[ He knows the question isn't petty. Well. At least not more than 2-3% petty. Not maliciously petty. It's more affectionately petty but transparent about it, which is in itself a commentary on Dick. And letting him in so much more than most. It's easier to want to gloss around so much of both of these, but there are still sharp and jagged edges that can't be.
Not when he startles awake from his sleep. In a too familiar way.
The ways she has. And he has. Since Ric, and the Court of Owls, and the Joker. (She doesn't miss that tic, but she also refuses to let her gaze fix on it.)
Not when she sometimes falls asleep or wakes up, tucked under his arm, with her hand on the middle of his chest—
not a new thing by any stretch, but there's a difference to it, too.
To the beat of his heart under her palm. To light scarring under the calluses on her fingertips. To the fragility of the bones in his chest and the acknowledgment again that they are not superpowered like more than half the people they know.
She won't trivialize his words. The analogy there. The feeling of loss. It could be as simple as not feeling he fits into his skin. Or who knows what else in this place.
no subject
Not when he startles awake from his sleep. In a too familiar way.
(She doesn't miss that tic, but she also refuses to let her gaze fix on it.)
Not when she sometimes falls asleep or wakes up, tucked under his arm, with her hand on the middle of his chest—
but there's a difference to it, too.
To the beat of his heart under her palm.
To light scarring under the calluses on her fingertips.
To the fragility of the bones in his chest and the acknowledgment again
that they are not superpowered like more than half the people they know.
She won't trivialize his words. The analogy there. The feeling of loss.
It could be as simple as not feeling he fits into his skin.
Or who knows what else in this place.
Instead, she's methodical. ]
Does it come and go?