Summary: Two scenes after the world falls down on them. Two different moments in time and in life where they wonder what they mean to each other. Two similar situations that reflect each other like mirrors as they face the heavy weight of potentially losing each other.
Two brothers carrying each other home.
----The first in a series of fics of Dick and Jason being there for each other.
(I wrote this months and months ago with a plan to have two parts. I will finally be posting that second part today!)
(Also, the amazing @ashrayus sent me the BEAUTIFUL art that she was inspired to make from the first chapter of this!!! I can't get over how talented she is! Definitely go check out her work!!!! 😍)
Jason as a nibbler, a neck biter, a vampire. Not literally, he doesn't need blood to survive, no, but the way his mouth somehow always finds your neck, always finds a way to catch his teeth on your carotid, you'd think he did.
He comes up behind you so innocently sometimes, his hands ghosting over your hips and his hair tickling your jaw. His beautiful, soft, jet-black hair that is so quickly replaced with sharp nips of his teeth. You pull away, pushing his head back with your hand, and he groans; what did I do, his eyes say when he lifts his head to look at you. "You're biting me." you point to the teeth marks on your neck, indents a little deeper where his canines were. "I'm loving you."
You patiently wait for the day he gets carried away and accidentally draws blood, the day when the permissiveness of your flesh gives way to this indulgent behavior of his. He'll nose at the tiny droplets of blood collecting around the puncture wounds, licking and laving as a pool of iron collects on his tongue. Pulling away, looking like a wolf who's just devoured its prey, with blood smeared on the tip of his nose and his pupils blown wide.
He'd tasted blood before when he'd punched too hard, when he'd been punched too hard; the taste was always bitter in his mouth, too metallic, and always lingering long after he'd washed it away with water, but not yours. No, yours was welcome, just as bitter and metallic but also sweet? Comforting? Welcome? Yes, welcome. He'd welcomed you into his life a multitude of times, made room for you in places he'd previously thought to be too cramped. In his home, in his mind, in his heart, but the one place he could never figure out how to integrate you was his body.
Of course, he'd had sex with you, let you touch him in ways he had never been touched before, seen him at his most vulnerable, but it would never be the same for him as it was for you. You could never be inside of him the way he was inside of you. He thought he'd never know how it felt to walk around with ghosts of you inside of him the way you did when he came too deep or stretched you out too much. He thought he'd never know what it felt like to carry a part of his lover around with him outside of a material object. Now, he knew otherwise; he knew there was an alternative—a painful, bloody alternative—but an alternative nonetheless.
Sleepy boi who doesn't know about the good cop bad cop routine and how giving the whumpee an emotional rollercoaster will be more likely to break them than all pain~
Sleepy boi who doesn't remember day three :)
😭😭 poor boy
he anticipated an impersonal setting; just testing various methods and giving his own opinion on them. After all, it isn't like he hasn't been tortured before, and he doesn't expect anything beyond the usual: beatings, electrocution, various drugging and deprivations. All things he can handle.
But in past cases, his captors (and Vic) wanted to keep him alive and relatively whole, and didn't have access to healing technology, so he was in no way anticipating extreme methods that would be capable of killing him if not for the tech.
He also wasn't anticipating the lovely Technique Suppliers (you all) to be hell-bent on breaking him down :)