|Come In From The Storm
Author: chalantness PM
Dick is nearly an hour late, and she knows it's probably because the roads are icy and some are blocked and it's all just a chaotic mess. for the Traught Takeover on tumblr.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Artemis C./Artemis & Richard G./Nightwing - Words: 1,592 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 24 - Follows: 3 - Published: 08-23-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8459759
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: Come In From The Storm
Word Count: 1,500+
Summary: Dick is nearly an hour late, and she knows it's probably because the roads are icy and some are blocked and it's all just a chaotic mess.
Prompt: burn/frozen, for the #traught takeover on tumblr (August 27-September 2)
Come In From The Storm
The snowfall this year has been the highest in recorded history since their grandparents were kids, apparently, or so they've been saying on the news. Artemis loves the snow, loves how it makes everything look, loves bundling up to play in it, loves drinking hot chocolate and sitting by the fire to warm up after being in it.
Honestly, the only thing to hate about the snow is how it affects the roads and therefore the commutes. Dick is nearly an hour late, and she knows it's probably because the roads are icy and some are blocked and it's all just a chaotic mess. He calls her saying that he's barely moved in the past ten minutes because the traffic's so bad, and apologizes for being so late, and she tells him that it's fine and that there wasn't much he could do to avoid it, anyway. Then she tells him to stop talking on the phone before he gets into an accident.
He tells her to stop taking the fun out of things.
She rolls her eyes. He purposely does things like that to try and give her heart attacks, and then teases her when it actually works.
"Did you and the kids eat dinner yet?"
"They're spending the night at my mom's today," Artemis reminds. "So they're probably eating as we speak. But if you were wondering, no, I haven't eaten dinner yet."
"Actually, I wasn't," he teases, making her roll her eyes again. He laughs at her. "You know I'm just kidding. And I ate before I left, but I could pick something up if you want. It'll probably be another half hour before I even get out of this traffic, though."
"I'm sure there's something here. Which reminds me, don't forget that we're going grocery shopping this weekend while the kids are with Bruce and Dinah."
"I have it triple-underlined on my calendar."
"You don't use calendars, smart-ass." She can practically hear him smirking. "Come home soon?"
"You know I will."
She fixes a kettle on the stove for some hot chocolate, and then accidentally burns herself when it starts to whistle and she's distracted by a text from her sister and touches the metal instead of the handle. She switches off the burner and makes a bowl of cereal for dinner (they really need to go grocery shopping), and it's not until she's finished eating that she realizes that she forgot about her hot chocolate. So she turns the burner back on and sits on the couch with her nose in a book while she waits for the water to boil again.
And she's barely gotten past the second page when she hears Dick pulling into the driveway.
She sets her book aside – she wasn't that interested in it yet, anyway – and walks into the kitchen because she hears the kettle whistling again, and the garage is closing as she splashes some hot water into a mug and mixes in the hot chocolate powder.
He wraps his arms around her from behind and pulls her back against his chest, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Hi."
"Hi," she echoes. "Want some hot chocolate?"
She laughs. "You sound like our kids," she says, slipping out of his arms.
"Says the woman who made hot chocolate in the first place," he replies with a grin. "How old are you again?" She sticks her tongue at him. "You're only proving my point."
She rolls her eyes, reaches over her head a mug before walking to the pantry and pulling out a hot chocolate packet and the bag of marshmallows. She sets them down on the counter, and when Dick tries to steal a sip of hers, he flinches as he pulls back.
"He can leap through hoops of fire and swing himself across a burning warehouse without a scratch," she muses, "but he burns his tongue drinking hot chocolate."
"Your husband can use a little sympathy," he says, pretending to pout, and she sets her hand against his cheek and kisses him, presses her tongue against his just long enough to taste the sip of hot chocolate he stole. When she pulls back, he's grinning at her cheekily. "See? Now I feel all better."
"If we're sharing sob stories, I burnt my hand a little reaching for the kettle," she tells him.
She rips the packet open and dumps the powder in his mug, but when she reaches for the kettle to add the hot water, he takes her hands in his and stares straight into her eyes as he presses his lips to her fingers. She doesn't know why that makes her blush a little, but it does, and she bites her lower lip in an attempt to keep from looking like an idiot. And he chuckles because he knows what she's trying to do, too, so she relents and gives him this huge smile.
"I'm going to light the fireplace," he tells her, and he squeezes her fingers and lets their hands slip away instead of just letting go before leaving the kitchen.
She mixes his hot chocolate and plops a few marshmallows in, adding a couple more to hers before rolling the bag again and putting it back. She browses the pantry for something that they can eat, but there's nothing, really, so she checks the fridge. They have sliced strawberries in a small Tupperware and a can of whipped cream, which makes her think…
Well, their kids are at their grandma's tonight and it'll be the first time since Dylan was born that they'll have the house to themselves.
You do the math.
She balances everything in her arms and flicks the lights off as she leaves the kitchen, setting everything on their glass coffee table as Dick's prodding the fire with one of those iron fireplace tools that she doesn't know the names of.
She pulls the duvet off of the couch and sits down on the carpeted floor between the coffee table and the fireplace, pulling the duvet over her legs. Dick hangs the tool back on its hook and walks over to sit beside her, undoing his tie and pulling it out from around his neck. She just watches as he removes his badge and holster, and god, it is so cliché, but she loves seeing him in his police uniform. Not as much as she loves seeing him in his Nightwing costume, because duh, but still.
They tell each other about their days as they drink hot chocolate and feed each other strawberries. He tells her a few close calls from just today and like, she has to lean over and kiss him to remind herself that he's obviously fine. Then he plays with her hair because he knows it comfort her and she tells him what the kids told her they did with Dinah today.
She drains the last of her hot chocolate and stretches her arms over her head. Dick smiles at her.
"You know, Dinah called me today."
He nods. "Yeah. Apparently Dylan wanted to tell me a secret or something."
Artemis furrows her eyebrows a little. "Dylan didn't tell me this."
"That's what makes it a secret, babe," he chuckles. She rolls her eyes. "Do you know what our daughter told me?"
She pretends to think for a few seconds before grinning. "Okay, I give up," she says. "What did Dylan say?"
And she actually lets out a surprised squeal when Dick suddenly tackles her to the ground, pressing her back against the carpet. He kisses her neck and she closes her eyes and hums contentedly. Then he whispers, breath warm against her ear, "She told me that she wanted a baby sister."
He pushes her shirt down her shoulder and smirks a little when he sees that she's not wearing a bra underneath. He kisses her skin, and when she shivers, she thinks it has nothing to do with the cold. "Apparently one of her classmates got a new baby sister," he mumbles against the swell of her breast. His fingers slip beneath the waistband of her flannel pajama pants and he groans as he realizes that she's not wearing any panties, either. "And Dylan's birthday is in nine months. Don't you want to give her what she wants?"
He flattens his palm against her and she shifts her hips up and moans.
She's freezing when she wakes up, because the fire burned out a few hours ago and they fell asleep on the carpet and huddled underneath the duvet, which is sticky with whipped cream and sex, and fuck, she needs to remember to throw it in the wash before they pick up the kids.
"I'm cold," she groans, and Dick's breath is warm when he exhales a laugh, turns her in his arms and hugs her against his chest.