Work Text:
1)
Jason swings his bass guitar down, his part in this track over; as it moves into a slower, stripped back ballad, Dick singing his heart out. It’s ironic to Jason that the chattiest man on the planet decided that his stage persona would be a silent (apart from the singing, obviously) anonymous, masked one.
Offstage, it’s pretty hard to shut Dick up. Onstage, he doesn’t say a word that isn’t a song lyric.
The fans adore him, maybe because of it, rather than despite it.
Jason, on the other hand is known to shout out a few quips, encouraging to the crowd to hype them up, without a microphone, given he doesn’t sing on the tracks. (It’s a fiercely kept secret that Jason does sometimes go into the studio to record a scream that will be blended with Dick’s vocals on the recording. Onstage, Tim’s screams along to help keep Dick’s throat healthy.)
Jason’s known Dick for years, though, and he’s always been a chatty bastard, even before he developed the Robin persona as his mask. While Jason’s never been involved in the writing side of Bat Signal, he was there at the beginning when Dick came up with the idea of a Bat god, his avatar on earth, Robin; and had helped him write the statement for the sole written interview that the band has ever given.
The ballad ends, Dick panting and clearly feeling the emotion in the song, as he gets his breathing under control.
There’s a gap of maybe fifteen seconds before Damian begins the next track with one of his utterly insane drum solos; Jason has no idea how his arms don’t fall off after playing like that for two full hours each and every night while on tour. Jason can benchpress more than twice his own weight, and he doesn’t think he’d manage to keep drumming the way Damian does. The man is a beast.
Dick, naturally, takes the opportunity that Damian’s moment gives him to come over and bother Jason. Sometimes it’s truly annoying, like the time Dick tried to lift Jason up and broke a string on his bass. Sometimes it’s actually fun, getting into mock playfights that always end with Dick “losing” because he has to run back to the mic stand in time for his cue.
The rest of the time though? Jason is incredibly glad that he also wears a red mask that covers his entire face. Dick’s naturally has to leave his lower jaw exposed so that he can sing, his throat, lower face, and arms hidden by black paint; but Jason, Tim, and Damian mask cover them completely, only their hands need paint to hide them.
The mask hides the way his gaze lingers on Dick, the way he sometimes as to bite his lip to stop himself from yelling something obscene (to be fair, that usually happens when Dick decided he should crawl all over Jason anytime he does anything as stupid as sit down on the stage, or one of the amps at the edge of the stage).
Tonight is a not a ‘playfight’ kind of night, nor one where Dick goes out of his way to annoy Jason. Nope, tonight Dick is basically doing some sort of version on twerking in front of Jason.
Because of course he would.
Dick is a chaos gremlin when he’s not being a workaholic composer and lyricist.
The crowd, unsurprisingly, is eating it up, screaming out for Robin and II to kiss. Jason flicks them the bird, and slaps Dick’s ass instead. Usually this would signal to Dick that it’s time to wind it down and get back to the mic.
Usually.
So, obviously Dick decides to not go back to the mic yet, straightening up and spinning on his heel to grin widely at Jason, mischief glinting in his bright blue eyes. Jason braces himself for whatever nonsense Dick’s about to commit.
Dick reaches out, making grabby hand motions as he gets closer to Jason, his blue finger-striped black gloves coming up to cover both of Jason’s ears as he drags him in for a kiss. Dick sloppily plants one right on Jason’s mouth, the only thing preventing him from smearing his black bodypaint all over Jason’s face is that his red mask gets a large black mark instead.
It does nothing to stop Jason from feeling the heat of Dick’s skin, or the way Dick’s mouth parts briefly as he licks, Jason’s mask.
In retaliation, Jason grabs Dick’s waist, pulling him in closer for a heartbeat or two, distantly hearing the way the crowd absolutely loses their collective minds. Jason feels Dick grin into the kiss. Jason pushes him away, spinning, leaving Dick bare seconds to get to the microphone before he misses his cue.
2)
Jason’s fingers always sting after the breakdown at the end of the song they’re about to finish playing. It’s probably one of their heaviest breakdowns, and its position in the playlist is followed up by one of their more mellow songs, purely to let Jason and Tim’s fingers have a few minutes rest.
Mellow in this case means it’s almost entirely vocal and synth-based, with the Batgirls giving their all on the backing vocals and Dick alone, although there’s a reasonably long break where it’s just the girls getting their moment in the spotlight.
This, of course, gives Dick time to come over and mess around with Jason, Tim, or on very rare occasions, Damian. Damian’s harder to get to, due to being on his own personal podium with his drum kit. Tim gets Dick’s attention about three times out of ten, Damian once out of ten, leaving Jason to be the focus the rest of the time.
Jason sets his Charvel down next to his backup Fender Professional as the next track begins, Dick’s voice capturing the entire audience as it always does. The Batgirls join in with their perfect harmony, as if Dick, Barbara, Cassandra, and Stephanie have been singing together since they were children; even though they’ve known each other for two years.
He steps back into a more shadowed spot so he can stretch his shoulders out without grabbing too much attention from the crowd at the front of the stage. He rolls both his arms up and out, high above his head for a few long seconds, feeling the stretch and relief as he drops his limbs down. Of course, the moment he does, the long part in the song where Dick doesn’t sing comes up, and he sees Dick begin to bounce from foot to foot in his direction.
Dick’s got his hands up in fists.
Clearly tonight is a playfight night.
Jason grins, stepping forward and raising his own fists. Dick’s still bouncing around like Tigger, the blue stripes on his gloves catching the glancing stage lights. The step back and forth neither of them throwing anything like a punch, because Jason knows from experience that Dick’s going to be going for a kick first.
So, he’s ready to slap away the kick aimed at his midsection when it comes his way.
“Oooh nice, lil wing!” Dick says, barely loud enough for Jason to hear him over the music, and certainly not loud enough for anyone else to.
“You’re so predictable, Robin.” Jason replies, and Dick’s answering grin could mean he either did hear Jason, or he didn’t. There’s no way to tell.
What Jason can tell is that the crowd is taking photos and video the same way they always do whenever they goof off on stage. It’s guaranteed that they’ll emerge online after the concert with comments like THEY LOOK SO HAPPY, or I LOVE IT WHEN THEY HAVE FUN. It’s in sharp contrast to the comments on their lyrics which often amount to ROBIN, WHO HURT YOU and I WANT A NAME, I JUST WANNA TALK.
No one ever responds to either set of comments, but Jason much prefers the onstage antics responses to the lyrics ones.
Jason fakes a punch towards Dick, one with no weight behind it. Dick has bounced in closer by a step, meaning that Jason’s fist goes right past Dick’s head, and it’s all too easy to step in closer, wrapping his arm around Dick’s neck in a loose chokehold.
Dick’s laughing is loud in Jason’s ears, and it’s a little too much fun to pretend to strangle Dick. Flashes from cameras hit their eyes, and Jason can hear clapping and whooping at him ‘winning’ their ‘fight’.
Dick leans back onto Jason’s chest, taking a moment of rest while his hand rests on Jason’s arms, giving it a quick squeeze. The bodypaint on Dick’s neck is smeared off.
The music for the chorus kicks back in, and that’s Dick’s cue to get back to the mic stand, but Jason doesn’t let go for a bar. He tightens his arm around Dick for a beat before letting go. Dick decides to spin away keeping his hold on Jason’s arm to lift it in a victory pose, causing the crowd to cheer and yell out “II! II! II!”
It means Dick misses his cue and he doesn’t get back to the mic until halfway through the first lyric of the chorus.
The crowd doesn’t seem to mind at all, already singing along for him.
Jason gives the crowd an overblown, low, bow; hearing more cheers as he rises, going back to his bass. He tries and fails to not look over at Dick, feeling the way his arm tingles strongly from the absence of Dick’s warmth.
3)
Jason’s already in a bad mood tonight, given Damian decided to bring up the whole Number Order thing once again, right before they went on stage. The thing is, while Damian’s a fantastic drummer, he’s still barely out of his teens, and that means he doesn’t have the experience to let things go when he should.
The fact all the fans, press, and pretty much anyone who’s heard of the band at this point, knows that all the members of the band but Robin go by numbers; that II is the Bassist, III is the guitarist, and IV is the drummer. Changing the order from their ages to the order they joined the band now, is a lost cause.
And yet...
Damian still can’t let that lost cause go. He wants to be known as II. Never mind that if they did change Damian’s number, Jason would have to rebrand as III, and Tim as IV. And neither Jason or Tim are willing to do that. (Jason and Dick both have enough sense to keep quiet about how Jason’s been helping Dick off and on, in between working his own projects, long before Damian joined Dick permanently. As far as anyone outside of the three of them and Daley, their music producer, no one knows that Jason has even been in the studio with them. He and Tim are meant to be “touring members” only.)
But Damian doesn’t usually bring it up before they do a gig. It’s more of a ‘tipsy on the tour bus driving between venues’ casual conversation. It’s incredibly weird that tonight he decided to throw them all off by asking about it, yet again; because Damian’s the one that keeps them all on rhythm. But he had; mentioning it once more to Dick as they waited in the Green Room, as their supporting act was playing their first song.
There was something off in his wording too, not the usual phrases Damian uses. They were all a shade off, too wrong for him, more like his mother. And wouldn’t that explain it, if his mother’s been whispering in his ear, convincing Damian he’s somehow not getting his due respect because of a stupid number order?
So, yeah, Jason’s got irritation thrumming under his skin tonight. His tolerance for Dick’s shenanigans is as low as it’s ever been. And if Dick doesn’t know that, Jason’s got no compunctions for telling him exactly where to fuck off to. (Back to the mic stand, naturally. Jason’s a professional, even if he doesn’t feel like one right now.) At least his frustration isn’t showing in his playing.
But Dick decides to wander over to the left side of the stage where Jason is silently seething anyway; doing a flappy bird sort of dance that only reinforces his stage name of Robin. The microphone is still in Dick’s hand, and he’s not missing a single beat with his singing. If Dick’s noticed Jason’s bad mood, he’s not showing it, getting in closer and flashing him a grin; that gets at least three if not four flashes of cameras directed their way.
Dick ducks down, tilting his face towards the camera clamped to the head of Jason’s Charvel bass, moving in closer to basically put his mask right into the lens. The motion gets in the way of Jason’s left hand and he jerks back, swinging the head of the bass back, missing the next notes of the bar. Dick pulls back, giving Jason a look that says ‘what the fuck, bro?’ while he keeps singing in perfect pitch and time.
“Not tonight, Satan!” Jason yells, and if anyone hears him, he doesn’t care.
“Every night! Always!” Dick says with a shit-eating grin, not loud enough for anyone but Jason to hear him.
“Don’t fucking tempt me!” Jason snarls, stepping forward, and this time Dick notices how genuinely annoyed Jason is, stepping back quickly. Dick’s eyes widen, and a brief flicker in the low light shows a certain amount of regret.
The crowd whoops, thinking this is them goofing off like most other nights. Dick gives Jason an apologetic smile that turns into a smirk as he dances away, acting like he’d just pranked Jason instead of actually annoying him.
Jason takes a breath, reminding himself that it’s not Dick he’s pissed off with, and makes a few intimidating steps towards him, playing along with the prank idea. Dick scurries backwards, and then runs towards the mic stand, skidding into it with precision.
He turns to Jason, moving his hands into a heart sign and throwing it towards him, once, twice, three times, with a huge smile that probably makes more than a few hearts melt in the crowd.
It shouldn’t make Jason feel better, but somehow it actually does.
4)
There’s something in the air tonight, a vibe, a mood, maybe a cloud of MDMA? Maybe it’s because they’re in Gotham, the city’s stadium sold out; and the fact it’s their first huge stadium gig, and it’s in their home town of all possible places.
Whatever it is, Jason’s feeling fantastic. He’s having the absolute best time, the crowd is beyond vibing with the music, singing along with every single word Dick’s crooning into the microphone. They’re even clapping and stamping along with Damian’s drumming as best as they can.
Jason’s actually in such a good mood that he’s honestly looking forward to whatever Dick’s antics for the night will be. Dick’s in fine form, Tim’s doing more than just playing, wandering over to the Batgirls and staring up at them (Jason assumes they’re talking, but he can’t actually hear anything). Even Damian was friendly before the gig.
The smile on Dick’s face is incandescent, and just seeing him look so joyful on stage makes Jason grin under his own mask. The ambient part of one of their most popular songs starts playing, and Dick does his little chicken dance over to Jason, grinning all the while.
Jason sets his bass down behind him, grabbing one of Dick’s wrists once he gets in range, stepping in and letting his other hand rest on Dick’s waist. He spins them both, and Dick laughs loudly as they start dancing.
It’s some odd mishmash of a waltz and a tango, their legs twisting around each other in an odd rhythm that shouldn’t be as much fun as it is.
They keep spinning, and Dick’s hands tangle with Jason’s as Dick lifts Jason’s arm so he can twirl under it, once, twice, three times, before Jason lifts his back up, and then dips Dick backwards until his hood is threatening to slip down and uncover his hidden dark hair.
Jason pulls him back up before it actually moves, and Dick lifts one of his legs as Jason brings him upright, their foreheads dangerously close together; enough that Jason can see how blown wide Dick’s eyes are.
Jason pauses, the music dropping away from him, leaving his world to condense down to just him and Dick, and the flashes of the stage lighting reflected in Dick’s eyes. Jason’s breath catches, and he feels lost.
It’s not that Jason didn’t know he had feelings for Dick.
He’s had a long-standing crush on him since he was about twelve. But this? This is more than just a crush. It’s something deeper; Jason’s afraid of just how strong the feelings rushing right back in are.
And unless Jason’s reading the look in Dick’s eyes completely wrong, it’s not all one sided.
It leaves Jason shaken, and when Dick lets his leg drop down, the world comes back.
The stadium blares into life around them, the stage lights are bright enough to blind, and Damian starts a pulsing, pounding drum solo that thunders through Jason’s chest. The crowd is a sea of flashlights and hyped up fans.
Dick’s hand is hot through the material of his gloves, and still fiercely gripping his own.
Jason can’t look away, and for a long second they stand looking at each other, until Damian hits a particular blast beat that signals the end of his solo.
Dick lifts their joined hands and does another spin, this time away from Jason until their hands slide apart. Dick keeps spinning the blue of his gloves catching the lights as he keeps going until he reaches the microphone stand with enough time to grin ferally at the crowd before the last verse of the song begins.
Jason turns away to get his bass, giving himself a few vital seconds to get himself under control before he needs to face the crowd again, and more importantly get back into the music he’s meant to be playing. But he turns his head to look back at Dick, a stupid, stupid thing to do.
Because Dick looks... Well, he looks exultant. Like he’s ascended, flying, soaring through the sky, just like the bird he’s named after. He’s so far away in this moment, but Dick’s so close that Jason can’t help but want to reach out to him.
Jason wants to raise Dick up higher, really see him free of everything that weighs him down. Be the one that gives Dick a hug like so many of their fans desperately want to. Lift him up like Dick had tried to several weeks ago onstage while Jason was playing. Jason shakes himself. The middle of a gig isn’t the time to be thinking about this. He should focus on what he’s paid to do; play his bass, and making this stadium full of fans as happy as he can.
5)
Dick’s sitting in Jason’s lap.
Facing him.
In the middle of a gig.
The fangirls are absolutely losing their minds, and the flashes of their phone cameras are sparkling in the back of Jason’s vision.
If they only knew that Dick’s only sitting there because Tim dared him to last night on the tour bus, they’d probably still lap it up.
Maybe less so, if they could smell Dick’s breath right now. Of course he had to eat stir fried cabbage with English mustard and garlic before the gig.
Sure, it might taste amazing, but the lingering smell is not attractive.
And Dick’s breathing it right into Jason’s face, with an evil grin.
There are so many ways Jason could react right now. The ‘safe’ PR approved version. The ‘Ugh, Todd, Please Stop Encouraging Him’ that Damian would prefer; and the one that Jason’s going to put into action.
He puts both of his hands on Dick’s hips, and pulls him in tighter.
Dick’s eyes go wide, but he doesn’t resist as he’s sitting right on Jason’s crotch, being held in place by Jason’s hands still tight on him. Jason grins under his mask, “Serves you fucking right, Robin.”
“Wow Two, you’re really not beating those ‘helplessly in love with me’ allegations with this.” Dick retorts, and yeah, okay, grabbing his hips and pulling him in is going to inspire so many fan edits, art and fics, but Jason doesn’t care.
“Oh, you mean those ‘Robin is desperate for II’s cock’ allegations? You were never beating those, Robin.” Jason snorts, deciding that breathing through his mouth is the way to go to avoid the smell on Dick’s breath.
His red, full-head mask really isn’t thick enough to block out the air around them, even if it does leave Jason with hat hair, and a more sweaty on stage than not wearing it would. But the masks are Bat Signal’s thing, and honestly, Jason’s actually come to like the mask. Being anonymous means that when he’s playing with his own, admittedly unsigned band, Outlaws, he can do whatever he likes.
It also has the added benefit of hiding his full expression from everyone, but most especially Dick.
“Rude!” Dick fake gasps, squirming on Jason’s lap for emphasis. “Besides, we’re meant to be blaming Three for this, remember?”
“Oh, I always find a way to blame Three for fucking everything.” Jason nods, pushing at Dick’s hips a little. He’s pretty sure from the outside it looks like Dick’s grinding in his lap, and no, he definitely won’t be going to look for clips posted to youtube of this later tonight. Absolutely not. No. (He will.) “Because it is his fault, always.”
Dick ends up laughing, and even with the smell of mustard and cabbage, he’s stupidly attractive, and Jason hates him a little for it. “You’re always so mean, Two.” Dick leans in more, pressing his chin to Jason’s cheek. “But I think we’ve riled the fans up enough by now, hmm?”
“I am losing feeling in my legs, it’s true.” Jason nods, letting go of Dick’s hips entirely. His hands feel cold now that they’re not touching Dick. “Okay, up, off, get back to the mic, Robin.”
“Ooops. Might have left a mark on your mask. I knew I shouldn’t have switched bodypaint brands.” Dick grins, and oh yeah, he absolutely did that on purpose.
“Get. Away. You menace.” Jason grumbles, not bothering to reach up and see if he can wipe away the black paint. Fuck, he’ll have to wash the mask in the tour bus bathroom.
Dick stumbles up onto his feet and back towards the microphone stand. He throws heart shapes out towards the crowds with his hands.
Jason uncrosses his legs, and gets to his own feet, dusting the backs of his jeans off, since he’d been sitting on the stage. He hasn’t got any numbness in them, but they do tingle with the lack of weight and heat of Dick resting on him; just like his hands. He clenches and unclenches his hands as he goes to pick up his bass. He’s got about fifty seconds before his part on the next song kicks in. More than enough time to get himself under control.
He slings the strap over his shoulder, forcing himself to look out at the crowd, a sea of faces he can’t see, in between the flashes of light. He can hear Damian counting in the next track in his earpiece, and Jason stops thinking about Dick and his warmth, and thinks about chords and bars and making sure that this gig continues to go as smoothly as all the rest have.
Although their next song being their sexiest, definitely isn’t helping Jason not think about wanting Dick back on his lap.
+1)
For once, they’re actually getting to sleep in a hotel room instead of the tour bus.
Jason starfishes out on his queensize bed, relishing in the fact that he can actually stretch out without hitting the side of the bus.
Dick’s in the bathroom, washing off his black bodypaint. It usually takes him a good twenty minutes to do that, Dick’s got used to doing it in cold water; so anytime he gets to wash in warm to hot water, Dick’s going to take as long as he can. To his credit, he did let Jason shower first, for all of five minutes, but now he’s clean, warm, and stretched out on the bed with a towel wrapped around his hips.
Yeah, Jason’s in a pretty good mood.
The bathroom door opens, letting Dick, and a cloud of steam out. Dick’s bare, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, a smaller one is being rubbed into his hair. He sends a smile Jason’s way when he sees him stretched out on the bed. “You’ve already made yourself pretty comfortable, huh, little wing?”
Jason gives Dick a thumbs-up. “My back is feeling so supported right now.”
“Yeah, you look...” Dick trails off looking up and down Jason’s prone body. “Supported.”
Jason lifts his head to raise an eyebrow at Dick. “Something you wanna say there, Dickie?”
“Hmmm. Do I? I’m not sure.” Dick grins, walking over to Jason’s bed. “Did you get the feeling back in your legs yet?”
“Just about.” Jason snorts, sitting up on his elbows to look at Dick better. “Why? You got the urge to sit on my lap again?”
“Maybe I do.” Dick swings his leg up and over, leaving him straddling Jason, only their two towels between them. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Who said I’m gonna do anything?” Jason stares up at Dick, watching a droplet of water sliding down from between Dick’s pecs and over his abs. “Maybe you should do something about it... Unless you’re a pillow princess. And since you fucking fidget constantly, I really can’t see that being true.”
“I could be! I can sit still when I want to.” Dick protests, which honestly is laughable because, no, Dick can’t sit still, and also that’s the part Dick wants to protest? Not his preferences in the bedroom, but that he fidgets too much? It’s kind of adorable.
Dick immediately ruins his protest by shifting in Jason’s lap, the movement pulling his towel off to the side, showing of a slice of hip that Jason wants to get his fingers on. “Right. I believe you, thousands wouldn’t.” Jason says, barely managing to keep a smirk off his face. “So. Are we actually finally doing this? Because if we aren’t you’re just being kind of a dick, Dick.”
“I... Yes.” Dick says, the look on his face turning determined. “I’m going to ride you, you’re going to be nice about it, everyone wins.”
“I’m always nice.” Jason grins, shifting to one arm to tug away Dick’s towel, leaving him entirely bare.
“You literally like to yell ‘I don’t think so!’ whenever I sing ‘Are you in pain like I am?’” Dick snorts, rocking his hips enough that Jason’s own towel falls open, and it’s bare skin on bare skin. “You are way more of a dick than I am.”
“Wow, it’s like you don’t want to get fucked.” Jason shakes his head in mock-sadness. “That’s so sad.”
“If I didn’t want to get fucked, you think I’d have prepped myself in the shower? Which I did, see?” Dick spreads his legs, rising up on his knees as he does, letting Jason see the shine of the lube between his thighs. “I want your cock.”
Jason’s being slowly getting hard since Dick came out of the bathroom, but now he’s almost lightheaded at how fast he’s gone to fully hard, and leaking at the tip. Dick looks down at Jason, biting his lip as he sees Jason’s cock. Dick’s own cock is hardening, but he seems to be ignoring it in favour of wrapping his hand around Jason’s aiming it at his hole.
Jason can’t hold back his gasp as Dick sinks down on him, so tight, wet, and hot that it feels like Dick was made for him. Dick moans needily under his breath. He sits down heavily, taking every inch of Jason’s large cock. He grinds down on Jason, tiny breathy noises punched out of him as he does, until he unclenches the slightest amount. Dick’s hands are resting on Jason’s stomach, and he uses them to help lift himself up, starting a slow rhythm.
“Fuck, you feel better than I dreamed.” Jason groans, gripping Dick’s hips to help with the fuck.
“That’s my line.” Dick says breathily, eyes fluttering shut as the tip of Jason’s cock hits the spot. “God, your hands feel so good. All those calluses from playing your bass.”
“Yeah? You like that?” Jason can’t help the smile on his lips, he’s sure he looks feral, but damn, having Dick ride him like this is the stuff of dreams.
“So good. I think I’m addicted to it.” Dick sways a little in his lap, and Jason pushes into a fully sitting position to help Dick ride him properly. “Please tell me this isn’t a one-time thing. I might cry.”
“Are you kidding? You’re gonna be lucky if I don’t fuck you every night!” Jason tells him pulling Dick into a breath-stealing kiss.
“I’ll definitely be getting lucky if you fuck me every night!” Dick says when they finally break the kiss.
“You are lucky you’re pretty, Dickiebird.” Jason groans in exasperation, and then groans again when Dick clenches down on him hard, coming wetly between them. Jason’s teeth find Dick’s shoulder; biting as he comes deep inside him, leaving a mark on Dick’s skin.
“I’m lucky you’re mine, lil wing.” Dick sighs blissfully, his fingers foxtrot-ing on Jason’s skin. “And I’m yours.”