Kissing Dick (13 drabbles)

by 'rith

Starluck Asia wrote: In the issue where Babs breaks up with Dick, one of her complaints is that he always looks surprised when a past or potential girlfriend catches him unaware and kisses him. Our hero does have a track record. He has been smooched without invitation by Starfire, Miggy Webster, Huntress, Tarantula, just to name a few.

Now the challenge: Translate this to a slash universe. Which male heroes or anti-heroes (like Tarantula) would - against Dick's innocent protestations - kiss him, and probably take it to the next level ? Can it all happen in one story?

Thanks to Starluck Asia for the challenge; I haven't written this many words at one time in *months.*


Today's sparring session was *not* going well. Even Connor's allegedly legendary patience had begun to fray. Time, he thought, for a different tactic.

Nightwing made a Bruce Lee come-on gesture. "Aga-- *mmmph!*"

In that brief instant of stunned reaction, Connor neatly pinned his opponent to the mat for the first time all day.

Dick blinked up at him. "What do you call that move?!"

Connor smirked. "By any means necessary."

Nightwing waited to be let up. And waited. And finally raised an eyebrow. "So what do you call this move?"

"Savoring the victory," Connor replied, and bent his head again.

{100 words}


The bachelor party raged around him. He was getting married *tomorrow.* The idea was still slightly surreal but all the Speed Force in the world couldn't make the moment happen soon enough. Wally hoped that Linda felt the same.

Only one thing left to do before then.

He found Dick outside in the strip club's parking lot. "Needed some fresh air," Dick said, and in the seconds before he finished speaking Wally made his move.

Dick stumbled back, startled. "Wally, the *hell*--"

"There's a list. Of things superheroes should do before they die. Or," Wally grinned, "get married. You're on it."


"Apparently it's a crime not to have kissed you. I don't see what the big deal is." He considered, then darted in once more. "Huh. Maybe I'm starting to get the point."

"*Linda,*" Dick squeaked.

"Right. I--damn." Wally shook it off. "You're not *that* pretty."

{150 words. I spent way too long on this one. Trying to slash these two gives me agita.}


"I...think I might be gay."

Dick, to Gar's eternal gratitude, didn't blink an eye. "You think?"

"I mean..." Gar felt himself flailing, his carefully prepared rationalizations vanishing. "Jillian and I never did anything. And Tara--" No need to explain about Tara. "And--"

"Gar. Relax. Talk to me." Dick tilted his head. "Is there someone you're, um, attracted to? A guy?"

"Not...exactly. Maybe. I don't *know,*" Gar wailed, and that was enough for Dick to come over and take him by the shoulders in a strong, leaderly-type grip. Which put him in proximity--

" Gar, I'm flattered, but...."

"Sorry, it's just, I'm trying to figure this out!"

Dick nodded once, carefully. "And, uh, you thought that kissing me...."

Gar slumped. "Works for everyone else."

There was a brief silence. "So you didn't feel--"

"Worried about your rep? Maybe," Gar said with studied consideration, "if we tried it again...."

{150 words}


...hell with it. Tempest wouldn't kill him. Much.

Kon waited until Nightwing was in the gym, as usual wearing those too-tiny shorts and tank top with delusions of clothing. 'Round and round on the parallel bars in a perfect routine, right to the moment he released and found himself in Kon's arms rather than landing on the ground as expected.

He took it in stride, of course. "Something I can do for you, Superboy?"

"Matter of fact--" and oh, yeah, Dick's mouth tasted as sweet as he'd imagined.

"...KP for a *year!*" Dick sputtered, but it was worth it.

{100 words, Kon is a Titan, "World's Finest" 'verse}


The Queen of Fables had returned with a yen for vengeance but this time the JLA was off in another dimension and worse, she'd extended her 'sleep spell' to cover half the Earth. The few remaining members of the JSA and the Titans who hadn't been affected--for whatever reason, be it alien heritage or magical flame or the Speed Force--gathered to assess the situation.

There was an artifact, Fate told them, that might stop the Queen's rampage altogether. The locator spell put it in Gotham, in--of course!--the Batcave.

They needed access. Which meant they needed Nightwing. And Nightwing was inarguably under the effect of the spell.

"Maybe we need a handsome prince," Argent giggled nervously, and Alan Scott felt his blood run cold as everyone turned to look at him.

"You're the closest we've got," Jay said, his eyes full of closely restrained hilarity, "didn't they once call you the prince of Gotham broadcasting?"

"So," Alan growled through clenched teeth, "I have to do *what* to break the spell?"

It was a rhetorical question. They actually *expected* him to carry through with this...farce. Protesting his marriage, his *heterosexuality,* wouldn't do any good. It was a sad thing, Alan thought, when your own colleagues used your reputation for ruthless practicality against you.

Damned if he'd stand an audience, though. He summoned the green flame into a surrounding dome to deter onlookers, pointedly ordered Jay to keep Argent from trying to peer into it, and stepped through to regard the sleeping man on the bed.

He would *not* make a ceremony of this. Alan leaned over and...did what needed doing.

Nightwing's eyes fluttered open. "S-Sentinel?!"

"We've got work to do," Alan said in his most authoritative tone, and very carefully did not reach up to wipe his mouth.

{300 words. I'm so very, very, very, very sorry. *points to Domenika* She made me. Thanks to Carmen for reminding me of a workable pretext.}


The money fluttered to the ground all around him. Slade wasn't about to degrade himself by stooping to collect it; sufficient that it gave him a pretext for calling off a contract he hadn't especially wanted to take anyway.

But Nightwing was smirking at his supposed victory and *that* was intolerable.

Deathstroke's enhanced reflexes propelled him within the vigilante's proximity faster than the man could withdraw. Nightwing recoiled defensively, expecting an attack, but Slade blew past his resistance with an assault he obviously never anticipated.

"Next time," he snarled into Nightwing's stunned expression, "I won't be bought off so easily."

{100 words. This one I did not want to do. *glares at Carmen and Lucy* You two OWE me. And I still think the idea of Deathstroke accepting a payoff (of any kind, heh) is terminal idiocy.}


"Ahhh. My newest disciple."

Nightwing hung in his bonds, bloodied but unbroken, and lifted his head defiantly. "In your *dreams.*"

"In my dreams--" Brother Blood stopped himself with a short but genuine laugh. Nightwing didn't need to know his dreams, not yet, although the day would come when the man would stand at Blood's side of his own free will and proclaim the rightness of his vision to the world. Blood had foreseen it. "In my *heart,* I know where your true devotion lies. We simply must...strip away the remnants of your old life to find it."

He stretched forth his hand and tore away the tiny, inconsequential mask from the man's face. One day Nightwing would wear a more important, a more *impressive* guise, but until he earned it, he had no more need of this false face. He might, if Blood were of a mind to be generous, keep his adopted name. It suited him.

"...insane," Nightwing croaked, and Blood nodded.

"So it is always said of prophets until their prophesies are proven true. You will see, in time." He leaned in to lay the promise against Nightwing's mouth with his own lips. "In Blood's name, amen."

{200 words. *whimpers at Carmen* *shudders convulsively*}


The news of Grayson's dismissal flashed through the stationhouse like wildfire. It wasn't right, it wasn't *fair,* and Gannon couldn't let Dick leave without saying so.

But standing face-to-face with him, he could only manage, "I just wanted to say...good luck."

Except that wasn't all. Dick had gone out on a limb for him

(what if I am)

and Gannon hadn't had so many positive experiences on the job that he could regard the kindness lightly. Staying in the closet would have been easier, but the dishonesty (worse, the assumed *necessity* for it) galled him. And it was the *worst* kind of cliché, he knew, but

(what if I am)

dammit, if there were ever an appropriate time to develop a crush on your partner, *that* had been it.

The kiss caught them both by surprise.

"...I'm not, you know," Dick said gently, but that wasn't the point at all.

{150 words. [For those who missed it: Dick's reply, in-canon, to defending Gannon from gay-bashers and being asked if he was Gannon's boyfriend: "What if I am?"]}


Nightwing had come to Opal City tracking an escaped homicidal convict, stopping in at Knights Past to make his presence known to Opal's current guardian. Granted Jack *wasn't,* anymore, but he appreciated the courtesy nonetheless. He called Mikaal, who got to the shop as fast as flight could carry him.

"Glad to meet--" Nightwing started, holding out his gloved hand to the blue-skinned alien, and Mikaal pulled him into an enthusiastic embrace with a healthy kiss for good measure.

"Custom of my people," Mikaal explained to Nightwing's flabbergasted expression, and Jack bit back the urge to dissolve into hysterical laughter. But Mikaal wasn't done yet. "Him too," he insisted, pointing at Jack, "for luck on the hunt!"

Jack shrugged as casually as he could manage. "Makes him happy, dude."

Nightwing hesitated, then nodded.

"Hold still and it won't hurt a bit." Nightwing gave him a *look* and Jack kissed him quickly under Mik's beaming gaze.

"Like to see you try that on Superman," Nightwing quipped in Mik's direction, and took off stammering something about reconnoitering the city to get the lay of the land.

Mikaal turned to Jack as soon as the black-clad vigilante was out of sight. "Think he bought it?"

"...I can't believe you get away with that." Jack broke up, chuckling. "Man, you are so lucky Tony isn't the jealous type."

"Tony understands the requirement of an incontestable opportunity." Mik's eyes got a faraway look. "I wonder if I can talk Nightwing into a farewell ritual?"

{250 words. Two-for-one.}


It had taken him long enough to come this far. No turning back now. Harvey rapped on the apartment door twice...and then once more, to break the pattern.

There was a lengthy pause. Harvey could as much as feel himself being studied through the peephole. He stood motionless and tried to look sane.

Finally the door opened and Dick Grayson peered at him without recognition. "Can I help you?"

Despite his resolutions, Harvey snorted a laugh. "That's...really the question, isn't it? The one you and Ba-- Bruce asked me over and over throughout the years. I wasn't able to understand that, much less respond to it."

Grayson's face was a study in carefully arranged bewilderment. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're--"

"Never mind," Harvey said quietly, "just listen. Think of it as a twelve-step program for recovering lunatics. 'Number nine: Make amends to those you have wronged.' Only my crimes...go far beyond any expiation."

He moved forward slowly, not wanting to provoke a defensive response. The younger man went stock-still at his touch and held as Harvey brushed a kiss over his mouth. "For life," he murmured, "not death. I've been given a second chance." He flinched, remembering. "Third."

{200 words. I still think "Hush" was The Crack, but it gave me the opening to write *Harvey* instead of Two-Face.}


Months buried beneath the ground, dispersed throughout the Earth after he'd shattered his body to hold it together, and it was only now that Sand could begin to literally pull *himself* together. Grain by agonizing grain, separating every particle of his inorganic form from the mud and dirt and rock around him, working his way upward against the gravity that wanted to draw him down and keep him as part of the planet's covetous mass.

No, and no. He'd spent forty-odd years trapped within his own mind after his body's transformation from flesh to...sand, and that was more than enough time lost.

The Earth parted as he swam upward and finally spat him out. He lay gasping air into lungs that didn't, technically, need to breathe. Naked, but God, who cared about that when he had *skin* again.

"Sand?" He turned his head at the sound of his name and his blurred vision picked out a black-clad form, resolving as his eyes cleared into the Titans' leader squatting next to him, concerned. "We picked up the seismic readings and the Titans were the closest team in the area. Oracle's alerted the JSA--"

Words weren't all he'd missed. Sand gathered his body and launched himself at the man. Spandex everywhere covering skin except his face, which somehow Sand now had between his hands. Human flesh under his palms and human scent in his nose and human *taste* on his mouth.

"Alive!" he shouted into Nightwing's face and held on, laughing.

{250 words. Continuity, what continuity? Dick is always Titans team leader to *me.* For my Smitty.}


They were all gathered, the de-aged adult heroes and grown-up teen heroes and the four Titans who hadn't aged either way as a result of Klarion's spell. Under threat of harm to his beloved familiar, the Witch-Boy had agreed to restore them to their natural states.

"Everyone is very impressed with how you handled yourself, Grant."

He started, then relaxed. You never really got *used* to Nightwing's habit of appearing out of nowhere, just learned to accept it. He answered in a deep voice that wasn't *his,* not really, though the awkwardness was all too familiar. "I, uh. Thanks!"

Nightwing would never see him as anything more than a teammate. A *junior* teammate, at that. This was probably his first and only opportunity to look the man in the eye, literally on equal footing.

"Just kiss already!" Roy called out, and Grant seized his chance before the spell took hold.

{150 words. Circa Sins of Youth (#2 and Secret Files). For Kael, who wanted grown-up Grant. :) Thanks to Nika for Roy's nudge, without which this would not have been likely. *g*}


The kiss was...perfect.

He'd expected that, though. You didn't get the kind of reputation Nightwing had throughout "the community" without some kind of basis in fact.

Tim pulled back, slightly breathless, and watched the play of shock and dismay across Dick's face. For a moment he thought he'd gone too far, and then Dick started babbling. About teenage hormones, and how it was easy to get confused about these things, and--

*Now* it was funny. "Oh, man, no--I just wanted to test the theory."

Dick stopped and regarded him with a bewildered stare. "Theory?"

Tim nodded solemnly. "They say you turn straight men gay."

"'They' say? Who 'they'?"

A casual shrug. "Everyone. But if that was true then I should've felt--well. Like doing it again."

Dick looked like he didn't know whether to be relieved or insulted. Which made the whole thing even funnier, really.

"Dude, seriously. Work on that ego." Tim grinned. "As if kissing *you* was, like, some kind of mandatory requirement for a life in spandex."

That earned him a flash of anger. "You little brat!"

"Can't smack if you can't catch," Tim shot back, and they were off, jumpline tag over the Bludhaven streets.

{200 words. nw's chick already did this one, and funnier (, but nevertheless.... For Sanj.}

Thirteen is my lucky number, so that's a good place to stop. :D

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