweater and hair wet from a shower. And Nightwing walked away.

It’s been months since that team-up against Luthor, and that hadn’t even been intentional. The constant, back-burner fear that Kaldur has had for his friend is only somewhat soothed by having here in the flesh.

(Kaldur wonders, sometimes, if this is how Dick felt during that year he was undercover. He understands his need to leave a little better if it’s true.)

Dick gets up anyway. When he’s close enough to reach out and touch, Kaldur can smell peppermint and guesses that it must be his shampoo. He can also see discoloration to the skin around Dick’s left cheek. Human skin bruises and breaks so much easier than Atlantean - it had been an adjustment to learn the way Artemis, Roy, and Dick’s skin would change to deeper reds and purples before fading to green.

Dick’s skin is yellow, just days from fully healed. And Kaldur is still gripping the strap of his bag so tight that if he were fully human the fabric would leave an imprint of it’s stitches on his palm.

“This is going to sound really selfish,” Dick starts to say. “Because you’re stuck up here with me instead with your family, or with your team -”

Kaldur opens his mouth to protest - there’s so much in there that he wants to, he’s not quite sure which to prioritize first. Except Dick lays a hand on his arm, fingers curling around bare skin. It’s too personal and too gentle. If there were anyone else here, Kaldur isn’t sure it would be something to pass off as brotherly or team-like.

“But I’m really glad you’re here with me,” Dick says. He licks his lips and the smile gets a little more true, a little more real.

Kaldur thinks that this would be the moment to confess, that the quiet humming of the tower and the way Dick leans towards him so he can look up into Kaldur’s eyes is the right place to spill his proverbial guts.

Kaldur very carefully let’s go of his bag and reaches out to Dick. He wraps his fingers carefully around his wrist. Between the layers of the suit and the sweater, it’s hard to run his thumb in the reassuring gesture that he wants to, but he thinks Dick understands. He seems to sway closer.

If there was ever a chance to kiss Dick Grayson …