Chapter Text
"Hey."
Jason grits his teeth as he eyes their visitor. God, but he needs to check the peephole before opening the door – or just not open the door and have his partner handle guest duties. Unfortunately, that's not a thought he had ten seconds ago, and it's too late now. He hopes his expression is at least nearing something civil as he steps aside. "Barry's in the kitchen," is all he says.
He doesn't need speed vision to see the hopeful light in Dick's eyes flicker and die at the not-greeting. The man's swallow is audible, as good a sign of his kicked-puppy sorrow as the sudden hunch of his shoulders and the downwards arc of his neck. With a small, silent nod, the older man moves past him, hands buried deep in his pockets.
Jason's not sure, but he thinks he hears, "It's good to see you," mumbled out, although for once Dick's not moving on light, silent feet, and the scuff of boots drowns the words in noise. Whatever, it's not like it matters anyway.
The steps continue down the hall, slow and heavy with emotion that Dick knows all too well. The sight of his uncle lifts his heart a little, but still not as high as it was just moments before. With two knuckles, he knocks softly on the door frame, breathing in the scents of herbs and citrus and chicken.
"Hmm?" Barry turns slowly, taking care not to unsettle the contents of his skillet. When he sees his nephew, the smile stretches wide across his face. "Hey, kiddo." With a small burst of speed, he sets down the tongs he's holding, lowers the burner, and cleans his hands on the towel dangling from a drawer. Before the next breath, he's in front of Dick and pulling the man into a bear hug.
Dick's eyes close, and he allows himself to get lost in the sensations – more than anything else, the love he feels radiating from the older man. "Hi, Uncle Barry," he whispers. The palms of Barry's hands are flat against his spine, and even through his jacket and shirt, the speedster's warmth loosens the knot in his chest.
"Hi, yourself, sweetheart." The blond drops a kiss into untamed raven hair; it's windy and grey out, and it seems not even Dick's product is a match for the sharp gusts. "It's good to see you." The way the man clings to him, Barry guesses the feeling is mutual.
"I did it." Dick doesn't pull back, but he does turn his head slightly so the words are clear. "I got into the academy. I'm going to be a cop."
Barry's arms tighten even more. "Congratulations. I'm so proud of you," he replies, voice thick with both joy and fear. If only the man could find a way to help people without risking life and limb; he just got his nephew back. Still, he adds, "Keystone is safer already."
The younger man's hands clench for a minute in his uncle's shirt before he forces them open, but he returns the hug with just as much gusto as it was offered. "Thank you." He's missed those words, missed someone being proud of him He feels the kiss against his temple, and the smile he'd worn to the house finally returns to his lips.
"When do you start?" Barry asks, idly running his fingers through the younger man's hair in a vain attempt to tame the chaos.
Dick feels his eyelids start to droop and settles himself more comfortably within the embrace. "Two weeks. Been trying to get back into shape; gotta work off all the champagne and caviar that came with being an international man of mystery." He flexes his arms, knowing his uncle can feel the rippling muscle even if he doesn't get the effect of the full view. "Gotta get my Speedo bod back." Puffs of air against his neck mark his uncle's soft laughter; his grin turns toothy.
"'Speedo bod'?" the older man echoes, eyebrow raised high. "What happened to swim trunks and floaties?"
Dick draws back slightly, his face doing something complicated. "Yes, Q," he says, managing not to wince at his own atrocious Scottish accent, "I said I'll take the laser watch and the rubber ducky. Yes, that's the one. He makes swim time lots of fun. Don't you, rubber ducky? Yes."
Barry's eyes narrow with mirth-tinged pain, but his shoulders still shake. "Oh, god," he says, the words strangled.
The younger man shakes his head so hard it undoes all Barry's hard work finger-combing his hair down. "No, that's the wrong James. I'm James Bond. James Mason is god. James ‘the god’ Mason. You know that." He eyes his uncle warily, as if Barry has had a serious mental lapse and gone insane.
The blond is opening his mouth to say something pithy, he's sure, but he's cut off by his nephew, who's entire disposition suddenly shifts, his face going bright with excitement.
"Hey! Did I tell you that Tiger and I had our own spy theme song?"
Barry blinks, caught off guard. "Uhhh...," he replies, jaw hanging slack and brow furrowing as he struggles through the conversation shift.
Taking a bounding step backwards, Dick rubs his hands together, his expression radiant with delight. Clearing his throat, he shoots his uncle a wicked smirk before his whole demeanor turns bad-porno sultry and he starts to sing, "Agent Thirty-Seeeeeven...." He pauses abruptly, head twitching as realization hits him. "Sorry, that was me – Agent Thirty-Seven!" he explains in a rush. Just as quickly, he slips back into character. "So, yeah...Agent Thirty-Seeeeeven...ba bow bow."
The speedster sprays out a laugh as Dick performs a seductive wiggle of his hips. Dick bites his lip, holding back his own giggles.
"He's the spy, the spy with the face of swiiirrrlllsss...." The former spy pauses again, this time with a face palm. "Swirls, because the implants that Spyral gave us, the hypnos, they made everyone see a giant swirl where my face was."
Barry presses a hand over his mouth as Dick gestures at his face with the giddiness of a cracked out squirrel, as if the blond had never seen such a thing as a face before.
"So, achem, the spy with the face of swiiirrrlllsss...he gets all the girrrrrlllssss.... Which," Dick says, again dropping out of the song, "should have been 'women,' but 'women' didn't fit with the rhyme, so I went with 'girls' there. But...," his inflection goes sing-song, "...calls them 'women.' Thirty-seeeeeeven. Ba bow bow...he's got a partner, a partner who isn't just another Spyral cronyyy! He calls him...Toonnnnyyy.... Tiger interrupted me there," he adds, turning narrator once more. "He doesn't really like being called 'Tony,' but it rhymed, and he came around and...!"
"Dick!" Barry's face is flaring an alarming shade of red, and he can barely get enough air into his lungs to wheeze out the name. He staggers back towards his nephew, looping his arms around the younger man's neck and collapsing against him.
Doing his best to support his uncle, who's locked in squeaking hysterics, Dick asks, "Don't you mean Agent Thirty-Seven?"
"Dick...." The older man coughs as he tries to get himself back under control
Canting his head, Dick continues, "Really, though, I should have been ranked higher than thirty-seven. Tiger was Agent One. It wasn't fair...." The younger man stops, suddenly aware of the acute gasping noises coming from his uncle. "Uh, Uncle Barry? Are you okay?"
Barry gasp-squeaks in response, his face buried in Dick's shoulder.
"You know, I sang that coming out of the ocean onto a beach, just like Daniel Craig. Speedo and all." Dick cringes as his uncle's hands tighten in his shirt, the tell-tale prick of nails biting into his skin. "So yeah, Speedo bod."
Dick is ninety-nine percent sure Barry is about to pass out from lack of oxygen, but before he can do anything about it, he gets distracted by the question of whether or not it would be still cool to be Agent Ninety-Nine even though ninety-nine is higher than thirty-seven...just because it's ninety-nine, and Agent Ninety-Nine was pretty kick-ass. But he could also be Agent Eighty-Six, who was witty and kind of kick-ass, but always managed to get the job done despite being kind of clueless.
Is a difference of thirteen really worth it?
He's yanked from his musing by the unflattering (and mildly distressing) sound of his uncle's butt hitting the kitchen floor...hard, and he glances down to see the older man bent over his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Ba bow bow," Dick purrs, adding a slick, sexy neck-shoulder slide. Just because he can.
Somehow, someway, Barry finds the air within his lungs to reach out and swat at his nephew, but the man easily side-steps the attack. Not seconds later, however, Dick drops gracefully to the floor, landing cross-legged across from his uncle.
"Sooooo," Dick says, smirking.
Rubbing at his chest, Barry shoots the younger man a glare, the effect ruined as he's forced to wipe away the tear drops in his lashes that drip down into his eyes. "Not cool." God, it hurts to talk; he feels the pain radiating down his back. At least he thinks Dick looks marginally apologetic; the upwards curve of his lips won't be cowed.
"Sorry. Want some water?"
Dick makes to get up, but the older man flaps hand, telling him to sit. "I'm good, thanks. Just gotta breathe."
"Kind of important," the raven-haired man replies innocently, picking at his nails while he bides his time.
Barry doesn't even bother with another glare, just focuses on trying to inhale and exhale without sharp pain. It happens eventually, but it's the work of several minutes. "So," he finally says before Dick can jump in with something else that's utterly ridiculous, "Speaking of Tiger, how's he settling in?"
Seconds after he's asked the question, Barry wishes he could retract it. Once again Dick's bearing shifts, some of his cheer falling away. Eyes sliding to the side, the younger man shrugs a shoulder.
"It's...hard. He's been fighting wars and battles since he was a kid. Time to surf the net and sip tea...." Dick shrugs again. "Maybe at one point he wanted it, but now that he has peace and quiet, I'm not sure he knows what to do with it."
"I'm assuming the police academy isn't for him?"
The younger man's laugh is breathy. "Yeah, no. It's not that Tiger doesn't want to help, he does, just...without rules and structure and with more action and explosions. I don't think Keystone has nearly enough cool gadgets for him. Or action."
Adjusting his position so he can take his nephew's hand, Barry gives it a squeeze. "So what's he doing?"
Dick's smile turns faint. "Surfing the internet, sipping tea, and...consulting. I don't even know what that means when it comes to spies, but he obviously has skills and experience, and there are...people...out there that want it."
"And you're okay with those 'people'?" Barry makes the air quotes.
"I'm trying to be. I know I'm asking a lot of him; I know this isn't easy. Everything he knows, his entire way of life, went up in flames. I know he needs time, and I'm trying to give him that."
It's not a great answer, but the speedster withholds his own reservations. Instead he ekes out a smile of encouragement and asks, "Well, how about you give him a call and have him come to Central? You know how much I cook; we'll have plenty."
The blond doesn't miss the way Dick's gaze warily tilts towards the hall, and then to the floor.
"Thanks, but I don't think that's such a good idea."
Leaning forward, Barry settles his hands on his nephew's upper arms. "We haven't seen you in a while. I'll talk to Jason."
Dick's head shake is far more forceful, but his voice drops low. "No, it's okay. Jason hates me; there's no 'long enough' between visits, and I don't want to make things more difficult for the two of you than I already have."
The arm squeeze morphs into a hug, and Barry feels the tears soak through his shirt as Dick rests his forehead against his shoulder.
"He hates me," Dick repeats, the words like a knife to his gut. It's moments like these when he realizes just how much he wants his little brother – his family.
Barry sighs, wishing his partner would appear to issue the denial himself, but he figures Jason is probably at the other end of the house – which, to Dick, is as good as saying, "I hate you." He sighs again before he says, "He doesn't. But he's still trying to find his footing. Once he finally believes that I'm not going anywhere, it'll get better. You just have to give it a little time for things to settle. Baby steps."
"I don't think showing up uninvited and staying for dinner is a baby step," Dick counters wetly.
"Dick...."
"It's okay. It's okay," he repeats, as if trying to convince himself. "I should go." Withdrawing from the embrace, the younger man untangles his legs and rises effortlessly to his feet.
With much less coordination, Barry, too, stands and again hugs Dick close. "I love you, kiddo. And I am so proud of you. And I can't even put into words how happy I am to have to back. I missed you so much." His voice breaks, and his eyes warm with tears that trail slowly down his cheeks. "I love you."
"I love you, too." Dick sniffles as he shoots another look towards the doorway. "I'll see you soon, I promise."
Barry nods, resigned. "Yeah."
With a last sad smile, Dick steps back and is gone, the click of the front door echoing in Barry's ears.