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The doctors would keep the amnesiac Dick Grayson another day for observation but aside from still not remembering his identity, his brainscans were good so they eventually released him into Hartley's care. He was the only visitor the man had received and no one had thus far reported a man matching Dick's description missing unfortunately.

So as they stood there outside the lobby of the ER, the former Rogue found himself hesitating. What now? He couldn't just take the man home like he was a stray. That would be both presumptions and just a little bit creepy.

"So...what now? Do you want to go find your car? Maybe we'll get lucky and there's some kind of identification in it? You didn't have a wallet on you, after all. I sometimes forget to grab mine too so maybe it's just waiting for you stuck between two seats?" He was babbling a little and he knew it. "Or we can go clothes."

Piper shot Dick a wry smile. The shirt he'd picked out for the man was probably a size too small and was distractingly tight around his shoulders. But at least he couldn't really go wrong with sweatpants, right?

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It felt good, the hand on his shoulder. The warmth, the touch, the proximity... Hartley's face relaxed a little with the sound, too, so it... wasn't too bad, right? He didn't want Piper to be upset, but it wasn't... he didn't think it a good time to ask what the problem was.

Instead, he smiled over his shoulder and led the way, only lingering a moment into the touch. (He was tempted to reach up and take Hartley's hand, but... well. Maybe when he knew who he was. Possibly.)

He headed down, easy step, and found the car soon enough. He slipped into the driver's seat, and turned off the engine.

"No way," he looked over to Hartley, and nodded to him to settle in the passenger seat, if he felt like it, "am I going to drive right now. No way."

If he'd only known he was dealing with the son of the world's greatest detective, maybe Hartley wouldn't have bothered to hide his concerns about his hearing. Still, he'd suffered through enough horrible Rogue's meetings and even dinner parties with his parents to be able to fake a cheerful demeanor.

The ginger was somewhat reluctant to let the handsome amnesiac go just but he did and followed Dick down to the other level where the car was.

"Alright? Want to start searching for clues then? Maybe you've got ID around here somewhere?" He suggested helpfully as he slid into the passenger's seat. Hartley was hesitant to point out that maybe the guy with the concussion probably shouldn't be driving anyway. "I'll check the glovebox?"

He was amnesiac, not an idiot. If he couldn't recall his name, what were the chances his driving reactions would be anywhere near sufficient?

Not satisfactory, at any rate.

"Thanks."

There was a driver's license in the slip in the shade above the steering wheel, and the documents of the car.

There was, it turned out, also a box in the glove department which, on opening, would show three more sets of identity papers (one of them real). But that would only be known when Hartley opened it.

"Hey, look! I'm Freddie Dinardo, apparently!" Beat. "I grew my hair some since taking that pic... And shaved."

The bright reaction faded a little as he... tried to fit that in his head. It wasn't working.

Edited 2013-05-22 07:18 (UTC)

Understandably curious, Piper leaned over to get a look at the driver's license. Some people could pull off facial hair, Freddie really wasn't one of them. He looked like some kind of mobster wannabe.

Of course, this close Dick would be able to smell the older man's aftershave and the neutral scent of his shampoo. One of Piper's hands rested on the console for balance. "Well then, 'Freddie' I guess I wasn't too far off with the Mediterranean guess."

Piper teased and withdrew with a smile so he could go back to the glovebox. The contents were organized neatly but he noticed a relatively flat box that didn't look like it came with the car and withdrew it first. "What do we have here?" He murmured more to himself as he opened the box and found two more sets of ids including driver's licenses and passports. The pictures were all of the same man, Freddie. But now Piper wasn't sure that was his name after all. "Uh....we might have a small problem?"

He held up the box of fake ids.

For a moment, while Hartley was leaning close, he - Freddie? - looked up, to read his face, to share the feeling that it wasn't quite right, and their eyes met, way too close. Way closer than Dick could make the words come out, and then Piper moved back away and he found himself with his lips feeling way too dry.

He swallowed, and started looking over the meager other papers there with the driver's license. Then Hartley mentioned a problem, drawing his attention away from a hotel restaurant receipt he was looking at, and his attention snapped to what he was being shown and.

What.

The.

Fuck?

His jaw dropped and he. His hand reached up towards the box, then dropped, then reached up again, scooping two of the papers, holding them open but staring at them unseeing for a few moments...

... then, then his face lit up.

"This one. This is me." He held up the license with the right name.

Richard John Grayson. Permanent address in Gotham, but there seemed to be a New York something in that pile that he caught sight of.

Piper didn't miss the momentary spark between he and the other man. Awareness of the attraction between them was visible in Hartley's eyes as they met Dick's briefly. Unfortunately, the situation hadn't changed in the past ten minutes and he still didn't know anything about this man so Piper told his hormones and hindbrain to shove it and concentrated on digging through the glovebox.

"Why would you have three sets of ID's? Are you some kind of spy? An undercover detective?" Piper had some experience with secret identities but people who had them rarely did so for honest purposes.

Surprise flickered across the former Rogue's face when Dick firmly insisted that he'd discovered his real name. "Richard Grayson? Gotham City, huh? That explains the accent. You definitely don't sound like you're from the Midwest."

"Dick," he corrected, absently, his mind trying to race, and then he realized how that sounded and flushed. "... I mean, Dick Grayson. Richard... is not a name many people use. Just Dick."

He buried his face in both hands for a moment, the papers dropped in his lap, a part of his mind noting the comment about the accent and curious about it, but it was.

"I don't know, Hartley. This feels like. Making one step forward and sinking five feet deeper into a gray whirlwind of confusion. What am I even doing here, if I'm from Gotham?"

But the name did help. It just did. He permitted himself a moment, then sighed, plucking out the receipt from his lap and showing it. His voice was just a tad... duller. He was disappointed at himself. Having different sets of ID papers was not legal, was it?

"Is this hotel nearby? Maybe I'm staying there."

Edited 2013-05-23 04:47 (UTC)

Hartley didn't miss the accidental suggestiveness of Dick's correction but he was mature enough to let it pass with little more than a slightly cocked eyebrow. Of course, he felt somewhat vindicated when the younger man's cheeks heated up in a flush considering how many times Dick had made him flush in their short acquaintanceship.

"Dick? Well, that would explain the porno logic from yesterday. I can imagine how much teasing you got growing up with a name like that." Soft understanding was reflected in the musician's eyes because he'd gotten more than his fair share of teasing for terrible names with a first name like Hartley.

"Hey, it was better than where we were ten minutes ago." He reached over and touched Dick's shoulder reassuringly. "We're one step closer to getting your memories back and that fact that your name came back so readily is good news, Dick. Maybe you just need a few more jolts of the familiar and it'll all come back." Hartley coaxed him gently and leaned in to peer at the receipt curiously.

"It's downtown, I know where it is. Let's keep searching the car and then we'll head over there, okay?"

... suggestiveness is better than insult. Which the word, said in no context, could easily be taken for. Ahem. Hence the blushing.

However, that first comment made Dick focus, and perk up a bit, eyes widening slightly. "It would, wouldn't it. Explain the porno thing. Rather... rather well, in fact."

He took a deep breath and conjured up a smile. "That sounds to me like a good plan. Thank you." After a side-eye of the rest of the papers, he turned to the back seat (clear, other than a couple of candy wrappers and a water bottle), then.

"Trunk?"

Beat. "I hope there's no body there. That would be really, really bad."

He could make jokes about it, right? Bad jokes?

It definitely wasn't an insult to Hartley and because he could understand Dick's plight better than other people he'd never mock the man for his name.

Hartley found himself laughing at the man's jest. Could he be some crazed serial killer? Possibly but he'd met people with that kind of darkness in their souls and it left its mark in the icy, flat gaze of a killer. Dick didn't have those eyes so he had to believe the man wasn't some depraved maniac.

"I seriously doubt that's the case but if you want I'll check it for you instead?

Laughter. Laughter was good, whatever else came, and it gave Dick a nudge of confidence, of hope. He smiled back, then tilted his chin up.

"Together. How 'bout that?"

Because, really. That was only fair, right?

The urge to lean over the short distance between them and kiss Dick was overpowering. Piper could already imagine the texture of the younger man's lips against his own and how lovely it would be to kiss him. But he shoved that urge back once more and flagged it as inappropriate.

"Sounds like a plan." His throat was dry as a desert when he next spoke. Because he didn't trust himself or his impulse control, Piper shut the glove box with an audible click and slid out of the car to put some much needed space between them before he gave into his more primal urges and gave into temptation.

Did I do something wrong? was the first thought through Dick's mind as he startled at the click, then he stared after his new friend and. It took him a moment to think to grab the key again and follow out of the car.

"Hartley?" he called, quietly. "Is everything okay? You didn't remember you should've been across half the country last night, did you?" Beat. "I mean, if you have to, that's okay, I just..." Didn't want him to go.

He hadn't done anything, Hartley was just having trouble controlling his libido in check.

"Huh? Oh, no everything is fine." The older man reassured him with a smile as he made his way back to the trunk. Please don't let there be a body in the trunk. Or other signs of criminal activities. He didn't know what he'd do if he found out his new crush was actually some mobster hitman or other criminal.

Which Dick probably would have gotten, if his mind wasn't working in sixteen directions at the same time, on lower power because, explosion.

He eyed the redhead over the hood of the car, then nodded, slightly. "Okay. That's good." Because, really, what else could he say?

There was no body in the trunk. There weren't weapons there, either, well, other than a couple of smooth black sticks. Unmarked. There was an extra suit, though, some random makeup, and an empty backpack which didn't exactly fit with the suits - the one here or the one he'd worn yesterday, but it looked comfortable, the straps a little worn.

And a thermos of yesterday's coffee.

"... is it bad that even this smells good to me?" Dick asked when he got to open and sniff that last one.

"Lets see what's behind door number one, shall we?" He jested lightly as Dick moved to open the trunk. No, there wasn't any dead body thankfully but his eyes were immediately focused on the makeup. Piper immediately seized upon the most logical explanation, that the amnesiac--no Dick--had a girl waiting for him somewhere. She was probably worried sick that he hadn't come home last night.

He fought to keep the disappointment off of his face but truth be told, it kind of hurt to see that makeup. Stupid man, of course he wouldn't be single or straight. "Huh?" Was his distracted query as the musician tore his eyes away from the trunk.

"I...wouldn't drink that, who knows how long it's been in here, Dick." Hartley said somewhat weakly and managed to dredge up a smile. "Wouldn't want to end back up in the hospital for food poisoning, do you?"

Hartley kept most of it from his face, yes, but he din't exactly bother to correct his body language. Dick could see the disappointment in the way his shoulders fell, the slight tension in his spine. The sound of his voice.

So Dick moved, closer, shoulders touching. He couldn't figure out why the change. (The make-up did not in any way call up an image of a woman. It was just... there.)

After a moment of proximity, he managed a smile, too, his voice much stronger. "You're right, of course. But can we pick up coffee on the way to the hotel?"

Piper very nearly flinched when he found his personal space being invaded by Dick and at the subtle brush of their shoulders. There were shadows in the man's eyes now however.

"Of course we can." Hartley even managed to sound enthused despite the subtle dampening of his mood. "I'll take you to my favorite indie coffee shop, it's kind of on the way to the hotel."

Oblivious, still, to the cause of the shift in mood, Dick grinned... then met Piper's eyes and. The shadow, there.

The words left his lips, anyway, quiet and close. "You've got my mouth watering, Hartley."

The former villain's pale blue gaze was intense suddenly as the urge to grab Dick and yank him in for a kiss. The naked desire was plain to see in the older man's eyes when Dick quietly uttered those very suggestive words.

His hands moved of their own volition and he moved to cup the handsome man's face gently, slowly. He was giving Dick plenty of time to pull back before. "Please don't hate me for this," he whispered before leaning in to kiss Dick softly. There was so little distance between them right then that it was easy to do so.

Dick didn't pull back. In fact, his hand came up (the thermos was long ago restoppered and replaced in the trunk) to steady them both, at Hartley's waist (not below), and he kissed back, just as gently. His heart was beating a lot faster, suddenly, and when they leaned back, he made a show of considering it, even hummed quietly.

After a moment, he smiled. "Nope. Definitely don't hate you." And then he added, "at the very least I know I wasn't imagining things."

Without giving it too much of a thought, he pulled the slighter man closer, into a hug. Surprisingly steady for how he was, in fact. Even without remembering all things, he knew such a thing took courage, between men. And he was grateful (and wanted it, too, but...)

"Let's figure me out, and then we figure this out, too?"

It was, basically, not turning him down. But this was not the time, and the if you still want it goes unsaid.

Hartley could hear the way Dick's heart-rate increased suddenly as they kissed. It wasn't even a very passionate one, just slow and sweet. Yet it left him feeling vaguely warmed on the inside but that could have just been the relief in not having Dick try to deck him or yank away in disgust.

A slightly hesitant smile pulled at the redhead's lips when he heard those words. "No, you definitely weren't." And when the younger man pulled him into a hug, he went along with it. Piper hadn't gotten too many of those in his lifetime. His parents had been emotionally distant and remote for most of his life. The only hugs and affection he'd gotten as a child had been from the hired staff and nannies who were hired to watch over Hartley and his sister. It hadn't been until he'd gotten out on his own and buried himself in the gay scene that Piper had come to know people so utterly unlike anything in his privileged upbringing. Twinks, drag queens and a whole host of people brought together by the tenuous bonds of being excluded from polite society because of the nature of their sexual orientation.

Piper hugged him back gently. "I know, worst timing ever." He smiled wryly and leaned his cheek against Dick's affectionately before he pulled back. "And I'm sure you desperately want that coffee and to find that hotel. Do you want to leave the car here and take mine? It'll be easier than trying to follow me through a strange city, probably."

"Don't say that, it might get worse." For Dick, the hugging felt natural, as did the quip about the superstition. The cheek on his cheek? That felt amazing.

He smiled, eyes thoughtful. "Desperately may be a bit off the mark, but we can go with it. I want to know." He blinked. "I think... somebody's told me that my greatest weapon or asset is my mind. Can't use it right when I'm missing stuff, right?"

And, on that note, he shook his head. "I'm not driving. So... I'll take you up on that offer. But... just a sec."

Dick moved around Hartley, to get to the passenger seat and snag the papers - and card - for Dick Grayson. Whatever the reason for the other identities, he was going to stick with what he felt the most certain about. Then he bounced back (yes, sort of bounced) to Hartley, moving to close the trunk so he could lock the car.

"Lead on, oh Piper!"

No, Dick had not made the connection with Pied Piper, yet. But if he was going to tease, might as well use the other name that Hartley told him people called him by, right?

"Okay, I won't say that." Amusement colored the redhead's tone. He didn't quite get the whole Rom thing or just how much superstition might play into Dick's everyday life.

Piper felt the need to touch Dick again when the young man admitted soulfully that he wanted to know who he was. The urge to reassure the dark-haired man was overpowering so Piper reached out to squeeze his shoulder again. "Hey, we're batting a thousand here, Dick. You're doing great. You remember your name, we have a good lead on where to go next."

He patiently waited for Dick to finish gathering his things from the car and even grabbed the backpack and other contents from the trunk for the younger man. It was amusing to watch Dick all but bounce back to him excited as a puppy. In some ways, he reminded him of Trickster before he'd gone straight and reformed.

But when Dick made that jest about him leading on much like the Pied Piper of legend, a dismayed look flashed across Hartley's face. He paled somewhat in dread and the realization that he needed to tell Dick about his checked past and soon. Otherwise it was probably going to explode in his face later. He just wanted to cling to the belief that for Dick, he could just be Hartley Rathaway, not the Pied Piper, not a reformed Rogue who was met with suspicion from most everyone because of the things he'd done in his youth.

"Alright, let's go." He managed to mask that dismay quickly enough and pasted on a smile for Dick's sake.

To be fair, Dick didn't know, either. He was joking.

And he smiled into the touch, straightening up a bit. "Yeah, we do. And it wouldn't be nearly as good if I were on my own."

By the time he said what he did, he was definitely back, and in full sight of the man's face. His smile dropped, faded, and he blinked in confusion. That was so not the kind of reaction he was thinking of.

"Hartley?" Yeah, he wasn't using the other name again anytime soon. "You said people call you that, 'm sorry. I won't do it again."

It wasn't at all a kicked-puppy expression or apology. Just a sincere reaction to seeing he'd caused hurt, unwittingly. And he really meant not to repeat that.

For flyingg

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