Fandom: Batman (toonverse)
Summary: Criminals don't take holidays, much to Dick's annoyance.
It had been a rough night. More so than usual, although not their worst, and Dick supposed they should at least be grateful the Joker’s master plan had been to smack Batman in the face with a custard-cream pie, not blow up the whole of Gotham, even if he had put the citizens in danger to reach his goal.
Dick wasn’t really sure what was more disturbing; that the Joker put so much effort into such a trivial and childish humiliation, or that he chose Christmas Eve of all days to pull such a corny stunt.
Bruce had finally relented to Dick’s request, joining him in front of the television, but he clearly had little interest for the seasonal specials. He was staring, unseeing, at some far point in the room, eyes narrowed in thought, brooding as always, and Dick resisted the urge to sigh and roll his eyes.
Instead, he made an elaborate show of stretching out across the couch, casually sliding his legs across Bruce’s lap as his head flopped against the cushions.
“Still a little sore,” he said by way of explanation, trying to keep the mischief from his voice as Bruce turned to look at him, and then the foot suspended in front of his face, toes wiggling. “I definitely felt a twinge when we were fighting those giant mechanical toy soldiers.”
Bruce’s eyes were level and calculating as they studied him, but Dick just beamed back at him.
He made a pleased noise when Bruce’s hand reached for his leg, fingers wrapping around his ankle and lowering it so that he could begin a firm and expert massage. Long broad strokes of his palm, tips of his fingers finding all the pressure points with practiced ease, and Dick bit back a moan and closed his eyes as warmth swept through him.
“Will you be able to patrol tonight?” Bruce asked quietly, fingers rolling over Dick’s ankle.
“Nobody would commit a crime on Christmas Day,” Dick insisted sleepily, letting Bruce’s hands work at him.
“You said that about Christmas Eve and look what happened,” Bruce pointed out, hands kneading just above Dick’s ankle. “We need to be out there.”
Dick yawned widely and tried not to sound too petulant. “Okay, we’ll patrol, my ankle’s fine.”
“I thought so,” Bruce said in a voice that made Dick’s skin break out in gooseflesh.
He opened his eyes, distantly aware that Bruce was now massaging him just below his knee, and he wondered why he hadn’t noticed Bruce working his way up his leg.
He grinned sheepishly, and the smile he received in return was just the right side of dangerous.
With a yelp, Dick found himself being dragged across the couch, knees and thighs and hips being pulled across Bruce’s lap by short sharp tugs at his legs, until Bruce was looming down over him, face to face.
“Lying about injuries?” Bruce murmured, voice low and a spark in his eyes that made Dick’s pulse quicken. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
Dick licked his suddenly dry lips, staring up with wide eyes. “Punishment?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
Bruce’s smile was all Batman, sharp and sardonic and capable of making Dick’s heart skip a beat. “Well,” he mused, hand creeping up under Dick’s sweater to splay across his stomach. “It is Christmas.”