TDM 008

[etrayamods]

content warnings for this TDM include: gambling references, mild horror themes and suggestive content ⏵ arrival⏴ Arrival does not happen as Aurora usually plans for it. Newcomers generally find themselves waking up within the hospital, are given a brief overview of their situation, and sent on their way. Now? They wake up immersed in a game within The Gold Saucer. But it doesn't quite feel like a game: whether it's snowy mountains, riding a chocobo as you listened to the wind quickly pass by your ears, or in the middle of a battle with a beast, it feels utterly real. It's only after the game concludes - either by winning or losing - that you find yourself back in the main game area. A bot, dressed as personnel in this lavish playground, approaches each arrival with an earpiece allowing them to communicate with those in their same situation. It also serves to inform them of their goal: collect enough gold saucer points (or GP) by playing the games to acquire a card fashioned to their own likeness from the game counter. Then, they must trade it for someone else's. Seems simple enough, right? Hopefully the cards aren't too expensive... ⏵ the gold saucer ⏴ The Gold Saucer is an ode to the very idea of fun. It’s huge, labyrinthine, colorful, and lively. Everywhere you look, there’s something to do. At the same time, it’s also impossible to tell what time it is. There are no windows to the outside, there are no clocks. This place is beyond such a thing. There are games everywhere you look, ranging from the pseudo-gambling to sports to pixelated video games in cabinets. Yet no matter which boxing game, pinball machine, or skeeball machine you look at, the same creatures and themes arrive. Cactuars, chocobos, the fiercest Behemoth, the cuddliest Moogle… For those from the realms of Final Fantasy, this will feel natural- homey even. Everyone else will simply understand that there is a fairly strong central theme here about magic, machines, and monsters. It’s hard to tell how long you spend here, and it seems to sit outside of the very concept of time. Still, there are many restaurants, lounges, and vending machines. There are shops and costume rentals. There are even little pharmacies with headache remedies if the partying gets out of hand. And when you grow tired, there is a hotel- though it is made up like a haunted house, you can count on getting some semi-restful sleep. ⏵ playtime ⏴Interdimensional Games At first, stepping through to play any of these games may make participants wonder if they have been teleported somewhere else entirely. But on closer inspection, all the skies above are merely well-constructed interiors with painted ceilings. After all, it always seems to be daytime during these games. Snowboarding - Race to the bottom of the mountain, but avoid obstacles and complete as many tricks as possible! Chocobo Racing- Race on Chocobo-back around a treacherous outdoors race track which can either be taking place in a desert, a swampy forest, or upon an island beach. Work in tandem with your rented bird and against your competition by throwing hazards in their way or utilizing buffs garnered on the track. Different colored birds will yield different advantages. Yellow - Good All Rounder Red - Fast, but hard to steer Blue - Slower, but very easy to steer. Much easier to pick up items from them. Green- Resilient against traps and sabotage Colosseum Battle- Face off against the fiercest beasts around. Pair up with friends or rivals to Collaborate or Compete to do the most damage and deliver the final blow. These battles are synced to the comparative power of the one entering the competition. We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt unnecessarily, after all. And indeed, no one will get seriously, gruesomely, or permanently injured in these battles. Those without fighting capabilities can rent weapons outfitted Materia to assist them in their trial. These will allow anyone to cast spells, though not guarantee any better wielding of weapons. There are a hundred rounds, starting with fairly simple Spriggans, ranging all the way up to blood-thirsty Behemoths to challenge even the most battle-hardened hero. Gold Saucer Games Leap of Faith- Players are presented with an obstacle course that stretches a hundred feet into the air upon floating platforms and islands. Both are held aloft by magical crystals. Powers are entirely nerfed, though falling and hitting the ground is strangely painless. Those who collect the most silver and gold statuettes of cactuars placed at random throughout the course will be awarded proportionate GP; though there is a bonus for those that reach the very top first. Triple Triad- Everywhere you look, people are playing this game on little 3 by 3 boards, or any surface with enough space. You will be given a loaner deck to play with. Are you clever enough to defeat your fellows. Fashion Report- Theobold, familiar to some, stands by himself in a little booth with a dressing room and an incredibly expansive walk-in closet. He is a robot of distinguished fashion and strong opinions on those fashions. Do you dare subject yourself to his scrutiny? Come prepare in his wondrous closets to make the best outfit for the chance to win a prize. Please submit your fashion here! There are Arcade Machines and activities galore. If you can think of it, it’s probably there- Just with that Final Fantasy pastiche on it, of course. ⏵ the beehive lounge ⏴ There are other places to eat at the Gold Saucer, but the vending machines and cafés all pale in comparison to the dinners at the Beehive. For all the rave reviews, there is a dress code at the Beehive, and this is literal. If you step inside and are not currently wearing a dress, you will be ushered into a sideroom and appropriately made over. However, this is only for those trying to go in through the normal doors. Around the side there happens to be an employee entrance, manned by a bot. He will only allow those in who seem like they intend to work— and therefore must be wearing at least one piece of the Bunnysuit Collection to trick the guard. Once you are made over or have snuck in, you are free to relax inside with drinks, dine on a fine meal, watch the dancers, or participate yourself if you feel brave enough. Why would anyone ever dance here? Well, that’s simple. It pays really well. So if you’re sick of games, or terrible at them— you can always come dance for a shift. Though, don't get any unseemly ideas about freeing yourself of your clothing, this isn't that kind of establishment! ⏵ haunted house ⏴ When you grow too weary or drunk from a day of games, you may be directed to somewhere a little quieter to sleep. Up the elevator, and through the doors reveals a modest walk through some woods until a quaint, victorian hotel appears. It is always nighttime here, and the stars and moon twinkle above. The receptionist, a bot in a rather bedraggled-looking chocobo mascot costume checks you in and shows you to your room. You can sleep here, especially if you can tolerate the hokey haunted decorations strung up around the place. Though sometimes, late at night, there will come a vigorous thumping on the door to startle sleeping patrons awake- Only for the culprit to vanish and be impossible to locate. ⏵ ticket counter ⏴ The prize counter is manned by a bot and has a sign posted overhead. Most prizes will be handed over inside an appropriately sized wrapped box, as the contents are a mystery. Sparklers & Glowsticks 10 gp Bunny Suit 300 gp Bunny Stockings & Heels 150 gp Animal Ears (Random) 500 gp Kigurumi (Random) 100 gp Chocobo Barding (Random) 1000 gp Classic White Mage Robes 500 gp Classic Black Mage Robes 500 gp Plush Toy (Random) 100 gp Wind-Up Minion (Random) 200 gp Chocobo Mascot Suit (Random Color) 2000 gp Triple Triad Booster Pack 50 gp Triple Triad Card in your Likeness 10,000 gp ⏵ NOTES ⏴ This TDM may be treated as a mini-Mission. Time will not pass inside of it in relation to the world outside - meaning, this can be happening at any time between late May into early July! This Gold Saucer is a bit of a mix between that of FF7's and FF14's, but it also has some things that neither have as well. Any inaccuracies are entirely intentional, aimed to make this rest within a space of uncanny valley for those who are familiar. While otherwise being a bit of a chaotic fantastical funhouse for everyone else! If there is something unlisted, chances are it will exist if it is in either of the other versions of the Gold Saucer. Characters already in game are welcome to post to the TDM, too! Please mark them as current characters in your header. Threads can be kept as game canon as long as both characters get into the game! Please direct all questions to our mod queries comment! ⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Comments

[auderes]

"You've got a point, but maybe I'll get an alternate version made if we're stuck here for too long."

It was, relatively speaking, a large investment to get the card compared to anything else they have on offer here, and if not for this very game Dick likely would have taken longer to get to that total. As it was he did get more than a little caught up here after his initial rounds through the place to get his bearings, and considering how fast he can clear these courses compared to the average player that they were built for... it does feel a little bit like cheating, but really he's just sticking to his strengths. There are plenty of games around here where his skills aren't particularly helpful, and that would have been an exhausting grind if he only stuck to those.

He's only half-kidding about the mascot suit though. Who knows, it might be handy to have around, not just a funny souvenir to bring back from this place.

They really do need those light-hearted distractions now and then, because even if the situation he's landed in here is far from the most torturous that he's ever faced the fact that the stakes are so high is permanently fixed, looming over his thoughts, and they are far from both Gotham and Bludhaven, and he's learning all about just how difficult things can get at times with the missions. Which he expected, and he's taking it in stride as much as anyone could be expected to, it's just going to take a while for it to completely sink in, he suspects.

He does realize how lucky he is in comparison to others who might not have anyone from home to help them get caught up here, let alone like the people he has. Like Barbara. Maybe he really is being handed the easy way here— for now. He's not naive enough to expect that to last forever.

By the time they make it to the one hotel that the Saucer has to offer he truly is somewhat exhausted, mentally and physically, his body is also reminding him that he hasn't rested since that last fight either. And after a nice hot shower the bed is looking particularly nice...

But they've only got the one, and, probably amusingly late, he's realizing that it might be awkward. He hasn't been dwelling on the difficult and potentially impossible to answer questions about the differences between him and other Dick Graysons that have passed through here, or between him and Barbara, but. Is this weird? For her? Them? He's gotten used to not sleeping alone, among other things, and that's been so good, but that was at home. Now he's not sure, when there's a fine point put on the issue.

Even if he doesn't say anything he knows that Barbara will read his expression like an open book once she emerges from the bathroom.

"This isn't going to be too... cozy, is it?"

[her_own_rules]

Dinner at the Beehive—after sneaking past the door guards & not aiming for getting dressed up—hadn't been all that exciting an affair. Getting a rundown on who he'd already bumped into, what they'd already told him, and then filling in the gaps—without the nuisance of needing to repeat anything unless Dick, himself, asked for her take on something. Batman Jr. and Sr., both, and the very different versions of Jason here. An overview of missions and work she'd already done for family.

Barbara had hoped that a door or a portal or something would show up once all the missions she'd spotted had been fulfilled. Some inane checklist completed. But like so many of the other short and extended missions, it appears they are going to be her a while, which is how they end up at the only place that even has rooms for the night. She's vaguely grateful the place has as much until she's staring at the haunted-looking place, wondering if it'll be its own mission, too.

There's only ONE (1) room with ONE (1) bed available at the late point they check in (with notes that are invited to revist the concierge desk tomorrow midday after checkout hours for a second room to become available). Which seems par for the course, but Barbara is tired enough that she rolls her eyes & takes one of the two keys. Then, it's showers, which she lets Dick hit first. He's been through far more in this day than she has, even if she's glad enough for her turn when it comes.

When Barbara comes out—in the most ridiculous nightgown (again, sue her, she packed one set of extra clothes, her costume, and her laptop)—she's towel drying her hair over one shoulder. "Why? Are you going to offer to take the floor after your rousing game of wack-a-mole with a giant, followed up with hours of running a high-level multiversal obstacle course?"

[auderes]

The nightgown is pretty, actually, and if Dick was thinking about his own chocobo t-shirt and matching shorts he might have felt under dressed, but as it is his attention is instead on how lovely she is, again, and how sharp these little moments can be when he pulls back on the urge to reach out to her. Whether that's to tug her into his arms or to kiss her, any of that would definitely be overstepping while they're still figuring out what all of this means for them. As if he doesn't already know exactly what he wants, what he's always wanted, and how little it changes no matter how strange and complicated their situation might be, but then this is all actually pretty simple for him. Barbara's the one who has a lot to work through, and he's not going to make that harder on her.

"I mean, I could put a couple of pillows down there..." Said in a lighthearted tone, despite it only being a half-joke at most, and they both know it. Yes, he would. If they weren't here he'd even offer to get another room, if it would make things easier, but right now it would be difficult to deny that he doesn't want to let her out of his sight just yet. Let alone try to sleep in an otherwise empty room, that wouldn't be very restful no matter how exhausted he is right now.

It hasn't been that long, comparatively, but it didn't take many nights at all for him to get used to curling up with Barbara in bed or on the couch, usually with Haley.

"Do I look that bad?"

He's not quite covering up all of the bruises now, and he probably does look tired so... maybe he does.

[her_own_rules]

Barbara knows he would, too. It's a strange vertigo of memories. The last time he slept on the floor was ... a while ago. She can still viscerally remember how hard it was to fall asleep that night. The tension and the awkwardness. Or at the newest beginning of all this, when even, despite necessity and her willingness just as much to do the reverse, he'd shooed her off to sleep in his bed and taken the couch—that nebulous feeling of uncertain butterflies, and Dick's familiar scent suffusing his pillows.

The question is as surprising as it isn't.

"You've looked worse." Well, he has. Resolutely, from the one person who generally had the job of watching everyone's vitals, whether through computer screens or smart glasses or mask patch-ins. He doesn't need stitches, and nothing is specifically broken to the point of needing to track down a medical bot (if this location even has those stored away somewhere). Which doesn't mean nothing is potentially hairline or sprained. Nor that she doesn't know he could go for days on top of this were it a state of emergency.

Especially given that he's put several hours of additional activity on top of it this time, compared to the first time. (That's another part of the equation she hasn't had time to consider yet. Does this change things? Not with them. With home. With the painstakingly, minute-by-minute-by-week-by-year after this. People don't seem to know, to remember on the otherside—but there things Barbara isn't sure she's willing to risk breaking again.)

"We could probably whip you up some ice packs from the ice machine down the hall if you wanted them." A small beat. The faint tug at the one corner of her mouth. "You do end up a bit funfetti colored for a while."

[auderes]

Barbara has seen him at his absolute worst states, so she's definitely right, it's just not a comparison that says much when the bar is set that low. But it was mostly a rhetorical question anyway, and one that he's willing to shrug off just as easily, because he is fine, just sore. Would he have been less sore if he hadn't continued to push himself hard today, completely of his own volition? Yeah, probably. So it would be massively hypocritical to complain about it now.

He does smile and shake his head at the 'funfetti' comment though, because she's right there too, the bruises do turn all sorts of interesting colors as they heal, and when he's got bruises from Blockbuster those are inherently going to run the whole gamut, but he shrugs off the suggestion of finding ice.

"I'm alright, but remind me that it was my choice if you have to roll me out of bed in the morning because I'm too sore to move."

Turning toward her, hesitating just a moment as if he's considering the impulse that does cross his mind, and ultimately deciding to go forward with it, he reaches out both hands toward her, offering this time in a way where she has plenty of opportunity to think about it without the urgency of a potential tangle high up in the air. If that actually takes anything away from the significance of it. In any case he's not going to press the issue, all he intends to do is take both of her hands in his own to give them a gentle squeeze, if she accepts it.

"I'm sorry. I just... don't want to make this difficult for you." His lips twitch into a slightly rueful smile. "It's not fair that it's so easy for me."

[her_own_rules]

It's almost going to smooth out, and then he turns—and it's the earnestness that always gets her, isn't it? For all that confidence, he is a book, and there are miles, and years, that go into that hesitation she watches hitch his movements, his words, before he decides. Before he's holding out his hands, and he's. Saying that.

She doesn't move closer. Doesn't reach out her hands,
or move them at all, from still holding her towel.

(It's like, at the beginning, with the other!Dick, except she doesn't have Dick to go home to after it,
stuck in the weird deja vu of it all. Except. There is no Dick to go home to.
And this is him now. Again.)

"Dick. It's just a bed. It's fine."

Yes, she can hear herself as she says it. Hear a half dozen other words, across those miles and years, that all alluded to the same fact, as though it wasn't a mutually understood, and sometimes mutually bulwarked, fabrication. But it is. Too. It's just a bed. And they both need to sleep. These missions don't slow down for any of the shocks or horrors (or surprises) they decide to throw out. And he's already gone through so much today, back home, and being pulled into this place, without a normal 'welcoming' stop by Aurora. (Which she still hasn't worked out the why of that has happened, again, either.)

"Just get some sleep." She turns back toward the bathroom to return the towel. (Or, maybe it's because she's not certain she wants to watch if his expression falls?) "Tomorrow will probably have a whole new list of mission things we're either required or 'encouraged' to do."

[auderes]

It is fine. And Dick suspects that it would all be clearer if he wasn't so completely exhausted, he'd still be worrying, overthinking things that just yesterday he thought were actually finally settled for good, but he'd probably be better able to put those circular, unhelpful second thoughts aside. He can't help it, Barbara's still dodging it a little, which is also fine, and not at all surprising, that's what she does when she's still processing. Retreat to logic, prioritize practical responses, he gets it. She's not wrong. And honestly? Nothing he doubts that anything he says at this point would change much.

Except possibly digging him into a hole that he definitely doesn't need on top of every other challenge he's got in front of him. He'll pass.

His expression doesn't fall as much as it shifts into acceptance, even if he did try to push the issue it wouldn't get anyone anywhere, and they'll both be better off for sleeping on all of this first. Just giving it time to settle has to be the best approach, as hard as it is for him to not do something. She knows how restless he can get.

"I'll try."

As if that's going to be hard. The real challenge is sliding onto one side of the bed, stretched out on his back, and closing his eyes without slipping toward unconsciousness. He absolutely could have slept on the floor, or in a chair, pretty much wherever he could close his eyes for a few minutes.

But he won't. Not until Barbara's made it back to the bed and settled herself in at least.

[her_own_rules]

It is. Because it has to be.
Which means there isn't another option.

Barbara hung up the towel for her drying hair on one of the hooks, avoiding catching her face in the mirror as she did. She knows what she'd find there. Which is also fine. Everything will be. Mostly, if she doesn't replay the words she'd turned from. The awkwardness and earnestness, sincerity and empathetic concern, there. It's not like she needs more proof that Dick is who says he is, excepting that ... he just keeps being himself.

Barbara's fingertips caught the small switch, turning off the bathroom light, before she slipped back out that door. There's nothing else to do but take her own advice, too. Divest herself of the all-too-pink robe over this be-ribboned nightgown, which at least doesn't come with more sleeves, given she has to open up more of the blanket to get her feet and the rest of the nightgown in without it getting the expanse of fabric caught or twisted about.

She knows better than to think Dick is asleep yet.
He's too still, and his breathing is too measured.

But at least he is lying down, and he's not just watching her currently. Which thinking only gives her the urge to look over at him more, herself, and instead she reaches out for the switch on the lamp on her side of the bed. Inky darkness suddenly swallows the room, and she settles back. Curling up on her side and into her pillow, facing toward the lamp. The strange dichotomy of place and time, and company, makes her think of something—someone else— and she hopes that Haley is fine back home in this unexpected absence.

[auderes]

Actual sleep does take longer than it should.

But Dick does, eventually, drift off, despite the sheer volume of thoughts racing through his head and the impossible-to-ignore familiarity of Barbara tucked in beside him, close enough to hear her breathing, even when she's turned away from him. And as difficult as things have been, and how drastically different this is from anything he could have possibly expected to find himself in, it's that familiarity that gets him in the end. It's only when he's asleep that he curls toward her, not spreading out over that empty space between them but orienting toward her all the same, because that's what he always does.

No amount of banging on the door is going to wake him up either. As long as no one barges in he's staying very solidly unconscious, the only thing that would likely rouse him at this point is picking up on a high alert from her, and if all this place wants to do is spook them a little... well, it's not going to have much of an effect on him.

At least it won't be one of those 'sleeping for two days' situations. Maybe just a full night and then some.

[her_own_rules]

Barbara's tired, but by no means exhausted. Darkness plays against the backs of her eyelids in phosphene patterns as the room quiets to the faintest noises of bodies shifting, and then breathing, and the air circulation. For as much as the little Victorian Hotel is done up in hokey haunted house appearances, it doesn't creak or moan. There are no scratches on the window, no shutters banging about. It's just a quiet that feels a little too big, a room that feels too small, a bed that is somehow both at the same time, and sleep a little too far beyond physical reach.

But Barbara is steadfast in focusing on trying to sleep, and if two or three questions she hasn't asked yet come to mind, she doesn't think about asking them. She turns them over in her thoughts, like something she could manipulate with her hands, but she doesn't break the silence. She knows Dick needs the rest—the same as she can tell he's fighting his own restlessness with everything, against everything, to get there—and she knows today has been stressful enough. So, no. It's not easy, and at some point, she does turn on her back, arms crossed over her stomach under the blankets, but sleep comes. Slowly, nebulously.

Somewhere, just as she's finally slipping off, some part of her knows,
it's not the silence, but the sound of Dick breathing, that makes her able to.




Which, perhaps, makes it all the more ironic when it is the thing that drags her back upward from the depths, too. Soft and slow and deep. Somewhere just above her, against the curve of her forehead. Soft and slow and deep. Shifting the hair that's fallen over the side of her face, so that it tickles the rise of her cheek and the edge of her jaw. Soft and slow and deep. As she realizes it's the movement beneath her other cheek, too.

Barbara's not entirely awake, but she's not asleep enough to not work out that equation—as her eyes slit open just barely, just enough to verify, even in the pitch dark of the night, yes, she is somehow curled up against Dick's chest, as well as the rest of him—and the next sound is her own soft huff.

[auderes]

Dick is far too deeply unconscious to know exactly how Barbara ended up curled against him, if there was some mutual shifting that brought them closer until they were that close or if she reached out for him, but all that really matters is that when she does burrow in against the warmth of his chest it's pure instinct to slide his arms around her. It settles him in a way that nothing else can, even when he's this deeply asleep, and while he would have been fully capable of sleeping without that it's definitely more restful sleep than he would have gotten otherwise. Despite the noises, despite where they are, despite everything that's happened in such a short amount of time.

This is home, no matter where he is.

It's not a stifling sort of grasp though, he's not clinging, just holding. Eventually there might be some subconscious, affectionate nuzzling against her hair or her cheek or her shoulder, wherever his face happens to be, as he slides a little closer toward consciousness, but it's very unlikely that he's going to be the first one to wake up this time.

As if he's ever eager to drag himself out of bed when Barbara is with him.

[her_own_rules]

Barbara isn't someone who can just close her eyes. Metaphorically. If she were—well, she'd be someone wholly other than she is, wouldn't she? She wouldn't have ended up in so many of the places she did, as the people she is; she wouldn't have no so strongly, and so long, before she even knew the weight of yes. Still, it's a narrow thing. One that aches on contact with her thoughts, with her chest.

With evaporating ease, that she knows was there when she was asleep, because she can feel it as everything else spills like ink into that restful nebulousness. She should move. Which somehow, is right when Dick buries his face into her hair, in her skin. Soft lips, and warm breath, and a night's slight prickle of stubble. Not quite a kiss. As if some part of him had heard her thoughts. If she thought it ached a second ago, the surprise, the warmth, the tenderness—a million million memories of seconds just like it, and the dizzy swoop of a want, a longing, a sadness she's kept so tightly tied down for months—causes her to shiver before she can even think to tamp it down.

Her skin prickling as the thing inside her chest expanded like a bruise.

Babs' eyes close, partly. Summoning sense, like some sword against the darkness, against the tiny voice saying how easy it would be just to let herself fall back asleep, not know, pretend and let herself have this until morning, until daylight. But she can't. And even if she could? She can't with him. Never with him. (He's too important. The most important person in her life, in her heart.)

Babs' voice is calm when she speaks,
at least that's what she tells herself,
but that might not entirely be true.


"Dick."

[auderes]

Dick makes a muffled noise that's only very vaguely reminiscent as a response to his name. He's tired, he's comfortable, and with the familiar scent and warmth of Barbara against him it's difficult to drag himself to consciousness for anything short of an emergency, and while he can tell that she's trying to get his attention with more than just idle intent it's hard to grasp at any reason he needs to be awake. But he tries, again, somewhat managing to tip his head back as he takes in a deeper breath, not even fully sure of what he's prepared for in the moment.

"Mmm?"

He's all loose, relaxed limbs and sleepy warmth of his own already, but whatever she needs he'll give it to her, unquestioning. But as far as he's concerned this is almost as close to perfect as it gets, and he's not expecting it to be anything other than what it is— a shared reassurance, comforting, an intimacy that's as simple as an enveloping hug. And don't they both deserve that?

If she moves away he won't try to pull her back. But he won't pull away himself, he only just decided, once and for all, with her help, that he wasn't going to swing away, not this time.

[her_own_rules]

Barbara knows the level of response—both the muffled noise and barely thought about stretch and deep breath, the way it means he's only barely roused. The absolute ease of it prickles something under her skin the wrong way slightly, and her response is to poke him rather forcefully. It is—because of her eidetic memory of that time and vast familiarity with Dick's body—thankfully not anywhere his bones ache or his bruising is far too colorful to have not gotten familiar with, for the time it took for him to heal up again. She's not that rude or cruel. (At least not in situations like this.)

She doesn't care if he decides to be sarcastic or serious or shocked about it, as she's probably hitting sore muscles, even if it's not the worst of the worst spots or related to actualizer muscles that are standing in for those other worst ones. If she has to be even half-awake with this sudden revelation, it's only fair that he is, too.

[auderes]

The poke isn't all that painful as much as it's just unexpected, enough of a jolt to pull him out of that vague, more asleep than awake state. And with that consciousness floods in the full realization of the fact that he's not home, in his own apartment, despite having no immediate evidence to the contrary. It's hard not to miss that fleeting moment, matched now by the awareness that those moments are likely to be fewer and farther between now that he's here, and as comfortable as he might be able to get it's not the same either. But, much more immediately than that existential observation, he's aware that Barbara is right up against him, that hadn't been a dream.

Not a literal one anyway. He's pretty sure that he wouldn't have migrated over to her side of the bed, generally when he's tired and he finally sleeps there's very little tossing and turning, but he can't completely rule it out. Or, possibly, she could have rolled over and gotten scooped up in his arms, because that's what he would do when he's asleep and she's (at least from his perspective) moving in toward him.

He's pulling back that arm so that he can rub his palm over his face anyway, still sleepy and muffled, but he's awake now, if still too tangled in the blankets and a bit underneath her, he's not trying to extricate himself yet.

"Sorry. Do I need to move?"

[her_own_rules]

The small jolt of not expecting, followed by the tension that suddenly comes back into his arms around her and his chest under her, is impossible to miss. That momentary loud thud of his heart under her ear, even as he shifted a little. Lifted one arm to rub at his face, coming more awake in the pitch dark of the room. There's a weird momentary tension between her shoulder blades when he does. Like, even though she made that happen, she hadn't been entirely prepared for it to happen. For the sudden loss of warmth and sleep-heavy weight.

Maybe not the question either, if it's the most apparent and easiest assumption he can make. She's not sure he's wrong to ask it. She's not sure why she hadn't just gently extricated herself from his arms and shifted slow as she could not to wake him while doing so, to let him sleep, let him even begin to heal up. For all that, she made sure to poke her somewhere kind; she knows she's lying on patches of color bruising, too.

She turns her head, chin settling light against his chest, and somehow, she doesn't have any words. Does she want him to move? Is there even enough bed on that side for him to move? Are they in the middle or more on one side? She hadn't thought to figure out any of that and hadn't thought of anything but him, below her and around her.

There's a sigh out her nose, which is probably hard to distinguish in emotion.
But she hasn't moved, and she's staring at him through the darkness.

What was the point of waking him if she had no words?
A faint frown there, more frustrated at herself than him.

[auderes]

Dick has no real sense for where he is in the bed either, since it's an unfamiliar space and it's so dark that it would take some effort to get a good idea of the logistics, and really it's not something that he's concerned about, even in his deepest sleep he wouldn't roll off of the bed by accident, and wherever he intentionally moves his instincts would kick in to manage. None of that matters anyway when Barbara just gazes at him in the darkness, so quietly at first that it's hard for him to know what must be going through her mind at this particular moment.

The sigh, and the lack of movement on her part, tell him what he needs to know, and extrapolating from that he thinks he's imagining exactly the cant of her eyebrows, the press of her lips, a conflict in her eyes. The harder part is knowing what's the right thing to do when she's grappling with complicated feelings that he really has no basis for himself, as much as he can try to put himself in her shoes and think about what it would be like if their positions were reversed.

His own sigh is softer, not frustrated with either her or himself, just at this whole situation, no one had any control over that, and all he can do here is what feels right. Which is reaching out with his free hand to brush the back of his fingers lightly across her jaw and cheek, gentle and affectionate, brief enough that he hopes it won't cause her a whole new flutter of indecision.

"Wherever you want to be, Babs, you'll always have a place right here."

[her_own_rules]

Her eyes close ever so briefly at that touch, her shoulders shifting ever faintly, in a way that doesn't quite reach a shiver or her pushing into the touch. Just enough, this close, aligned with almost her whole body, he can't miss it's not nothing. Him, touching her. Those soft words that he puts with them. Even if it doesn't bleed through air like it does through her chest like her ribs are suddenly gone, and everything in there is simply an ache that asks the question when was the last time he touched her like this?

But. No. No, she doesn't want that memory,
Or the reminder of each counted day,
and she squeezes her eyes shut.

Her jaw knits and unknits, and she opens her eyes, pushing for something that considers itself a fully coherent sentence. Then, she chooses something from ten feet over. And maybe it does divert, but it doesn't entirely change the topic. (And she still hasn't moved away.) Chin still steady, but light, so it's not digging in. "Why did you say earlier you think this is easier for you?"

Of course, she'd been turning over the exact words and the look on his face before she turned away, before she and sleep had finally found each other. Other people had hazy recollections of the words they said, that others said, but Barbara never did. And she could replay a memory a million times, from across all her years, without a touch of degradation. She may have turned away, but hadn't missed either.

[auderes]

She doesn't have to say anything, he already knows she has completely understandable reasons to shift away from him to reinstate a clearer boundary, at least while they adjust to this, and she's equally justified in tucking herself close and letting him hold her, if just for tonight. She already knows how he feels, what he wants, what he's always wanted, none of that has changed. But it's unresolved for her to a point where she can't settle in one way or the other, and as difficult as it is for him to keep his eyes open now that he's in bed and feeling the weight of everything that's catching up with him, he wouldn't sleep either until she's put at ease.

The question isn't exactly a difficult one. He knows why he said it, and it seems plenty obvious, but he's admittedly reluctant to actually talk about it. He's already all too aware of what feels like a wedge between them that just wasn't there before, and he's already got so many pressing emotions that thinking about it makes his chest feel tight, as if he's having to literally hold too much in, putting a spotlight on it can't make it any better.

But she wants to know, and he has no unselfish reason to deny her.

"Because I lost over a year of time and you're the only one who remembers it." He sighs, gentle, his fingers brushing through her hair at the side of her face, sweeping it behind her before his hand settles back against his own side. "It's not easy for me, knowing that, but it has to be harder for you."

[her_own_rules]

It's queer, the thought that comes out with the way he phrases that first sentence. A wrinkle in her brow, but something about the darkness or about it simply being him no matter where the odd slights in her expectations crack at the glass, causes her to say it more than to consider turning it over and over as a thought first.

"Not the first time we've been there."

Both of the other times weren't anything like this, and they'd ended up nothing like this during or after each. One was a death that wasn't, and the other was a brain injury. But. In brass facts, and not genesis-proceeding events, they all ended with him not knowing what had gone on in her the family's lives for an extended period each way.

It's not the same thing. Barbara probably should not tell him about his future. It's not just here but there, too. It's like the loss of two different years for. Not that he won't have the one back home at some point, he doesn't have it right now.

Her head tilts as another unexpected thought follows it, making her blink in the dark—
making her wonder why they hadn't considered it the other way months and months ago.