#and dick grudgingly accepts that affection while mostly making fun of him

[phoenixkaptain]

I feel it’s a disservice to the character to make Dick out to be younger than he actually is.

Dick Grayson is a power fantasy, same as Bruce Wayne is, but he’s a very different type of power fantasy. This is mainly because he isn’t for the same type of audience. He isn’t for adults to relate to, he’s for teens to relate to.

What do I mean? Well, I don’t think we actually get many confirmations on Dick’s age. When he joins Bruce, there are a few clues to his age, but nothing really substantive. He’s old enough to know that his parents are dead; he has an understanding of what death is. He’s young enough that while adults seem to like him, they don’t take him very seriously. He isn’t particularly tall, but when he’s shown around actual children, he is quite a bit taller than them, I’d say at least a foot, and he is portrayed as a bit taller than most of his peers (peers that aren’t superheroes! Dick is always very nearly the shortest member of Teen Titans, but that’s not fair to judge him on because superheroes are huge) He’s young enough to attend a private boy’s school for undercover, and he’s young enough that younger children seem to trust him enough to do what he tells them to.

If I had to make a guess as to how old I thought Dick Grayson was, I would say 13-15, but leaning heavily on the 15 end. His personality is pretty set for most comics you read him in (barring extremities) which implies he’s developed a good portion of it already. And, to be honest, even if Bruce and Dick first met when Dick was 13, he didn’t become Robin until he was 14. He’s portrayed as either being taken in but trained for several months (I’d give him a low estimate of six months. He needs to learn science. He may be physically fit, but that doesn’t mean that he’s mentally ready) or taking a period of time in an orphanage, being taken in, then spending several months training. Dick becoming Robin wasn’t instant. I always assume he’s 15 when I read early comics because Dick’s brand of petulance - being annoyed at something Bruce said and snapping back with verbal quips, taking Bruce’s instructions and patiently listening to them for all of, at most, an hour before running off to do the opposite, judging Bruce for going out without him - feels like a mid-teen.

So, why is Dick a power fantasy? Well, he’s the embodiment of teenage desire:

Adults listen to him.

The main one is Bruce. Bruce Wayne, who is rich and notoriously a loner and who is considered a detective on the level of Sherlock Holmes, listens to Dick and never doubts him. He takes what Dick says at face value, he talks to Dick to spitball ideas at him, he answers any question Dick asks him and he never seems particularly impatient in doing so. He tells Dick that they’re partners and equals, and he treats him as a partner and an equal.

And there are other adults. Robin is famous in early canon. Everyone knows who he is. Adults in other towns don’t listen to their own children, but they listen to Robin because they kind of have to. I assume people who bully Robin are sent Batman’s patented, ‘live bat in a box mailed to the door.’ (I assume this because it’s funny, mostly.) But no matter why they listen to Dick - they do actually actively listen to him and try to improve in the ways he suggests.

This is what every teenager dreams of. Dick Grayson, a mere teenager who probably can’t legally drive a car yet, has the respect of adults around the globe.

Robin almost always has the respect of at least one adult, that being Bruce, no matter who is actually Robin at the time. I haven’t read many Jason comics, so I can’t say for sure on him, but Bruce treats Tim as an equal. He listens to him, and while he’s protective of him, he trusts that Tim can do things alone.

The only real example of Bruce treating Robin like a child comes with Damian. And even in the cass of Damian, he still makes an effort to listen to Damian and not ignore him. Which, the reason he treats Damian differently is because Damian is a child. I don’t think Damian is even 10 when we first meet him, let alone 13. I think, later on, he’s around 11-12, but Damian just doesn’t start as old as every other Robin. It’s necessary for Bruce to treat him differently.

“Well, what about comics where the adults, including Bruce, are terrible and don’t listen to Robin at all?”

I consider these an example of we in the intellectual world call: bullshit.

I’m sorry, but nine times out of ten, Bruce listens to Dick and praises Dick and believes in Dick ten thousand percent. The Bruce who doesn’t listen to Dick just isn’t Bruce. I don’t know who this poser is, but it’s literally impossible to him to be Bruce. It’s worse than bad writing, it’s blatant mischaracterization and a lazy plot device. Bruce would die for Dick without a second thought, he loves and respects Dick more than anyone. This man cannot physically or mentally resist the urge to listen to Robin and pat his back and say “we all make mistakes, chum, don’t worry about it.”

I need to emphasize here that Dick does the complete opposite of what Bruce tells him to multiple times, and end up kidnapped or in a tight spot for his efforts, and Bruce just isn’t upset. He’s worried, but he doesn’t even fucking care. He doesn’t get mad at Dick, I feel like he can’t even look at Dick without feeling a bit happy, there’s no way- are you really trying to tell me that Bruce goddamn Wayne would blame Robin for not preventing a crime that DiCK WASN’T EVEN PRESENT DURING?? He wasn’t even fucking there, he was off getting a police officer! You know, an adult! Because there was a crazy gunman shooting up a rally, what the actual fuck is Robin, a mortal child, supposed to do against an adult gunman twice his fucking height??? What did you want him to do, Bruce, get fucking shot? Because that’s what would have fucking happened, you absolute lunatic piece of shit, you want him to goddamn die to save one fucking person-

Ahem.

For the majority of comics, Dick represents teenagers. He fulfills that desire that teenagers have, the desire to be listened to and trusted. Dick is the first person in comics to ever know that Bruce Wayne is Batman. And while timelines shift and change, Bruce and Dick’s mutual respect for each other doesn’t. They get mad at each other later on down the line, but for a good 40 years, Bruce talked to Dick more than his own fiancée.

Dick isn’t a child. He and Bruce never met when he was a child. Dick also isn’t an adult. He still has a few years that he needs to spend growing into an adult. He’s that middle ground we all faced. That awkward period where adults expect you to act like an adult but don’t treat you like one. The power fantasy inherent in the character of Robin is that adults treat him like an adult while allowing him to make mistakes and act like a child.

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

The Sand In Your Shoe (pt 15)

Watching Mickey and Mandy serve customers is a bit like watching kids play shop with plastic cans of beans, pretend money and no clue about the service industry. They are haphazard, their manner toward customers is as far from compliant as it is possible to get but their shot pouring is often generous to the point of lunacy and the customers keep coming.

The clientele is mostly young people but Mickey is scrupulous with ID checking, he can’t afford to get into any sort of legal mix up with the police if a fifteen year old gets taken to the ER with alcohol poisoning. He doesn’t seem to mind them hanging out though as long as no one is causing trouble and everyone is buying something.

Ian starts off just sitting back and watching but after a while the place starts to fill up and he begins to help Juan clear the tables and serve up nachos and fries from the kitchen – the two items on the food menu.

“You don’t got to help me, man. I got it.”

Juan glances awkwardly at Mickey and then back to Ian

“I don’t mind helping out.”

Ian smiles and Juan shrugs. He doesn’t mind having the help as long as Mickey doesn’t think he’s slacking off.

*

Ian is doing his third or fourth sweep of the room when he sees a couple of kids topping up their cola with vodka from a bottle under the table and turns to see if anyone else has noticed only to find Mickey staring straight at them.

“Should I say something?”

Ian asks, leaning across the bar to be heard over the music. Mickey pushes his tongue into his cheek considering. He’s changed into a black button down shirt and dark jeans, Ian is having a hard time concentrating on anything besides the way Mickey’s shoulders stretch the fabric, and is absurdly jealous of the belt slung low round his hips.

“Nah. They ordered food earlier and this is their third soft drink. Let ‘em have this one and I’ll bust them if they do it again next round.”

Mickey nods to the washing bowl of dishes in Ian’s hands

“You know Juan can take care of that right?”

“Yeah but I like to help. Makes me feel useful.”

Ian grins and Mickey shrugs, happy as long as Ian is happy.

“Okay but you know … Jesus Christ! What the fuck is this …”

Mickey breaks off, turning to glare at a young man who is banging on the bar for service

“Do that again and I’ll shove the next shitty martini you order up your ass.”

The young man is momentarily stunned and then frowns over his glasses at Mickey.

“You’re the one making them! If they’re shitty, that’s on you.”

“If they’re shitty it’s because they’re a shitty drink. Try this instead.”

Mickey pours a half-shot of tequila and puts it in front of him

“One hundred pesos for this or two hundred for a martini.”

“Dude! It’s not even a full shot!

“Because you’re already in full asshole mode. Don’t bang on my bar for attention again if you like your hands attached to your body”

The guy grudgingly hands over the money and Mickey finally releases him from the glare he has been withering under since the exchange began. Ian feels a little for the glasses-guy but watching the exchange was seriously hot! He is almost desperate to kiss Mickey but isn’t sure how okay that is in front of a bar full of people. His hesitance isn’t even about the possibility of Mickey having one foot still in the closet. He clearly lives an out and proud life here, but he always hated public displays of affection and even when he and Ian were an acknowledged couple back in Chicago, Mickey tended to shy away from his touch if there was an audience. Ian hovers undecided for a moment and it is a moment too long because Mickey is already moving down the bar taking next orders.

*

Mandy and Juan are so obviously an item that Ian can’t believe Mickey doesn’t seem to know. The sly little touches and lingering looks that fly between them would be cringe worthy if they were not clearly in love.

As the initial early evening rush subsides at around nine and Ian sidles over to her and whispers

“Mandy and Juan sitting in a tree …”

She grins and presses a finger to her lips.

“Oh c’mon, you don’t really think Mickey is going to mind do you?”

“No, but Juan feels weird about dating the Boss’s sister so we’re on the down low.”

She wraps a length of hair around her finger, her darkly lined eyes already slipping from Ian’s face searching for her boyfriend.

“Tell me about it later?”

Ian asks and Mandy nods, shooing him away impatiently. Mickey’s own gaze is raking the bar in search of Ian and he can’t help but smile at how similar the Milkovich siblings are in subtle little ways.

“Hey!”

Mickey’s slight frown instantly clears as he spots Ian’s read hair bobbing toward him and he pours four shots of top shelf tequila.

“It always gets a little quiet now, the shack down the road sells churros and when they close up the old guy who runs it practically gives the days left overs away.”

“Cool.”

Ian accepts the drink and smiles as Mickey delivers Juan and Mandy their shot before having his own. Mickey would never admit it but he is something of a natural leader. Ian can see why Juan so casually calls him ‘Boss’, in this place that is exactly what he is and Ian loves it.

“Yeah, nice guy. He likes us cause we sorted some trouble he was having a little while ago so he makes sure to send everyone back here once the free grub is gone.”

“Trouble?”

“Yeah – no biggy. Some kids havin’ fun. I suggested they might take it elsewhere and they did.”

The calm, authoritative tone that is no doubt the front to a story that involves far more than a suggestion does things to Ian that make him squirm on the barstool uncomfortably. Mickey glances down at Ian’s lap and his tongue pokes into the corner of his mouth, a brief flash of pink against the tan of his cheek.

He turns in that lazy, wide armed way that Ian loves so much and the air frizzes around them with kinetic energy. Ian is half way out of his seat when Mandy dumps herself onto his lap, pushing him back down.

“Ian, do you want to go try a churro? They’re really good.”

Mandy hands Mickey back her glass and strokes Ian’s arm, her nails digging in slightly and he nods obediently.

“Yeah sure. Mick, should I bring you one back?”

“Nah. Gotta watch my figure.”

Mickey grins and slaps his flat belly lightly. Mickey cocks his head to the side and gives Ian the briefest of winks, stealing a moment of gentle intimacy from the humming bar, and then looks past him.

“Hey! You two! Yeah that’s right, Thelma and Louise, I see you over there. This ain’t a BYOB party. You want vodka? Get some older friends to buy it for you from my bar or scram.”

The girls Ian noticed earlier both giggle and hastily gulp down their drinks before sliding out of the booth.

“Ugh. Those two are in here all the time. They can’t get enough of Mickey telling them off.”

Mandy stands up and scowls after them as they dash out with shy little waves

“Really?”

Ian raises an eyebrow at Mickey who shrugs and grins a little bashfully and begins taking glasses out of the dishwasher, wiping them on the cloth, which seems to live over his left shoulder from the second the bar opens.

“Yeah, they might have a little crush goin’ on. Harmless though and not a fuckin’ word of English.”

“Then why …?”

Ian begins and Mandy collapses dramatically against him, fluttering her eyelids and pouting.

“It’s his big, pretty blue eyes and bad boy growly voice.”

Mickey salutes her with his middle finger but Ian thinks he looks positively smug about the whole thing.

“Should I get myself a sexy school girl outfit?”

He teases, arching both brows suggestively

“Ew. No. Don’t even joke about that shit. If I want you to play dress up, I’ll get you a suit I can rip off.”

Mickey wrinkles his nose disdainfully as Mandy grimaces and tugs Ian toward the door.

“So gross. Later, Romeo!”

She calls over her shoulder and Mickey rolls his eyes, drying another glass.

“She’s a dick. No wonder she’s single as fuck.”

He gives Juan a little half-smile and poor Juan nods as if his life depends on it.

*

“So? Juan?”

“So? Mickey?”

Mandy counters and Ian huffs an amused sigh

“I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and made him talk about his feelings twice.”

“Well you’re still alive after that so I guess you have any other answer you need.”

“Funnily enough I think he feels the same.”

Ian laughs squeezing her arm and slows his stride so that Mandy doesn’t have to skip to keep up.

“He seems different though. Gentler, you know?”

“Yeah he is. I think it’s cause he feels safe here. It’s his place, his space and no one bothers him.”

“You think I’ll fit in?”

“Of course you will! Even if you didn’t fit, Mickey would kick the fuckin’ walls in to make space for you.”

Mandy nudges Ian gently in the side with her elbow and he gives her a wonky smile.

“I think I freaked him out earlier.”

Ian tells Mandy about his mini-meltdown on the beach and she listens with complete non-judgmental sympathy.

“Don’t worry about it. You could have spaced the crazy out a little for him but you guys always seem to do everything all in.”

“I guess. I mean I think it’s fine. We fooled around afterwards, not like that … I mean yeah that too but …”

“Please! Ian, stop!”

Mandy laughs.

She asks about Lip, Debbie … all of the Gallagher’s and Ian tells her what he knows, which he realises is not really all that much anymore. Ian rolls his shoulders before changing the subject.

“Ok, seriously I need to hear about Juan?”

“Juan is a sweetie. Like, sometimes he’s too sweet. Keeps talking about marriage and babies and blah!”

“Sounds like he’s smart enough to see what a catch you are.”

Ian nods approvingly and Mandy bobs her head a little shyly

“He treats me right. Doesn’t yell at me, doesn’t hit me, makes sure I cum first.”

“Shit! He’s a better boyfriend than I am.”

“Ew. Gross.”

“How is my sex gross and yours is fine?”

“Yours is with my brother.”

Mandy thumps his arm lightly and Ian switches the subject back a bit.

“How long have you guys been together?”

“Just over a year.”

“Wow! Serious then?”

“It is. We are.”

Mandy is radiating happiness and Ian wraps an arm around her shoulder hugging her tightly and pressing a kiss to her head.

“Do you think you’d marry him?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Marriage is basically agreeing to put up with someone elses shit for the rest of your life and having to give them half your stuff if you bail.”

“Jeez Mandy! So romantic!”

“Well that’s what it is! And before that is was a way of a transferring a woman from being her father’s property to being some other assholes. It isn’t really a romantic idea.”

Ian glances down at her a little shocked and Mandy sticks her tongue out

“Okay, so fine. Would you get married?”

“Yeah. Maybe. I guess one day.”

“Milkovich or Gallagher?”

“Gallavich?”

Ian laughs and Mandy pauses mid-stride considering this.

“That could work. Milkovich is probably fucked with Mickey’s situation and who would even want to label themselves as part of our shit-show of a family anyway?”

“Gallagher isn’t much better. What is Juan’s surname?”

“Sanchez.”

“Be more Mexican?”

Ian grins and Mandy punches him again, a little harder

“I like it. Mandy Sanchez sounds cool.”

“Yeah it does.”

Ian agrees and then hangs back as Mandy bounces up to the window of the churro stand and waits for her to come back with one of the sweet little pastries and as they walk back to the bar, she shows him the photos she captured on the beach. Ian chooses his favourites and Mandy sends them over. By the time they get back, Ian has a new phone wallpaper and is smiling broadly.

*

The final couple of guys stagger out of Galagers just after 1am. The place is cleaner than usual thanks to Ian helping out and Mickey, cigarette already dangling from his lip, tells them all the call it a night, they’ll clean up properly tomorrow.

Juan says he feels like getting a little high and invites them all back to his place. Mandy pretends to think about it and then nods. Mickey declines slips and arm around Ian’s waist, gliding his hand discreetly under the sweaty fabric of Ian’s t-shirt.

“Cool, laters amigos!”

The second the door closes behind Juan and Mandy, Mickey’s lips meet Ian’s with bruising force. Ian grabs Mickey’s denim-clad ass firmly and lifts him up, practically throwing him onto the bar top and running his hands from Mickey’s knees to his hips, hard.

“God! You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

“Yeah?”

Mickey smirks and wraps a leg around Ian, pulling him in with a heel in the crack of his ass.

“Mmhmm. Watching you strut up and down, running that smart-mouth at everyone …”

Ian takes Mickey’s cigarette from his mouth and puts it in his own drawing deep, lightly dragging at Mickey’s lip with the pad of his index finger as exhaled smoke curls down over it. The corners of Mickey’s mouth turn up at the way Ian’s eyes follow the movement.

“You like it when I run my mouth?”

Ian nods, crushes the cigarette under his heel and ducks his head, lightly kisses along Mickey’s lower lip.

“I like everything your mouth does.”

A very fine shudder runs through Mickey, happiness and lust sending his nerves skittering across each other. He always loved it when Ian would get like this, a little imposing, putting himself firmly in Mickey’s personal space and turning it into his own. Making it so that even the breath in Mickey’s lungs might actually belong to Ian, and if he demanded it, Mickey would have no choice but to surrender that too and suffocate beneath the fierce green gaze.

In a way that Mickey cannot possibly begin to explain, the more domineering Ian gets, the safer Mickey feels and to just give every ounce of himself over to Ian to do with what he will. In a very specific way, to be controlled is to be free in Mickey’s world.

Perhaps that is what makes him still Ian’s exploring hands and look up at him from beneath shyly lowered lashes.

“You mind if we wait a minute?”

“Really?”

Ian removes his lips from Mickey’s throat immediately but doesn’t relinquish his hold on his waist.

“I just … I want you to see something. It won’t take long.”

Mickey hops down from where Ian put him and catches his hand, leaving Ian no choice but to follow as Mickey leads him toward the door.

They step outside and Mickey stops abruptly. With his black hair and dark clothes he effectively blends into the darkness and Ian squeezes his fingers tightly to make sure he doesn’t let go. The fierce heat of the day has been replaced with a refreshing chill and Ian shivers slightly, though he is glad of the change.

“Close your eyes.”

“It’s fricken’ night time Mick. I’m basically blind already.”

“C’mon, don’t be a dick.”

Ian laughs but obligingly does as he is told. Mickey doesn’t often do things like this but Ian adores it when he does, so he tries to be extra cooperative in the hope of inspiring more little surprise moments.

“Don’t look until I say, okay?”

“Okay.”

Ian doesn’t need to have his eyes open to know that Mickey is peering up at him trying to make sure he is being obeyed.

“They’re closed, Mick!”

Ian hears a satisfied grunt and grins into the darkness. Mickey’s hands guide him down the steps and onto the beach, Ian is a little wobbly on the sand as they get closer to the sea and the ridges become deeper. His shoes are filling up and he makes a mental note to buy flipflops tomorrow.

“OK, I got you, sit down, don’t look.”

Ian sits as gracefully as he can and almost breaks his promise as he feels Mickey sit down behind him, settling Ian snuggly between his knees and urging him to lie backwards until Ian’s head comes to rest on his chest.

“Ready?”

“Um … yeah?”

“OK, Go ahead and open ‘em.”

Ian blinks and then his jaw drops. The entire galaxy is spread above them, a swirling chaotic mass of stars shining brilliantly in the blackness.

“Holy shit!”

His voice is barely above a whisper and he feels the resulting chuckle reverberate in the chest behind his head a split second before he hears it.

“Cool, huh? Blew my fuckin’ mind the first time I came out here.”

There is the sound of a lighter, the brief scent of burning paper and then the sweet smell of marijuana floats down to Ian. His head bobs as Mickey’s chest expands and then releases and cool fingers brush against Ian’s lips offering him the joint.

Mickey’s other arm is wrapped around Ian’s chest, not stroking, just keeping him close. Ian reaches back and carefully tuck a stray lock of hair back behind Mickey’s ear, caressing from helix to lobe.

“What a difference a day makes, huh?”

Ian whispers, smiling and there is an answering smile in Mickey’s voice.

“No shit. When I saw you this morning …”

The joint is withdrawn from Ian’s lips as Mickey trails off and Ian sees the tip grow suddenly bright as Mickey turns his head and inhales.

“It was weird right? Like, I don’t even know how I got from the steps to you. I sort of blacked out.”

“You fuckin’ tripped down three of them and then took a running dive at me.”

Ian nods, it might be the pot but this actually sounds like exactly what he thought happened.

“I was fuckin’ terrified you were I thought you might hit me.”

Mickey’s hand tightens involuntarily as he shakes his head

“I wanted to kiss you so badly … thought I was gonna fuckin’ cry or some gay shit.”

Ian cracks up and after a seconds pause Mickey is laughing too and the laughter builds until Ian can’t breathe and Mickey is coughing a lung up.

“Fuck off, you know what I mean.”

This sets them both off again and Ian retrieves the smoke, taking another drag.

“What were you saying to me? When you had your face in my chest?”

“Huh?”

“You kept saying something but I couldn’t hear it.”

“Ah … I don’t …”

“Don’t say you don’t remember!”

Ian tries to sit up and Mickey makes an affronted noise and quickly pulls him back down.

“Alright, alright. I … I was saying I knew you’d come. It was corny as fuck but you kinda shocked me just showing up. I think I lost my mind a bit.”

Ian reaches beneath Mickey’s leg and toys with the firm curve of his ass cheek.

“Did you really know?”

“I figured one day… yeah. I hoped so anyway.”

Mickey shrugs and the doobie is exchanged again. His free hand drops away from Ian’s chest, giving him a little more room. He is more than willing to have Ian touch him however he wants as long as he doesn’t try and move.

“I tried to forget you.”

“Yeah, I figured that too.”

There is no hurt in Mickey’s voice and Ian marvels at it. If Mickey said such a thing to him, he would probably fall apart again.

Fingers stroke gently through Ian’s hair and he looks up, not at the miraculous sky above but at the smooth curve of Mickey’s jaw, pale and almost silver in the starlight.

“How the fuck did I get so lucky to find you?”

“My sister blabbed.”

“I mean … like, in life?”

Ian grins but manages to fight down the next round of giggles.

“You’re so great Mick. You accept me better than even my own family and even after years apart, you’re just like … there! You’re just right there.”

“Okay, no more of this for you…”

Mickey jokes and licks his thumb and forefinger before pinching the thinning end of their smoke.

“I’m being serious. I rock up and cry all over you, I freak out and get pissed at you and you still show me the stars! Why are you like this with me?”

Ian traces the jaw he can’t stop staring at with the back of his hand. Slim fingers close around his and Mickey dips his head to kiss Ian’s fingertips.

“You set me free, man. I don’t know what I … I mean, really, without you, I’d have probably killed myself or done something crazy. I was in the fucking gutter, crawling out of my skin but you showed me I was okay. You made me okay, Ian.”

They sit silently for a little while then, looking up at the stars, both of them well aware that they are not in the fucking gutter anymore.

At some point Ian stands, repositioning himself behind Mickey and gently pulling him close, kissing the black silk of his hair. They share another joint and Mickey has a cigarette as well. They swap softly spoken stories, painting the years for each other, drawing honest pictures and occasionally pausing to kiss or whatever else is needed for reassurance. Eventually the sky begins to turn from inky black to navy and patches of indigo begin to appear toward the horizon.

Mickey huffs a gently sigh and rolls his neck. Ian stands and gently pulls him to his feet.

“Home?”

“Yeah.”