Dick's smile turned a little softer, something endeared by the passage recited from memory.
"I like blue, too." Stu's hands paused from where he had been marking out a notepad, before he straightened to pull the swatch off Wren's shoulder.
"Good choice. See you tomorrow." That was all Stu said before he turned and disappeared behind a set of double doors, further deeper into the back of the store. Dick watched Stu go before he turned around, facing Wren now instead of at the mirror.
"Then I think we'll understand each other just fine."
Oh. Something about that softening of expression made their heart lurch in a way that was very unfamiliar. Stu suddenly being done and walking away startled them from whatever path their mind had started off to, calling out a quick "-um, thank you?" to the closing double doors.
No idea what they would end up with. If it was awful, they weren't the one paying, though. Just had to keep telling themself that. To Dick they weren't sure what to say, caught up again in the deep brown eyes.
Saved by the buzz of their phone in their back pocket, pulled out quickly to check the text - Jason. They let out a little breathless laugh and shake of their head at that, shooting off a quick reply before putting it away again.
"- And that was my boyfriend telling me to have fun and asking who you were. Probably just worried you're on someone's payroll under the table."
Not the most delicate way to bring up either subject, but Dick had thrown them off and they were scrambling to find their mental footing again.
"Your..." He wasn't the only one feeling this, right? Did he read that whole thing wrong? The part where Wren was pretty much staring into his eyes as he smiled? Another few moments of that and Dick was going to suggest they go back to his place, or, if they were the type, he'd be down to buy dinner first.
It had been a while since he read the room so wrong. It made him huff a quiet breath of laughter, before shaking his head. He turned toward the work table again, breaking eye contact to pull open a drawer. He knew the place like it were his own. In it were rows and rows of fabrics, all the special stuff in a whole other part of the store.
"You weren't kidding when you said he's protective." Weren't they just a librarian? "Who'd you tell him I was? Does he think you're gonna get your organs stolen, or something?"
Now Wren feels bad about not explaining the whole thing from the get-go, but how were they supposed to know he was going to turn out to be the kind of charming that comes out of a romance novel? One of the particularly trashy ones, given his profession. A long, careful exhale. Breathe in, breathe out.
"I said you were from out of town so you were probably not secretly on someone's payroll. Can you blame him though? Cops, gotham. It's an honest worry," they said, defending Jason's paranoia right then even as they had often tried to help ease him out of it. No longer needing to play mannequin, they stepped out from in front of the mirrors - that was far too many reflections for their own comfort, expecting one of them to somehow look different - and carefully approaching the work table as well, hands in their pockets. Casual. "... it's a whole - poly thing. I'm dating him, he's dating me but also dating our other roommate and he's got a third - I'm not sure it's official but it's not yet it's just a matter of time."
They exhaled again, the explanation having come out in a rush.
"... People can be judgy about that kinda thing, you know? Dad being in prison, I've had eight years to toughen up to people being shitty about that, but this is still new to me."
It was uncomfortable for them to tell him any of this. That much, Dick can tell, not only from the words, but from that slow, steadying breath, even though he had his back turned and was very much pulling out squares of fabric.
He looked up when Wren sidled up beside him, looking every bit casual as they started to explain. Dicks brows raised, just a little, not from the content, but that Wren was here, sharing it with him in such a raw, unpracticed manner.
"Thanks. For telling me all that." They didn't have to tell him. All he really did was back off. He was probably getting to wrapped up in this, anyway, confusing his feelings of empathy for Wren and their story with something else. He did that sometimes. He was self-aware enough to know that.
He turned to look at Wren, a hand splaying on the surface of the table. "You didn't have to. It's alright. The gala thing, this whole thing," he gestured between them, to the store, "I didn't come into this thinking it'd be a date.
"And I don't judge people for their love. So long as you're safe and happy, I'm happy for you." But his smile didn't quite reach his eyes this time, and he was a shitty liar unless he was undercover. It could easily be chaulked up to jealousy, maybe, but it was the safe part that he had issues with. Though Wren's explanation was plausible, because it was Gotham, it was the specificity of the worry that tipped Dick off. Most people would have spoken about a general worry about the cops, or a general worry about meeting a stranger, but Wren's boyfriend's paranoia felt... familiar. In a bad way.
Was Wren sure that their boyfriend wasn't the one being paid under the table? He tipped his head, thinking it over as he pulled out a few swatches. Navies, blacks, a cobalt blue, a velvet. Did he even know much about Wren? He hadn't done a background check, hadn't pulled any records, hadn't questioned anything.
"How long have you known him for?" He asked it simply, casually.
"Obviously, of course not," if it had been a date he'd have said so, and it wasn't like Wren wanted it to be or thought it was. (So why was there that little bit of ache they had to force down and away?)
They leaned against the workbench, looking at the swatches of fabric instead of Dick's face. Instead of those damn pretty brown eyes. Until Dick's last question, which got an immediate "Don't you start."
Old familiar paranoia indeed, given how quickly Wren responded. It was the kind of question Jason would ask. They crossed their arms, briefly wondering before dismissing the possibility of any kind of 'night job'. In Wren's experience, the kind of people who became cops were getting whatever fix vigilantism would give them. Doing both was redundant. Not that there wasn't a certain amount of crossover of personality types there.
"A while. I trust him. He's a good guy. Don't know what he sees in me but I'm trying not to question the miracle."
"Miracle?" Dick looked up from the swatches, his expression twisting with a wry huff.
"Wren." How to put this politely, gently, when it really was none of his business and not his place at all? He turned, facing them fully, his attention completely lifted from the fabric and to Wren's face. It wasn't like any of that had never stopped him. He put aside questioning the boyfriend in question for something much more important.
"It's not a miracle for someone to see you for who you are." Alright, so he understood where it was all coming from. He'd seen it time and time again, with kids who grew up without love, in broken families, tangled up in the complexities of love without the proper support system to have security in themselves.
Luckily for him, he spent a large part of his childhood surrounded by those who taught him how to love, and after a tumultuous few decades of overcoming Bruce's eccentricities, he could find himself again, could finally see again through all that darkness.
"You're genuine. Smart. Self-aware." He lifted his brows, a quiet snort softening the boldness in his words. There was determination in his words, despite how little time he had actually known them for. "Funny. Brave. Who's to say that you're the lucky one?"
Wren did not blush subtly nor gracefully, something they constantly lamented. Especially in situations like these. They ducked their head a bit, as if they could use their height and bangs to hide their face from view, arms crossed in front of them as they felt the heat rise to their cheeks.
"I wasn't fishing for a compliment," they said first, because that was obviously the most important thing. "Besides - if you met him you'd know I was the lucky one."
His brow raised with both amusement and questioning. So interesting, the way Wren defended themselves first and foremost. So cute, too, that bashfulness, the blush, that was quickly covered up.
Where to begin talking about Jason? What of his many virtues to bring up first? It was being spoiled for choice, really, and Wren let out an exhale almost like a laugh, unable to hold back a smile at the thought.
"He's patient. Careful. So careful - really one of those 'a cruel world just made you kinder'. Like, he'll push if you let him know you need it, but he doesn't assume," they say first, recalling how cautious Jason had been when they were first feeling out the possibility of a relationship - of before that, when he was certain Wren had a crush and was trying to figure out who it was. "Mind, he's not the best at admitting when he needs help. Not just smart but clever too. Witty. An absolute romantic sap. Great cook. Generous. He's always thinking of how he can help someone, just to help. Also, he's really really hot."
It felt like they'd only scratched the surface when it came to what made Jason so great.
He wasn't prepared for how thoughtful or how delicate the words that came out of Wren's mouth would be. It made him pause, a warmth filling his eyes as his smile widened when Wren smiled. He knew that look. That giddy, butterflies-in-stomach look. He loved to see it.
"That's one of the best feelings in the world." He sounded great, whoever this boyfriend of Wren's was, though Dick had his own thoughts about rose-coloured glasses. However, he wasn't about to burst their bubble with zero evidence of anything contrary. In fact, their boyfriend sounded like a number of people he knew. Those who were strong on the outside, soft on the inside types, those who went through hell and back only to channel their experiences toward helping other people.
His favourite people were a lot like that, in fact. The cooking and hotness sounded like good bonuses, too.
"I'm glad you're letting yourself feel it. Whatever you wanna call it. I know that part's not always easy." That Wren said that it was a miracle tipped him off to that much. Then, he asked a question he had a feeling would be hard for Wren to answer.
It wasn't easy, letting themself open up, letting themself face the potential of that hurt again. Jason had been patient and understanding though. Jason spoke to them often, touched base regularly, made sure Wren's past worries weren't coming up to haunt them.
"A menace who drinks too much coffee?" They suggested first, glancing up at Dick with a wry smile before looking back down again, scuffing the toe of their sneaker against the floor. "... dunno. Probably a lot of what you said, I suppose. He also likes to gush. But also a menace who drinks too much coffee."
Wren was so bashful, and Dick's smile only widened as they became the image of a blushing schoolgirl crush. He knew, of course, that it was more than that, but he couldn't help the endeared laugh anyway.
"I can see that with you. I might take that one. Menace who drinks too much coffee," he teased.
He held out two swatches up to his own face, drawing their attention to him. Two shades of blue. One brighter, one darker.
"Alright, what do you think? Which one suits me better?" Dick cared very little about what he wore and mostly left things to Stu, but Wren was right here, so it was really just a practicality thing. That was all.
Definitely just a practicality thing. Wren looked up at Dick, raised eyebrow, thoughtful as they looked between him and both of the color options, and eventually reached up to take both of them- one in each hand.
"Well... depends on how much you want to stand out," Wren said finally, holing up the darker one next to Dick's cheek.
"Dark blues are classical, they look good on a lot of people, and I'm guessing you too. Assuming this is for a suit. The brighter one though-" their turn to hold that one up instead, the fabric and their fingertips just barely touching Dick's cheek. Wren did their best to force their blush to stay down, to meet his eyes. Nothing to be bashful over. Just asking the opinion of the closest person, clearly. "-- more daring. Bright colors are flashier, probably don't suit a detective. ... but I think it'd still look good on you. And I like brighter blues."
He wasn't completely unaffected by how close Wren was, with their fingertips brushing up against his cheek, those brilliant blues regarding him closely. Yes, he just wanted the opinion of the nearest person.
Wren said a whole bunch of nothing, until they actually gave their opinion.
"So, the brighter blue, then?" He didn't pull away, and instead, just stood there letting Wren look at him. He wasn't going just as a detective.
"It depends on what you want to be seen as," Wren said, voice soft, because they hardly needed to shout standing this close. That was definitely the only reason.
Though, maybe not everyone was always running the numbers on what other people must see them as. Probanly not everyone else was doing that, especially not people who didn't have to worry about a secret identity.
If he were flirting, Dick would have answered with something overt. Something like I don’t care how everyone else sees me. Just you. But he wasn’t flirting, because Wren was committed to someone else and he wasn’t really looking for anything anyway, and there was no point of getting entangled in something messy.
So he just smiled, his voice also low and quiet as he nodded.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"I like blue, too." Stu's hands paused from where he had been marking out a notepad, before he straightened to pull the swatch off Wren's shoulder.
"Good choice. See you tomorrow." That was all Stu said before he turned and disappeared behind a set of double doors, further deeper into the back of the store. Dick watched Stu go before he turned around, facing Wren now instead of at the mirror.
"Then I think we'll understand each other just fine."
no subject
No idea what they would end up with. If it was awful, they weren't the one paying, though. Just had to keep telling themself that. To Dick they weren't sure what to say, caught up again in the deep brown eyes.
Saved by the buzz of their phone in their back pocket, pulled out quickly to check the text - Jason. They let out a little breathless laugh and shake of their head at that, shooting off a quick reply before putting it away again.
"- And that was my boyfriend telling me to have fun and asking who you were. Probably just worried you're on someone's payroll under the table."
Not the most delicate way to bring up either subject, but Dick had thrown them off and they were scrambling to find their mental footing again.
no subject
It had been a while since he read the room so wrong. It made him huff a quiet breath of laughter, before shaking his head. He turned toward the work table again, breaking eye contact to pull open a drawer. He knew the place like it were his own. In it were rows and rows of fabrics, all the special stuff in a whole other part of the store.
"You weren't kidding when you said he's protective." Weren't they just a librarian? "Who'd you tell him I was? Does he think you're gonna get your organs stolen, or something?"
no subject
"I said you were from out of town so you were probably not secretly on someone's payroll. Can you blame him though? Cops, gotham. It's an honest worry," they said, defending Jason's paranoia right then even as they had often tried to help ease him out of it. No longer needing to play mannequin, they stepped out from in front of the mirrors - that was far too many reflections for their own comfort, expecting one of them to somehow look different - and carefully approaching the work table as well, hands in their pockets. Casual. "... it's a whole - poly thing. I'm dating him, he's dating me but also dating our other roommate and he's got a third - I'm not sure it's official but it's not yet it's just a matter of time."
They exhaled again, the explanation having come out in a rush.
"... People can be judgy about that kinda thing, you know? Dad being in prison, I've had eight years to toughen up to people being shitty about that, but this is still new to me."
no subject
He looked up when Wren sidled up beside him, looking every bit casual as they started to explain. Dicks brows raised, just a little, not from the content, but that Wren was here, sharing it with him in such a raw, unpracticed manner.
"Thanks. For telling me all that." They didn't have to tell him. All he really did was back off. He was probably getting to wrapped up in this, anyway, confusing his feelings of empathy for Wren and their story with something else. He did that sometimes. He was self-aware enough to know that.
He turned to look at Wren, a hand splaying on the surface of the table. "You didn't have to. It's alright. The gala thing, this whole thing," he gestured between them, to the store, "I didn't come into this thinking it'd be a date.
"And I don't judge people for their love. So long as you're safe and happy, I'm happy for you." But his smile didn't quite reach his eyes this time, and he was a shitty liar unless he was undercover. It could easily be chaulked up to jealousy, maybe, but it was the safe part that he had issues with. Though Wren's explanation was plausible, because it was Gotham, it was the specificity of the worry that tipped Dick off. Most people would have spoken about a general worry about the cops, or a general worry about meeting a stranger, but Wren's boyfriend's paranoia felt... familiar. In a bad way.
Was Wren sure that their boyfriend wasn't the one being paid under the table? He tipped his head, thinking it over as he pulled out a few swatches. Navies, blacks, a cobalt blue, a velvet. Did he even know much about Wren? He hadn't done a background check, hadn't pulled any records, hadn't questioned anything.
"How long have you known him for?" He asked it simply, casually.
no subject
They leaned against the workbench, looking at the swatches of fabric instead of Dick's face. Instead of those damn pretty brown eyes. Until Dick's last question, which got an immediate "Don't you start."
Old familiar paranoia indeed, given how quickly Wren responded. It was the kind of question Jason would ask. They crossed their arms, briefly wondering before dismissing the possibility of any kind of 'night job'. In Wren's experience, the kind of people who became cops were getting whatever fix vigilantism would give them. Doing both was redundant. Not that there wasn't a certain amount of crossover of personality types there.
"A while. I trust him. He's a good guy. Don't know what he sees in me but I'm trying not to question the miracle."
no subject
"Wren." How to put this politely, gently, when it really was none of his business and not his place at all? He turned, facing them fully, his attention completely lifted from the fabric and to Wren's face. It wasn't like any of that had never stopped him. He put aside questioning the boyfriend in question for something much more important.
"It's not a miracle for someone to see you for who you are." Alright, so he understood where it was all coming from. He'd seen it time and time again, with kids who grew up without love, in broken families, tangled up in the complexities of love without the proper support system to have security in themselves.
Luckily for him, he spent a large part of his childhood surrounded by those who taught him how to love, and after a tumultuous few decades of overcoming Bruce's eccentricities, he could find himself again, could finally see again through all that darkness.
"You're genuine. Smart. Self-aware." He lifted his brows, a quiet snort softening the boldness in his words. There was determination in his words, despite how little time he had actually known them for. "Funny. Brave. Who's to say that you're the lucky one?"
no subject
"I wasn't fishing for a compliment," they said first, because that was obviously the most important thing. "Besides - if you met him you'd know I was the lucky one."
no subject
"Okay. Why?" An inquisitive tip of his head.
no subject
"He's patient. Careful. So careful - really one of those 'a cruel world just made you kinder'. Like, he'll push if you let him know you need it, but he doesn't assume," they say first, recalling how cautious Jason had been when they were first feeling out the possibility of a relationship - of before that, when he was certain Wren had a crush and was trying to figure out who it was. "Mind, he's not the best at admitting when he needs help. Not just smart but clever too. Witty. An absolute romantic sap. Great cook. Generous. He's always thinking of how he can help someone, just to help. Also, he's really really hot."
It felt like they'd only scratched the surface when it came to what made Jason so great.
no subject
"That's one of the best feelings in the world." He sounded great, whoever this boyfriend of Wren's was, though Dick had his own thoughts about rose-coloured glasses. However, he wasn't about to burst their bubble with zero evidence of anything contrary. In fact, their boyfriend sounded like a number of people he knew. Those who were strong on the outside, soft on the inside types, those who went through hell and back only to channel their experiences toward helping other people.
His favourite people were a lot like that, in fact. The cooking and hotness sounded like good bonuses, too.
"I'm glad you're letting yourself feel it. Whatever you wanna call it. I know that part's not always easy." That Wren said that it was a miracle tipped him off to that much. Then, he asked a question he had a feeling would be hard for Wren to answer.
"What do you think he'd say about you?"
no subject
"A menace who drinks too much coffee?" They suggested first, glancing up at Dick with a wry smile before looking back down again, scuffing the toe of their sneaker against the floor. "... dunno. Probably a lot of what you said, I suppose. He also likes to gush. But also a menace who drinks too much coffee."
no subject
"I can see that with you. I might take that one. Menace who drinks too much coffee," he teased.
He held out two swatches up to his own face, drawing their attention to him. Two shades of blue. One brighter, one darker.
"Alright, what do you think? Which one suits me better?" Dick cared very little about what he wore and mostly left things to Stu, but Wren was right here, so it was really just a practicality thing. That was all.
no subject
"Well... depends on how much you want to stand out," Wren said finally, holing up the darker one next to Dick's cheek.
"Dark blues are classical, they look good on a lot of people, and I'm guessing you too. Assuming this is for a suit. The brighter one though-" their turn to hold that one up instead, the fabric and their fingertips just barely touching Dick's cheek. Wren did their best to force their blush to stay down, to meet his eyes. Nothing to be bashful over. Just asking the opinion of the closest person, clearly. "-- more daring. Bright colors are flashier, probably don't suit a detective. ... but I think it'd still look good on you. And I like brighter blues."
So. Dick's choice.
no subject
He wasn't completely unaffected by how close Wren was, with their fingertips brushing up against his cheek, those brilliant blues regarding him closely. Yes, he just wanted the opinion of the nearest person.
Wren said a whole bunch of nothing, until they actually gave their opinion.
"So, the brighter blue, then?" He didn't pull away, and instead, just stood there letting Wren look at him. He wasn't going just as a detective.
no subject
Wow, they were giving you options, Dick."It depends on what you want to be seen as," Wren said, voice soft, because they hardly needed to shout standing this close. That was definitely the only reason.
Though, maybe not everyone was always running the numbers on what other people must see them as. Probanly not everyone else was doing that, especially not people who didn't have to worry about a secret identity.
"But yeah, I like the brighter one better."
no subject
So he just smiled, his voice also low and quiet as he nodded.
“Then that’s the one I like, too.”
Was that still flirty?