![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Fic. Speak When You Are Angry (DCU)
Speak When You Are Angry(PG, Helena Bertinelli & Dick Grayson. These characters don't belong to me. Just borrowing! Set post-Battle for the Cowl.)
Original prompt at comment_fic: DCU, Dick/any, no-one expects Dick to be the one to lose his temper
Speak When You Are Angry
No one expects Dick to be the one to lose his temper.
Frankly, she's surprised he doesn't lose it sooner.
Helena's been on the receiving end of a disapproving lecture from Dick before; the step up to mild temper tantrum isn't too far and she accepts it without question.
He's not pissed off at her (a first) and that makes it easier.
She waits out the tirade; he runs out of steam quickly. Not surprising, he's got a lot on his plate.
He ends up on the couch, mask off, head in his hands.
"You done?"
Dick looks up. "Why? You got somewhere you're supposed to be?"
She shrugs. "Just wanting to know if I should be prepared for Round 2 of the 'I'm overwhelmed and need to rant at anyone who'll listen' spiel."
It's almost like he's not sure whether she's trying to be funny or whether she's dead serious.
She's not sure either.
They haven't always gotten along. He disapproves of her, that has always been clear. She doesn't disapprove of him, although she has questioned his unflinching loyalty to a code that was imposed on him. They've stopped talking about it because neither one will give way, and neither will ever win.
Lust and attraction had faded, a long time ago.
All that was left now was a camaraderie that could only be born under the direst of circumstances.
He'd taken on an impossible task, a mantle of responsibility far greater than he was used to.
He'd trusted her enough to leave her in charge, on occasion, and that spoke volumes to her.
"What're you really doing here, Helena?" He sounds tired, and she doesn't envy him.
She stands, walks past where he's sitting and lays a hand on his shoulder. "I honestly don't know if we're friends, Dick, but I know you. This isn't going to be easy for you and you're going to need people to talk to. Or yell at, or lecture." She looks down at her free hand, holding the mask, remembering what she wants it to represent. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you need a sounding board... I'm here."
It earns her an almost-smile. "You think you can handle it?"
She patted his should one last time, before walking towards the door. "Oh, yeah," she says over her shoulder. "You haven't got anything on his lectures."
Original prompt at comment_fic: DCU, Dick/any, no-one expects Dick to be the one to lose his temper
Speak When You Are Angry
No one expects Dick to be the one to lose his temper.
Frankly, she's surprised he doesn't lose it sooner.
Helena's been on the receiving end of a disapproving lecture from Dick before; the step up to mild temper tantrum isn't too far and she accepts it without question.
He's not pissed off at her (a first) and that makes it easier.
She waits out the tirade; he runs out of steam quickly. Not surprising, he's got a lot on his plate.
He ends up on the couch, mask off, head in his hands.
"You done?"
Dick looks up. "Why? You got somewhere you're supposed to be?"
She shrugs. "Just wanting to know if I should be prepared for Round 2 of the 'I'm overwhelmed and need to rant at anyone who'll listen' spiel."
It's almost like he's not sure whether she's trying to be funny or whether she's dead serious.
She's not sure either.
They haven't always gotten along. He disapproves of her, that has always been clear. She doesn't disapprove of him, although she has questioned his unflinching loyalty to a code that was imposed on him. They've stopped talking about it because neither one will give way, and neither will ever win.
Lust and attraction had faded, a long time ago.
All that was left now was a camaraderie that could only be born under the direst of circumstances.
He'd taken on an impossible task, a mantle of responsibility far greater than he was used to.
He'd trusted her enough to leave her in charge, on occasion, and that spoke volumes to her.
"What're you really doing here, Helena?" He sounds tired, and she doesn't envy him.
She stands, walks past where he's sitting and lays a hand on his shoulder. "I honestly don't know if we're friends, Dick, but I know you. This isn't going to be easy for you and you're going to need people to talk to. Or yell at, or lecture." She looks down at her free hand, holding the mask, remembering what she wants it to represent. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you need a sounding board... I'm here."
It earns her an almost-smile. "You think you can handle it?"
She patted his should one last time, before walking towards the door. "Oh, yeah," she says over her shoulder. "You haven't got anything on his lectures."