Chapter Text
If they still allowed animals in the circus, Dick would be locked up with the dogs. Not necessarily because he behaved like one, but because, when it comes to girls like you, he turns into a bloodhound. He could sniff you out a mile away and he won't be satisfied until he’s sunk his teeth in.
Haly would wring his neck if he found out he’d gone off task again, but then again Haly knew Dick was prone to getting distracted chasing skirts, and he still sent him out into the public to hand out leaflets. So, when you think about it, Haly is really to blame. Besides, Dick had clocked you from a block away and you were just begging for him, who was he to deny the needs of a pretty thing like you? It’s just the way the game works, certainly not his fault.
You, on the other hand, had not seen him coming. It’s lunchtime in the city and the streets are packed, as per, and as a born and bred Gothamite you know how to circumnavigate through the crowds like the back of your hand. You’re not even thinking about the swarms of people, the only thing on your mind is what you’re gonna order once you reach Mimic Coffee Bar. So, when all 6ft of lean muscle in a wifebeater comes out of nowhere and steps directly into your path you’re not expecting it. You rush to tread around him, but he follows, completely disobeying the rules of the sidewalk and causing you to stumble. Fortunately, he was fast enough to catch you before you hit the ground. Unfortunately, he’s dropped the many flyers he’d been holding in the process.
Blood boiling, you make to snap at him for being a human roadblock, only to clichély be stifled by the sight of him. From above you, his frame is highlighted by the greyish sunlight that just barely seeps out from the cloudy Gotham sky. He has deep, soft blue eyes that contrast with his strong jawline and boyish dimples highlighted by a smile that has you awestruck. At least he’s a handsome human roadblock.
“Falling for me already?” Something in his face shifts then, or maybe his words shake you out of your stupor well enough to read that there’s nothing sincere in his expression. He’s grinning at you with the look of a man who knows exactly the effect he has on the people around him. He probably tripped you on purpose, and the realisation sends your simmering temper searing.
“More like… was tripped.” Despite knowing that he knows what he’s doing, he’s still got you more tongue-tied than you’d care to admit. “Could you let me up now?”
For the second time since he entered your life moments earlier, the random stranger sweeps you off your feet. This time by lifting you like you’re nothing, making a show of holding you in the air momentarily, demonstrating how all those muscles aren’t just for show before carefully placing you gently back onto your feet. You’re not sure which is more surprising, his gratuitous show of strength, or the fact that not a single pedestrian has bumped into the two of you yet. You’re getting plenty of side-eye for certain, but somehow his aura is causing the sea of people to part around the two of you in a way you’d never witnessed prior.
“Thanks.” You mutter to hide how impressed you are, refusing to give him what he wants before stepping back, ready to depart back into the masses before he stops you with a hand on your waist.
“Wait.” His fingers trail over your hip with a relaxed sort of confidence, continuing to trail down your thigh until he’s crouched at your feet and holding onto your knee for support. He looks near godly at full height, but on his knees, he’s downright sinful.
Dick knows this of course. The real reason Haly didn’t keep him behind bars is because people stop for a face like his. They listen, they take the leaflets, they come to the big-top for a peak at him, and they keep coming back because the crew put on a damn good show.
Dick also knows from the chewed-up lip and your refusal to make eye contact that you know he looks good. Reluctant attraction suits you. The way you wear flustered agitation just really does something for him.
You finally begin to look at him straight on again when a lofty-looking woman gives you the most appalled look you’ve ever received as she passes by, reminding you of the improper scene you're currently caught up in. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s doing when he beats you to the punch. “Would you mind helping me out here?”
With his free hand, he grabs one of his dropped leaflets from the ground and you look around to examine just how big of a mess he’d really made. There must be hundreds of them scattered along the sidewalk, some had already been crushed by passing cars in the road, others soaking up rainwater in puddles or trodden on by passers-by. Good. You should leave him to it; he’s already cut into enough of your lunch break, and it serves him right for… what? Getting in your way? Could you prove he’d done it on purpose? Did he deserve your disdain for being confident in his undeniably attractive appearance?
Are you maybe being a hangry bitch who should swallow her pride and help the poor guy out? As he stares up at you with those damn blue eyes you think so.
Actually, he did do it on purpose and your irritation was totally justified but the moment you’d sunk to knees for him; to help him clean up, Dick knew he was winning a game you didn’t even know you were playing with him.
It wasn’t raining at that moment, but somehow this city always left an air of dampness on everything in its vicinity so most of the papers were a lost cause. Any that didn’t disintegrate upon being touched were still moist to the touch. If he’d had trouble getting people to take them from him earlier, he had no chance now. Despite the dripping ink that would no doubt stain your fingers, you could still make out that it was an advertisement for Haly’s Circus, apparently it would be in town all week and boasted a pretty big lineup of clowns, acrobats, fire breathers amongst many other performances.
“The circus huh? Do you just hand out bills or…” he turns his body to face you completely, unnecessarily giving you his undivided attention and a cocked brow that makes you nervous. "Do you have an act?"
"I do." He nods, giving you nothing but but an infuriatingly charming smirk.
"What is it?" When he continues silently staring you start making suggestions. "Human canon ball? Juggling? Lion taming?"
“Lion taming? Interesting." He finally interjects, his tone is unabashed, teasing, which in theory is fine. You didn’t know him well but from the 2.5 sentences he had spoken in that time, you kind of expected him to make fun of your uninformed guesses, you just didn’t expect; “Why? You got a pussy you want me to break in?”
“Jesus Christ man.” You almost drop the helpless lump of wet paper forming a clump in your hands to the ground. You’re dumbfounded. Shocked by his brazenness and flustered by the imagery that immediately shot into your brain. You can’t even look at him as you ask your next question. “Do you speak to all your potential audiences like that?”
“Just the really pretty ones.” He doesn’t miss a beat. He wants to make a joke about you preferring to watch, but he doesn’t want to push you too far, yet. Can’t risk not seeing you this hot and bothered against his bed sheets, so he settles for soothing you by petting your ego with a much more tried and tested line.
And it works because you’re still bashful, but you smile at him, a real smile that you couldn’t hold back if you’d wanted to. His own unwavering grin must be contagious you think. The more you look at his lips the more your mind wonders what else he might do with them. How he might tame your pussy with that sharp tongue and those strong hands; Until you catch a glimpse of the clock tower behind him.
“Shit, I’ve gotta go.” You thrust the soggy stack of leaflets toward him. “My lunch break is nearly over.”
“Shame.” He clutches your hand in his as he takes the flyers from you, and suddenly there are butterflies in your belly that hadn’t been there the previous two times he’s touched you. “You’re gonna come see me though, right babe?”
“Maybe.” You want to, but you don’t want to commit to anything right now. Already you’re Gotham-raised scepticism is wondering if he really wants to see you again, or if this is just some elaborate marketing tactic to seduce women into coming to see their show. Maybe you’ll feel differently without his sweet aftershave and sunny face overwhelming your senses.
“Come on, I can get you free tickets. You can even bring a friend.” Was he reading your damn mind? No, he just knew $30 deducted from his salary would be worth the chance of getting you alone. If he ever started financial planning, he’d have to give ‘tickets for hot babes’ its own category. “Please?”
“Okay, I’ll try.” You concede, and he finally releases your hand, leaving you with one single flyer, presumably to ensure you had the address and times readily available.
“Great, when you get to the box office ask for Joey.” He instructs. “Tell ‘em you’re there for Dick.”
“For Dick? Excuse me?”
He says it that way on purpose, it’s fun watching you process his words, the haughty look on your face as you land on the wrong conclusion. He knows you’re thinking about something naughty. Dirty girl. “I like the way you say my name.”
“Your name is Dick?” You’re flooded with relief and a little bit embarrassed for having assumed the worst.
“Yeah, is there a problem with that?”
“No, it’s just a bit old-fashioned, isn't it.”
“I get that a lot.” He shrugs before leaning in close, the smile on his face is gone, replaced by a more serious expression and his tone is much lower than you’d anticipated. “When I say you can bring a friend, I mean a friend. No dates, yeah?”
“Why?” It’s finally your turn to bait him with a clever comeback. Vindication for the first words you’d uttered to him being so pitiful. “Are you falling for me, Dick?
“Sorry pretty girl, but I don’t fall, I fly.” He points to the flyer in your hand. Confused, you scan the piece of paper twice over before flipping it to see what he’s referring to. On the back is an illustration of an acrobat, a strikingly familiar man mid-jump between trapezes and the title: The Flying Grayson. When you look at him again, he’s gone, swallowed by the buzzing downtown streets, and you’re late for work.
Despite having an empty stomach, your afternoon goes by pretty well. Luckily your boss didn’t notice you slipping in 10 minutes late and the workload had flown by in a breeze, probably because you’d been daydreaming about your dreamy new acrobat friend instead of focusing on what you should have been doing.
By the time you get home, you’ve pretty much made up your mind. As you eat dinner you examine the once glossy flyer again, actually reading the fine print for once. It didn’t give anything away that you didn’t already know, and your eyes keep drifting back to the image of Dick, who, given his placement was clearly one of their biggest attractions. You could see why. Yes, it’s only a drawing and a smudged one at that, but it really gives justice to his athletic build and made you wonder if his body could really contort that way. Before you let yourself get carried away in another vehement fantasy you pull out your phone and text a picture to your best friend;
“Circus Thursday night? Tickets free x”
“You bone the ringmaster or sum? Don’t care, I’m in! x’
'Or sum'. Thursday was the night after tomorrow. You didn’t have plans besides work before then, but you just didn’t want to appear too eager. You wanted to push his buttons like he’d done to you earlier, and hopefully, he wouldn’t trip up some other pretty girl before then.