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Dark Alley Love Song

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Sirens wail in the distance, and that's usually Dick's cue to leave, bad guys wrapped up and waiting for the cops, but there's a truckload of rescued girls to look after until the EMTs show up. There's not a whole lot he and Jason can do, especially once it starts pouring, but they take a few minutes to do a quick triage. Nobody's bleeding, though a few of the girls are bruised and disoriented. Dick offers each girl a reassuring smile and the promise that the ambulances will be there soon. They don't look comforted by the idea of the cops, and he's pretty sure if he and Jason left before they arrived, the girls who could leave would, and some of them are still dazed enough that they wouldn't be safe if they wandered off. Not that any of them are safe in this neighborhood, but that wouldn't stop them.

Jason lost his helmet in the brawl--Dick doesn't know how he so casually wears something that's rigged to explode, but Jason's always been a little crazier than the rest of them (and that's saying something)--though he's still wearing a mask, since he apparently always wears it underneath the helmet. Dick chooses not to think about what that means, focusing instead on the practicality of it--it's probably wise, considering how often he loses the damn things. He's produced a hoodie (red, naturally, which makes Dick laugh softly and shake his head) from somewhere underneath his jacket and draped it around one girl's shoulders.

"You tell Macy I said hi," he's saying when Dick eases close. "And tell her I'll be stopping by to make sure she's treating you right."

The girl gives him a teary smile and a hug; his easy acceptance of it surprises Dick. Jason's never really struck him as the hugging type.

"Friend of yours?" he asks when the girl goes to huddle with the others.

Jason shrugs. "A lot of them are from my neighborhood."

Dick's not sure if that means the area of the city the Red Hood has claimed as his territory, or if it means the neighborhood where Jason grew up. He doesn't ask.

The first police car screeches to a halt in front of the warehouse, sending up a spray of dirty water and making the girls shriek. It's followed by two more black-and-whites and a couple of ambulances. Definitely time to make an exit. It's late, but he's riding the adrenaline rush, and there's always more crime to fight.

He's on the roof of a warehouse that's been converted into lofts--he can still see the flashing lights of the ambulances and cop cars a few blocks to the east--when Jason touches down beside him. Dick leans back against the chimney and crosses his arms over his chest.


"We made a pretty good team back there."

Dick chooses not to dignify that with a response. He leaves Jason standing on the roof by himself.

Jason's never been good at taking a hint, though. He lands next to Dick in the alley, boots squeaking on the wet metal of a subway grate. "Dude, I'm just trying to say thanks."

That actually does take Dick by surprise, almost as much as the fact that Jason came to him for help in the first place, though he doesn't let it show. "Duly noted."

Jason shakes his head. "Way to be an asshole, Dick."

"You'd know."

Jason gives him a sharp, toothy grin and steps closer, crowding into Dick's personal space. "Learned from the master."

Dick opens his mouth to reply but closes it when he hears footsteps at the mouth of the alleyway. A quick sideways glance, and he counts five guys, armed with pipes and knives.

"We don't like your kind around here," one says.

Jason's mouth twists in something that might be annoyance or might be disgust. "Seriously?" He reaches around to the gun in his waistband, but Dick stops him.

"No guns."


"You can't take five guys without a gun?"

"I can, but it's a lot quicker my way."

"But not as much fun."

"And they call me the crazy one."

Dick ignores him, vaulting down the alley towards the thugs, three of whom have turned and started running. Dick grins wildly and knocks the remaining two down without breaking a sweat.

"You could have left one for me," Jason says, but he sounds more amused than pissed and he helps Dick tie them up without complaint.

"Early bird, worm." Dick waves a hand. "You know what they say." He lets the cops know there are two more criminals to pick up and starts moving again.

Jason falls into step beside him, giving him a little hip check that makes him stutter-step. In response, he elbows Jason's ribs--not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him stumble a little. It's the sort of aggressive but not hostile teasing they've settled into recently; he's pretty sure it's Jason's weird way of showing affection. Dick likes it better than having a gun aimed at his head, anyway, which is how the evening began. Jason's got a weird, seriously off-putting way of asking for help, too.

They turn a sharp corner into another, narrower alley. It smells of wet asphalt instead of trash. The rain has let up--it's more of a heavy mist now, the kind that makes halos of streetlights and blurs sharp edges smooth.

Jason runs a hand through his wet hair and makes an annoyed sound low in his throat. "Fucking rain."

Certain that this is a prelude to a long rant about the weather, Dick swings him against the brick wall of an old tenement, and, before he can protest, bites his lower lip. Jason gives a startled grunt and opens his mouth.

"Don't talk," Dick murmurs, and then licks away the sting. The rain has a metallic taste over the salt of his skin, and Dick licks eagerly into the heat of his mouth. Jason huffs in what Dick hopes is laughter, his breath warm against Dick's lips, and his hands come up to stroke through Dick's hair, skim over his shoulders, before settling on his hips. His fingers find the waistband of Dick's tights and he pauses, waiting for permission, or at least for Dick to disengage the safeguards, before he goes any further. Dick nods when it's safe and leans into the touch. The pads of Jason's thumbs are cool and wet against Dick's belly and he shivers. He can feel Jason's lips curve into a smile against his own mouth; he bites down again on Jason's lower lip, enjoying the way he shivers in return.

Dick loses himself for a few minutes in the lush, wet heat of Jason's mouth, chasing the taste of stale coffee and rain, and stealing the half-formed syllables of encouragement off Jason's tongue. He drags his mouth along the stubble-rough skin of Jason's jaw, down to where his pulse flutters in his throat. Jason tips his head back, his hands sliding down to grab Dick's ass and pull him closer. The cup he's wearing is uncomfortably tight now, and he presses his face to the damp skin of Jason's neck and lets out a low moan of pleasure when Jason finally shoves it aside to curl a hand around his cock and stroke. The leather of Jason's glove is damp with rain and precome, and cool against Dick's blood-warm skin. He lets out a soft grunt of approval and sucks a bruise onto Jason's throat, pleased at the way it makes Jason's hips jerk against his.

He brings up his own hand and thumbs the saliva-slick swell of Jason's mouth. Jason nips at his thumb and then slides his tongue down over Dick's fingers, sucking the middle two into his mouth. It sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through Dick, and he closes his eyes for a moment, imagining Jason on his knees, Dick's cock in his mouth.

"Jesus, Jay."

Jason smiles like he knows what Dick's thinking and Dick is pleased at how easy it is to read him for once, even with his mask still on. He lets go of Dick long enough to get his own fly open, and then lines their hips up so they can thrust against each other, rough drag of skin against skin eased to the perfect degree of friction by the spit on Dick's fingers and the precome Jason's smeared down Dick's shaft. In the weeks since they started doing this, they've gotten pretty good at it; it doesn't take long for Dick to come with a gasp and a half-choked curse that Jason swallows down with a rough kiss. Jason wraps his hand around Dick's and together they jack Jason's cock until he comes, wet and warm over their hands and bellies.

Jason is surprisingly clingy afterwards; he pets Dick's wet hair with a graceless but affectionate hand and presses quick kisses to his face and neck. But as much as Dick generally likes to cuddle, and he likes to cuddle a lot, this is the wrong place and the wrong person for it. He pulls away after one last, sloppy kiss, and starts the quick clean up.

Jason looks like he wants to say something, and Dick's sure it'll be a mood-killer, so he cuts him off with, "I'm just trying to say you're welcome." And then he swings away while Jason's still making sense of that. He's pretty sure Jason will find some interesting way to get him back for fucking and running, but he doesn't really care. In fact, he's kind of looking forward to it.