There is a fine line between adoration and obsession. As Tim watches Nightwing through his binoculars, he wonders when he crossed it.
The older man moves effortlessly, as always. His skill, unmatched, his grace, unquestionable. Even as a more vicious aspect comes into his fighting, Nightwing is, and ever shall be, and thing of beauty.
Tim’s been hard since the first crack of bone.
It’s like watching an incredibly violent ballet. Blood, and teeth, and fists flying. Perfectly executed kicks and punches meeting flesh. Thugs falling one by one. Ugly little henchmen, all in a row.
Nightwing had told him to stay put, to just watch the confrontation. Tim likes to think that Dick’s being voyeuristic instead of protective.
In a matter of minutes it’s over. Nightwing stands victorious. His hair whips in the wind and Tim nearly looses the tenuous grip he still has on his control. So fucking gorgeous.
“You still there, Robin?” Dick’s voice is clear and melodic, even over the com-link.
Tim clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m here. Quite a show.”
Through the binoculars he sees Dick take a bow. “I aim to please.”
There are so many things Tim wants to say, so many ways his mind is going to twist that statement later.
“Come on, Boy Wonder, get over here and help me with these restraints.”
Sometimes, it’s almost too good.