|I Love You the Blackest
Author: FrankandJoe3 PM
Based on one of my favorite children's books, Richard finds a way to tell Bruce how much he loves him without having to say anything at all.Rated: Fiction K - English - Poetry/Family - Richard G./Nightwing & Bruce W./Batman - Words: 1,854 - Reviews: 19 - Favs: 49 - Follows: 7 - Published: 05-18-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7003204
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Sorry I've been gone so long. I have braces and such. Anyway, this was inspired by the bookI love you the purplest which truly was a cute book. So, all credit to the book for the poem format, but everything else besides the characters, I do claim.
I Love You the Blackest
The green grass around the lake swayed softly as if an army of invisible hands were gently stroking them in the crisp autumn wind. The few trees that surrounded them were just beginning to turn orange and a few leaves littered the ground, hidden amongst the clover and the dandelions of bright yellow. The lake itself was a dark blue with fresh hints of orange and purple as the sun's first rays struck it gently, illuminating the fish caused ripples.
Richard sat on top of a tree stump, his legs spread gently so he could rest his elbows on his knees. He let the fishing pole dangle in his arms, his eyes fixed on the red and white bobber hidden in the many ripples of the lake. Beside him sat his ward of nearly five years now who sat on the ground, his eyes staring straight at his own bobber in the water, the fishing pole tight in his hands. The silence between the two wasn't in the slightest bit awkward, mostly because the toads and the crickets were keeping them company as they waited for a bite.
Richard cast his gaze sideways gently at Bruce, frowning gently before turning his eyes back to the red and white dot in the water. Bruce had been governing and watching him for five years and was nearly ready to adopt him; he had heard Bruce and Alfred discussing it one night that he shouldn't have been up on. Five years of having a pretend father and it was just as if he hadn't had one. Richard remembered playing 'Happy Families' on the playground with his friends back in Kindergarten where his friend Chase would always pretend to be his mom and his friend Daniel would be his dad. Chase was now the hottest girl at Gotham Academy and Daniel was the head of the football team.
The point was that when they would play 'Happy Families', Daniel would always say 'I love you, my son', even jokingly. The whole time he had been with Bruce, the man he hadn't even attempted to say the three words Richard longed for. He had never received a warm embrace, or even a good night kiss which would've been too much anyway, but it would've been a nice thought. He had been patted on the back and he had had his hair tousled, but nothing much more then that. Bruce and Richard were nearly inseparable, but they were like the two shy kids at the back of Math class passing notes back and forth who obviously love each other but won't say anything. Everyone knows that they love each other, but until one says something, it means nothing.
Many times Richard had attempted to tell his soon-to-be father of his appreciation, but he would get tongue tied and just sit there. He had never gotten much further than 'Thanks' or 'Hey Bruce… I…'
Richard let out a happy cry as he saw the bobber sink beneath the water's surface. Bruce looked up and glanced over at Richard as he watched his little boy spin the reel as fast as his hands could go, a grin settled over his happy face that was captured in the rays of the sun, turning the regular pale to a bright yellow, causing his eyes to sparkle slightly. Bruce grinned slightly and patted Richard's back in support, setting his own rod down to walk to the boy's side to watch.
"Keep it steady," he encouraged, seeing a glimpse of the size of the fish beneath the water's surface.
Richard nodded enthusiastically before seeing the fish above the water. It was huge to him. It was about as wide around as Bruce's bicep and as long as his arm, its scales sparkling in the rays as it flailed against the aliens who were abducting it. Richard stood up and gently pulled the rod back, reeling faster. Bruce stood over the bank and when the fish was within his grasp, his hand shot out and he captured the fish, automatically flipping it on its stomach and removing the hook carefully. Once released, Richard completely reeled in his rod and sat it down in the grass before kneeling beside Bruce to see his catch.
Richard beamed proudly when he saw how large it actually was and looked close to giggling. Bruce handed the fish to him and Richard struggled to keep the now flailing fish from getting away, feeling bad as he watched it struggle for breath, but also feeling good for the attention he was getting.
"This is a good sized fish," Bruce commented, pride in his eyes. "We can cook it tonight and have ourselves a little feast. What do you say?"
Richard nodded eagerly and clutched the fish tightly, glancing down in its eyes. When he saw how helpless it looked, he looked back up and whispered a silent apology, gently stroking the slimy scales. Bruce smiled. Richard was so innocent in his eyes.
"Alright, I'll grab the poles. You get the fish and I'll meet you up at the house. Mention potatoes to Alfred," Bruce requested, anticipating Richard's reaction.
His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.
"The cheesy kind?" he pleaded.
Bruce shrugged. "Sure."
Richard cheered the best he could without dropping the fish. He watched Bruce pick up his rod and go for his own.
"Hey Bruce-," he began nervously.
Bruce looked up, but continued walking slowly, feeling for the rod.
Before Richard could say anything, he saw his father trip over his own fishing rod and go flying into the lake, the splash resulting being a brilliant one that stood out against the sun. The cry that followed caused Richard to giggle happily. His giggles only increased when he saw a clearly irritated Bruce emerge from the lake, moss atop his head and his clothes soaked. When Bruce heard the girlish giggles though, he couldn't help but chuckle softly too before snatching up the fallen rods and trekking up to the mansion with Richard close behind, Richard's near words now forgotten.
Richard sat alone in his room, his stomach full to the top with the delicious dinner that had been fed to him earlier. He felt content and perfectly happy, as well as invincible as he lay there with his notebook and a pen in hand. He felt bad ripping off one of his favorite childhood books, but he didn't care. This was something he needed to do. Gently, he touched the pen to the paper, his heart in his throat as a smile crossed over his lips.
Bruce entered his room, gently closing the door behind him, running a hand through his hair and exhaling slowly. He unconsciously patted his stomach.
One of these days Alfred, I'm going to wake up weighing 500 pounds and living with a house full of cats, and I'll have you to blame he thought to himself with a smile.
He slid the tie from his neck and threw it over a chair, doing the same with his jacket. Then he made his way towards his bed and threw back the covers, only to find a small envelope addressed to him. Surprised, Bruce looked to his left and then to his write to make sure that no one was there with him before he sat down on the bed, not bothering to get beneath the bed sheets as he opened the envelope. From the inside, he pulled a sheet of notebook paper with clearly printed handwriting that he recognized as Richard's. He raised an eyebrow and began to read.
Dear Bruce it began.
I love you the bluest:
I love you the color of the lake in the morning as we fish, hoping to catch something for Alfred to cook up.
I love you the color of the socks I bought last summer because I thought they'd be slippery on the floors of the mansion.
I love you the color of the rain that makes you ever so mad.
I love you the color of my eyes that you ask me to hide from the world.
I love you the yellowest:
I love you the color of the sun's last rays at night that we watch together when on our stake outs.
I love you the color of the dandelions that you're sick of.
I love you the color of the sour batch of lemonade I made four summers back that you drank anyway.
I love you the color of the balloon you bought me at the carnival last year that I insisted you didn't have to buy, but you did anyway.
I love you the whitest:
I love you the color of the take out boxes you buy when we're on stake outs.
I love you the color of the McDonald's cups we drink out of as we speed down the highway after the baddies.
I love you the color of your work shirt that you wear day in and day out to keep up your cover.
But mostly, I love you the blackest:
I love you the color of the shadows that litter the Batcave.
I love you the color of your cape as you turn swiftly to protect me from the baddies I can't get on my own.
I love you the color of the bat on your chest, declaring boldly who you are without your care of who knows.
I love you the color of my hair now, hiding what once was something else.
I love you the blackest. Actually, I just love you, but saying that I love you the blackest sounds much better.
-Richard J.G (Wayne?)
Bruce's eyes looked over the paper and he felt a smile break over his lips. He stood up and walked over to his dresser, the paper tight in his hand. He opened a drawer and pulled out a push pin before walking back over to his bed and pressing the paper with his left hand to the wall and pinning it to the wall gently. He then climbed into bed, the words hard in his mind. His smile widened as he closed his eyes and pulled the bed sheets to his chin.
"I love you too… Richard… J.G… Wayne…" he murmured softly, the paper fluttering softly from the fan's gentle breaths on the room. "I love you the blackest…"
I hate braces. I can't take pills so I'm biting something to relieve the tension. It doesn't help. I can't take pills either. Any suggestions? Review!