Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thomas Wayne Jr. didn't feel anything, not that he couldn't. He just didn't. It was just pointless. His happiness left him when the bullet discharged from his gun into his younger brother's small body, coloring that dark alley's floor in dark red blood, its iron scent weaving its way into his clothes and branding his brain. Feeling was not something he took part in or took pleasure from. Numbness was his liquor, and rage was his tonic.

Beauty, however, was something that he was familiar with, a perfume that he allowed to fill his mind until he was overcome, losing his senses in its fragrance and sweetness just enough to find pleasure, a primal release. The partners he let into his life were there for that reason only. He did not entertain. He did not let them even think they had a chance to stay in his bed for longer than a night. While he enjoyed his random trysts, he did not deceive himself. They did not love him. They did not care for him, only for his money and fortune.

But once his eyes fell on Richard Grayson, his talents, abilities, his person, and his cunning, he knew he had found someone to share his life with, someone to indulge, someone to love.

The deaths of the boy's family and the arrests of the other circus performers, due to money laundering, had left Richard broken, tired, eyes red and face wet from funeral tears.

"Richard," Thomas had said after the burials, a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Stay with me in my home."

"You...You paid for their funerals. I can't...I don't want to ask for anything more."

"It is freely given. They would want you to be cared for, especially at a time like this." Those words were all that was needed to convince the boy who was far too soaked in grief to fight.

Taking him into his home was something of a balm for both of them. Both of them gained a brother, a confident, but Thomas gained far more: a partner, a lovely little owlet to guide and mold into a strong young man, vicious and quick.

"Again, Richard. Aim for the middle of the forehead. You are not trying to scalp them. You are trying to end them." Thomas corrected him again, circling around the younger man, straightening his arm and knocking his booted foot between his heels. "Widen your stance." He tilted the boy's chin up, making him focus on the hologram of the thug that was a couple of feet in front of him. "You are very distracted today, Richard. Training is a serious matter."

Concentrating, Richard bit his tongue, pulling his arm back and launching the small triangular dagger into the air, making it fly through through the hologram and bury itself into the board behind it. "You're making me nervous."

"Hm," Thomas hummed, walking over to the chair in front of his computer. "Remedy that. Quickly. Nervousness makes you sloppy, and I am not allowing you-"

"Allowing me?" The boy cut in, turning to face the older man, hands on his hips as he holstered his knives into a compartment bound to his thigh by a band of leather. "When have I ever let you order me around? I will do as I please."

Leaning back in his chair, Thomas raised an eyebrow, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. "Will you now?" The older man grinned, a warm sensation blossoming in his chest at his boy's haughty demeanor, a reaction that was pulled from him quickly despite his grief and sadness.

"Yes."

Thomas exhaled, a smile painting his face. "I expected nothing less, but if doing as you wish puts your life at an unnecessary risk, I will not hesitate to step in and assume control."

Richard, the brat, his owlet, grinned back at him. "And I expected nothing less from you." He mimicked, earning him an extra set of twenty-five push-ups, barely a punishment, if anything at all.

Soon, summer dissolved into fall and fall into winter, bringing ice and snow. An eerie chill usually ran through the manor around such times, but Richard seemed to destroy it with his very presence, bringing warmth and light with him wherever he chose to go.

A sudden scream in the early hours of the morning had roused Thomas from his dreamless sleep, forcing him out of his bed and down the hall, sprinting into Richard's room to find the boy, whose face was pressed firmly against the window next to his bed, his bare feet nestled underneath him as he knelt on the sheets, which were in a semi-circle around him, as if he were trying to ward away warmth. "Thomas!" His boy had shrieked excitedly, not turning away from the window, knowing by his footsteps that it was him. "Look, it's snowing! I've never seen it before!"

Relieved, the older man chuckled, coming to stand next to the boy's side and gazing at the fresh snow as well, though he was far more interested in Richard's reaction. "You haven't?" Thomas patted the younger man's shoulder, squeezing the muscle there just enough to get his attention. "Perhaps if you wait until after breakfast, we can go out together."

Then those eyes looked at him, those sweet, innocent eyes, so naive, so trusting, so full of love. Thomas wished he would never look away, but the boy always did, always turned from him, only to return. That promise seemed to be the only thing that could sate him, the return of that esteeming gaze.

For show, he threw lavish parties, this time a winter ball, inviting the Gotham elite, the nobility and uncommonly wealthy. Appearances were everything, and Thomas knew this, though he was loath to perform such tasks, because it was just that, performance, but having Richard by his side helped him through such things. Richard, though a bit shy around such large crowds, loved parties. Though, Thomas suspected he loved the party less and the food more, the room above all, since it was really the only time he could spend vast amounts of time in the old, newly reconstructed ballroom that was stationed in the right wing of the manor. Every so often, the older man would catch the boy dancing about in the empty room, acting as if he were dancing a waltz.

"Rachel, my sister, would have loved this. She was the romantic type." Richard had told him as he approached the younger man the first time he caught him, the boy's face reddening with each step the older man took.

"Hm, come here." Thomas commanded gently, taking the boy by the hands and pulling him closer. "If you are going to dance, you must learn to do so properly."

Richard never learned to do things properly, always pushing, always doing something, some little thing, his own way. Normally, Thomas would hate such a thing, but with Richard, his little owlet, he tolerated it, even going as far as to enjoy it. It was amusing.

"Thomas, do I really have to wear a real bow tie? Why can't I wear a clip-on?" Richard's irritated voice broke through the shores of his mind, pulling him from his thoughts and musings to the present. Turning from the full-length mirror in the corner of his room, Thomas waved his hand, beckoning in the younger man who was standing in the doorway.

"Yes, you do." He confirmed, flipping up Richard's collar to have better access to the ribbon-like tie. "Clip-ons are heinous things. Do you really think Alfred or I would let you wear something like that?"

Crossing his arms, Richard huffed, his unkempt hair falling into his eyes. "It's a time saver. Besides, this is silk." He pointed at the dark green, almost black, bow Thomas had just perfected, the older man lowering the collar once more. "I don't like silk. It's not me."

Thomas clicked his tongue, examining the boy's messy hair. A stray hand, belonging to the older man, found itself running its fingers through the dark strands. "Gel your hair back. I would prefer to have you see where you are going."

I would like to see your eyes.

"Thomas, you're not listening to me."

"I heard you, Richard." He said dismissively. "I'll have some new ties made for you, but for now, you must wear this one." Thomas smiled, his lips quirking ever so slightly. Lowering his hand to his side, he began the trek toward the door of his room and to the ballroom, smooth his tuxedo jacket, buttoning it with a definite air. "Use the hair gel on the counter. I'll expect you downstairs in fifteen minutes. Our guests will be arriving soon, and you should greet them with me."

"Oh, so if you have to suffer, I do, too?"

Thomas chuckled. "Exactly."

There was a time when Thomas used to enjoy parties, when he was much younger and more naive, unaware of the cruelties of this world. He remembered Bruce just barely toddling around under his careful eyes, always so curious, so persistent. Richard never failed to remind him of his late brother, but Thomas never allowed himself to dwell upon such things, not when the future and present were so much more promising, more entertaining.

After greeting all of their guests, Richard always bounced on the balls of his feet, anxious to eat the various finger foods as if he had been starved for days. Thomas liked to tease the boy, taking pleasure in discomforts which did not bring harm to him. Pretending as if he did not know why the young man beside him was fidgeting as two older women preened in front of them, all but outright shoving their breasts in their faces, Thomas placed a hand on Richard's elbow, making him pause his nervous movements. The women in front of them made no comment on the action, or did not notice at all, as one of them, the blonde one, wrapped her arms around Thomas' left arm, pressing herself against him. "Tommy," She purred, her breasts pressing into his bicep. "Will you dance with me? I've heard you're a wonderful dancer."

Refraining from rolling his eyes, he glanced at her coolly, causing a chill to run down her spine. He returned his attention to the boy next to him, seeing the second woman, a brunette, eyeing him as if he were a piece of meat. "Richard, go get something to eat." He commanded, the younger man next to him grinning happily before he trotted away, toward the kitchens where Alfred had no doubt kept the best portions and servings for him.

"Such a beautiful child." The brunette muttered, a hand at her cheek, as if in awe, as her other arm wound itself around Thomas' free arm. "You must be so proud of him."

"Yes," The blonde grinned, her head resting against his shoulder. She thought that because she had slept with Thomas that she had some special privilege. "He is a lovely boy. I'm sure the ladies are clamoring for his attention."

"I have a daughter around his age. They would make a perfect couple."

"I'm sure." Thomas kept himself from sneering.

Your daughter is nearly twice his age. Not to mention that she is just as much of a leech as you are. Richard would never care for someone as common as that.

"Perhaps we should arrange a meeting then?" Her excitement hissed like a snake in his ear.

"Excuse me, Ladies," He untangled himself quickly. "I must see to the other guests. You understand."

Carefully and deliberately, he made the circuit around the ballroom, greeted his guests and their partners, placing a kiss on a woman's hand every once in a while. Flirting came naturally, even as the minutes passed like honey dripping from a hive down onto cool green grass. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alfred reprimanding some of the hired help discreetly. Approaching the old butler as the other man scurried away like a kicked puppy, Thomas nodded at the older man, greeting him silently.

"Master Thomas, if you are looking for Master Richard, I believe he took his snacks upstairs to the balcony overlooking the back garden."

"You kicked him out of the kitchen then?"

The butler's pointed look confirmed his suspicions. Thomas hid his laugh, passing several guests who complimented him, nervously, on having such a wonderful party. They hoped to receive his favor soon, since their debts to him were steadily growing with no sign of depleting, even without him charging them interest. Uncharacteristically, he took pity on them. Their youngest child, a young boy of about seven years, reminded him of Richard. Besides, the power they held was very little. It did not matter, though they were good for a favor every now and then.

As he made his way through the main entranceway and up the side staircase, several couples greeted him and quickly gushed about their businesses, hoping that he might take an interest and decide to invest in them. He politely dodged these conversations, attempting to keep his temper in check, his agitation growing with each step he took up toward the balcony.

Exhaling, he admired the mock firelight flickering over the large stone balcony, its dark gray hue blending with the bleak Gotham night sky. His eyes catching sight of Richard, he opened his mouth to reprimand his boy for sitting on the chilly stone railing, only to pause at the top of the stairs.

A woman, no older than twenty years old, sat next to Richard on the bench next to him, near his knee, which his plate was precariously balanced upon. Her intruding hands, and her witch-like nails, were creeping steadily toward the young man's thigh. Her flashy light blue dress glinted in the light as her flirtatious laugh echoed off the cold stone, making Thomas' anger crawl up his spine and into his jaw, coiling itself around his teeth.

He cleared his throat, making both occupants of the baren balcony look toward him. Richard's sweet smile widened as Thomas approached them. The older man's expression soured as he studied the women. Quickly hiding his true feelings, he schooled his features, plastering a polite smile on his face. "There you are, Richard. What have I told you about running off?"

Before the young man could defend himself, the woman stood, extending her right hand. "Mr. Wayne, it's so nice to meet you. I-"

He glanced at her, his gaze cold and accusing. "Who are you associated with?"

She blinked, worriedly. "Mr. Wayne, I-"

He turned toward her fully, his hands in his pants pockets. "You seem very interested in my still very much underaged ward. If you knew me at all, Ms., you would know that I do not tolerate pedophilic behavior or actions of any kind."

"I-I apologize, Mr. Wayne." She hurried away quickly, the heels of her stilettos clicking against the stone stairs as she fled, almost tripping over herself in her efforts. Thomas watched her fade into the doorway and back into the party on the lower floor.

"Thomas," He heard Richard hiss. "She was just being friendly." The boy sniffed. "I liked her."

The older man clicked his tongue as he joined Richard, sitting down where the woman previously sat. "Yes, she was. Far more friendly than you are ready for."

"I'll be eighteen in a few weeks." Richard spoke as if that should have meant something to Thomas.

"Your point is what then?"

The younger man's eyebrows creased together, as if contemplating what he truly did mean. Thomas took that moment's pause to snatch up a small crab cake from the plate on Richard's knees and pop it into his mouth.

"Hey." The boy protested softly, still attempting to formulate his thoughts, pulling the plate out of Thomas' reach.

Dusting off his hands and standing up, the older man gifted the boy with a self-satisfied grin. "I'm assuming you'll be spending the rest of the party up here?"

At the boy's nod, Thomas feigned a hurt sigh. "I suppose I shall face the crowds alone." Normally, Richard would giggle at his theatrics, his laughter brightening his soul, but no such sound came. The older man ignored the contemplative silence as he made his way down the stone steps. Once within the doorway and out of the boy's sight and hearing, the woman who had been poaching Richard glided up to him timidly.

"Mr. Wayne," Her manicured nails bunched in the fabric of her dress as she wrinkled it in her hands. "I think you misunderstood my intentions with Richard. He...He just looked so lonely out there. I thought that...perhaps, he could have used a friend?" She admitted softly. Taking a breath, she continued quickly. "I mean, with what happened to his family and all…."

After a tense moment, Thomas only held out his arm. "Would you like to dance?"

Chapter Text

After parties came a replica of pleasure. It was never true, never real, only a carnal release of flesh, something to help him focus, to help him feel for a brief while.

Her pants and moans were lovely, but he could do without them. They were...distracting, unpleasant. Her arms curled around his neck, pulling him down toward her into a rough kiss. He groaned, quickening his pace until he felt overwhelming pleasure, his partner feeling the same.

Untangling himself from her and tossing away any evidence of their encounter, he rolled onto his back, sucking in a deep breath of air. Her hands trailed along his stomach and chest as her lovesick eyes met his unfeeling gaze.

"That…" She breathed, a whisper in his ear. "Was wonderful."

"Mm," His large hand closed around hers, stopping it from irritating him further. "Yes."

She exhaled with a stretch and rolled out of the bed, pulling on her clothes, which had been shed rather hastily. "I better get going." She spoke wistfully, as if hoping he would stop her and invite her back to bed.

He did not.

"Will you walk me out?" There was disappointment in her tone.

He was nothing, if not a gentleman.

Pulling on his sleeping pants, he placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of his bedroom, down the hall and stairs, to the front door. She kissed him on the cheek, telling him to call her again, if he ever wanted to have another rendezvous. Closing the door and locking it, he felt eyes on him. In the right hallway, which lead to the kitchens of this part of the Manor, stood Richard, dressed for bed and hair damp. His disbelieving gaze roused a feeling of worry within Thomas' chest.

"Richard-"

"No." The boy snapped, blinking rapidly. "I told you I liked her."

"She wanted to take advantage of you."

"You don't know that."

"Why do you think she slept with me?" He growled lowly, knowing that the jab would hurt the boy. "She wants money. Once she realized I wasn't going to let her claws dig into you, she moved on to me."

Richard shoved passed him, stomping up the carpeted stairs, rubbing vigorously at his eyes with the back of his fist.

"You didn't listen. I liked her."

"I'm only trying to protect you, Richard. She was going to use you."

"That didn't mean you had to sleep with her!" The boy snarled over his shoulder, finally at the top of the landing. "I wasn't even interested in her like that. I just thought she was nice. I thought we could be friends." With those words, he disappeared around the corner, practically running to his room.

Thomas sighed. His boy would understand once he cleared his head. The world was cruel, and so were people. Richard knew that. He knew that people would want to take advantage of him, but he never wanted to protect himself from it. If the boy wouldn't do it, then Thomas would happily do so for him, just as an older brother should.

The next morning was bitterly cold, even inside the Manor. After Alfred had made breakfast, the older man had left to run errands, as he typically did on Saturdays. Thomas, with a sigh, concluded that Richard would not be joining him any time soon.

Filling a tray with a bowl of oatmeal, a glass of milk, and a small plate of apple slices, Thomas made his way to Richard's room. Balancing the tray against his hip, he rapt on the door before turning the knob and entering, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

The winter sunlight streamed in from Richard's window, the curtains tied back, spilling onto the mound of blanks facing the wall on the bed which cloaked the boy's body in warmth.

Feeling the warmth of the room, Thomas allowed himself a fond smile.

"Richard," He called gently, placing the tray on the boy's desk in the corner of the room. He sat down on the bed, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, gently running his hand up and down the fabric there.

"Wake up. I've brought you breakfast."

Only the boy's head was visible, the rest of his body curled up underneath the comforter. His eyes fluttered open, his dark lashes framing his even darker eyes as recognition and recall flooded his pupils. He curled tighter in on himself. "I'm not hungry." He murmured, his voice tight.

"Hm," Thomas tilted his head, his hand idly finding its way to his boy's hair, petting and smoothing. "It's oatmeal. You like oatmeal."

"I don't want it."

He sighed. "I understand that you're still angry with me, but, as I said last night, I was trying to protect you."

"I didn't ask you to." Richard sat up, knocking Thomas' hand away with the back of his hand. "I'm not some dumb little kid. I can take care of myself. I'm not defenseless."

"No, you're not." Thomas admitted begrudgingly, letting his hands rest on his knees. "I never thought you were." He stood and retrieved the tray, placing it on Richard's lap before he could protest. "You're very precious to me, Richard. I don't ever want to see you hurt."

Stirring the oatmeal lazily, Richard nodded, his lower lip jutting out slightly. "I know, and...I appreciate that. I do. I just...I want to be able to make my own mistakes."

Thomas sat back down. "I will do my best to let you, if that's what you truly want." He smiled gently, putting the boy at ease as the young man placed a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth.

The younger man grinned shyly. "You sweetened it?"

He hummed. "Don't tell Alfred."

Life in the Manor became strained after that. Richard wasn't as open as he once was. He took to training by himself now, occupying himself with small knives and strength training, hiding away in the home gym in the left wing of the Manor, a suspicious glint always hidden in the corner of his eye, his posture always tight.

Despite these things, their routine, their relationship, returned to normal. The teasing and playfulness that Richard so favored returned to his speech, but his lips held back biting words that Thomas knew were ever on his tongue now a days.

Admittedly, it stung, seeing how Richard pulled away from him, how he suddenly disliked disclosing interest about others to Thomas, and how he always seemed to find a way to slip out of his guardian's hands when he corrected his fighting sstance. It was difficult, but a necessary difficulty. Richard would understand. He always did. He just needed time. It was always the same with his boy.

"You kill people." Richard's accusing voice was laced with fear and apprehension when he first found out about Thomas', Owlman's, methods.

"If they get in my way, yes." He answered calmly, turning away from one of the windows of his office to study the boy who had just entered. "For the sake of this city, I do."

Richard hadn't understood then, but he did now, whole heartily. He even approved of such methods, going as far as to preform them himself. Time was what Richard needed. That was all.

Richard's grunts pulled him from his thoughts, the boy flipping backward and landing on his feet in a crouching position, finishing the end of a manoeuvr. He stood up, wiping his forehead and making his way to the small leather bench near the middle of the room where he sat down. Elbows on his knees, he hunched over on himself, catching his breath, staring at the floor in deep thought.

Grinning fondly, Thomas approached the boy, his dress shoes clicking softly against the hard flooring, his perfectly creased suit ever the essence of perfection. "Here." He held out a bottle of cold water to the younger man, his voice making him look up at him. The boy's dark hair plastered itself to his forehead. "You've been busy today then, Richard?"

The young man took the offered drink, hastily uncapping it and chugging it down. "Yeah..." He panted, drinking half of the water. "I thought you weren't coming home until dinner?"

"I have to do some urgent paperwork tonight."

Richard nodded, standing up. "Oh." He breathed, his breath hot and sudden. His muscles were tight, coiled as if he were ready to strike out at Thomas. Placing the bottle on the bench, he raised up on his toes, stretching his legs and raising his arms above his head. His stomach tightened with his movements, drawing Thomas' eye.

"Have you been working on your core?"

Richard exhaled, relaxing his body. "No, not intentionally."

"You should. You tend to favor your arms and legs when you're training."

Normally, such a comment would draw from Richard a quip or some other playful comment, but none came.

Thomas raised his chin, studying his boy as he jumped up and began a set of exercises on the rings.

"Richard," He called pointedly, over the chiming of the metal against the rings in his hands. "Is something bothering you?"

From his upside down position, Richard lowered himself downward, his arms straight out as if he were flying. He huffed, sweat building on his arms, his bare feet curling above him. Thomas watched, waiting for his boy to answer.

"I think I should move out."

The older man tilted his head, his hands burrying themselves in his pockets. "Explain." The command came out more harshly than he intended.

"My birthday is coming up…" Richard pointed his feet toward the floor, landing with a thump. "And I've been looking into becoming a police officer."

Pressing his lips together, Thomas swallowed, his throat constricting with each of Richard's words.

"When were you planning on telling me this?"

"I'm telling you now."

"Even if you work for the Gotham Police Department, that doesn't mean you have to move out." Moving forward, the older man inhaled, stamping down his temper, the feelings of abandonment swelling within himself.

"I...I'm not looking at...I want to work in Bludhaven."

Thomas closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead.

"Richard-"

"I know what you're going to say: it's dangerous, sometimes even more dangerous than Gotham, but it's what I want, Thomas."

If he were an honest man, Thomas wouldn't have minded if Richard went into the Gotham Police Department. They were under his thumb, so to speak, so he could readily assign Richard to the jobs that he found fitting, mostly beat routes in calmer neighborhoods. Even so, the boy would stay with him, safely tucked under his wing, only flitting from the nest to chase after his sudden desire to become a law enforcer, just to return back to him, to the safety of his strong wings, shielding him from anything that might seek to harm him.

But Bludhaven...Bludhaven was far, despite only being half an hour away. His little owlet would build a new nest, far, far away from him, winging his way through the city, unaware of the harm that could befall him at any moment. It left a sour taste in his mouth.

Thomas had infiltrated the Bludhaven Police Force years ago, paying off officials and blackmailing officers, so looking after his boy would hardly be a problem. The distance bothered him, this sudden need that Richard had. Never before had the younger man struggled to free himself of his nest or of Thomas' concerned gaze.

"I meet all of the requirements, and I have enough money from my family's savings for food and rent for a few months."

"And if I say no?"

Richard paused, his eyebrows creasing together.
"I don't…I hope you'll support me on this." He quickly said, pulling himself to his full hight. "As...as a birthday present. I know you were planning on getting me something expensive, so I thought that getting out on my own might be a good substitute."

"You're only suggesting this because you do not want something expensive?"

"No," Richard huffed, a hand on his hip as he glanced at the ground, the blue mat under his feet crinkling as he shifted his weight. "That's not what I meant. I...I want to move out, get out on my own for a while. I think it would be good...for both of us." The boy gave a small, hesitant smile, sending cracks through Thomas' cold heart.

"I'll think about it." Really, that's all Thomas could offer him at the moment.

"Did Richard tell you? About what he's been planning?"

Alfred cleared his throat, setting the tray which held an immaculately decorated tea set onto the younger man's desk, just off to the side, so that it wouldn't be in the way. He began pouring the plain Earl Grey tea into the delicate tea cup positioned next to the pot. "I'm afraid that he did, Sir, just after you left for the office this morning."

Thomas took the offered cup, bringing it to his lips, his words dancing over the hot liquid.

"And you didn't think to call me?"

His voice was dangerously low.

"Master Richard swore me to secrecy."

"Hm," Thomas swallowed, placing the tea cup down on the provided saucer. "That boy and his theatrics." He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him as he gazed up at the ceiling of his study. "Indulging him would only encourage this sudden need for independence." He spat the word, unsure if he even meant to use that word or another. Richard and his independence were lovely. Thomas cherished them even, but he enjoyed it far more when Richard's independence lined up with what he wished for and wanted.

He sighed, his eyes returning to the paperwork in front of him.

"But, I suppose I should pick my battles."

It didn't matter, whether Richard wanted to fly the nest or stay with him. Thomas could always spin a situation his way.

Chapter Text

The Manor felt empty. Gotham felt empty. Thomas felt empty without Richard there to make him smile. Without his boy, everything and everyone seemed so much more lifeless, more dark and bothersome. They all had motives, motives to get to Thomas, to take what they wanted from him, but Richard was already gone, displaced from his side by the boy's whimes, some kind of fantasy the younger man held where he lived out some semblance of normalcy.

Richard was not normal, nor was he ever meant to be normal. Before, in the circus, he was just a boy, a helpless little Robin, his mother had called him that name, unable to fight, defenseless from the monsters of this world. Thomas scorned Richard's family for such a thing. His boy should never have been allowed to be so vulnerable. From the moment Thomas brought him into his home, Richard became an owl, a nesting bird, a mighty creature capable of killing. He was a hunter now. He was Thomas' companion, and Thomas was Richard's guardian, watching over him, making certain he was cared for.

They were equals.

They were friends.

They were family.

Though, in Thomas' sweeter moments, he did allow himself to think of a life where Richard was called Robin, a child dancing with the stone gargoyles, his contagious laugh echoing off the roof tops and streets below, but those thoughts only brought anger and loss, the thought of his boy's blood on the pavement.

Loveliness was always crushed underneath Gotham's heel, sweetness always soured, so such things had to be hidden under darkness.

Weeks had passed since he'd seen Richard in the flesh. He was busy with decorating his apartment and interviewing at various police stations. Thomas's informants had told him that Richard was highly sought after in each precinct. He attempted to ignore the swelling pride in his chest.

Feeling a hand at his chest, Thomas kept his eyes on the ceiling of his bedroom, exhaling deeply. The woman next to him, hair dark and skin tanned, curled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder as she traced patters on his sculpted torso. "What are you thinking about, love?" She asked, her voiced rippling into his ear. "You're very deep in thought."

"Nothing," He rolled on his side, his arm circling around her, pulling her close to his chest, dislodging her from his other side. "Just about a meeting at work today."

Lying came easy. Telling the truth was something he rarely did.

He grinned at her, the woman unable to tell that it was plastered on by sheer will. He kissed her, their lips coming apart slowly. "Would you like to stay the night?" He offered, needing something to distract him from the loneliness he felt both as Owlman and as Thomas Wayne, Jr.

"Oh, of course." She smiled back, her eyes too dark and her lips too red.

They didn't waste time. Neither of them wanted to. Despite his company, Thomas' mind wondered.

His boy was far too clever to be dissuaded simply by being put on a less than pleasurable or entertaining job.

The women's nails slid down his back, drawing ugly red lines.

Richard would know. He knew Thomas had people, even in Bludhaven.

She moaned, bringing his head down into a kiss, her fingers threading through his hair.

Why did he leave? Why did Richard leave him? Hadn't he looked after him, given him everything he wanted and needed?

He thrust into her, his anger fueling him.

Richard, Richard, Richard….

He exhaled, gritting his teeth, the women's lips pressing against his own.

Who took you from me? Who did I allow to take you?

Quickening his pace, he vowed to himself that he would never let such a thing happen again.

It doesn't matter, never again.

Thomas saved clippings from the newspapers, which Alfred had cut out for him, and online articles about Talon's sudden appearance in Bludhaven. Most only mentioned him in passing, knowing that speaking outright against Owlman and Talon would lead to some very unpleasant situations. Absentmindedly, he wondered if Richard knew what others seemed to. Talon was and always will be under the protection of Owlman.

Clearing his throat, he glared at the lights that flickered with each level that the small elevator passed. Hands in his pockets, he stepped forward as the dull doors wobbled open. Passing several doors, he ignored the peeling wallpaper and the ugly carpet of the hallway that should have been pulled up decades ago, if the stains were anything to go by. At the end of the hallway, he stopped, studying the last door, which was wide open.

Standing in the doorway, he rapt on it twice with the back of his knuckles, the wood practically splintering underneath his hand. Entering the apartment fully, as if he owned the place, he carefully let his eyes wander about the small living room with the large floor to ceiling windows, which were presumably not up to code. They were incredibly thin, barely thick enough to shield from the elements. The dark blue couch was pushed up against the wall, opposite of a small television that was mounted on the wall.

Tilting his head, he exhaled impatiently, glancing toward the kitchen, his eyes being drawn toward a sudden thump in the next room.

"Richard." He called softly as not to scare the younger man, forcing his hands to relax at his sides.

"Thomas," Richard squealed, sliding into the living room in socks, warming the older man's heart. If he thought hard enough, he could imagine Richard greeting him when he came home from working in the office all day. "I was beginning to wonder if you were actually coming."

The boy weaved around him to plop onto the couch, so he could pull on his shoes. Thomas chuckled, grinning down at the younger man. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." He studied the younger man's face, finding hastily hidden bags under his eyes. "Though, I would have preferred to eat at the manor." After a moment, he spoke again as Richard stood, grabbing his keys. "Do you usually leave your door open?"

Rolling his eyes, Richard lead him out the door, locking it behind them.

"I only did that because I knew you were coming." He brushed off the thomas' concerned comment. "So what are you feeling? Burgers?"

Placing his hand on Richard's farthest shoulder, he pulled him close, squeezing him affectionately.

"If that's what you want, yes."

Thomas listened to the younger man chatter on about his new surroundings and the new people he had met. It was nice, hearing him speak so freely again.

He swallowed the need to take him back to the Manor, or to shake him, for that matter -

Don't you see? I'm trying to protect you. How can I protect you if you don't let me stay with you? Just let me stay with you. I'll do anything you want. I'll -

He needed to control himself, to bide his time. He straightened himself, pulling himself to his full height, focusing on the young man next to him, who kept casting him quick glanses as if he wanted to ask something but refused to voice his concerns.

He'd wait.

He'd wait until he couldn't anymore.

Winter faded as did Spring until Summer was brought forth, along with Richard's mourning tears. Autumn closely trialed behind, and soon, that too would end, bringing icy chills and powdered frost.

The time was nearing. Soon, Richard would return to his rightful place, tucked safely at Thomas' side, just under his wing.

"I've given him almost a year of this, Alfred."

"Honestly, Sir, I would have expected him to return by now."

"Hm," Thomas sighed. "He's just as stubborn as I am." He tapped his fingers against his heavy oak desk. "He hasn't shown any sign of wanting to come back when he visits you?"

Richard only seemed to visit the Manor when Thomas was dealing with other problems, Wayne or otherwise, a fact that irritated the older man. Other crime families had begun to pop up, using their powers to their advantage. Luckily, he had stabilized his power long ago.

"No, Sir. I'm afraid not."

"I'll wait, just until his next birthday, perhaps a few days after."

Thomas ignored Alfred's disapproving gaze.

"Very good, Sir."

Chapter Text

Thomas didn't openly acknowledge the footsteps behind him on the rooftop that he was standing on. He knew them. He would always know them. 

"Owlman." Richard's soft voice rumbled behind him, the young man stopping next to him to place his right foot on the ledge that Thomas was crouching on. 

Thomas didn't turn toward him, only keeping his eyes forward, surveying Gotham. "Was I aware that you were returning to Gotham?" 

Richard scoffed, glancing off the side. "Am I not allowed to come and go as I please anymore?" 

"Of course you are." 

Richard's fists tightened at his side before slowly unfurling, spreading on his thighs. 

"I know you've been bribing the officers in Bludhaven. They only send me to the nice neighborhoods." 

"Hm," Owlman stepped backward, off the ledge, turning to face the younger man. "Do you have proof?" 

Even through Richard's mask, he could tell that his boy was glowering. "I don't need it. I know it." 

"What have I told you about jumping to con-" 

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" He snapped, hissing his words through gritted teeth, his foot almost stomping against the ground as he took it off the ledge. "The whole precinct looks at me like I'm a virus, like I could kill them with just a word." His icy words bit at Thomas' face, burning him with their frost. "Only you make people have that expression. Only you have that kind of power." 

Thomas wanted to interrupt him to point out that he wasn't the only one with such power, the very thought alone irking him. Though he did certainly try to accumulate as much power as he could. It would be naive to think he was the only person with power like that.

Richard continued, his chest rising and falling as his anger grew. "You control many things, many people, but you can't control human error." 

And didn't that sting, just enough to get his attention. Richard knew which buttons to press, how to get to his core. He knew control was a major need in Thomas' life, almost a necessity. Pausing, Thomas exhaled a sigh. "I would prefer to have this discussion at home, Talon." 

Richard crossed his arms. "I want to have it now." 

Thomas tilted his head, curious. "What would you like me to say? That I sabotaged your work life or that I did not?" 

"I want you to tell me the truth." 

Thomas thought for a moment, his still body tightening as Talon's gaze pinned him. 

"It's true." He said it so soft, nonchalantly, as if he were discussing the weather. 

"You can't let me have one thing that's my own, can you?" 

"If our enemies see that we've dissolved our partnership, they will see us as weak." Thomas hissed, keeping himself from grabbing the younger man and dragging him back to the manor. It's not time. It's not time. He reminded himself. "They will see you as a way to get to me." 

"We didn't dissolve our partnership." Talon huffed, his hands on his hips. "Don't you see? We'll have greater influence this way. We are both feared. We cover more ground this way." 

Thomas inhaled, attempting to calm himself. "That's why you left?" He growled. "Because you were concerned that my power wasn't stabilized?" 

"Yes!" Richard hissed lowly, leaning forward slightly, as if he were afraid someone would hear him. "You were distracted."

Thomas licked his lips, blinking slowly, intrigued by Richard's sudden temper.

"With what, may I ask?" He questioned the younger man. 

Richard shrugged. "I don't know, and I don't care to know. Apparently, you have your secrets, and I have mine." 

Thomas bristled, feeling a coil wrap around his heart, squeezing tightly until it felt like bursting. "And your point is, Talon?" He attempted to ignore Richard's last remark, a jab that poked at his brain, hoping to bruise him just as Richard had him. 

"The point is I'm staying in Bludhaven. Do not attempt to sway me anymore." Talon then turned away from him. With his back toward him, he walked toward the edge of the roof. "I am helping maintain the empire you've built. I thought you would have understood that." 

"I thought that you understood that it is under control, under my control." Thomas commented, admiring his owlet's brazenness. "At my side is where you are truly needed." 

Talon only glanced at him over his shoulder. He sniffed, obviously annoyed. "This is your first and only warning, Owlman." 

Thomas smiled, cold and untouchable. 

"Perhaps."

Richard knew Thomas wouldn't let him go. He never would, not that Richard ever wanted to truly leave. He loved the older man.

Thomas took care of him when he couldn't take care of himself. He took him into his own home, into his own family.

Leaving was necessary, to maintain the empire that Thomas had built, that they had built even higher together. The older man should have known that. They didn't need to talk to each other. It wasn't their way.

 They knew each other so well. They were two halves of a whole, two broken pieces that somehow slotted together. 

But something had changed, pieced had shifted without him noticing.

Thomas' eyes lingered too long on an eroding gargoyle, and his hands gripped too tightly at the parapets. Slight changes, but changes still.

So Richard waited. He waited and waited, hoping that Thomas would actually tell him, because Richard was at a loss. 

He decided it was time to leave when he saw Thomas with that woman who attempted to befriend him. 

Richard truly did like her. He really did.

He didn't have the luxury of friends, and she was harmless. 

It hurt, to see Thomas disregard his feelings in such a way, to throw them to the fire without a backward glance. 

But Richard hid the pain as best he could, because if Thomas knew he would offer up another band-aid solution to lure him home. He'd blackmail the families that owed him into giving him their children that were around his age for the day, making Richard believe that he did indeed have friends, an illusion to pacify him until the next bout of loneliness arose. 

The young man missed his home, but Thomas had to learn, to understand that he couldn't take as he pleased, not from Richard.

But Richard had yet to learn that he could not take from Thomas what he considered his, not without cost.

The moment that he stepped foot out of the precinct, he sensed it, in the unseasonably icy air, in the morning sun glaring through the clouds, in the smell of a freshly lit cigarette. 

Eyes followed him throughout the streets as he made his rounds. Whispers followed him.

"Is that him? It has to be, right?" 

Whispers always followed him. 

"That's him, isn't it? Wayne's kid?"

Wayne's.  

Always Wayne's. 

It was never that's Richard Grayson. It was always Wayne . 

He expected to be mugged soon, but most people seemed to fear the uniform, or maybe it was because he was in the uniform. He'd never know, and he didn't care. 

His shift was short, as always. The police department was afraid of him, afraid that they'd piss him off and that he'd call the name that had been following him since he first entered Bludhaven. 

He trudged all the way back home, ignoring the ache in his stomach. Alfred's care package had been depleted two days ago and his stomach had been bothering him for days before that, urging him to actually take care of himself. 

He wanted to sleep. He wanted to lay in his bed and pretend that the world didn't exist for a few hours. 

The elevator was too loud. 

The usually dim lights the hallway were too bright. 

He blinked, trying to right his vision, as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. 

Swallowing, he tripped over his feet, a wave of abrupt nausea flooding his body. Through the haze of his mind, he barely noticed that his door was wide open, the bronze knob and lock bashed in, the wood splintering around it. 

His heavy eyes strained to make sense of the room. The couch was ripped to shreds, the tv was smashed, not stolen, his fridge was flipped over on its front and the glass of his stove shattered. Bent over, he coughed, bracing himself against the doorframe. Hobbling to the bathroom, he collapsed onto the cool tile floor, just barely making it to the toilet, limbs heavy and limp. 

After releasing the contents of his stomach, which admittedly was not much, he allowed himself to rest his cheek against the cold toilet seat. 

Everything hurt. 

Everything was wrong. 

He...wished for his family, his mother to hold him, his father to sing to him, and his sister to give him medicine, like they used to. 

Weakly, he pulled out his phone, pushing his longing thoughts aside, almost slipping into unconsciousness as he pressed the call button. 

"Master Richard?" Alfred's voice quieted the tears he was unaware of spilling down his face. The old butler sounded as if he were expecting him to call. 

"Alf...I...I need help. Are you busy?" He gagged, his stomach contracting. 

"No, not if you need me. I'll send Master Thomas to you." Richard closed his eyes, almost regretting calling the old butler. "I'll stay on until he arrives." 

Richard sighed, rolling himself onto the floor, burying his fingers in the plush rug he had put in front of the sink when he first moved in. "Thank you." He whispered, softly, his vision fading in and out. 

His foggy mind grappled against reality. "Can...Can we - we play chess the next time I visit? I miss playing with you." 

Alfred's voice held a soft smile. "Of course, Master Richard. I would enjoy nothing more." There was the clanging of a pot being put on the stove, the sound of broth being poured into it. "As soon as you're feeling better, we can play." 

"What are you making?" He asked lazily, closing his eyes. 

"Nothing to worry about. Just relax." 

Richard must have fallen asleep because the next things he knew were Thomas' arms and the lingering scent of his cologne. 

"Richard, are you alright? Did they hurt you?" 

"Who?" He asked sharply, being jostled as the older man pulled him against his white, pressed dress shirt, his nausea gone. 

"The people who broke in here." 

Richard's glassy eyes stared up at the older man, lazily pressing his temple against the older man's shoulder. 

"No," His voice cracked, his words dragging against his throat. "They left before I came home." 

He felt Thomas sigh against his hair, his warm breath ghosting along his cheek. Prodding fingers pressed themselves against his forehead. "Let's get your things together. I suspect you'll break your fever in a few hours." 

It was a blur of movement and places. Whispered words were his only anchor as he was moved against his will, strong arms always on him, gently guiding him and holding him. 

"You can't stay here anymore, Richard. It's far too dangerous. " 

Dark cloth was held a few inches from his nose, draping down into his lap. 

"Do you see now? They found your suit."  

"You can't stay here." 

"It's been interesting to see you assert your power, but it's time for you to come back home, to come back to me." 

"Can you stand, my boy?" 

"You'll feel better once you're tucked into bed." 

The click of a seatbelt, the dark strap against his chest, brushing against his neck. 

"There, now. Try to calm down."

He remembered murmuring something, attempting to protest whatever was happening to him.

"Hush, Richard. Do not fight me on this." There was a loose laugh. "We can fight all you want once you can stand upright without my help." 

The rumple of bedsheets, soft against his newly bare legs and chest. 

A hand threaded through his hair, offering comfort and reassurance, shielding him from the dim light of the setting sun. 

Cold glass was pressed against his lips, pouring water in his dry mouth. His eyes flickered open, taking in the dark hues of his room in the Manor. 

"Small sips, Richard." 

He jerked back, water droplets tumbling onto his chest. Propping himself up, he coughed. Hands wound themselves around his bicep, helping him sit up against the pillows. 

"What-?" He rasped out, his lips feeling numb and his tongue too thick. "Thomas?"

The glass in the older man's hand clinked against the wood of his nightstand as he set it down. 

"Yes, precious boy, it's me." His eyes strained to focus. He noted that Thomas was grinning at him softly. "Careful," He soothed, studying his face. "Don't sit up so quickly." 

Richard leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling, willing the world into focus. 

The older man's weight readjusted, shifting toward him. "Would you like something to eat?" 

Richard returned his eyes to the older man's face. 

"What's the likelihood of me becoming sick around the same time as a break-in to my apartment?" 

Thomas hummed, tilting his head.

"In a place like Bludhaven? Very likely." He stood, his silent steps smothering the soft carpet of Richard's room, making his way to the door upon hearing a knock. Opening it, he revealed Alfred, who had a large tray. 

Passively, Richard watched as Alfred placed the tray on his lap. The scent of warm chicken soup wafted throughout the room, threading itself through Richard's brain.

 "Do not hesitate to ask me for anything, young master." Not waiting for the young man to respond, Alfred left without another word, closing the door behind himself with a click, after asking if Thomas had any need of something. To which, Thomas answered no, sitting back down at Richard's side, carefully, as not to make him spill anything. 

Slowly, Richard brought a small spoonful of soup to his lips, wary of his stomach. 

He swallowed, staring down into the bowl. 

"Alfred made this while I was on the phone with him." 

"Hm," Thomas rumbled. "Did he now?" 

Richard knew this game. 

Pretend. Pretend until you can't. 

He played it with his sister when she was still alive. They acted like elephants, or cheetahs, or tigers until their father called them in for dinner. 

He played it with Thomas as well. 

Pretend to be a child. 

Pretend to be helpless, Richard. 

Pretend you are weak, so I can look after you.

Pretend that you are nothing without me.

If he asked Thomas outright if the older man had sabotaged his life in any way, he felt that he would answer him truthfully. He knew he would answer honestly, but Richard didn't think he could take it, not at the moment anyway. 

The young man sighed, forcing his eyes to meet the other man's own.

 He was tired, so very tired, nausea nibbling on the pit of his stomach.

"I want you to know that I am coming back of my own accord." Richard kept himself from hissing out those words. "You had nothing to do with my decision." 

Thomas's smile widened, just enough for Richard to notice. 

"Of course not, Richard." 

Thomas could honestly say that he believed him. 

Lying was not something his owlet did.

"But I have my terms."

Thomas expected nothing less.

"I understand." The older man patted Richard's knee through the thick sheets. "We'll discuss them further when you're well again." 

Richard ignored the arrogant confidence gleaming in the older man's eyes. 

"It won't be a discussion of terms. It will be me laying down demands." Richard swallowed another spoonful of soup. "If you fail to meet them, you will not care for what follows." 

Thomas could say that he believed those words as well.

Chapter Text

Thomas studied the summer colors which painted his backyard. From the third floor, he could easily overlook its entirety, the green hues melting and mingling together. 

Perhaps Richard would like to do his strength training outside today. It would be a nice change for him, having been kept inside due to his illness, which had cleared up a few days ago.

Turning his head toward the sound of approaching footsteps, he glanced over his shoulder at the approaching figure. "Richard," He greeted, turning toward him slightly. "I thought that you might like-"

"I've decided my terms." 

Thomas raised his eyebrows, turning back toward the large window, his hands folded behind his back. 

"Would you like to write them out or is a verbal contract enough for you?"

Richard's eyes scanned Thomas' pointedly blank face, ignoring the biting tone. 

"Verbal is fine." 

Thomas inhaled, turning toward him again. 

"Tell me then."

Those eyes looked at him again. Richard's eyes, which always looked at him with such trust, such love, were now suspicious of him, almost confused by his actions. 

Don't look at me that way. Look at me like you used to. What happened? What happened? Why won't you stay with me like you once did? What happened? What happened? 

"We will be completely honest with one another from now on." Richard tilted his chin up, his breath coiling in his chest. "We're partners, aren't we?" 

"Yes, of course. When have I ever denied that?" 

"Then let's act like it." He hissed, silencing Thomas with a glare and a wave of his hand. 

Thomas kept himself from smiling at Richard's temper, being reminded of a fussy baby bird. He'd calm his owlet once he finished his theatrics, soothing him with soft coos and the warmth of his feathers, tucking him safely back under his wing, where he rightfully belonged.

"I want to meet the Crime Syndicate." 

Clearing his throat, Thomas' hands moved to his sides, loose and still. 

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about." Richard crossed his arms, leaning against the window sill. "Other crime families have been popping up left and right. The only way to continue without a war is to form an organization." The younger man gazed at him from under his lidded eyes. "I know that. You know that." 

"Have any of them approached you?" 

"Opposite of what you think, some things don't need to be said to me outright." 

"Hm," Thomas breathed, his jaw tightened as he put his hands in his pockets, hiding his forming fists. "My clever boy." He grinned, smiling down at the younger man. "I will meet your demands." 

The older man extracted his right hand from his pocket and extended it toward Richard. 

"Partners?"

Richard's lips quirked into a small, hesitant smile. 

He took the older man's hand. 

" Brothers."  

Exhaling a laugh, Thomas pulled him forward, tugging him into the circle of his arms, into a tight hug. Pressing him to his chest, he pressed a kiss to Richard's temple. 

"I'm still mad at you." Richard grumbled into his shoulder, his arms curling under Thomas' arms, his hands resting on his back.

"I know." Thomas laughed, his right hand rubbing circles on the younger man's back. 

My clever little owlet is back where he belongs. 

A month passed smoothly without incident from within or without the Wayne Manor. 

Richard's presence returned, as did his trust and his admiring eyes, his laughter brightening Thomas' every mood. 

"Richard, remember these people are-" 

The younger man rolled his eyes as he walked on his hands around the cave, attempting to burn some of his energy. 

"Dangerous and are not our friends." His legs flopped over, his feet dangling in front of his rear. "They are colleagues at best. I am not to engage them unless they engage me first. If you think that I am in danger, you will signal me, and I should head back to Gotham." He twisted his neck to squint at the older man, who had turned from the large computer to blankly study Richard. "Can we go now?" 

Thomas stood, pulling on his cowl. "Yes, we can go." 

Richard landed on his feet, pulling his knees to his stomach. "Don't you think I should handle the threat myself, if there is a threat at all?" He stood quickly, snatching his mask up from the floor next to him and pulling it onto his face, concealing his features completely as he fell into step next to the older man. 

"I do, and you will, if that time ever comes, but when in a space station," He presses a button on his belt, opening the shield on his car. "You must take extra precautions, especially when you are with beings who can breathe without oxygen." 

Hopping into the passenger side, Richard crossed his arms. "Yeah, yeah. I get it." The glass shield closed over them after Owlman seated himself in the driver's seat. "You never let me do anything fun." 

The car flared to life as the rotating platform began turning, making the car face the exit. 

"Hm," Owlman switched gears and pressed on the gas, making the younger man, who was used to such driving, jolt backward into the seat. "I'm sure we can find something for you later." 

The station was beautiful, as far as Talon was concerned, but a bit boring. The workers were scared of them, as he assumed they would be. Most hallways were bare of any life or decor, even the meeting room was bland, save for the large window overlooking Earth. 

Staring through the thick glass, he memorized the image. It was beautiful. Everything was so small. It was wonderful. 

"Can you see Gotham?" Owlman teased softly, standing at his side suddenly. 

Snorting, Talon took a step back from the window, glancing around the empty conference room for a moment. "Can you?" 

"Always." Owlman's permanently unfeeling face displayed a brief grin."Take a seat before they arrive. Always be on guard." 

Together, they walked over to the table. They sat, side by side. "I know ." Talon groaned. "It'll be fine. Don't worry." 

The door slid open revealing several people in different colored costumes. Knowing each of them by name, Talon did not ask any of them to introduce themselves. Thomas had drilled him over and over about who the family heads were, who the biggest threats were. 

Super Woman and Ultraman were undoubtedly the most worrying threats. 

Both were strong, stronger than any normal humans, and both were difficult to control. 

But not impossible.

Instead of addressing him, they asked Owlman who he was. Biting his lip, he kept himself from snapping at them. 

"Talon." He simply stated, giving them nothing more.

All they needed to know was his name. They knew the rest. 

All in all, the meeting was, for lack of a better word, boring. He was glad his mask fully covered his face, otherwise they would see him biting the inside of his cheek to stay awake. 

The family heads left directly after the meetings, most wanting to move on with their day, except for Super Woman and Ultraman. 

"A new addition to your family?" Super Woman purred, leaning forward to rest her chest on the table, her right fist under her chin. 

"No." Owlman stood, so Talon stood as well. "He's always been a part of my family. He wanted to see the Crime Syndicate's leaders for himself." 

"Smart man." Ultraman commented, studying the design of Talon's hood, how it attached to the rest of his uniform. "Can you speak, Talon, or do you always let Owlman call the shots?" 

"I assure you, Ultraman . I am capable of far more than you think." Talon fell into step next to Owlman. Almost playfully, he continued. "It's part of my charm." 

They left without another word. 

Leaning his head back against the car's passenger seat's headrest, Richard stared out the window at the night sky, trees and empty fields zooming by as they passed them on the way to one of the most out of the way tunnels that led to the bunker-like cave, which was its original purpose, under the manor. 

"Thomas," He sighed, not taking his eyes off the blurring landscape. "What's wrong?" 

There was a beat of silence, tense and sharp. 

Owlman's gloved hands squeaked against the leather steering wheel, tightening around the frame in his hands. 

"Ultraman wants you." 

Richard clicked his tongue. "He probably just wants your power, which is associated with me." He pointed out. "It's not a big deal." 

"If it was just that, I wouldn't have been concerned." Thomas urged the car to move faster   than they already had been with the press of a pedal. "You didn't see the way he looked at you." 

"How did he look at me?" 

"Lustfully." 

Barking a laugh, Richard whipped his head around, staring at the older man disbelievingly. 

"You can't be serious. He didn't even see my face!" 

Pressing a button on the console, Thomas ignored Richard's abrupt laughter. The button flashed a bright red before turning blue, opening the entrance to the tunnel.

"People like that don't need to see your face." 

Richard snorted to himself. "Whatever." 

The car skidded to a stop on the platform, opening the shield glass.

Smiling, he jumped out of the car and detached his mask from his suit, undoing the snaps and sliding clasps. Catching sight of Alfred on the upper level of the bunker, he called to him. 

"Hey, Alf, can you tell Thomas he's being paranoid?" 

As Richard made his way up the levels, actually using the stairs as they were supposed to be used for once, instead of vaulting over them, the old butler gazed at him appraisingly. 

"Master Richard, I'm perfectly sure Master Thomas has his reasons." 

Thomas appeared behind the younger man silently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You did well with the Syndicate, Richard," Passing him and Alfred, Thomas sat down at his computer. "But you are unaware of the dangers around you." 

"No, I'm not." The young man growled, his good mood souring. "You're worried about nothing. If I say it's nothing, then it's nothing." He dismissed Thomas' worries, walking into the changing area and stripping himself of his suit.

"Richard." Taking off his cowl, Thomas sighed heavily. 

"Perhaps you should not take Master Thomas' concerns so lightly, Master Richard." Alfred, ever the diplomat between the two of them, interrupted before Thomas could continue, which would surely trigger angry words and cold glances between the younger men of the household. 

Richard reappeared, half-dressed, his chest bare. "I don't." The young man glance between the older men, the younger of the two's face holding an expression of unconcealed irritation.

"I'll consider what you said." Richard relented, turning toward the elevator. "Just don't overreact. The stability of the Syndicate has priority." 

Thomas huffed uncharacteristically.  "I do not overreact." 

You are always my priority.  

Richard scoffed, a disbelieving expression plastered to his face as he looked over his shoulder, momentarily, at Thomas to make a face. 

"Right." 

With long strides, Alfred trailed after the young man until he was at the elevator.  Hanging back a few steps as the older man stepped into the elevator, Richard glanced at the man seated at the computer, drawing his attention.

"Come along, Master Richard. We have yet to finish our Chess match." 

Now that he was out of Alfred's line of sight, Richard stuck his tongue out at Thomas, poking fun at him since he didn't have to work on designs for some new project or other, which made the older man's lip pull into a grin.

For once, Thomas would resist the urge to hide the younger man away, to keep him nestled against his side, for Richard's sake. 

He would take him at his word.

For now.

Chapter Text

Darkness encased him, curling around him like a snake, whispering to him into a drowsy doze. 

Being alone suited him.

Darkness suited him. 

But a spark, a little light, always flickered near him, dancing and hopping about until it faded into an ember, resting at his side. 

Opening his eyes, he shifted his body. Stretching, he flapped his wings. 

The ember - no, bird - next to him shifted as well, cooing as he was awakened from his rest. 

Thomas laughed, bumping his head against the other being - Richard , he remembered. 

"Time to wake up, little one." 

The younger bird blinked awake, staring up at Thomas with wide eyes. He flapped his wings, pulling himself to his full hight. 

"I'm not little anymore." 

Thomas tilted his head, taking in Richard's appearance, suddenly aware of the changes. 

No longer was Richard a small fragile thing, coated in down feathers and making fussy coos as he snuggled under Thomas' wings. Now, he was almost as tall as him, his wings just as strong, his talons just as deadly. 

Widening his wings, Richard took off, flying off into the night away, away from the nest.

"Are you coming?" 

Thomas laughed. "Of course, my love." 

Taking to the dark sky, they danced together, winging their way through the trees and buildings, their hearts intertwining. 

Slowly, Thomas awoke, the warm summer sun flooding his room with light, drawing patterns on the floor, as it greeted Gotham. Spring left, taking his problems with it, allowing Richard and himself to regrow their relationship and establish it, strengthening it with each passing day. With a sigh, he mulled over his dream, turning it over and over in the hands of his mind. 

Richard only seemed to be happy in his dreams lately, or at the very least have some semblance of happiness. With each day, the second anniversary of his family's death approached, haunting the younger man, approaching with shadows that were long and lean. Silence filled laughter's place, mocking Thomas each time Richard failed to smile. 

"I have to bring their murderer to justice. I have to - I have to -" 

Those words echoed in his ears like a gunshot. 

I told you to leave it. I told you to stop looking. I told you that I did all I could. 

"Please, Thomas," Richard begged him last night. "There must be something you overlooked." 

"There is not a lead that I have not exhausted. If there were another way, I would have found it." 

He was gentle. He was always gentle with Richard. 

Richard's watery eyes, those sad, sad eyes, looked at him, hollow.  

"I'm sorry, Richard." He truly was. He hated seeing his boy in torment. "I've done everything I can." 

"I know." 

Thomas had paused then, studying Richard's red, blotchy face. "They wouldn't want you to…" He pulled the younger man, limp and willing, to him into a hug, petting his hair. "They would want you to move on." 

"I know." 

Richard pulled away, out of his grip. Letting him mourn was difficult. Thomas could do nothing but watch, waiting until his owlet returned to his side. 

Richard did not speak for most of the day. Thomas had barely seen him, for that matter. 

"I assure you, Master Thomas. Master Richard is perfectly well. I took his lunch up to his room just barely half an hour ago. He promises to join you for dinner." 

He made to visit the younger man in his room, but Alfred stopped him with a pointed look. "He wishes to be alone for the time being. Might it be wise to leave him be until dinner?"

Thomas had to say he agreed. 

Dinner was quiet, much like the previous part of his day. Richard responded to his questions and inquiries half-heartedly, poking at his soup absentmindedly until he was satisfied, leaving with a barely empty stomach. 

Thinking better of following the younger man, Thomas waited, opting to finish the rest of his work in his own room, instead of his study, a rarity, which allowed Alfred to retire to bed early. 

It was nearing midnight when he heard the soft knock at his door.

The door opened revealing Richard's head, the dim light of the room casting shadows across his pale face. "Thomas?" 

Looking up from his tablet, which was resting on his knees as he laid against the pillows on his bed. Gesturing for the younger man to come in, Thomas set the device aside on the bedside table. 

"Are you busy?" 

"Not terribly."  

The door clicked shut behind Richard as he timidly inched forward. Thomas could see the younger man's teeth close around the inside of his cheek. "Can I stay in here?" 

"Of course. As long as you need." Thomas patted the ample bed space next to him, inviting Richard to sit down. 

It wasn't until the younger man was at his side that Thomas could see the hastily hidden tear tracks on Richard's cheeks, his skin puffy and swollen. 

Taking his face in his left hand, Thomas gently thumbed the skin under Richard's eye. "How long have you been crying?" 

Fresh tears filled Richard's eyes, his lips wobbling with his words. 

"I'm afraid."

Turning his body toward the other man fully, Thomas' face softened, a fire igniting in his stomach. 

Who dared to threaten his family?  

"Of what?" 

" Forgetting. I...I still...I…" Shakey words spilled out of his mouth. "It doesn't hurt any-anymore. It doesn't hurt like it did. I still-still miss them, but-" 

Thomas pulled him close, resting the younger man's head on his shoulder. 

"Does it still hurt for you? As much as it used to?" 

His cheek resting on Richard's head, Thomas mulled over the question as he drew lazy circles on Richard's back, listening to the younger man's trembling breaths. 

Did he still hurt? 

Did he ever hurt? 

"No, the pain fades," Richard's hand curled into Thomas' shirt, loosely twisting the hem in his fingers. "But I will always miss them." 

He often wondered what Bruce would be like once he grew, once he matured into a young man who understood why Thomas chose their paths for them, why they needed to free themselves of their parents' grasp. Would he be just be just as curious and sweet as he had been back then, just as feisty as Richard, who loved to tease Thomas as much as he could? Or would the world have gotten to him, somehow slipping past Thomas, his protector, to taint him and sully what was precious?

Admittedly, Thomas should have let his brother live. He was far too young to understand what Thomas was trying to do, but what was done was done. 

He had to focus on the present, on the young man crying into his shoulder. 

"I...I feel numb, Thomas."

Richard's eyes met his, glossy and pleading. 

"I'm tired of feeling nothing." Richard's hand tightened in his shirt. "I'm only allowed to feel what you want me to." 

"Richard-" 

"You won't let me have friends, no one except you and Alfred. I have to stay where you want me, go where you want me to go. I don't have a say." The younger man sniffed, attempting to catching his breath. "You say we're partners, but we're not even equals." 

Richard was captured by grief, only seeing the negatives of what Thomas had done. 

"Let me feel something," Richard's voice cut through his mind like a scythe through wheat. "Please." 

"What would you have me do?" Thomas asked, genuinely curious. After a brief silence, he continued softly, repeating words that he often said to the younger man. "They would want you to be happy, Richard, to move on from this torment." 

As if he hadn't heard those words, Richard shifted, his legs curling underneath him. "I need...I need you…." 

Thomas smiled gently, prompting the younger man to continue. "I'll be anything you need me to be, Richard." 

Just don't leave me.

Richard's expression changed, holding a combination of emotions that Thomas had never seen from him before. He was barely able to register them before the younger man leaned forward and placed a kiss on the corner of Thomas' lips. 

Taking Richard by the shoulders, he pushed him back so he could look into his eyes. 

"Is this truly what you want, Richard?" 

"Yes," Came the quiet answer. "You said you'll be anything I need you to be. Were you lying?" 

"No, never." 

Incredibly gentle, Thomas pressed a kiss to Richard's lips, arms wrapping around the slightly smaller man, his hands tangling into his hair. Feeling Richard's hands twist into the back of his shirt, Thomas smiled into their kiss, guiding Richard backward, to lay on his back on the bed.

"Have you ever been with a man before, Richard?" 

The younger man shook his head, blood rushing to his face, causing an adorable rosy hue. "I know how though." 

Chuckling, Thomas laid down next to him on his side, brushing hair out of the younger man's eyes. "I would hope so." He pressed a kiss to his temple. "Tell me what you want, Richard." He whispered, pressing another kiss to his cheek, near his ear. 

"Just make me feel something." 

He was gentle, tender even, as he pressed kiss after kiss on Richard's face, trailing down to his neck. 

But it was methodical, clinical in a sense. 

Richard did not say he wanted something emotionally charged, so Thomas kept himself from speaking, from whispering in the younger man's ears ever thing he thought. He didn't want romance, at least, not now. Really, Thomas had never thought himself the romantic type. Yes, he could wine and dine, but the partners who came to his bed knew they were a trist, a fling, a temporarily welcomed distraction.

Richard was different. 

Richard was someone to be cherished, cared for, and appreciated. 

In the end, Thomas stopped himself from taking things too far. Richard needed a distraction, not another problem. There would be plenty of time for more drastic things, if Ricard so wished. For now, he cared for Richard in the way that he only could, a thought that pleased him to no end, peppering him with fervent kisses, his hand massaging Richard, carefully unbuttoning the younger man's pants. 

Richard's eyes were screwed close, the back of his head pressing against the pillows as Thomas took hold of him, skin on skin. The older man kissed his cheek, studying his face. 

Embarrassment flushed Richard's face, his face tight and eyes flickering underneath his eyelids. Teeth caught his bottom lip, holding the flesh as if it were caught in a trap. 

A gasp rushed out of Richard's mouth. 

Pressing a kiss to his temple, Thomas smiled, happy to bring some form of comfort to the younger man he so loved. 

"I've read about you." Ultraman admitted, several weeks after their first meeting, as he slunk up behind Talon, stopping at his side in front of the large keyboard and hollo-screen that the younger man was working on. "Wayne's charity case." 

Talon's expressionless mask revealed nothing of the resentment he felt at those words. He hummed, not giving the older man the satisfaction of having his full attention. 

"How thrilling. Find anything interesting?" 

"I'm sorry," The older man spoke quickly, his eyes dancing between Talon's typing fingers and the eye holes in his hood. "About your family...I truly am." 

Pausing in his movements, Talon straightened himself from his hunched position. His hands resting against the cold keys, he turned his head toward the older man. "I…" His words stuck to the roof of his mouth. "Thank you…." 

Arms crossed, Ultraman leaned against the console, looking toward the direction he had just come from. 

"I thought Owlman kept you on a tight leash." 

"It's a shame." Talon's voice rang through the quiet of the monitor room that was currently being upgraded. "You can't go a few minutes without being an ass." 

Ultraman looked at him out of the corner of his eye, smirking. A laugh escaped his lips. "You know, you're the only one allowed to talk to me like that." 

Talon shrugged. "That's your own fault." 

There was only the clicking of keys for several moments before the silence was broken again. 

"Birdie," Ultraman shifted, the sound of fabric brushing against itself, rumpling almost like a bedsheet. "Have you ever thought about why he took you in?"

"I know why." 

"Do you?" 

Talon tapped a button on the keyboard, making a loading screen appear. Turning toward the other man fully, he gritted his teeth, forming a growl. "Yes, and we are not going to talk about this." 

Ultraman sighed, a hand scrubbing at his face. "Alright, alright." He lowered his voice, his head turning toward the younger man. "Have you found any leads in your family's case?" 

Blunt. Why did everyone have to be so blunt?

"It's a cold case by now." 

"But it bothers you." 

"I don't think it ever won't bother me."

Silence descended upon them like fresh snow, gentle and soft. 

Sighing, Ultraman uncrossed his arms, pushing off of the console. "Have you had dinner yet?" 

Talon blinked, his mask hiding his surprise. 

"I...haven't. I'm supposed to finish updating the systems." 

Ultraman snorted. "The updates can run by themselves now, can't they?" 

"...Yes," Talon grinned, heading toward the exit, Ultraman trailing a few steps behind him. "So, Chinese?" 

"Sounds good to me, Kiddo." 

Talon beamed down back to Gotham, in one of the lesser populated areas, two hours later, his belly full and his mouth tingling with residual laughter. 

Ultraman - Clark - was far better company than Richard had ever anticipated, far more charming too. 

His communicator flashed against his hip. Pulling it from its holster, he pressed a button on the side, opening the channel, allowing the call from the Cave to be received. 

"Master Owlman requests your presence at the Tower," Came Alfred's voice from the device, a disapproving tone coating his words. "If you would, Master Talon." 

The young man rolled his shoulders, stretching slightly as he placed his communicator back on his hip, before he jumped up and swung onto a nearby fire escape, pulling himself up with ease. 

"What?" He grunted as he took two stairs at a time, all the way up to the roof. "I'm not allowed to go have dinner with a friend?" 

"Apparently not, Sir." 

Talon chuckled at the older man's drily sarcastic tone. 

Taking in the dark, cloudy skyline of Gotham, Talon swung from building to building as if he didn't have a care in the world. After a few minutes, he paused a rooftop, listening to the sounds of the city. The cars below zipped below him, honking every so often at each other. Against the gray skyline, in what seemed in the middle of the city, was Owlman's tower, a base of operations that was mainly used just for show and for when Gotham's local government wished to have meetings with the governing vigilantes.

Resting on the edge of the roof, Richard sat down, his face tilted toward the sky, the scent of fresh rain wafting into his nose. Closing his eyes, he leaned backward on his hands. 

The comm on his hip blinked lazily, buzzing intently until the call was answered. 

He sighed, knowing only one person's calls made his comm vibrate. 

Getting back onto his feet and dusting off the seat of his pants, which were now damp from the slick rooftop, he ignored the call.

Leaving the device on his hip, he scaled three buildings, quickly making his way toward the tower. The next few building were hardly a challenge, save for the second to last one, where Richard saw a cat napping on an upper-level balcony and stopped to give it a few pets before moving on. 

Shooting one of his grappling hooks at the top of the tower, he swung himself up so he could look around the underside of the bulb like tower, landing on top of it, where he popped open a panel, allowing him to drop down into the spacious observation deck. Closing the hatch with the press of a button on the keyboard connected to the large computer in the middle of the room, he unclasped his hood, removed it from his head, and tossed it aside, revealing his face, a domino mask plastered around his eyes. 

"I updated the systems like you asked." His voice ricocheted throughout the room as Owlman's footsteps echoed up the steps toward him.  

"I saw," Owlman's voice rumbled as he stepped onto the platform, passing Talon to take a seat at the large console. "Though it took you longer than I expected." He leaned back in his chair, the white slits of his mask squinting. "Did you run into any problems?" 

"Nope."

Owlman tilted his head slightly, studying the younger man's loose posture.

"Your tracker showed that you were in Metropolis. I don't recall the Watchtower's systems being stationed there." Owlman murmured pointedly, his voice lowering into a growl, suspicion edging his tone. 

Rolling his eyes, Talon huffed, his arms crossed across his chest. He grinned cheekily.

"I had dinner with a friend."

"A friend?" Owlman questioned. "Do I know this friend of yours?" 

Shrugging, Talon turned toward the large computer screen. 

"No, probably not."  He pressed a button on the keyboard, making the computer flare to life, whirring as if it were trying to fly. 

"Richard." 

The younger man laughed, giggling at Thomas' expression. 

"OK, ok," Teasingly, he smiled down at the other man, his teeth white and shiny. "The computer system was self-updating at that point, so Ultraman suggested that we should get dinner." 

"Did he now?" Thomas responded absentmindedly, a scowl on his hard face. 

"Yep," Richard sighed, placing a gentle hand on the older man's shoulder, gaining his full attention. "Please don't do anything. He was just being nice." 

"There is no such thing as just being nice , Richard. There's always a motive." 

"Well," Crouching, placing his weight on the balls of his feet, Richard leaned against the console, the white slits of his mask staring up at the older man. "You were nice to me when you took me in. What was your motive then?" 

Thomas allowed himself a half-smile. Placing his hand on the side of Richard's head, he laced his fingers through his hair, squeezing his neck affectionately. 

"That was different." He assured, his thumb swiping against Richard's cheek. "I needed, wanted , to help you. There was nothing for me to gain, except you. I didn't have an ulterior motive," He paused. "Unlike Ultraman." 

Barely holding in a snort, Richard stood, shaking off Thomas' hand. "You can't leave well enough alone, can you?" 

"Not when it comes to you." Thomas turned away from the younger man, facing the computer screen."We'll discuss your disregard for my warnings later. For now," He ignored Richard's huffy sigh. "Patrol the docks, and keep your comm on. If you fail to do so, there will be consequences." 

Richard smiled in his flippant way, as if knowing a secret that Thomas did not. "Every action has consequences, Thomas." 

The Watch Tower was quiet. The creaks and shifts of the structure could be heard, making a shiver run up a lesser man's spine, but Thomas was not a lesser man, nor would he ever be. Richard deserved a good man, someone who would look after him, protect him, shower him with affection until he was absolutely smothered, dizzy with the notions of love whispered in his ear. Ultraman would never be, never could be, that man. He didn't understand Richard, how fragile he was, yet how strong he was. All those little quirks and intricacies, he would never understand. 

"Stay away from him." His words were a command, echoing throughout the surveillance room, attracting Ultraman's attention.

"Contrary to what you think, I truly like him." Ultraman turned from the large screens, his chair groaning under his weight as he faced the other man. "He's a very promising young man."

"You can't have sex with him." Owlman retorted bluntly, his posture tight, coiled like a snake.

Ultraman laughed, an amused smile on his face. "You sound jealous." His white teeth flashed as if he were a wolf barring his teeth to a challenger. "Worried that he'll leave you?" 

Owlman continued as if the alien hadn't spoken. "You'll kill him. You know that." His voice iced over, revealing nothing of his emotions, his tone blank as a blanket of snow. 

"Mm," Ultraman thought for a moment, a pleasant smile on his face. "Wouldn't that be a lovely way for him to go?" 

Owlman rushed forward, gripping the other man's suit and almost pulling him out of his chair as he lowered his voice. "If you even think about hurting him, I will ruin you." Thomas' heart thudded in his chest, shuddering at the thought of Richard's lifeless body, cold and staring, his pink lips purple and bruised. "I will destroy everything you hold dear." 

He dropped him, disgusted by Ultraman's mocking laughter. 

"I'm sure little Dickie would appreciate that." Thomas gritted his teeth. Such a familiar name for his boy from the man in front of him snapped at his ears, poking at him, urging him to challenge the other man again. "He loves it when you mettle in his life." 

"You know nothing about him." Thomas hissed, turning on his heel to leave the surveillance room. 

"And you think you do?" Came the niggling retort, clinging to the back of his mind like the claws of a cat in an unsuspecting bird.

Chapter Text

It became a relaxed routine for them: Richard would seek out Thomas, his eyes soft and lips forming a small, hesitant smile. Sometimes, his boy would find him training or reading in his office, a shy blush dusting his face. Of course, Thomas would happily oblige him, giving into his merest whims without a second thought. With gentle hands, he would invite the younger man closer, to sit next to him or to peer over his shoulder, flirting with him teasingly until Richard had had enough and overtly implied what he wanted. 

Richard was beautiful, a mess of muscled limbs and hot skin. His neck exposed, his head would fall back on Thomas' pillow, pleasure scrawled across his face. 

Pressing his nose against the bare skin of Richard's neck, Thomas inhaled, his lips pressing fervently against the younger man's jugular, his tongue brushing the sensitive skin there, followed by the nudge of teeth. 

"No biting." Richard gasped out urgently, craning his neck to look down at Thomas, their noses mere inches apart.

With another heavy kiss against the other man's neck, Thomas relented reluctantly. "No biting." He agreed, rocking his body against the younger man's to distract himself from doing so. "One of these days, Richard…." 

His companion's laugh fizzled in the air. "We'll see." 

"Hmm." Thomas groaned, leaning on his right arm to find purchase. "Richard, Richard." He panted, taking the younger man's right hand and twining their fingers together next to his head on the pillow. 

Underneath him, Richard squirmed impatiently. "Thomas," He whined. "I-" 

His words caught in his throat, forming into a moan, his free hand twisting into the sheets underneath him.

"Patience, precious." He pressed a warm kiss against Richard's forehead. "Just let me take care of you."

His thrusts were methodical, calculated, much like all of Thomas' life, some quick, some agonizingly slow. Staring at Richard's heated face, his eyes closed and his lips so pink, Thomas felt content. If he could stay like this forever, with Richard, just the two of them, he would be forever grateful to whoever could grant such a wish. 

He never recalled feeling such a way about any of his previous partners, never wanting to know what they were thinking, never caring what they thought of him. No, Richard was so very special, so very lovely, so very perfect.

No one could ever come close to the young man writhing underneath him. 

No one could ever love him like I can. No one could serve him like can. No one can look after him like I can. No one can have him. No one can have-

"Thomas!" Richard cried out, his fingers gripping the older man's hand. With fluttering eyelids, Richard found release. Thomas followed soon after.

Rolling onto the empty bed space next to the younger man, Thomas slotted himself against Richard as his companion rolled onto his side, facing the older man. Pulling Richard close, he sighed into his hair, the younger man's head resting half on the pillow half on Thomas' chest. 

"You're all sweaty." Came Richard's sleepy protest at being manhandled into cuddling, despite curling himself tightly against Thomas' stomach. 

"And whose fault is that, precious?" 

"Not mine. " 

"Of course not, love." He answered softly, pressing a kiss to Richard's hair. Brushing aside the younger man's damp hair, he untangled himself from the other man after a few moments, looking into his drowsy eyes. "Would you like some water?" 

A tired nod and pleasant smile was his only response. 

"Alright," Thomas rolled out of the bed, a fond smile on his face, pulling the blankets over the younger man despite the warmth of the room. Softly, he spoke, placing another kiss on the younger man's forehead. "I'll be right back, sweetheart."

The chilly air of the kitchen nipped at his exposed skin, the cold wood burning his bare feet with their frost. Absentmindedly, he grinned to himself, pouring a glass of ice water for the young man in his bed. 

Richard venomously hated cold floors, instead opting to hop onto counters and chairs, really whatever he could to avoid letting his feet touch the unusually cold floor, a truly adorable trait in Thomas' eyes. 

A sudden flash caught his eye just before he left the darkness of the kitchen, a clinking glass of water in his hand. Moving toward the dim light, Thomas exhaled breathily, realizing that it was Richard's tablet. Taking it up, he glanced at the screen, unlocking it without a second thought. 

As he climbed the dark stairs and made his way back to his room, he studied the open files on the device, his eyebrows creasing together as he scanned the sprawling words, recognizing them as a case report from two years ago, the only copy of which was saved to the computer in the cave below them, on a secure cloud. 

Thomas was well aware that Richard had access to these files. The younger man liked to read and update their case files here and there, so he allowed him to access them on his tablet. Yet, had Thomas known that Richard was looking at this particular file, he would have barred access. 

On the screen, staring up at him sweetly, was a picture of Richard and his family, an old photo taken before one of their shows, their last family picture together. Under it was Thomas' own report, written hastily, but no less attentive. After all, at the time, he had to look after his grieving boy, providing him with well-deserved comfort and love. 

He closed his bedroom door behind him with a click, making Richard lazily raise his head, propping himself up on his arm, reaching out with his other hand to take the water. 

"I thought we were being honest with each other, Richard." 

Hesitating, the younger man sipped his water, a confused expression crossing his face before his eyes landed on the tablet in Thomas' hand. 

"Oh," Richard sat up, the blanket slipping down, pooling around his waist in his lap. "I was just rereading-" 

"Your family's case." Thomas continued for him, his voice hard. He sat down next to him, angling his body toward him despite their positions. "You're just going to upset yourself." 

Richard's hand tightened around his glass, the condensation dripping down his hand. 

"But it doesn't make sense, Thomas." 

"What doesn't?" 

"It couldn't have been an accident." 

Thomas sighed, inching closer to the younger man, one hand reaching up to massage Richard's neck gently. Not wanting to encourage his boy, he ignored the statement. "I don't want you reading this anymore, and none of those news stories." 

Richard turned toward him, his glass lowered and resting on the blankets in his lap. 

"Do you believe me?" 

Thomas blinked, taken aback. 

"Of course, love." 

As if lighting a match, Richard's smile flashed, blindingly bright and sudden. Quickly, he leaned forward, pressing a happy kiss to the older man's lips. 

"I'm glad." Thomas' heart ached at the sound of Richard's bell-like voice, announcing his happiness so readily. "I think I've found some new leads. You know how most of the circus got arrested after I left? Well, one of them - he was a friend of my parents - is being transferred to Gotham Prison in a few days. Maybe Talon and Owlman could -" 

"No. It would be suspicious. Someone could connect us." 

Thomas brushed his knuckles against the younger man's face, attempting to soothe and distract him. 

Richard's eyes flashed in the dim light. "Then I'll visit him. It wouldn't be that strange." 

Running the back of his fingers down Richard's jawline, he turned the younger man's face toward him. 

"Richard," Thomas sighed, studying his determined face, his expression wilting with his tiredness. "I doubt that would be in your best interests. It would only hurt you in the long run."

"Either you come with me or I go without you. Either way, I am going." 

" Richard ." 

"You heard me." 

"I will not standby, watching you chase after a nonexistent solution for your family's case." 

Richard jerked out of his gentle grip, moving a few inches away from him, keeping his water from spilling over into his hands and onto his bed. Haughtily, he dropped his glass on his bedside table, making the heavy wooden table creak, the glass singing. 

"Then don't watch."

Thomas followed the younger man's movements, moving to sit more firmly on the bed, pressing himself against him and wrapping his arm around his tense shoulders. Thrumming his fingers against the warm skin of Richard's upper arm, he rubbed caring strokes up and down the younger man's muscles, massaging him carefully. 

He pressed a kiss to Richard's temple, which was refused with a slight turn of the younger man's head. He ignored the movement, writing it off as untrue and disingenuous, a mere knee jerk retaliation. 

"We'll discuss this in the morning." Thomas commented pointly, his tone sweet like honey, but firm like rock, his lips pressed against the shell of Richard's ear. 

"Yes, we will." 

Chapter Text

The bed was cold, save for his own body heat. The space where Richard would normally be curled up was bare, empty. Usually, Thomas would drift with the scent of Richard's dark hair, luring him into the dreary waking world, only brightened by Richard's sweetness and fierce spirit. His chest would be pressed to his boy's back, the two of them twined together, fitting like perfect puzzle pieces. 

But Richard's normal place was cold, almost as if he hadn't slept there at all.

Thomas sighed, pushing himself to sit up. He stood, stretching, wondering just when Richard had gotten so good at sneaking out of his bed, sneaking away from him like a silly little bird away from the warmth and comfort of their nest. Hearing the soft rumble of water hitting the shower floor, he crept toward the cracked open door that lead to his large bathroom. With a nudge, the door opened, revealing cool marble and a foggy mirror, filled from the cilling to the floor with steamed air. 

A smaller body stood in the shower, his neck bent back and his eyes fluttering lightly as warm water hit his reddened skin and rolled down his sculpted body. Thomas couldn't help but admire the young man who had not quite noticed him yet. Leaning against the doorframe, he studied Richard's beauty, those strong shoulders, that soft but firm stomach, those wonderful thighs, his knees, his arms, the shifting muscles of his back, leading down, down, down to those strong, long legs, to that lovely rear. His body was a sight to behold, but Thomas couldn't help but reminisce over Richard himself, his personality and his spirit. 

So perfect...So precious… 

He cleared his throat as he stepped into the bathroom, pulling his nightshirt over his head. 

"Richard, you should have awoken me. I would have been happy to join you." 

Lazily, almost as if he were still asleep, Richard glanced at the other man, turning to coat his black hair in water from behind. 

"I thought you would want to sleep in today." 

Thomas quickly finished striping himself, tossing his clothes aside. He smirked. "Only if you were with me." 

Opening the shower, he placed his hand on Richard's side, quickly closing the glass door behind him as to keep the warm air in. 

"Turn around, sweetheart. Let me get your back." 

Richard compiled without a word, his expression blank and distant. Thomas noted this action as he squeezed body wash onto his sponge - the cheap stuff that smelled horribly artificial but Richard said it reminded him of his family - and began to massage it into the smooth expanse of skin in front of him, his caresses slick. The warm water washed over them, drizzling against the ground and pooling around their feet.

After a few moments, Thomas sighed, his body relaxing as his fingers grazed against Richard's back. "Are you upset about last night?" 

"What do you think?" 

The older man wrung out the sponge, allowing it to rinse out the soap so he could wipe away the remaining bubbles on Richard's back - a flash of a thought overtook his mind. Blood running down Richard's back, thick and warm from gapping slashes and bruises. If he had fallen with his family, he would have worn those wounds.

"I admit that I was somewhat...harsh," Richard's sharp eyes snapped toward him, his neck twisting so he could look over his shoulder. "But I will not apologize for doing what is best for you." 

"Harsh is a word for it." Richard turned around, fully facing the older man. "I need to do this, Thomas…" He paused, turning his face away, his voice going soft as if he were building up courage. 

"Thomas, if I were to di-" 

"Do not finish that sentence." 

Water caressed Richard's chin, running down his cheek to his jaw and neck to the shower floor as if they were large teardrops. Thomas' jaw tightened, his hand coming up to rest on the younger man's cheek as he turned back toward him.

"If I were to die, like how my family died, would you leave it, even if there was a new lead?" 

"How can you even ask me a question like that? You know I would -" His throat tightened, constricting the words and making them suffocate in his throat. 

I would burn the world to avenge your death. I would make them suffer as you did. I would punish them until they knew my pain and more. 

"I don't want you to get hurt." was all he could say.

Richard's face softened, a wet giggle escaping his lips. "I know. You've told me over and over." His hands wrapped around Thomas' neck, drawing them closer together, their noses barely brushing. As Richard raised up on his tiptoes, Thomas' hands automatically went to his hips, steadying him. 

"I'm not as fragile as you seem to think." He whispered, the water pouring over them, soaking their hair completely. 

Not fragile. Just…dear to me….

"May I propose a compromise?" Thomas murmured, his lips against the side of Richard's mouth in a kiss. 

"Yeah," Richard relented, sounding half annoyed, half amused. He noticed that Thomas chose not to comment on the fragile comment. "But that doesn't mean I'll accept it." 

"Of course, my love." Trailing loving kisses down the other man's neck, the water spraying their skin, Thomas grinned. "I'll go in your place. Give me a list of what you want to say to him. I'll find everything out for you." 

Pulling back, Richard blinked, placing a hand on Thomas' chest, making him pause in his advances. "I thought...you...really don't want me to go that much? You'd go for me?" 

"Anything for you." He promised, pulling the younger man closer, closer than he was before. "I...I was wrong last night. I acted rashly. I just…I want to make certain that you are safe, Richard." 

His eyebrows creasing together, Richard's eyes darted away, embarrassment flooding his face. "I…I know. Thank you , but I need to do this for myself." Richard's hands pressed against Thomas' sides, reemphasizing his words, attempting to make him loosen his hold, not out of fear but out of discomfort. Their skin felt sticky when their wet bodies were pressed together, like they were glued to one another. 

"Can you let go of me for a second? I can't talk to you like this." 

If I let go, you'll go away. You'll get hurt. You'll find out. You'll find out the truth. You'll get hurt. I'll be the one to hurt you. You'll hate me. You'll hate me. Please don't hate me. I'll do anything for you. I'll do anything if you just stay by my side. I'll give you everything. Just say the word and i'll get whatever you desire, just don't leave me. I'll take your hate. I'll take whatever you want to give me: spite or love, adoration or damnation. I'll take whatever you deem fit for me.

"I can't." He whispered pitifully, molding his body to Richard's, resting his chin on his shoulder. "I can't stand to be separated from you." 

Richard's breath blew against his ear in a sigh. "I have a compromise too."

Thomas' grip tightened. 

"Come with me. You can monitor the whole conversation, beginning to end."

Thomas lifted his head from the other man's shoulder, resignation coating his face. "This is what you want?" 

Richard nodded wholeheartedly. 

Despite his better judgment, Thomas relented upon seeing that hopeful expression. 

"As you wish."

Thomas tilted the younger man's chin up, making his hair fall directly into the spray of water. 

"Let me wash your hair, darling." 

Richard smiled gently. 

“Please do.”

The cool air of the night stung against Thomas' face, making his skin dimple under the sleeves of his tuxedo jacket. 

Boring. Boring. He sing-songed to himself in his head. Always boring.

The woman at his side was vaguely interesting in the sense that she was interested in him. She draped herself on his arm, acting as if they were a couple or anything more than acquaintances. She was a past fling that Thomas had only called because he had to maintain face in the constant barrage of tabloids and leeches who wished to profit from him. 

"I'm saddened to see that your young companion has failed to show." The woman at his side purred, the sharp ends of her nails pressing against his forearm. "Is he usually tarty?" 

Plastering a fake smile on his lips, he bared his teeth charmingly. 

"I'm afraid Richard won't be joining this lovely gathering tonight. He hasn't been feeling well lately and decided it would be best if he stayed home." 

Once he considered the company, Thomas wasn't feeling as well as he should have.

"Oh dear. I hope it isn't serious." 

He patted her hand, his skin tingling where he touched her, feeling the urge to wipe his palm. 

"Not at all. I suspect it's allergies."

"Allergies? Really Thomas? Who stays home from a party because of allergies?" Richard's voice flitted into his head through the small earpiece, fitted in his right ear, colored so that it blended with his skin, inconspicuous and unobtrusive. 

Thomas tsked outwardly, catching the attention of his female companion. He smiled apologetically at her. "Forgive me. I just saw someone receive a botched drink order. It pains me to see good libations go to waste." 

"Oh. Perhaps you could advise me then? I never know what to order, especially at these functions." 

"Of course." He took the liberty of tightening her hold on his arm as he guided her from the dimly lit patio to the garishly decorated ballroom. The bright oranges and golds of the room sharply contrasted with Thomas' own color scheme of black, red, and deep blue in his own home. This place was much too bright for his tastes. Though privately, he thought Richard would find it whimsically charming. 

"Thomas, what was all that stuff you told me earlier? Don't get distracted? Stay focused?" 

Ignoring the voice in his ear, Thomas led his companion to the bar, where they both leaned against the cool, brown-varnished wood, damp with condensation from past drinks. "You know, wine is a delicate thing. You have to know how to play the game." 

"The game?" The woman questioned, tilting her head. 

"Yes, wine can be full of surprises, new tastes, new scents, new…" He tilted his head down, staring at the other end of the bar where the barkeeper was filling other guests' orders. "Experiences." 

The woman turned a pale shade of red, turning fully toward the bar, her dress brushing against the bar. 

"Way to lay it on thick." 

"Every wine is different." He continued, speaking to the women at his side as he flagged down another bartender. "You have to treat it as such. Some wines pair well with meat. Others do well with fish. The choice must be adjusted to the companion's traits."

Having composed herself, the woman placed an elbow on the bar, turning her head to face him. 

"Fascinating.  I wasn't aware you were such a wine connoisseur."

He smiled prettily. "Not as much as your husband. How is his business doing lately?" 

An amused snort sounded through his earpiece. 

“Thomas.”

He sipped his wine, admiring the rows of full bottles across from him. 

“He is behind on his payments.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye. “Or did he think that I would not notice that my bank account is light by half a million?”

He set his drink down lightly, toying with the glass stem. 

“I am not easily distracted by a woman’s charm, even as beautiful as you are.”

Thomas Wayne Jr could only be swayed by one beauty, and that man was several rooftops away eavesdropping in on his conversation. 

He smiled, gently, as if he were amused by her sudden change in expression, leaning in to whisper in her ear. 

"I have lost my patience." He drawled against the warm shell of her ear. "I expect my money within the next three days." 

As he pulled away from the woman, sipping at his wine, a voice drew his attention, allowing her to quickly gather herself before she averted her eyes and fled, taking the voice's distraction as an opportunity. He sighed, bored as he downed the rest of his drink. 

"Thomas!" Thomas would recognize Ultraman's voice anywhere, despite his unhappiness with that fact.

The voice in his earpiece blew a puff of air, excited. Thomas could hear the man on the other end shift, the toes of his boots clacking against the rooftop.

"You are dismissed." He murmured softly from barely parting lips between gesturing for another glass of wine and turning toward Clark Kent who had arrived at his side. "Head back home."

"Is that Clark?" 

"Thomas!" Clark clapped the other man's shoulder, a bright smile on his face. "Glad I could catch you! Where's your little friend?" 

Giving the appearance of being cordial, Thomas turned to the older man. "He felt ill tonight. I informed him that he would be staying home."

"That's not what you said to that woman. You can't just change -" 

Clark's head turned slightly, hearing the little voice in Thomas' earpiece. Tilting his head just a tad, he zeroed in on the man's voice from a few buildings away.

"-the story. That's not how it works." 

"It seems you're in a bit of trouble, my friend." Clark hummed, signaling for the bartender to bring him a glass of wine. 

"Thomas-" 

Thomas clicked the earpiece off under the guise of brushing his hair off the shell of his ear, but Clark could still hear the sweet voice that belonged to Dick Grayson. 

"Thomas? Ugh! Fine." 

Clark could hear the stomp of heavy boots before the soles scrapped against concrete and the whizzing of a steel cord being shot through the air. 

"What do you want, Clark?"

Thomas' stony expression exuded an air of guarded indifference. Clark hummed to himself, amused, hearing the other man's blood pressure rise. 

"Aren't you worried that our little birdie is going to fly off somewhere he isn't supposed to?”

He took a sip of his drink, his eyebrows raised, irritating Thomas further. 

“He knows better.” Thomas’ voice echoed and muffled in the clear wine glass as he mimicked the other man, ignoring the bait for what it was. He was not unaware of his own insecurities, quite the opposite in fact, but he would not let this man use them against him. 

Ultraman quirked an eyebrow, bringing the tart Wine to his lips. “We'll see.” 

The odor of their base below the house was never fully pleasant, and storming in covered in muck and rain never helped things. The mud splattered across his thighs and the wheels of his bike did little to distract Richard from his anger. Slamming the bike into park and powering it off, he let it teeter onto its side and crash to the floor, flecks of paint scrapping off. He stepped over it easily and ripped his hood off, revealing his sweat-soaked hair and the frustrated turn of his lips. 

The rusty scent of blood overpowered his senses, making the room shift around him. Pressing the heel of his hand against his eye, he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible against the distant drip of water and the hum of the technology around him. Consumed by a growing migraine and the tightness in his back, he missed the measured approach of steps. 

He swung his fist before even feeling the warm fingertips on his shoulder. Swiveling on the balls of his feet, he stopped just before his fist collided with a concerned, unflinching face.

“Alfred?” 

Richard jerked at the quivering noise that slipped from his mouth, unwilling to fully recognize the squeak as his own voice. 

“Master Richard…” Alfred only frowned at him in that fatherly way of his, his gloved hands curling around the younger man's biceps. 

Tears welled and spilled over Richard's cheeks, the salty tears turning a pale pink as it mixed with the blood that had seeped through his mask and dried on his face. He fell into the older man's arms, readily, feeling strong arms encircle him and warm, gloved hands cradle his back and neck. 

“Alf…I…” 

Flakes of dried blood and drops of new tears soaked through the older man's suit jacket and shirt. Slowly, they sunk down to the floor together, the older man pulling Richard tighter against him with every passing second. Petting the other man's hair, the butler pressed his cheek against Richard's forehead, swaying them together. Alfred's voice barely disturbed the ominous, suffocating silence of the cave. 

“No need to explain. Only when you're ready.” Alfred nudged him into a sitting position and hauled him to stand. “Let's get you out of those dirty clothes. I can't imagine you’re comfortable.” 

Richard’s mouth twitched upward despite his puffy eyes and pale face. 

As he herded the younger man upstairs, Alfred ignored how Richard leaned into his side with every step they took together, how deeply his chest rose and fell with his breathing. Neither of them even thought to blush when Alfred began drawing a bath, while the younger man striped himself. His Talon suit, he had peeled off in the cave at Alfred’s instance, leaving it on the concrete floor as he was instructed. Less mess , Alfred had said as an explanation or something to that effect. The younger man chewed his lip, struggling to remember the older man’s exact words. 

Taking off his white gloves, Alfred studied him between adjusting the temperature of the water and pouring bath salts. While comfortable with his nudity, Richard shifted under the scrutiny, feeling self-conscious at the older man’s knowing and stern gaze. 

“Do you have any injuries I should know about?” 

Richard recognized Alfried's tone as the same one that his late mother used to ask a question that she already knew the answer to. 

“My chest hurts.” He answered weakly, honesty rolling off his tongue far more easily than it had for some time. “And my head.” 

The butler nodded, guiding the younger man down into the steaming water by his arm. He tilted the younger man's head back, scooping handful after handful of water onto the top of his head, careful to shield his eyes with his free hand. 

“I'm not surprised. You've had quite a night.”

Alfred made no attempt to pry further, and Richard made no effort to hide his growing anxiety. His fingers twisted in the water, making it rush over his thighs and knees. The older man tended to his charge clinically, shampooing his hair and washing his body as if washing the younger man were nothing but part of their routine, which, Richard supposed it was, in a way. All the dried blood and injury was not something new, nor was it unexpected. 

“Do you want to know who it was?” Richard’s voice cracked against the sloshing of the water. 

“I know who it was not.” Alfred’s nails scratched rounds into the younger man’s head, making his eyelids heavy. Richard leaned into the touch as the older man began rinsing his hair. “That’s enough for now.”

“I don’t remember…much of it. I-I was on the rooftop,” Closing his eyes, the younger man’s face twisted into a grimace. “Then I was there, doing…that. I’ve never…at least, not like that.”

“I know, child.” Alfred soothed, carding his fingers through his charge’s long hair. “Just rest for now.”

It was well past two in the morning before Thomas pulled into his garage and neatly parked his expensive car parallel to the others. Alfred was still in his suit, fully dress and not a hair out of place, waiting for him on the other Side of the room as Thomas slammed the door to his car shut. He slid the keys into his coat pocket, idly counting his cars, noting not a single one had been moved. He grinned to himself, amused. Richard must not have been that angry with him if he hadn't taken any of them for a joyride. Moreso, Thomas hadn't been notified by his tracking system that any of their other specialized vehicles, so to speak, hadn't moved from their last position.

“Sir,” An unusual expression of concern painted the butler's face. “I suspect that the night did not go as planned.”

Thomas suppressed a sigh. “No. It did not. Has Richard gone to bed yet?”

Alfred cleared his throat, lowly, as he trailed behind his master. 

“He's still quite awake.” 

Thomas loosened his tie, listening to their footsteps as they made their way to his master suite. 

The dark wooden floorboards creaked below them with every step. The whole of the house glowed with dim, warm light, casting long shadows into the cool air, a sight that would bring the hairs on the back of any visiting person's neck to stand on end. It was no less quiet in the Manor than it usually was, despite the drizzle that had started some hours ago and would most likely persist until tomorrow afternoon, but the wafting scent of Alfred's soup and the aroma of freshly brewed ginger and turmeric tea hung in the air, a special blend that the butler had concocted himself several years ago before Richard had even entered their lives.

Thomas rolled his head, slowly, and rubbed the back of his neck, blowing air through his nose. 

“You're dismissed for the night, Alfred.” 

“Sir,” Alfred tilted his head in ascent. “Be gentle with him tonight.” 

“Always.” Thomas laid his hand on the rounded, embellished door knob. Before he twisted, he rumbled. “Before you go to bed, could you bring another pot of tea up?” 

“Already on your nightstand, sir.” 

The younger man smiled gently. 

“Thank you. Goodnight, Alfred.” 

“Goodnight, sir.” 

The room was dim when Thomas entered, save for the glow from a night light that he had been certain resided in Richard’s official room. The wall plugin nightlight had been something from Richard’s childhood that he had snagged, among a few other momentos, before what was left of the circus had reclaimed the trailer that his family had lived in for the majority of his life. Thomas had almost bought the broken-down thing himself, but the circus was far quicker than he was in this matter. The nightlight cast twinkling stars onto the ceiling and walls, dancing lazily in the darkness, throwing just enough light to be able to see the other occupant of the room, sitting at the end of the bed as he stared at the floor. 

Thomas shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair as he considered Richard’s appearance. The younger man had bathed and dressed himself in a pair of Thomas’ pajamas, which brought a warmth to his chest. Seeing the younger man in his clothes soothed his irritated jealousy just ever so slightly, but it was enough to calm his concern for the boy and rouse his brimming affection for him. The younger man’s hair had been left uncombed, as was his custom before bed, but he fiddled with the lepel of the silk button-down nightshirt he wore. 

“I’m not sorry.” The younger man croaked, his head bowed. 

“I’m not asking you to be.”

“You’re going to be angry.”

“I sense you're not apologizing for leaving your post.” Thomas tilted his head and took Richard by the chin. Their eyes locked. “What have you done?”

Richard's gaze flicked to the window briefly, listening to the gentle drops of rain that tapped soothingly against the windowpane, before looking at the older man once more. 

The younger man's lips pressed into a line. 

“...I killed him.” He admitted, softly, not so much ashamed of the act itself but of how it occurred. “I don't remember…”

Thomas hooked his fingers under the other man's jaw as he sat down, tilting his face, so he could peer into his eyes. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Richard's mouth as he murmured to him soothingly.

 “I'll take care of it in the morning.” 

“Thomas,” Richard's voice croaked. “I don't remember . I was on the roof, then…his blood was on me. It was so hot. I thought I was burning. I-I-” 

The older man exhaled and stood, loosening his tie and stripping himself of his clothes. The accumulation of scars and bruises that littered his body did nothing but enhance his handsomeness. Before Richard, only in his boxer shorts, Thomas knelt in front of the younger man, encircled his arms around his waist, and pressed his forehead into the younger man’s tight stomach, full and warm, lightly gurgling in digestion. He inhaled deeply, slumping forward in contentment as he exhaled. 

“Darling, you just need some rest.” 

Richard’s arms wound themselves around Thomas’ shoulders, pulling closer, pressing them together for a moment before releasing him and falling backward onto the bed, his weight bouncing him lightly. His forearm veiled his eyes, his breathing labored, but deep. 

Thomas studied the younger man, taking in the turn of his jaw and the subtle scent of his freshly washed skin. His hair was still damp. Little droplets clunch to his hairline. Folding his arms on Richard’s lap, Thomas languidly slipped his fingers under the waistband of the other man’s pajamas, running the calloused digit along the elastic, his skin brushing Richard’s hip. 

“Or some reassurance, perhaps?” Thomas murmured, pressing a kiss to the younger man’s right knee through the fabric of his sleep pants. Thoughts of Clark Kent still swirled in his mind, the man’s hand brushing Richard’s as he handed him a file, the man’s eyes on him whenever Richard turned away, the man’s smug looks,  the man’s arms around Richard’s waist, bruising and crushing, the man holding Richard as he fucked him, raw, ugly, and murderous. Hungry. Uncaring. Revolting.

Thomas rubbed his cheek against Richard’s thigh, just above his knee, his hand caressing the younger man’s side. He wanted to take the younger man into his mouth and show him just how tender he could be, how caring, how thoughtful, how he could satisfy him. Because Thomas was who he was meant to be with, and while Thomas never doubted Richard’s affections or faithfulness, he doubted others. Other people were always the problem. Always getting in the way of the two of them.

He knelt over Richard, his hands slithering under his supine form, reaching under him to underdress him, but he paused. Richard’s face was far too pale, even in the dim light of their bedroom. He stared at the ceiling, a pretty frown on his lips. 

Thomas sighed, berating himself, and pulled himself off of the younger man. He kissed the other man’s hands, pulling him off of the bed. Herding him under the covers, he pressed a kiss to the younger man’s forehead.

“Get some rest, precious.”

Richard felt the warmth of Thomas’ palm leave his skin as he drifted to sleep to the sound of the gentle thrum of the shower and the scent of an untouched pot of tea.