[ he lays back when she does, mirrored, keeps his hands behind his head. looks up at the ceiling with the vague sense of the world spinning around them, a kind of dizziness he won't feel as long as he keeps still like this with her. ]
Hear peoples's thoughts. [ the batman answer, though he'd hate to hear it put like that. ] I already know a few languages, anyway.
Would you rather... [ he glances at her, then asks, ] ...stay here forever, or go back to Themyscira forever?
[ her lips purse as she huffs a very huffy exhale, because maybe she was going to tease him about his answer, but his question manages to kind of knock the wind out of her. which she's sure was intentional - not malicious, never, but they both tend to ask the harder hitting questions when honesty is the name of the game. they don't have her lasso, but they don't really need it at this point. even if, sometimes, it's for a layer of reassurance neither of them would ever admit to needing sometimes.
she turns her head to look at the side of his face, brow furrowed. it's hard to find the words. ]
You know I don't have a choice. [ so it doesn't matter much, which she'd rather. right? she doesn't sound defensive, just- maybe like they've already had this conversation. which they so totally have. ] I'm lucky they even gave me this much time here. And that's only because Diana trusts me. And likes you.
turns to look at her, meet her eyes, breathe her air while she's still looking at him. like, play the game, that's all he meant! except that isn't all he meant, because they have had this conversation before. a lot. she says that diana likes him, and he knows it's true on some level -- he grew up around the justice league, he knows how they care about him and donna. he knows it's no small thing for amazons to approve of him, for jillian to let donna live out in the world of men and work with him. (for whatever value of approval jillian feels about him. if she disliked him, he'd know.)
maybe it's just a sick sense of masochism, or maybe it's some kind of arrogance, but sometimes the mood seizes him and he can't help thinking: what if he just isn't enough for her to stay. what if he did more, was more, and was enough to make her want to stay? ]
[ it takes a second for her eyes to focus on his, though even as she elbows up to lean on her forearm instead of laying flat, she still shuts her eyes for a moment like that'll give her a little more mental clarity here too. but her mind is just as sluggish as it was before when she was trying to text him, and she knows she can't just keep parroting things she's said in the past about this subject, otherwise they'll talk in circles all night. when her eyes open again, she tries to wade through the soft, easy answers she could give him until she lands on- ]
Even if I pick Themyscira, even- when I have to go back, you know it wouldn't really be forever. Right? Not for me and you. [ oh, she knows it won't be as easy as that. but even without the booze making her feel a little more vulnerable than she'd admit, her conviction in this is still the same. she'll find a way. ] I can't be a Titan forever, you know that. But that doesn't mean I won't be here for you. There's no version of this where I never see you again. Not a chance.
[ he's quiet a long, long moment, looking at her. ]
Okay.
[ he's not sure he believes that when he's sober. he's not sure he believes that right now. he believes in donna, no question. he believes her. he believes that she believes this. but themyscira is a magical island, a paradise, that he will never ever see. it's not real to him the way it's real to donna; it's a story, a place beyond pain and war and where the sun shines golden all the time and where the sea is cool and salty.
what feels real is this: the way he clumsily -- fucking tequila -- lifts a hand to lay it on her face, thumb rubbing over her cheekbone, fingers curling towards the back of her neck. and then leans in, slow, to press his lips to hers. ]
but she doesn't move because he needs to believe her, has to, and just saying "okay" doesn't lead her to believe he actually does. so maybe she's ready to insist more, try to get through to him, but then he's kissing her and that worry sort of just sinks to the back of her mind. it's just- it's nice? it's nice. of course it's nice. it doesn't feel out of place, now that it's happening, and maybe it's the buzz of tequila making her feel that way, but it also might not be. there isn't much heat behind it so much as affection when she kisses him back-
right up until she's softly biting his lip. a reprimand, maybe. she doesn't pull away, but she rests her forehead against his and puts some space between their lips. only a little bit, but still. enough to talk. ]
-- Don't, not if you're trying to distract me.
[ she doesn't know why else he'd kiss her, can't think of a reason besides that. even if she's the one that should be distracting him, maybe, from that question she can't answer. ]
I'm not. [ he says. then frowns, continues, trying not to slur. ] I'm not trying to distract you.
[ he's trying to convince her, on some subconscious level. and that's totally different. and it does feel nice, kissing her, the way it has in the past -- safe, no strings attached, not trying to be anything else besides what they both already know they are. donna knows about robin and the circus and every ugly thought he's ever had and every good thing he's ever done and every dumbass choice he's ever made, and she -- still likes him anyway. ]
[ m'not. there's an are too that she almost voices, but it doesn't work here, she's not actually about to argue with him, even in a playful way. she's not feeling the same urge to tease him that she might normally. it still makes her smile a little bit though, thinking about it.
instead she kisses him again, maybe still a teeny, tiny bit unsure, but not enough to stop her from pressing her lips to his. or from reaching to rest her hand on his chest, which is only because she wants to and not because she needs to brace herself a little bit while she leans over him. it's not, she's totally in control.
and maybe she's still caught on that "okay" because she's not just kissing him to kiss him - even when she's drunk she knows better than to head down this particular path - but she knows there's something on his mind, and if this is the reassurance he needs, well. she can provide that, sure. absolutely. enthusiastically, one might say, even if the way she's kissing him is sort of slow and syrupy. she's not rushing anything along.
well, she might be, it could be read that way, if the way her finger hooks into the collar of his shirt and curls into the fabric is something that anyone would want to read into. mostly she just doesn't want him to move, which of course doesn't make sense because he's under her, but still. stay. ]
[ maybe, a part of his mind has to concede, maybe he is looking for a distraction? maybe he's looking to distract himself. because when she leans over him, bracing hands on his chest and in his collar, dark hair a curtain that falls around them and blocks out everything else, when her lips are on his like this -- it feels like there's no outside world at all.
(no themyscira. no gotham. no hooks in their bones, pulling them to different lives.)
he pushes himself up to kiss her back, weight on his elbows, but only a little. donna's being careful, of course -- she could literally crush him if she weren't -- but she's still strong, and as clumsily drunk as he is. of course he's staying. ]
Hey, [ murmured against her lips, without pulling away. ] 'm not going anywhere.
[ it seems like a backwards concern to him? donna's the one leaving eventually. never mind the way he always runs from his problems, puts miles between himself and whatever scares him. he'd never run away from donna, but he might from losing her. in six months, whenever the day comes. ]
[ he's talking and all donna can think to do, at first, is catch his lip between her teeth to tug on it, which is more just from wanting to do it than anything else. she believes him, of course, both in the immediate sense and just in general. that even though he's talking about when it'll be her time to leave, he isn't about to push her away sooner to avoid the hurt. she's sure of that. but she can't figure out how to make it clear that she's not going to suddenly disappear either, so instead
she leans back, just a bit, one hand still holding onto his shirt while her other hand reaches.. back.. to grab that pitcher of water by the handle. but it's only so she can slide it forward, up up up until it's past dick's head on the floor instead of right between them. and that's only so she can sit up over him, settling her knee on the other side of his hip, perched comfortably on his lap. ]
You're right. You're not.
[ she thinks she's very clever, yes. her knees tuck close to his sides as she leans down, her free hand now bracing herself on the floor, because yeah. no. she doesn't actually want to risk hurting him if she loses track of how she's holding herself up. she lets go of his shirt, but only so she can slip her fingers to the back of his neck instead, finally pulling him in for another kiss.
is it impulsive to follow through and keep kissing him beyond an initial kiss that may or may not have been in the heat of a too-honest moment? maybe. but so was drinking as much as they did on a week night. choices are being made, that's all. and she's... choosing to make out with her best friend. what of it. ]
[ he shivers when donna takes his lip like that, vulnerable in a way he rarely lets himself be. normally, even -- especially -- in situations like these, he defines himself by his ability to be in control. but donna's not someone to dominate, or intimidate, and more importantly, she's safe. he's safe. and for however long he'll get to have her in his life, that's always gonna be true.
but donna moving the pitcher -- and he follows with his eyes, turning his head a little to see -- lightens the mood enough to make him grin, here-and-there like a bolt of lightning. ]
You're bossy, [ he says, cheeky.
but she pulls him up and he lets her, frees his arms so he can slide his hands down her shoulders, her back. she tastes like the tequila that brought them here, and this is okay. it's a lot better than thinking. this is a totally normal decision.]
[ she'd be laying the sarcasm on thick as ever if she wasn't so busy kissing him, but she's not willing to put enough space between them for her to really raise her eyebrows and purse her lips at him as much as that token sarcasm would usually call for. normally she'd take any chance to tease him, even while they're both drunk, but it's a sacrifice she's willing to make. she's more interested in making out because
donna troy just
really loves making out.
kissing is great, it's honestly one of her favorite kinds of physical affection, especially when the other person actually knows what they're doing. and it's not just because she was told she shouldn't be kissing guys nearly her whole life, it's not just an act of rebellion or something although that does make it a little more fun, it's just fun and simple, which is a nice change compared to everything else. she loves it, whether it's rushed and stupid, or slow and ...stupid, okay this is still probably stupid, they're not teenagers anymore, they can't afford to make dumbass decisions just because they're drunk-
but they are, so. there's no rush, no endgame to move along to. dick knows how to kiss her because they've done this before, even if that was ages ago. and it's funny, right, because they've trained and trained just to be able to sync up during a fight, but when it comes to kissing, they seem to fall right back into place, like it hasn't been years. it's like sparring, sort of. complete with an apology at the ready if she accidentally kicks his ass.
in a... sexy way.
look, she's too drunk to think much more than she already has, she's maxed out on using her big brain. so for now she's just following sensation, back slowly arching with the path of his hands, which means her hips move over his too, but she's too caught up in everything else to worry about it. ]
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no subject
Hear peoples's thoughts. [ the batman answer, though he'd hate to hear it put like that. ] I already know a few languages, anyway.
Would you rather... [ he glances at her, then asks, ] ...stay here forever, or go back to Themyscira forever?
[ mood killer: dick grayson. ]
no subject
she turns her head to look at the side of his face, brow furrowed. it's hard to find the words. ]
You know I don't have a choice. [ so it doesn't matter much, which she'd rather. right? she doesn't sound defensive, just- maybe like they've already had this conversation. which they so totally have. ] I'm lucky they even gave me this much time here. And that's only because Diana trusts me. And likes you.
no subject
turns to look at her, meet her eyes, breathe her air while she's still looking at him. like, play the game, that's all he meant! except that isn't all he meant, because they have had this conversation before. a lot. she says that diana likes him, and he knows it's true on some level -- he grew up around the justice league, he knows how they care about him and donna. he knows it's no small thing for amazons to approve of him, for jillian to let donna live out in the world of men and work with him. (for whatever value of approval jillian feels about him. if she disliked him, he'd know.)
maybe it's just a sick sense of masochism, or maybe it's some kind of arrogance, but sometimes the mood seizes him and he can't help thinking: what if he just isn't enough for her to stay. what if he did more, was more, and was enough to make her want to stay? ]
no subject
Even if I pick Themyscira, even- when I have to go back, you know it wouldn't really be forever. Right? Not for me and you. [ oh, she knows it won't be as easy as that. but even without the booze making her feel a little more vulnerable than she'd admit, her conviction in this is still the same. she'll find a way. ] I can't be a Titan forever, you know that. But that doesn't mean I won't be here for you. There's no version of this where I never see you again. Not a chance.
So don't make me try to answer that. Okay?
no subject
Okay.
[ he's not sure he believes that when he's sober. he's not sure he believes that right now. he believes in donna, no question. he believes her. he believes that she believes this. but themyscira is a magical island, a paradise, that he will never ever see. it's not real to him the way it's real to donna; it's a story, a place beyond pain and war and where the sun shines golden all the time and where the sea is cool and salty.
what feels real is this: the way he clumsily -- fucking tequila -- lifts a hand to lay it on her face, thumb rubbing over her cheekbone, fingers curling towards the back of her neck. and then leans in, slow, to press his lips to hers. ]
no subject
but she doesn't move because he needs to believe her, has to, and just saying "okay" doesn't lead her to believe he actually does. so maybe she's ready to insist more, try to get through to him, but then he's kissing her and that worry sort of just sinks to the back of her mind. it's just- it's nice? it's nice. of course it's nice. it doesn't feel out of place, now that it's happening, and maybe it's the buzz of tequila making her feel that way, but it also might not be. there isn't much heat behind it so much as affection when she kisses him back-
right up until she's softly biting his lip. a reprimand, maybe. she doesn't pull away, but she rests her forehead against his and puts some space between their lips. only a little bit, but still. enough to talk. ]
-- Don't, not if you're trying to distract me.
[ she doesn't know why else he'd kiss her, can't think of a reason besides that. even if she's the one that should be distracting him, maybe, from that question she can't answer. ]
no subject
[ he's trying to convince her, on some subconscious level. and that's totally different. and it does feel nice, kissing her, the way it has in the past -- safe, no strings attached, not trying to be anything else besides what they both already know they are. donna knows about robin and the circus and every ugly thought he's ever had and every good thing he's ever done and every dumbass choice he's ever made, and she -- still likes him anyway. ]
no subject
instead she kisses him again, maybe still a teeny, tiny bit unsure, but not enough to stop her from pressing her lips to his. or from reaching to rest her hand on his chest, which is only because she wants to and not because she needs to brace herself a little bit while she leans over him. it's not, she's totally in control.
and maybe she's still caught on that "okay" because she's not just kissing him to kiss him - even when she's drunk she knows better than to head down this particular path - but she knows there's something on his mind, and if this is the reassurance he needs, well. she can provide that, sure. absolutely. enthusiastically, one might say, even if the way she's kissing him is sort of slow and syrupy. she's not rushing anything along.
well, she might be, it could be read that way, if the way her finger hooks into the collar of his shirt and curls into the fabric is something that anyone would want to read into. mostly she just doesn't want him to move, which of course doesn't make sense because he's under her, but still. stay. ]
no subject
(no themyscira. no gotham. no hooks in their bones, pulling them to different lives.)
he pushes himself up to kiss her back, weight on his elbows, but only a little. donna's being careful, of course -- she could literally crush him if she weren't -- but she's still strong, and as clumsily drunk as he is. of course he's staying. ]
Hey, [ murmured against her lips, without pulling away. ] 'm not going anywhere.
[ it seems like a backwards concern to him? donna's the one leaving eventually. never mind the way he always runs from his problems, puts miles between himself and whatever scares him. he'd never run away from donna, but he might from losing her. in six months, whenever the day comes. ]
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she leans back, just a bit, one hand still holding onto his shirt while her other hand reaches.. back.. to grab that pitcher of water by the handle. but it's only so she can slide it forward, up up up until it's past dick's head on the floor instead of right between them. and that's only so she can sit up over him, settling her knee on the other side of his hip, perched comfortably on his lap. ]
You're right. You're not.
[ she thinks she's very clever, yes. her knees tuck close to his sides as she leans down, her free hand now bracing herself on the floor, because yeah. no. she doesn't actually want to risk hurting him if she loses track of how she's holding herself up. she lets go of his shirt, but only so she can slip her fingers to the back of his neck instead, finally pulling him in for another kiss.
is it impulsive to follow through and keep kissing him beyond an initial kiss that may or may not have been in the heat of a too-honest moment? maybe. but so was drinking as much as they did on a week night. choices are being made, that's all. and she's... choosing to make out with her best friend. what of it. ]
no subject
but donna moving the pitcher -- and he follows with his eyes, turning his head a little to see -- lightens the mood enough to make him grin, here-and-there like a bolt of lightning. ]
You're bossy, [ he says, cheeky.
but she pulls him up and he lets her, frees his arms so he can slide his hands down her shoulders, her back. she tastes like the tequila that brought them here, and this is okay. it's a lot better than thinking. this is a totally normal decision. ]
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[ she'd be laying the sarcasm on thick as ever if she wasn't so busy kissing him, but she's not willing to put enough space between them for her to really raise her eyebrows and purse her lips at him as much as that token sarcasm would usually call for. normally she'd take any chance to tease him, even while they're both drunk, but it's a sacrifice she's willing to make. she's more interested in making out because
donna troy just
really loves making out.
kissing is great, it's honestly one of her favorite kinds of physical affection, especially when the other person actually knows what they're doing. and it's not just because she was told she shouldn't be kissing guys nearly her whole life, it's not just an act of rebellion or something
although that does make it a little more fun, it's just fun and simple, which is a nice change compared to everything else. she loves it, whether it's rushed and stupid, or slow and ...stupid, okay this is still probably stupid, they're not teenagers anymore, they can't afford to make dumbass decisions just because they're drunk-but they are, so. there's no rush, no endgame to move along to. dick knows how to kiss her because they've done this before, even if that was ages ago. and it's funny, right, because they've trained and trained just to be able to sync up during a fight, but when it comes to kissing, they seem to fall right back into place, like it hasn't been years. it's like sparring, sort of. complete with an apology at the ready if she accidentally kicks his ass.
in a... sexy way.
look, she's too drunk to think much more than she already has, she's maxed out on using her big brain. so for now she's just following sensation, back slowly arching with the path of his hands, which means her hips move over his too, but she's too caught up in everything else to worry about it. ]