[ his go-tos: to dive into work. to dive into a good fight. to immerse himself in a training room and sharpen every sense until he's wide awake. to feel something physical. anything physical. half of those he can't share with her. ]
It always helps me when there's someone else there to hold. [ the physical warmth of another body melting away the chills of a nightmare. ] I can be there in fifteen, Wanda. If that's something that helps you too.
( it doesn't answer whether she wants him to, whether it's something that'd help her, and undoubtedly it would. not merely being held, but being held by him, having that solidity, that warmth to tie her down. he'd just gotten finished with his work, and whether he's ready for sleep to find him or not, she's sure he's tired. he deserves the rest just the same. )
[ just him--that's a differentiation he had been hesitant to close in on, hesitant to imply something she might not be comfortable with. something that he might not be comfortable with. it takes him a moment to re-read her message and to allow the warmth blooming in his chest to be recognized. ]
I'm glad. [ this is what he wanted, after all: to help her. ] I'm here if for you. Know that. [ it feels a little impersonal, but he's hesitant to push her. he shuts and locks his files on screen, standing from the chair. he glances at the Nightwing suit displayed on its stand.
maybe--he can spare a few hours. maybe something lighter would be good. ]
You wanna go for a ride? It's nice out. [ brisk, but clear. ]
( sometimes, she needs to be pushed, but he offers a proposition that sounds much better than the bed that currently swallows her, that's scented with the dozens of nightmares that come to greet her every night she lies down. the fresh air would do her some good β provide some clarity. )
( she's still a few minutes longer before she's pressing up to pad across her bedroom, slipping on a black pair of jeans and stepping into her boots. phone vibrates lowly against the dresser, leaving the room aglow, and she connects the call as she's reaching for her coat. )
Hi. ( it's a breathy response, clear she's on her feet. )
( there's a small thrill that bundles in her chest, something that's beginning to feel familiar whenever she's about to see him, again. she doesn't have to see his smile for it to encourage her own )
More than I should be. ( at this hour, anyway. he'll hear the locks at her door click vacant from their place, shrugging into her coat. )
Alright. I'm in the front. [ and he hangs up to wait patiently for her. it's maybe a strange thing to specify, but he's had many experiences meeting people in back alleys, back doors, on rooftops and through windows.
his helmet rests on his lap as he the one he brought for her tucks between his elbow and his jacket. the black leather fits him perfectly, moulded in a way only time and love can shape. a heavy booted foot props both himself and the bike. ]
( she welcomes the way the lingering remnants of winter bite at her skin, how the clouds blooming from her mouth with each breath mimic the bike's exhaust, waiting for her just along the curb. in a silly way, she feels awfully underdressed for the occasion, and before she makes to climb on the back of the bike with him, she's gently taking the helmet from it's cradle at his side, meeting him with a smirk. )
I assume you fully acknowledge that my life is in your hands.
( a lingering look, something coy, before she's pressing the helmet into place, situating herself in the crook of the seat behind him. )
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It always helps me when there's someone else there to hold. [ the physical warmth of another body melting away the chills of a nightmare. ] I can be there in fifteen, Wanda. If that's something that helps you too.
no subject
( it doesn't answer whether she wants him to, whether it's something that'd help her, and undoubtedly it would. not merely being held, but being held by him, having that solidity, that warmth to tie her down. he'd just gotten finished with his work, and whether he's ready for sleep to find him or not, she's sure he's tired. he deserves the rest just the same. )
you help.
just you
no subject
I'm glad. [ this is what he wanted, after all: to help her. ] I'm here if for you. Know that. [ it feels a little impersonal, but he's hesitant to push her. he shuts and locks his files on screen, standing from the chair. he glances at the Nightwing suit displayed on its stand.
maybe--he can spare a few hours. maybe something lighter would be good. ]
You wanna go for a ride? It's nice out. [ brisk, but clear. ]
no subject
( sometimes, she needs to be pushed, but he offers a proposition that sounds much better than the bed that currently swallows her, that's scented with the dozens of nightmares that come to greet her every night she lies down. the fresh air would do her some good β provide some clarity. )
i'd like that, actually
if you aren't too tired
no subject
[ he'll call her next, fifteen minutes later, his name displayed on her screen in whatever she has him saved as. ]
no subject
Hi. ( it's a breathy response, clear she's on her feet. )
no subject
Hi. Still awake?
me @ self: focus on one thread for once
More than I should be. ( at this hour, anyway. he'll hear the locks at her door click vacant from their place, shrugging into her coat. )
I'll be down in a sec.
a suitable strategy :,)
his helmet rests on his lap as he the one he brought for her tucks between his elbow and his jacket. the black leather fits him perfectly, moulded in a way only time and love can shape. a heavy booted foot props both himself and the bike. ]
no subject
I assume you fully acknowledge that my life is in your hands.
( a lingering look, something coy, before she's pressing the helmet into place, situating herself in the crook of the seat behind him. )