browngirl

penknife said: "Dick is *everywhere* It's a little-known superpower, but one that serves him well. Either that, or there are several of him from alternate universes running around." And, well, you can guess what *that* did to my little brain.

Originally posted as commentporn for

thete1. *grins and waves*

Title: Double Your Fun
Fandom: DC Comics
Rating: PG-15/ light R
Pairing: Dick/Tim/Dick
Warnings: slash, crackaliciousness
Disclaimer: If I owned two Dicks.... ok, I'd better not finish that sentence.

"Hey, Tim--- what the hell?"

The same voice from two directions; the same man, at a brief glance. Tim doesn't have time for shock. He pins the man beneath him with an elbow across his throat, holding a Batarang up between himself and the one halfway through his window. Whichever one is the fake, it won't hold him off for long, but the real Dick will back Tim up.

The Nightwing in the window grins. "Did you sleep with your belt again?" Tim forces his breathing to even out, and tries to remember Deathwing's stats. He was visibly different from Dick, if one remembered where to look.

"Lube, you know," Shifting his hand on Tim's thigh, Dick sounds amused, if a little strangled. Tim is pressing as hard as he can make himself, even though this Dick's more likely to be the real one, since he and Tim spent the day unpacking his new house. Of course, that assumes the switch was made today. Tim's brain is starting to hurt.

"Need any more?" Nightwing is laughing now; he finishes climbing through the window, and only grins wider when Tim waves the Batarang warningly. "Come on, little brother." His voice is warm as ever. If he's a fake he's studied the original.

Dick coughs; Tim risks a glance at him, and he looks up at Tim proudly, and like he wants to laugh. That's how Tim would expect Dick to look, but an effective replacement would know that. "So where did you come from?" Dick asks over Tim's shoulder. Tim wouldn't speak to his double in this situation, but Dick is, well, Dick.

Tim glances at Nightwing, who's managed to get disturbingly closer without moving noticeably. "Brooklyn," he says. "Tim, do you think you could put that thing down?"

Maybe they're both impostors, in which case Tim's best chances don't lie in a direct fight. Not that he wants to think about Dick, warm underneath him, being a fake. He lowers the Batarang and unpins Dick, who coughs again and ruffles his hair. Tim lets him. "You never greet me with Batarangs."

"Do you want me to?" This isn't the time to smile. Tim keeps his eyes on Nightwing, who leans back against the wall, spreading his hands. "Theories?"

"Oh, he's me," both of them say in that weird stereo effect, and grin at each other. That smile from two directions.... Tim feels a little dizzy, and he swallows, hard.. "Sparring with Arsenal?" Dick asks Nightwing, who smirks and shrugs. "Come on, I think you can fit."

What? How can they both be Dick? How is either of them sure? How will he tell them apart now that Nightwing is shimmying eagerly out of his uniform? "Dick--" Tim asks in what was supposed to be his firmest command voice. It comes out just as wobbly as he feels.

"I'm not bad-looking, am I?" Dick's laughing. They're both laughing. Tim's head is definitely spinning, his heart is pounding, and a wash of irrational glee is threatening to swamp his reason.

"Look at him. " Nightwing-- the other Dick-- Tim feels dizzy-- straddles his counterpart's legs behind Tim, putting his hands on his shoulders and pressing up against him. "He looks like a little kid at Christmas."

Tim opens his mouth to say something about figuring out how this happened, how long it might last, what it means, but Dick behind him runs his hands down his arms and Dick in front of him sits up grinning to kiss him and all he can do is moan. "With two of us we can finally get everything done," murmurs the Dick behind Tim, and licks his ear.

"Starting with properly doing our little brother." Dick in front of him murmurs against his cheek, looking over his shoulder. There are hands all over him, on his skin and in his hair. They kiss over his shoulder, pressing him between two of the same familiar sinewy body, down to the scars in the same places. Tim's head falls back against Dick's shoulder, and when one of their hands wraps around him his eyes roll back in his head.