The yellow wool sweater is unpurposely kind of fuzzy. But it's soft, big, and has a turtleneck. And long sleeves.
It's cold under Dick's feet, wearing only pizza themed cotton socks. Someone honks down the street.
Dick lets out a puff of breath and leans on the railing. He keeps looking at the traffic below, even when the sky thunders, matching what is supposed to be a "morning" from the taller man now hugging his back.
"Bruce called".
Slade tightens his grip on Dick's hips and kisses his temple.
YOU ARE READING
Flying without a net: Memory bites
Fanfiction~NEW dark CHAPTER, BEWARE~ No time for a long story but still want some "plot"? There you go: easy, quick memories, mainly Dick's and Slade's. Also, some basic 'poems'. (DICK IS SCARED. SLADE IS SAFE THO, ISN'T HE?)(I FOUND MYSELF AN IDIOT- YES ILL...
