Blackbirds

PART 5

"To all the girls I once caressed--and may I say I've held the best--"

Dick shook his head. Ollie's boisterous rendition of Willie Nelson echoed off the walls of the east wing's solarium. Fortunately, the wedding reception was in the grand ballroom of the west wing. Three floors up and with enough distance between that only Dick was subjected to Ollie's singing.

He paused at the staircase long enough to verify Ollie's presence. He soon spotted the archer wending his way through the sunken gardens below. Lights from the reflecting pool cast watery shadows on the walls. Mixed in with the shadows from looming banana trees, date palms and other exotics brought in as novelties for Bruce Wayne's highly publicized social soirees. The "Winterland Orchids" exhibition sponsored by the Gotham Horticultural Society had been quite the successful fundraiser.

This was how Dick liked the solarium best, though. Skylight open to the stars. Slight breeze rustling the leaves. He stepped off the last stair onto the tiled floor. The smell of wood, moss and earth surrounded him.

"To all the girls who shared my life--who now are someone else's wives--" Ollie's voice trailed off into silence. He sat heavily in a chair by the koi pond. Dropped chin to palm as he watched the goldfish circle at his feet. Mia had moved out without telling him. Worse, he reflected, she'd been gone a week and he hadn't even noticed. "I'll be damned."

"Probably--if you keep singing like that." Dick smiled warmly.

"Makin' sure your drunk wedding guest doesn't upchuck outside of the designated puking zone?"

Dick grinned, amused. "You're not drunk, Ollie."

"No?"

"If you were drunk, it'd be wrong for me to do this." Impulsively, Dick kissed him. "Or this." He pressed into the hollow of Ollie's throat. The pulse there quickened beneath his lips. Ollie drew back.

"What kinda guy do you think I am?"

Dick paled. He had assumed Ollie would be interested. But there had never been any indication on his part that--damn. He swallowed hard. Wiped his suddenly sweat-beaded palms anxiously on his trousers. "Fools rush in...." he thought and mentally kicked himself again for good measure.

It hurt to watch the play of lights across that face. To see golden highlights reflected against the unreadable sea depths of those eyes. Still tasting the brief press of lips against his. Still close enough that Ollie's breath brushed warm across Dick's cheek. Warmed lower parts of his body.

"For Christ's sake--"

Dick steeled himself for Ollie's anger.

"--you never heard of dinner and dancing first?"

Followed by chuckling. Dick blinked in surprise. Ollie, clearly amused, pulled Dick closer. "I am not--" he emphasized with mock severity "--a cheap date."

"N-no, of course not." Dick cleared his throat of its sudden squeakiness. "I would expect to pay for you--"

Ollie arched an eyebrow at his wording.

"--uh--your dinner, that is--" Dick loosened his tie "--where would you like to go?"

Ollie smirked. Maybe he couldn't salvage the night completely but he intended to take full advantage of this moment while he could. It wasn't often that someone rattled Dick Grayson. And Ollie's mischievous streak wouldn't let this opportunity pass without adding to the younger man's discomfort.

"The Randy Cock."

Dick blushed. The rush of color darkened his complexion. Emphasized the exotic undertones of his Romani heritage. Ollie's joke backfired. The warm flush of not quite red lips against gypsy brown skin sparked his interest. Ollie kissed him. Lightly at first, then deeper as Dick responded, urging him on. Finally, they pulled apart.

Ollie grinned, "So--it's a date then?"

"Tomorrow night--7:00--The Gardens At Tivoli?"

Ollie grimaced. "The diner on 3rd and Randolph?"

"Ugh."

"My place?"

Dick grinned boyishly, "Sounds great."

"Sure it does." Ollie snorted. "You invite me to dinner and I end up playin' host."

"I'll bring dinner. Lemongrass Chicken?"

"It's not chili but--"

"Ollie...c'mon"

"General Tso's Chicken--Hunan style."

"Deal."