"Just be careful," Dick says in her ear, for about the fiftieth time that night. Terry's not Batman tonight, not really - tonight she's some dippy college girl at a bar, trying to catch the bastard who's been leaving dead girls in alleys left and right.
Tonight, Terry's bait, and Dick Grayson really doesn't seem happy about it. He stopped her three times before she went out the door, wearing high heels and beat-up jeans, a shirt so tight it looked glued on, hair down and messy.
"Am I ever anything else?" Terry mutters into her com link. She orders a coke and asks if the bartender if she can put at least five cherries into it.
"I'm not even gonna answer that," Dick says. "You see anything yet?"
"Yeah," Terry says. She munches on a cherry, slurping at the juice because she knows Dick's coms are that good. "Actually, I see the killer right in front of me, but I figured I'd give him a head start. What's one more body?"
"Just – keep an eye out, okay?" Dick asks.
"I'll keep both eyes out," Terry teases.
And despite the banter, she does her job. It's hard to figure out which creepy guy is the creepy guy they're looking for, but eventually she spots the one she's sure is him, slicked-back hair and the kind of slim that hides a lot of brute muscle underneath. Terry eyes him from across the room, and it takes all of her effort to bat her eyelashes and reel him in instead of just sucker-punching him in the guts.
"Okay," Dick says in her ear. "You've got this, Ter. Don't die."
"Duh," Terry says. "First rule of Batman."
Dick keeps quiet while Terry talks to the creep, for which she's extremely grateful. She's not scared, not at all, but it's hard to concentrate when she knows how worried Dick is.
But, despite what Bruce might say these days, she's good at her job. She bags and tags the lady-killing freak, calls it in as Batman, then tells Dick she'll be back to base soon and has a couple of real drinks at the bar.
After, she stumbles back to Dick's apartment, Batman suit tucked into her little backpack, whistling a song as she unlocks the door. Dick's waiting up for her, and his hand shakes as he brings a glass of scotch to his lips.
"Here she is," Terry says, words coming out a little slurred. "A regular CSI. FBI?"
"Detective works just fine," Dick says. "I was starting to – nevermind."
Terry steps over to him, heels clacking on the wooden floor. "Mr. Grayson," she says, "were you worried about me?"
"I always worry about you," Dick says. He must've already had one or two, to be this honest.
"Because I'm a girl in the big bad batsuit?" Terry asks.
"No," Dick says. He blinks up at her, runs his hands over the table. "Because you're young, and you're letting two crazy old men lead you through being Batman."
Dick empties his glass, stands up to put it in the sink, but Terry grabs him by the arm and he looks back down at her.
"One," she says. "You're not that old. I mean, you are, but you're like –" she touches his face, that mouth she thinks about way too often, and he shoots her a warning look. "And two," Terry says, "I'm being led by two crazy men, maybe, but two crazy men who survived being Batman."
"More or less," Dick says. He sets the glass back down on the table, puts both hands on Terry's waist. "How much did you have to drink after?" he asks.
"Enough that my knuckles aren't feeling clocking that guy in the face," Terry says, wrapping her arms around Dick's neck. "Not enough that it should keep you from taking me to bed."
"Terry," Dick says.
"No?" Terry teases. "I mean there's a table right here, too, but with your old knees –" Dick kisses her, maybe just to shut her up.
"You did good tonight," Dick says, tilting his head down to kiss her neck. Terry hums in agreement, says, "Well, yeah. I'm Batman."
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timeasmymeasure
fill: girl!Terry/Dick Grayson
Date: 2015-06-21 09:03 pm (UTC)Tonight, Terry's bait, and Dick Grayson really doesn't seem happy about it. He stopped her three times before she went out the door, wearing high heels and beat-up jeans, a shirt so tight it looked glued on, hair down and messy.
"Am I ever anything else?" Terry mutters into her com link. She orders a coke and asks if the bartender if she can put at least five cherries into it.
"I'm not even gonna answer that," Dick says. "You see anything yet?"
"Yeah," Terry says. She munches on a cherry, slurping at the juice because she knows Dick's coms are that good. "Actually, I see the killer right in front of me, but I figured I'd give him a head start. What's one more body?"
"Just – keep an eye out, okay?" Dick asks.
"I'll keep both eyes out," Terry teases.
And despite the banter, she does her job. It's hard to figure out which creepy guy is the creepy guy they're looking for, but eventually she spots the one she's sure is him, slicked-back hair and the kind of slim that hides a lot of brute muscle underneath. Terry eyes him from across the room, and it takes all of her effort to bat her eyelashes and reel him in instead of just sucker-punching him in the guts.
"Okay," Dick says in her ear. "You've got this, Ter. Don't die."
"Duh," Terry says. "First rule of Batman."
Dick keeps quiet while Terry talks to the creep, for which she's extremely grateful. She's not scared, not at all, but it's hard to concentrate when she knows how worried Dick is.
But, despite what Bruce might say these days, she's good at her job. She bags and tags the lady-killing freak, calls it in as Batman, then tells Dick she'll be back to base soon and has a couple of real drinks at the bar.
After, she stumbles back to Dick's apartment, Batman suit tucked into her little backpack, whistling a song as she unlocks the door. Dick's waiting up for her, and his hand shakes as he brings a glass of scotch to his lips.
"Here she is," Terry says, words coming out a little slurred. "A regular CSI. FBI?"
"Detective works just fine," Dick says. "I was starting to – nevermind."
Terry steps over to him, heels clacking on the wooden floor. "Mr. Grayson," she says, "were you worried about me?"
"I always worry about you," Dick says. He must've already had one or two, to be this honest.
"Because I'm a girl in the big bad batsuit?" Terry asks.
"No," Dick says. He blinks up at her, runs his hands over the table. "Because you're young, and you're letting two crazy old men lead you through being Batman."
Dick empties his glass, stands up to put it in the sink, but Terry grabs him by the arm and he looks back down at her.
"One," she says. "You're not that old. I mean, you are, but you're like –" she touches his face, that mouth she thinks about way too often, and he shoots her a warning look. "And two," Terry says, "I'm being led by two crazy men, maybe, but two crazy men who survived being Batman."
"More or less," Dick says. He sets the glass back down on the table, puts both hands on Terry's waist. "How much did you have to drink after?" he asks.
"Enough that my knuckles aren't feeling clocking that guy in the face," Terry says, wrapping her arms around Dick's neck. "Not enough that it should keep you from taking me to bed."
"Terry," Dick says.
"No?" Terry teases. "I mean there's a table right here, too, but with your old knees –" Dick kisses her, maybe just to shut her up.
"You did good tonight," Dick says, tilting his head down to kiss her neck. Terry hums in agreement, says, "Well, yeah. I'm Batman."