#Dick Grayson whump | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jasmines-library · 23 days

Note

Hey, I love your Batfam work! Is there any chance you could do a whump/angst one of batsis being kidnapped by a villian(you can choose whoever you want) and she’s tortured for days with it being broadcasted to the Batfam while they try to track the footage. I feel kinda bad but can you do maybe some head trauma md severe burns? Maybe she has to be put in a medically included coma or smth because of the damage? Also is there any way you could include Barb and Duke along w/ the four robins? If not that’s totally cool! Sorry for the long request but I hope you have a great day!!

Anonymous Requested: batfam x batsib reader whos the youngest and newest robin and is just really goofy and doesn’t take anything seriously (ex: them blaring “who’s the (bat)man” on the comms during patrol [that songs stuck in my head i had to mention it]) and something happens, maybe their first close encounter to death or a run in with the joker and they just become a shell of who they were and stuff

Jokes On Me

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Note: My god im so sorry this literally took me forever to write, thank you so much for being patient. I've been trying to write this all week but just couldn't sit down for long enough to finish it.

Warnings: Torture, blood, burns.

Word Count: 2.5k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

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“Y/N, turn that shit off.”

Jason grumbled at you over the coms. You had been blasting some wretched song that you’d found on the internet over and over again and it was beginning to drive him mad.

“Nope.” You said, popping the ‘p’ loudly.

“Seriously.” Dick deadpanned. He had found it amusing at first, but it was now beginning to test his patience.

Agitated, you sighed and turned off the music. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Jason expressed gratefully, turning his eyes back to the road he was patrolling. The night was cool and quiet besides the odd dog walker or couple returning from an evening out. It was one of those nights where patrol would end early and he could return home to take a warm bath and read a book before turning in for the night. Or so he thought.

You were rounding the corner, humming that tune that was still stuck in your head when his laughter ricocheted across the walls. You stiffened, eyes widening and hands fumbling for your weapon as your breath hitched. No amount of turning and craning your head allowed you to catch a glimpse of the dreaded figure, and you thought for a moment that perhaps it had just been a trick of your mind, or one of your brothers playing a cruel joke on you as payback for winding them up earlier. But then you heard it again, only this time to your left. You clutched your weapon tighter, eyes scanning the area with a new found sense of urgency.

“Wing…” You whispered into the coms so quietly that you were surprised he heard it.

“What now?” He somewhat snapped.

“We have a problem.”

Dick’s heart sank through the floor, his ears pricking up and his demeanour changing completely. “Where are you? What’s the matter? He was trying to let his panic show, but you hadn’t been patrolling as a vigilante for very long, and while you were well trained, you lacked the experience to deal with something big on your own. And from your tone of voice, he could tell that you were in some deep shit.

Jason worked his legs harder to push himself to reach the direction he had seen you head off in. Albeit it seemed even his hardest wasn’t enough.

When he stepped out of the darkness, the first thing you noticed were his eyes. Wide and bright, easily mistakable for a cat’s as they flashed in the darkness; wild. Rabid. As he emerged fully with that infamous twisted grin splayed out on his face, you felt like a cornered animal; a deer in headlights. You froze, unable to move despite how your heart screamed at you to run as it pounded, trying to break free from your ribcage.

“He’s here…” A mere whisper sliding over your tongue, so fragile that you weren’t even sure if you had actually said it aloud. Jason had heard it.

“Who?”

The Joker was circling you now, dragging out his strides in lazy circles. You should have fought but in that moment all of your training had drained out of you, along with the colour in your face. He smirked, leering down upon you as you tried to keep your trembling hand still. He pouted in mockery and at your silence, Jason repeated his question to you, but you never got the chance to respond.

“Oh…Just an old friend, Jay-bird.”

“Joker.” Urging his body to move faster, Jason grit his teeth.

Dick paled. “You leave them alone.” Dick spat. It tried to be a command, but the effect was lost somewhere in transmission.

The joker pursed his lips, tilting his head as he analysed. One of his hands had found his way to your jawline and he trailed it with a cold, gloved hand. You wanted to lean away, to run and find your brother but you knew that now he had you in his grasp there was no point in even trying. “And why would I do that? They’re right in front of me. I could just…snatch them up.”

“Don’t you dare!” Dick was frightened now. “Y/N, you stay there as long as you can, okay? You fight. We’re coming, you hear?”

The Joker frowned at you. “D’you hear that? Big brother birdy coming to the rescue. How sweet.”

His grip on you tightened. “Too bad you’ll be long gone by the time they get here.”

With one swift motion, he had thrown you harshly to the side, your head colliding with the wall with a sickening crack.

The two boys skidded to a halt just a second too late. You were already gone.

Your head hurt when you woke up. Your eyes squinted against the sterile light. They did no favours to your pounding headache. With a groan, you tried to twist, to roll over and soothe the crook in your neck but instead all that happened was the jinging of a metal chain. You craned your head and spotted the thick chain that had been wrapped around your wrist, confining you to the chair. Struggling, you tugged on them, trying to free yourself only for them to rattle and scrape against your skin.

“Yeah, that’s not going anywhere, birdy.” The joker chided.

You glared at him through narrowed eyes, trying to mask the thumping of your heart. The joker grinned wildly at your frightened complexion.

“It was such a shame that Grayson and Todd didn’t get to you in time, but it was far too easy to catch you, little bird: you completely froze.” He snapped his fingers to emphasise his point. “Didn’t batsy teach you better?”

“Don’t talk about them.” You snapped.

The joker raised his hands, palms facing toward you in surrender: taunting you as if you were the one with the power in the situation. “Touchy subject I see. Too bad.”

He gestured above you to an incessantly blinking light. “Smile for the camera, you’re live.”

Babs had been monitoring the street cameras when the computer beside her flickered to life. She had been searching for any sign of you ever since Dick and Jason came flying through the grandfather clock. Everyone was on edge.

The moment the screen flashed on, her eyes perked up to watch it, alarmed. She hadn’t turned it on. And there were very few people who could bypass the caves system. So when she saw a small frame curled up in a chair she knew immediately what was up.

“Duke…” she called to the dark haired boy who was trying to help decipher your whereabouts. “Go and get B.”

It did not take long at all for everyone to gather around in the cave. Duke was fast, and everyone dropped what they were doing to race down: even Alfred had taken his leave from his duties to see.

It was almost like some sick irony because as soon as they were all there, you began to scream. A guttering, perfect scream that cut that through them like a knife: unclean and pinging into them messily again and again.

The joker had taken a knife to your left thigh, his smile dripping with malice as he watched the camera, somehow knowing that at least one of them would be watching.

Your face was contorted in pain, twisting in agony as tears rolled flatly down your cheeks from fearful eyes. Damian felt sick, his stomach churning. Jason wanted to leave. But all of them were stuck watching. Barbra was tapping away, trying to locate the signal from the video to no avail.

“I hope you’re watching this Batsy…” He moved round to trail your face with the edge of the knife. You whimpered. “I’ve got your little bird here and I must say, you need to work on their training. They were far too easy to catch.”

Bruce felt his jaw tightening and Tim had to place a hand on his arm to remind him of his place.

“Anyway I thought we would play a little game… how long can little y/n survive for. I wonder if it’ll be any longer than our very own Jason Todd.”

Jason twitched.

“I’m testing you here, Bat. Tick Tock.”

The transmission cut to black.

It seemed hopeless. Even though they had been searching for days, they were no closer to finding you. And to make matters worse, they could see you. Not long after the first transition ended did it start up again. It had been lifestreaming since then, and although they had tried to block it from their minds, it was hard to ignore. Especially when your agonised screams ricocheted throughout the halls.

You looked like hell. Dark bags occluded under your eyes and there wasn’t an inch of your skin that wasn’t marred or stained with drying blood. The burns were worse. Damian could still hear the scream you let out when the joker first brought the hot poker to your skin. It had bubbled and blistered as the skin peeled away; you had thrashed against your restraints violently. Tim was certain that they were going to get infected if they didn’t reach you soon.

It felt as if they had searched everywhere. Dick and Jason had even asked around to see if anyone had heard anything, going as far to talk to the Jokers closest associates in Arkham, but even if they did know, nobody said anything. Duke had even gone as far to go back to the area to use his powers to see if he could trace anything, but nothing seemed out of place; they had hit a brick wall. That was…until a small light appeared on the monitor. Babs had managed to trace the signal to a small building on the outskirts of the city.

They were suited up in minutes, making a beeline for the building. They stormed it, recklessly taking down the Joker's goons before Batman chased wildly after the Joker, his face stony and his fists burning with anger. The other four boys chased down the winding corridors, flinging open the doors until they found one that was locked. Tim wasted no time, picking the lock with ease he peeled it open. His breath hitched when he saw you.

Your face was gaunt, hanging low by your chest. Your suit was torn and there was less of it on your body than there was ripped away. You looked so fragile as your chest heaved sporadically.

Jason nearly had to take a step back. This place reminded himself too much of his own encounter with the Joker not too long ago. But he pressed forward, fighting his instincts. He had to be strong. Instead of turning back, he kneeled in front of you, whispering your name. His hand came up to cup your face. You flinched away.

“It’s okay kid. It’s us.” He tried to reassure you, but you shrank back into yourself.

“We’re so, so sorry kiddo.” Dick tried placing a gentle hand on your arm before moving to work on the cuffs around your wrists. “We’re going to get you out.”

You said nothing, just continued to stare at the black space before you, and Dami wasn’t sure if you even knew they were in front of you. But when Jason moved away from you to help remove your restraints, your fingers latched onto him and you squeaked in protest.

He sighed shakily. “Don’t worry kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian twisted from where he was guarding the door. “We need to leave.”

Dick nodded bluntly, finishing with the last of the locks. “I’m going to have to pick you up, okay sweetheart?”

You barely registered what he had said. Everything had grown numb, you nodded anyhow. Moving his arms underneath your legs and slipping one arm behind your back, Jason began to lift you. He nearly recoiled when you cried and whimpered with the way your wounds jostled as he sprinted out of the building to get you back to safety.

You were yet to say anything since you came home. You had been back a few days and your wounds were healing up nicely thanks to Alfred’s handywork, but the air was eerily silent around you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been communicating with them; you spoke to them with gestures or writing but no one was used to not hearing your voice. The stark contrast between your loud and bustling personality and you now was unsettling. No one wanted to push you too far but the manor was beginning to grow lonely.

It was one particularly rainy night when you finally spoke. You were curled up in a large armchair by the window in the library, sinking back into the plush leather as you watched the raindrops race down the glass. Jason had been watching you from afar, contemplating whether to talk to you or not when he walked over.

“What are you up to?” He asked you, making sure you knew that he was there before he spoke.

You gestured toward the window,then to the half opened book at your feet and shrugged.

“I see.” He nodded, taking a seat on the armchair opposite you. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jason wasn’t much of a talker. He knew more than anyone what you were going through, which was why it was nice just to know that he was willing to sit with you, just so you knew that he was there if you needed him. It made you feel safe. But you also couldn’t help but feel guilty, and frustrated with yourself for being in a place that made him feel as though he had to do that.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Jason had to do a second take. His heart swelled. “What for?”

You sighed. “This. When I saw him…i-i froze. If I had run then this would never have happened.”

“Shh. This isn’t your fault.”

“But-”

“I promise, Kid. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You nodded, looking away from him. But then you furrowed your brows and turned back to him. “How did you do it? How did you deal with this, Jay? Every time I close my eyes he’s there.”

“I guess I don’t, really. Or sometimes it feels like I don’t. I still get scared sometimes. I still see him in my dreams. But over time it gets easier. I had people around me to help me. And so do you, kid. We’re here. We’ll always be here.”

Jason shifted to brush away a rogue tear and you leaned into his touch and then wrapped your arms tightly around his middle.

“I’m here. Always. We’ll get through this together.”

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BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish

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dragonpyre · 1 year

Text

Secret Robin AU

Follow up on part 6. Suffice to say, things aren't so secret anymore...

Prev / Next / Commission info / ko-fi

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whumpypepsigal · 7 months

Text

Whumptober 2023 | No. 8

Outnumbered

Titans s04e07: “There, there, now. Take it easy, old Teddy.”

+bonus:

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

#whumptober2023 #no.8 #outnumbered #dc titans #titans #gifs #whumpedit #whump #attacked #kicked #manhandling #taser #electrocution #collapse #weak #passing out #my gifs #dick grayson #brenton thwaites

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fleur-de-violette · 3 months

Text

Robins, titmice, and other spring birds

AO3

Summary:

There are a lot of things Jason doesn’t understand in the dynamic of the Wayne manor, despite being here for nine months. Maybe a rescue turning a little more dangerous than it should have been for Robin will help him see things clearly? Prompt: Adoption

Note:

Hey! Second bingo fic! So just to be clear, this is set in an alternate universe where Jason was taken in by Bruce before Dick stopped being Robin. Warning for (magical) hypothermia, grief, and near-death experience. I hope you’ll enjoy the story. Many thanks to @ohmytoddhewitt for beta reading !

There are things within the Wayne Manor family dynamics that Jason still has a hard time grasping, despite having lived there for about nine months now.

Dick and Bruce’s relationship is one of them. The two of them could look like a typical teenager and adult relationship at first glance (not that Jason knows much about typical teenager and adult relationships), but there is something more.

They are Batman and Robin, for starters. The news had taken him aback. When Batman had brought him to the cave after that weird night that changed his life, and had removed his cowl, Bruce Wayne had been the very last person Jason expected to find under it.

So, they are Batman and Robin. Heroes of Gotham. And yet, out of masks - sometimes even in masks when no one is looking - they act like a teenager and his parent.

Jason will also, one day, become a hero of Gotham. He had started training as soon as he had regained enough weight to do exercise. Maybe he will be Robin. Maybe he will be something else. But he could stay. In the manor.

Bruce had presented him with the adoption papers about a month ago. Something to link them permanently, to make him his son. Jason still doesn’t know how to feel about that. When he had tried to talk about it with Dick, the older teen had made a weird face and deflected the conversation.

But Jason doesn’t feel as if Dick doesn’t want to be his brother. Despite his rocky relationship with Bruce, he’s always nice and friendly with Jason. He just doesn’t understand why he’s been so dismissive of the adoption thing.

“The fast-food place in front of the academy is looking for staff,” Dick says carefully, pulling Jason from his thoughts as they eat dinner.

Bruce makes a sound, not a word, and that’s also something Jason has learned to get used to. How Bruce rarely responds with actual words.

Dick doesn’t seem to mind. “I was thinking of applying.”

Alfred gives him a disapproving look. His opinion on fast food is a secret to no one.

“Why?” Bruce asks, and that’s a word, but a lone one, straight to the point. Jason is kind of asking himself the same question.

“I was just thinking it was more than time I started making my own money, that’s all.”

Bruce let out a long sigh that makes Jason think maybe it isn’t the first time they have had this conversation.

“You already have enough things to do with your studies and our nightly activities. If you want to buy something, you can ask Alfred or myself for money. You know we have enough in this household.”

And that’s final. Dick doesn’t bother fighting, just goes back to his meal. Alfred tries to keep the conversation going by asking Jason questions about school, and Jason is happy to indulge.

He had started school in September, two months after meeting Bruce. While he was a bit of a late bloomer compared to his classmates in the beginning, he’s been catching up to them during the last few months. Barbara, Dick, and of course Alfred have helped him with homework when he struggled. By now, he was the first to answer in science class more often than not, and his English teacher had complimented him on his poems.

Alfred asks the same things to Dick. Jason knows he has a big math test tomorrow afternoon, something he studied a lot for in the last few weeks. But he just skims past it, not letting show the importance Jason knows the test has for him.

Jason can guess why. Test or not, Robin is needed tonight, and Jason can understand that Dick would hate being benched over something as silly as needing rest for a test. Especially since Jason had heard the night before that the Riddler had escaped and was planning something. He knew he wouldn’t want to miss a fight with the Riddler if he was Robin.

But he isn’t, not yet; he needs more training first. So, as soon as the dinner is finished, he jumps in the cave and puts on the training costume Alfred had made him. He wishes Batman and Robin good luck, and Dick ruffles his hair in a way that annoys Jason as much as it makes him feel all warm before jumping into the Batmobile.

A few hours in, and Jason wonders how long Dick trained for before being allowed to go out. Surely, he will be able to fly in the streets of Gotham with them soon. He isn’t a trained acrobat, but he handles himself well, he thinks, smiling as a Batarang falls right into the center of the target.

But then, there is the issue of the hero’s name. Batman had said maybe he could be Robin, but then there would be two Robins, and that would be confusing. He needs another name. Something close to Robin, but not Robin. How about Red Robin? He likes Red, but that’s the name of a burger place, so huge no. Dick calls him Little Wing, something that annoys Jason, but maybe he could make something out of it. He would be the Wings of the Night or something, and… no, that’s ridiculous.

Maybe he should pick a totally different bird name? The Eagle - but no, that’s a rock band. Or The Falcon maybe? It does have more style than Robin. But also, Dick had explained to him that the name isn’t meant to scare people, or inspire respect, but to bring hope, to symbolize spring and colors.

Well, he can say anything he wants, Jason isn’t calling himself Titmouse.

“Master Jason, don’t you think it’s time to go to bed?” Alfred interrupts him, standing behind the training mats. This is something that took Jason some time getting used to, too. Being called “Master”; he told Alfred he could just call him Jason, but the butler firmly refused.

“I would like to wait until they are back,” Jason says. He knows the idea of Bruce and Dick fighting the Riddler will prevent him from sleeping, anyway.

Alfred gives him a frozen smile, the face he makes then things aren’t going the way he wants them to, but he has to accept them anyway. “Very well,” he says. “But I do not want to hear you complain tomorrow morning when you’ll have to get up to go to school.”

Jason gives him his brightest smile. “I won’t complain. Promise. Thank you, Alfred.”

He keeps training for a bit after that, but they don’t have to wait long before they can hear the familiar roar of the Batmobile engine. And just as the car stops, Jason can feel the tension bleeding from it. Bad night, then.

“What do you want from me?” Dick asks as he steps out, soaking wet with a mixture of water and something that glows pale blue in the artificial light of the cave. “That I apologize for saving those girls? I won’t.”

“It was reckless; you could have drowned, and them with you,” Bruce replies in the same tone.

“But I didn’t! You will have to understand one day that I’m not eight anymore, and-”

“Here, Master Dick,” Alfred interrupts, giving him a towel. “It is quite cold in the cave.” He doesn’t say that it’s quite cold outside of it, too, but everyone is thinking it. “And Master Bruce, why don’t you go change while I take care of warming him up.”

His eyes are like daggers, and Bruce doesn’t talk back, even though Jason feels that he wants to. He just walks toward the changing rooms. When he passes next to Jason, he looks at him for a second before saying, “Jason. You should be in bed.”

He sounds tired, but Jason still has one more thing to do before going to bed. He runs quickly to where Dick and Alfred are and asks, “Are you really ok? Is there something I can do?”

“Nothing beside getting yourself to bed,” Alfred replies. “I’ll just make sure Master Dick here is not hypothermic or poisoned.”

Dick gives him a smile that Robin gives to citizens. It’s bright, reassuring, and fake. “I’m ok, Little Wing. See you tomorrow morning.”

So, with nothing better to do, Jason goes to his room, showers, changes, and goes to bed. Despite thinking that worry will keep him awake, he’s out cold before he can think more about the night.

He doesn’t complain the next morning when Alfred wakes him up. He wants to, but he doesn’t. He promised, after all.

Instead, he gets himself dressed and goes down to get breakfast. Dick is already at the table when he comes in. “Good morning,” he says as Jason sits down, and his voice cracks a little on the words.

“What happened to your voice?” Jason asks as he takes some tea and a piece of toast, thanking Alfred.

“I slept with my hair wet yesterday. It’s nothing. It will pass.”

Jason hums. The manor is warmer than some of the places he lived in, but it’s still old and there is only so much isulation work one can do on a stone structure. It can get cold on February nights.

Alfred looks like he wants to say something more, maybe a comment on how this wouldn’t happen if Dick had shorter hair. It goes down his neck, nearing his shoulders now, and he stubbornly refuses to cut it. This has been one more cause of disagreement in the manor.

But he refrains from saying anything, and just drives them to the school without a word.

Jason goes through his morning classes as usual, trying not to fall asleep during the boring parts of the lessons. It’s only when he’s at his locker to get his lunch that everything goes wrong.

“Hey, street rat!”

He turns to see Augustus Wright. He sighs. Turns out there’s only so much anti-bullying presentations can do, and so much here means nothing. The boy is in his grade, a bit tall for his age, and had chosen him as his victim since the beginning of the school year.

“What do you want?” he asks sharply. He doesn’t call him “September” like he did last time, because he’d rather not get punched in the face again.

“Do you know what my father says about you?”

Jason doesn’t look at him, and focuses on getting his lunch out of the locker instead. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. Your father is an idiot who has an addiction to bad financial investments.” Or at least that’s what Bruce says. But he has the feeling the comment will not help him in his quest of not getting punched in the face.

As expected, Augustus’ hand flies toward him. But he doesn’t hit Jason, like he had expected him to. Instead, he hits the lunch box, and to Jason’s dismay, it flies out of his hands and falls down on the floor, the content of Alfred’s carefully prepared food spilling everywhere.

This is spoiled food. The one thing Jason can’t stand.

He clenches his fist. Bruce might be angry at him later, but that won’t stop him. That kid is going to regret it.

“What’s going on here?”

Jason turns toward the sounds, only to see Dick leaning nonchalantly on the lockers. His voice is deeper and lower than usual, so much that Jason barely recognizes it. It makes him look even more impressive, cold and collected.

Augustus seems a bit scared, which makes Jason smile. He might be taller than Jason, but Dick is taller and stronger than both of them. “You’re not supposed to be outside the high school building,” the bully says.

“Yeah?” Dick asks. “And what do you want to do? Call someone? And then you can explain why my-” his voice cracks a little - “little brother’s lunch is on the floor?”

Augustus looks like he wants to sink into the floor. “He’s not your real brother anyway. My father will hear about this!”

Dick tilts his head. “So he can talk about it with Bruce? I would like to see that.” He takes Jason’s arm. “We’re leaving,” he says, and they walk a little before conveniently running into the school janitor, who is talking with the superintendent. Did Dick plan that? “Excuse me, sirs?” he says, “Augustus seems to have made a mess in the corridor, would it be possible to help him find the materials required to clean it up?”

He gives them his best smile, the one that gets people doing whatever he wants, and with that, they’re gone. Because he has that kind of power, the superintendent doesn’t even question why he was in the middle school building.

“I had it handled,” Jason says when they’re out of hearing range, in a small corridor that runs between the two buildings.

“What, you were gonna beat up that kid?”

Jason doesn’t answer that.

“Jay, you know why Bruce trains us. It’s not for-” he coughs in his hand when his voice cracks again, and starts over. “It’s not for this.”

“He tossed my lunch to the ground,” Jason objects.

“I know,” Dick says as they sit down. “Do you want mine?”

“What about you?”

“I’m not that hungry,” Dick replies, handing him his lunch box. Jason opens it and splits the food in two, but true to his word, Dick barely eats his share.

“What, is the math stuff stressing you out that much?”

Dick shrugs. “Maybe,” he says. Jason doesn’t understand why it would be. Dick had always been excellent at math; he and Barbara have helped him more than once and Jason knows for a fact that Dick can do college level problems without struggling. He’s always at the top of his classes, if not the top of the school. The only thing he can maybe be worried about is being the second best and not the best, which seems like overkill.

Unless he’s aiming for a scholarship, like the one Barbara has. But that makes no sense. While the Gordons aren’t exactly poor, having her studies fully funded because she was at the top of the school in several subjects still makes things way easier for them. But he doesn’t get why Dick would need it: Bruce would gladly pay for whatever college Dick wants to go to.

“Or maybe you’re actually getting sick,” Jason says. “What even happened last night?”

Dick sighs and looks around to make sure no one can hear them; his voice barely audible, he says “Riddler had two girls in glass containers under a pool of some sort. There was something in the water, a chemical we think he got from Freeze - we still don’t know how. Anyway, a powder was slowly falling into a bowl that would pour it into the water once full. Then the two products would react, and the water would freeze, breaking the glass container with the increased pressure and killing or at least badly injuring the girls. B wouldn’t have solved the riddle in time. There was only a small opening on the pool, just for the powder to go in, Batman couldn’t fit; but I could. And so could the girls once I freed them.”

Jason doesn’t miss a word. “That is so cool,” he says.

“Well, B didn’t seem to think so. But yeah, I stand by my choices.” He coughs into his fist again. “Even if if I do end up being sick, B will never let me hear the end of it.”

Jason smiles a little at that. There is something nagging in the back of his mind - how easily a cold could turn into something worse when he was on the streets - but he doesn’t say it. Dick is talking about this so nonchalantly, he guesses this is how things happen in Wayne Manor: you get sick, you rest for a few days, and that’s it.

Dick looks at his phone and says, “Well, time for me to go, I guess. I need to do some last minute studying.”

Jason sighs. “What do you still have to learn? And what about your food?”

“Keep it,” Dick says. And with that, he’s gone.

Jason is in the middle of his biology class when he opens his phone under the desk to see two missed calls from Bruce.

“What’s going on?” he texts back. “I can’t answer a call, I’m in class.”

He immediately sees Bruce typing back, “Have you seen Dick?”

“Just about one hour ago, at lunch. Why?”

“Find him and get him back to the manor. Alfred is on his way to pick you up.”

No more information than that. But, given what Bruce and Dick do, this might be a life or death situation. Jason raises his hand.

“Excuse me,” he says. “I don’t feel well, could I go to the infirmary?”

The teacher gives him a suspicious look before saying. “Of course. Joshua, go walk him.”

When he leaves, he hears Augustus laugh a little, but that is the last thing on his mind. Joshua is a small kid with round glasses. He’s friendly to Jason because Jason took his place as Augustus’ favorite target. He’s been less friendly to him since Jason’s grades have started to threaten to take his place as best student in the class. But right now, he’s content with just walking with him in silence to the infirmary.

For a second, Jason thinks he could run. Joshua has asthma, he would never catch up to him. But then, how would he explain that? People would be looking for him, and that would be a mess. No, he has to be more subtle. He waits until they reach the infirmary and Joshua goes back to class. Then, he politely asks the nurse if he could rest a bit in one of the beds. Again, he gets a suspicious look for his trouble, but he lets him lay on a bed.

He waits a little, just long enough so he can see the nurse on his phone, not paying attention to him, before getting up and silently making his way out of the infirmary. Step one of his plan is a success.

Jason walks into the high school building, fast and silent. He moves into another corridor whenever he hears someone coming his way. He knows which room Dick is supposed to be taking his math test in as of now. If he’s not here after all he said about this, Jason is going to kick his ass.

But, thankfully, Dick is in the room when Jason looks through the window. He’s focused on the sheet in front of him. When he sees him raise his head, Jason makes huge signs through the window. He distinctly sees Dick mouth, “What the fuck?” before the older teen gets up, says something to the teacher, and leaves the room.

“This had better be important,” he says as soon as he sees Jason. If anything, his voice is worse than it was in the morning.

“I guess it is, or else Bruce wouldn’t have asked me to come get you. Alfred is waiting for us outside. Come on, let’s go.”

He takes Dick’s wrist to lead him out of the school, and is immediately taken aback by the fact that there seems to be is no heat radiating off his skin.

“You’re cold!” he exclaims.

“What can I say? It’s cold out. We’re not here to talk about my shitty circulation,” Dick replies, twisting his wrist out of Jason’s hand as he walks next to him.

“Alfred,” Dick says as soon as they see the butler outside. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know anymore than you do,” Alfred replies. “I got a call from Master Bruce asking me to come and pick you up while he was getting back to the manor by his own means. Are you quite alright, Master Dick? You look-”

“I’m fine, Alfred,” Dick says as he sits in the back seat. Jason takes it as his clue to sit in the front, next to Alfred.

The short drive from the school to the manor is silent. When he looks in the rear-view mirror, Jason can see Dick has his arms around himself, and his eyes closed. He must be really upset at the interruption of his test. Not that Jason can blame him, but he’s sure Bruce has a good reason to call them back.

“What is this about?” Dick asks as soon as they walk in the manor. From where he’s standing behind him, Jason can see his shoulders shaking with rage.

“The two girls you saved yesterday were hospitalized this morning. We think the compounds all three of you have been in contact with is the cause.”

Whatever Jason had been expecting, that wasn’t it. Apparently, the same goes for Dick because he just croaks, “What?”

“Apparently, it can be absorbed into the skin, slowly decreasing the body’s temperature. Have you felt any symptoms that make you think of that?”

Jason holds a breath. Dick’s wrist had been cold to the touch, earlier. And he’s not shaking with rage, Jason realizes. He’s shivering.

“I… I guess I’ve been cold, but nothing-” his voice breaks toward the end of the sentence and he coughs loudly.

“Dick,” Bruce asks slowly. “Did you swallow some of that water?”

Dick nods, his eyes toward the floor. “Just after saving the second girl, there wasn’t time to get both of us out before my air ran out. But I didn’t drown. I spat that water out almost immediately.”

There is a second of silence, where Jason thinks maybe Bruce is going to yell, before Dick asks in a very small voice, “These girls… they are in the hospital because of me, no need to sugarcoat it. Are they going to be okay?”

“They will,” Batman, not Bruce, says as he takes Dick’s arm. “And so will you.”

Jason follows them anxiously to the living room, where Alfred is already waiting for them. Jason hadn’t even realized he left. “I saw your instructions regarding the care currently given to the two young ladies. There is nothing being done for them at Gotham General that we can’t do here,” he says to Bruce.

Sure enough, the couch has several blankets and heat packs, and Jason can hear tea being made in the kitchen. There is also an IV pole.

“Isn’t that overkill?” Dick asks. “I told you, I feel cold, but nothing too bad, I can-”

“The girls are physically smaller than you, but you were exposed for longer, not to mention you had some of the product in your throat,” says Bruce, not leaving room for protest.

“We just don’t want severe hypothermia to set in,” Alfred explains gently. “It’s better to start administering warm fluids now than to take any risks.”

Dick lets out a long-suffering sigh as he falls onto the couch, pushing his sleeve up and presenting his arm, a silent agreement to the IV. Alfred gets to work; without any other word, Bruce leaves the room.

Once they’re both gone, Jason slowly moves next to Dick on the couch. The older teen is still shivering, but he’s stubbornly on top of the covers.

“I’m sorry about the math test. I know it was important to you,” Jason says tentatively.

Dick doesn’t reply, just gives him a look. “If it helps,” Jason continues, “you’ve been having great grades all year and you will continue to do so. I’m sure this won’t stop you from getting the scholarship if that’s what you’re after.”

Dick blinks. “Thanks, Little Wing,” he says slowly. “It was stupid anyway.”

He doesn’t elaborate more than that.

After a while, Jason asks, “Do you want to watch TV or something?”

“You don’t have to stay,” is the answer he gets for his troubles.

“Yeah, but I want to. And we’re watching something,” Jason decides, taking the remote and turning on a crime show. When he turns back to Dick a few episodes in, he finds him completely rolled in the blankets and still shivering, cold apparently having won over stubbornness.

“I’m okay,” Dick tells him, his voice not much more than an airy murmur. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Jason quickly looks away, unaware he was looking at him in a certain way.

“I don’t-” Dick coughs. “I don’t regret it. We don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t saved them,” he says.

Jason doesn’t say anything to that. “I hope they will be okay,” Dick adds.

Jason nods. “Yeah.” He doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like Dick who is cool and who saves him from bullies and who is Robin being reduced to a shivering mess, curled up under the covers despite the fact that the heat packs are enough to make Jason hot from the other side of the couch.

There is a knock on the door – a useless measure, the door is always open – and Bruce comes in, something in his hands.

“Alfred made soup,” he says, carefully. “If you want some.”

Dick doesn’t move from where he’s buried under the covers, doesn’t look at Bruce. “I’m not really hungry,” he says through chattering teeth. And when Bruce doesn’t seem satisfied with that, he adds, “I ate well for lunch.”

“No, you didn’t,” Jason interrupts.

If looks could kill, the one that Dick shoots him would have sent him straight to the grave.

Bruce puts the bowl on the coffee table and squats down. “I know you’re not hungry. But your body is fighting an unknown, and you have to get all the strength and warmth you can have. Can you at least try?”

Dick still doesn’t look at him. “I don’t think I can eat,” he says.

Bruce tilts his head. “Nausea?”

Dick shakes his head. “No, I…” he gets one of his hands from below the blanket. His shaking fingers are pale and barely twitch. “I don’t think I can eat,” he repeats before pulling his hand back under the covers.

Bruce’s expression breaks in a way Jason hadn’t seen before. It’s not pity, or even worry, though there is some worry in there. It’s just utter sadness. “Chum-” he starts.

“I can help,” Jason interrupts again. “I can help you. I won’t make it awkward. I promise.”

He did it several times with his mother, when she couldn’t lift her hands or was shaking too much to hold a spoon. “I can help,” he repeats. He’s been feeling so useless since this whole thing started. He can do this.

“Ok,” Bruce says slowly. “Ok, Jaylad, I trust you.” And with that, he’s gone. He’s not good with seeing someone in pain or weakened. Jason had noticed how Bruce wouldn’t look at him when he removed his shirt for medical exams, in the weeks after he’d been brought to the manor.

Jason sits on the table and takes the soup in his hands. “Okay,” he says. “How do you want to do it?”

Dick closes his eyes slowly. “You don’t have to do this,” he says.

“I kinda do. Since you can’t hold the spoon.” When he sees Dick’s face, he adds, “I’m not judging you, or seeing you any differently because of this. I just want this dinner to happen the best way possible for both of us.”

Dick opens his eyes. “You’re right. We can do this like you want.”

Jason nods. He slowly puts a bit of soup in the spoon and moves it toward Dick’s face, making sure the oldest sees all his movements. When he reaches his mouth, he makes sure to be as gentle as possible. Dick, to his relief, doesn’t say anything and just lets him feed him. It’s only when the soup is about half finished that he mutters, “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Thank you, then.”

“Yeah, that you can say.”

“Thank you, Jason. You’re a good kid.”

You’re a good kid. How many times had he heard this from his mother? Thank you, Jason, you’re a good kid. I don’t deserve you, Jason. I’m sorry, Jason.

He would never hear it again. He would never feed her like this and, as terrible as it was, he finds himself wishing he could. He wants to forget about that one morning where he woke up to find her cold, colder than Dick currently is, and pretends he’s still taking care of her.

An icy cold finger gently goes to wipe his face, removing a tear he didn’t know was there.

“What’s going on, Little Wing?”

Jason wipes his eyes quickly. He’s the one who should be taking care of Dick, not the other way around. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Dick tilts his head, keeping his mouth stubbornly shut when Jason tries to feed him more soup. “That doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I miss my mom, that’s all,” he says honestly.

Dick hums in understanding. “I miss mine too, a lot. I miss both my parents. Especially in times like this.” He looks everywhere but at Jason when he says, “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if they were still there. If I was still at the circus with them.”

Jason hums. “Being with Bruce is probably better for me,” he says, because objectively, it is. Unlike Dick, and unlike most people he sees at school, Jason never had a proper childhood. He doesn’t even remember a time when he didn’t feel like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Probably,” Dick says. “I’m sorry, Jason.”

“I told you; you have nothing to apologize for.”

“We should have found you sooner.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not the only Crime Alley kid in need of saving, and no matter how much Batman and Robin try, they can’t save everyone.

“It’s okay,” Jason says. “You found me.”

Dick closes his eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “Bruce did.”

They don’t talk much more after that. Alfred brings dinner for Jason, smiling in approval when he retrieves the empty soup bowl. They watch some more TV, only interrupted by the regular sound of Dick coughing, and Jason can feel himself falling asleep when Bruce enters the room again.

“I have a lead on where the Riddler could have gotten the compound,” he says without so much of a hello. “I’m going there tonight, to find more about it, and hopefully a cure. We’re going to save the girls, and we’re going to save you.”

Dick makes a sound of approval from where he’s even more buried under the covers. It’s clear that he’s not in any state to be Robin tonight.

“I can help,” Jason says, standing quickly. “I can help you. I’ve been training, I could be Robin!”

“No,” Bruce says, and that’s final. “I am not endangering you. Stay here with Dick.”

“I’m okay,” Dick says, still not moving, and definitely not okay. “He’s right, you shouldn’t be alone. Jason is capable, and-”

“No,” Bruce repeats. Before Jason or Dick can add anything else, he’s gone.

“Alfred is on the comms,” Jason says, both for Dick and for himself. “He will call me if I’m needed.” To be honest, he’s not really ready to leave Dick alone while Bruce, Alfred and probably Barbara are racing to find a cure. He still feels like everything can go south so fast. And to think just a few hours before they were joking over lunch.

“He’s going to find something,” Jason adds. “And you will be better in no time.”

Dick doesn’t say anything.

And so, they wait. Jason puts the TV back on, but Dick isn’t really watching anymore, completely curled up on himself around the heat packs. Jason feels himself getting lulled to sleep, and Alfred is too busy to tell him to go to his actual bed. So, he lets himself drift on the couch.

Jason wakes up to a sound he doesn’t recognize and what feels like a block of ice hitting his shoulder. He blinks and turns toward Dick.

He immediately feels blood rushing to his body, pumping into his ears. Dick’s face is ashy gray, his lips turning blue. But it’s the sound that comes from him that freezes Jason in fear. He’d only heard one person breathe like this; an older homeless man who had developed pneumonia. Things didn’t end well for him.

Dick’s lips move to form the word help but no sound comes out of his mouth. He coughs, and something falls down his chin. It’s not blood, but it’s not spit either.

It’s ice, Jason realizes with horror. Thankfully, it melts quickly, but Dick is coughing up ice.

That, more than anything else, gets Jason to move. He jumps on his feet and runs toward the cave. He doesn’t have any breath left to explain the situation to Alfred, but the old man seems to understand, hurrying upstairs with him. Dick is still in the same state when they reach the living room, and Jason blindly follows the orders Alfred gives him, knowing he probably won’t remember much of it later. Together, they get a portable oxygen machine to push warm air into Dick’s lungs, hoping it will ease his breathing.

Dick is looking at them with wide eyes the entire time, but, thankfully, he seems to relax a few minutes after they put on the mask.

“Take care of him, Master Jason,” Alfred says. “Master Bruce should be back shortly.”

So, Jason stays there and watches Dick like a hawk. But eventually, as Dick is resting, his breathing once again regular, he finds himself pulled once more into unconsciousness.

“B?”

Jason wakes up with a start. Dick is awake, his eyes big as he calls.

“B?”

Jason quickly moves next to him. “He’s not here. He’s looking for a cure.”

Dick blinks, like he doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Maybe he doesn’t, Jason thinks. He’s suffering from severe hypothermia and breathing difficulties. Jason wouldn’t be surprised if he was confused or delirious.

“He’s not here?” he asks, a little sad.

“No, but not because he doesn’t want to be.” To be fair, Jason isn’t sure if Bruce would want to be here, but he decides to humor Dick. “He’s trying to save you. He can’t lose you.”

There is something strange that passes into Dick’s eyes, something that reminds Jason of that day one month ago when they talked about the adoption, something that is not confused at all, and he says, “He can. He will.”

Jason feels very cold, like he’s the one who’s been in contact with the dangerous chemical. “No,” he says. “He will be back, he’s going to save you, and-”

“In a month,” Dick continues. “I will turn eighteen. And I will be no one to Bruce.”

Jason blinks. This wasn’t about giving up, then. “What are you talking about?” he asks. What does turning eighteen have to do with all of that?

“Foster care ends at eighteen.”

And suddenly, everything makes sense. Dick’s behavior around the adoption papers. Working at the fast-food place. The scholarship.

“You’re not adopted.” It’s not a question. And Dick just thinks Bruce is going to give him up after he turns eighteen? “Why?”

Dick doesn’t look at him. “I don’t know,” he says, and Jason doesn’t push it.

“But even then,” Jason argues. “You’re much more to him than his foster kid.” Has Dick not seen the way Bruce looks at him? Has he not heard the way he talks about him to Jason? Has he not seen him breaking in front of his suffering, earlier? “You’re Batman and Robin,” Jason says, a desperate attempt to make sense of what he wants to say.

Dick let out a small laugh, a sad, quiet sound. “Not for much longer. He will find another, better Robin.”

“What?” Jason’s voice breaks a little. That doesn’t make any sense. “No, that’s not-”

“You said it yourself. You can be Robin.”

Jason’s hands instinctively go to cover his mouth, letting out a choked sound. He said it, but he didn’t think it would have such an impact on Dick. He didn’t mean it in a way that meant he could be a better Robin, just that he’d been training to help them in the fight.

“No, no. No, I don’t-”

“I know,” Dick says. “You’re a good kid,” and there are these words again, Jason is a good kid. He’s a good kid, but he’d been unable to save his mom. He’s a good kid, but he’s been unable to not hurt Dick with his careless words. “I couldn’t hate you if I tried. And that’s the thing: it would have been so much easier if I could just hate you and think everything is your fault. But you really don’t like to make things easy, do you?”

He stops a bit, to take his breath, and Jason doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know how to make things better. He doesn’t know how to make Dick see how much Bruce loves him, and he just recalls how many times Bruce had told him how proud he was of Dick, yet all he ever heard between Dick and Bruce is technical talk or arguments.

“It’s okay, Little Wing.” And Jason wants to scream, because nothing is okay. “Don’t cry.” Jason wants to reply that he’s not crying, but he’s not sure about that. “I understand. You will be a good Robin. And you will be a good son. You deserve it.”

Jason wants to yell, he wants to say that there is no such thing as deserving to be a son or deserving to be a parent, it’s either something that you are or aren’t, and that a lot of people, people like Augustus Wright, probably think his mother didn’t deserve to be a parent and maybe she doesn’t but she was there. She was there. But what comes out of his mouth is, “I don’t have to be Robin. I don’t want to be Robin if I have to become Robin like this. I can be something else! I can be Titmouse.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Titmouse?”

“I… whatever!” Jason angrily wipes his eyes and turns out he is crying. “I can be another spring bird! I can bring warmth to Gotham’s winter.”

Dick smiles, and it doesn’t fully reach his eyes, but it’s something. “I would like some of that warmth, if that’s not asking for too much,” he says. “I’m so cold.” One of his hands sluggishly goes on Jason’s face, removing a tear. Despite himself, Jason shivers at the contact, but he doesn’t move away.

“I can-” he says. “I will-”

“I know,” Dick replies to what hadn’t been spoken. “You’re a good kid,” he repeats, and Jason lets out a sob. “Even if it was a lie, I’ve been happy to call you my brother.”

The hand that had been on Jason’s face falls back on the couch, and Dick’s eyes slowly flutter shut. Jason’s heart misses a bit. “No.” He moves so he’s practically on top of Dick. “No, no no no. Don’t fall asleep.” He can’t handle this. Not again. And even if Dick was right and Bruce was ready to lose him, Jason really, really isn’t. “Don’t leave me alone. Please don’t leave me alone.” He’s whining, he knows he’s whining, but he can’t help it. He’s never been a child, but the last nine months had been the closest thing he had to a childhood. So now, he feels like a child, and a child is whining. “Don’t leave me alone.” Is he really that powerless? Is there really so little he can do to keep what he loves?

A hand moves him, takes him away from Dick, and he wants to fight, but his limbs feel like jelly, and he watches in a dazed state as Bruce introduces something into Dick’s IV line.

And then, as Bruce moves his hands away from the IV to discard the syringe, everything that just happened washes over him. How Dick thought Bruce was ready to leave him. How these kinds of feelings aren’t born overnight. How he never heard Bruce tell Dick anything nice, and that probably means he hadn’t said any at all during the last nine months, probably more. It rushes over him, and he needs to do something about it.

And, like that night in Crime Alley nine months ago, his first reflex is to lash out.

“It’s your fault!” he screams, punching Bruce. His fists aren’t hurting him, he doesn’t even put any strength on them. “It’s your fault!” he repeats, and he melts into Bruce’s arms when Bruce holds him. “I know,” he says, and Jason blinks because how could he possibly know? “I just didn’t know what else to do. I won’t force you to be Robin if you don’t want to.”

And he just moves away from the couch, leaving Jason on the floor to ask himself what on earth was he talking about?

“Master Jason,” Jason blinks and Alfred is here. He apparently did some arrangements around Dick, and Jason lost some time. “I think it’s time for you to rest in a real bed.”

Jason blinks again. He wants to protest, but he’s bone tired. “I’m not leaving Dick,” he says.

“Very well,” Alfred says, and he makes a sign to Bruce to carry Dick to his room.

As they make their way upstairs, Jason almost regrets his lashing out. Because Bruce is so careful, so loving, so fatherly with Dick that there is no doubt about his feelings. But then, why the adoption thing? Why did he offer Jason, but not Dick?

That’s a question for tomorrow morning, he thinks as he falls into the bed. For now, Dick is safe, saved by Batman, and he can fall asleep knowing he will still have time to untangle everything that just happened later.

Jason wakes up next to a furnace. He checks the heat packs, only to find them long cold. The heat produced in the bed isn’t anything artificial. He turns toward Dick, who is still asleep, and the heat the older boy radiates is a nice change from everything that happened the night before. Though, Jason thinks as he studies Dick’s flushed face and his labored breathing, maybe that’s even too much heat.

Jason quickly gets out of the bed, and dashes toward the corridor. He stumbles upon Bruce, who is walking quickly toward the room.

“I just got news from the hospital-” Bruce starts.

“Let me guess, the girls had an immune response to the cure?” Jason finishes for him and Bruce nods.

With Alfred, all three of them move into Dick’s room, who blinks and groans when he sees them, apparently waking up. Bloodshot blue eyes land on Jason, and he feels like he’s under a microscope.

“You’re okay?” is the first thing he asks Jason, and Jason nods. He wonders if Dick remembers the last night, or if he’s just asking this out of habit. He takes the safer route. “Yes. You’re not contagious, it’s an effect from the cure.”

Dick blinks again, and Alfred hands him a glass of water with a pill that he looks at for a few seconds before asking, “The cure?” And then, as if everything comes back to him, he turns toward Bruce and asks, “Are the girls okay?”

Bruce sighs. “More or less like you, except for the fact that they didn’t go into respiratory distress.” Dick looks away in shame at that. “There is no way to tell for sure, since this is very experimental, but the doctors expect the fever to last a few days, and then break on its own.”

Dick finally takes the pill and some of the water Alfred gave him before falling back into the bed. “Okay,” he says. “Good.”

Bruce looks like he wants to add something more, but Alfred clears his throat. “You should probably sleep it off then, Master Dick,” he says, but it’s clear he’s talking more to Bruce than to Dick.

Bruce seems to accept that now is not the time to talk and puts one of his hands on Jason’s shoulder. “Come on, Jaylad. Let’s give him space.”

Just before leaving, Jason takes a step toward Dick’s bed and kneels down. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he says, both because it’s true and because no one else said it.

Then, he follows Bruce and Alfred to the living room. Alfred had cleaned up all traces of the night Jason and Dick spent on the couch and even prepared dinner. Jason wonders how he does all that. Alfred, he decides, is probably not human. That is the best explanation.

“B,” Jason starts once Alfred is out of hearing range, probably going up to try to get some food into Dick. “What I said yesterday-”

“No, you were right. I brought you into this life, but that doesn’t mean you have to be part of it. When I first took Dick in, he was angry and reckless. He would go out every night on his own. At that time, we created Robin. It was the best thing both him and I could find. But,” Bruce’s fingers tighten on his fork as he eats, “that was naïve and reckless on my end to think I could keep him safe out there. What you saw yesterday… It wasn’t the first time something like this happened. Dick knows it, and he made his choices. Still, Robin isn’t suiting him anymore, and he doesn’t want to keep working in the way we currently do. This is why, when you showed interest in vigilantism, I offered you to be Robin. But, if with after what you saw yesterday you don’t want to do this anymore, I can understand. You can keep training for self-defense, and you will always have a home in this house.”

Jason has to keep himself from murmuring a “Whoa.” This is the first time he heard Bruce talk that much since the speech he had when he arrived, he thinks. But there are several things that bothers him with what had just been said.

“No, I… I want to help. I know it’s dangerous, and I know danger. But these girls, they wouldn’t have been saved without Dick, would they?”

Bruce stays silent for a moment, not looking at Jason. “I don’t know,” he finally says.

“Okay.” Jason doesn’t push. “Okay.”

“But,” Bruce continues, “there have been situations where he undeniably saved people, so I guess your point still stands. Though, if you don’t want to-”

“You said Robin didn’t suit Dick anymore,” Jason cuts him, not wanting to go back on his involvement, fearful Bruce would change his mind about letting him go with them. “Did he tell you that?” Because this doesn’t make sense at all, given the conversation he had with Dick last night.

“No,” Bruce says, “He didn’t need to. His behavior has made it clear he needs a change, even if he might not see it yet.”

Jason blinks. Well, that was… a very Bruce thing to think. He doesn’t ask about the adoption thing. Part of him wants to ask, wants to know what made the difference between him and Dick, but part of him is afraid Bruce will backtrack if he asks too many questions, like he almost did for vigilantism.

Neither Bruce nor Alfred had said anything about school, so Jason assumes he’s allowed to skip today. He’s glad. He doesn’t hate school, but he doesn’t think he can handle it today, especially if Augustus or his friends start to pick on him. Especially without Dick. When he goes to see the older teen, he finds that Alfred had closed the door. The butler tells him to let Dick rest for now.

So, here Jason is. Not really knowing what to do and still full of adrenaline. He offers Alfred some help with the housework but, as usual, the old man firmly pushes him off after a few tasks. Bruce takes his computer and starts working on something in the living room, so he takes it as his clue to get a book and read.

They stay like this for a while, all three of them in silence. Jason regularly raises his head toward either Bruce or Alfred, and sometimes toward the stairs to check if he hears anything from Dick. But he’s totally absorbed into his reading when he hears, “What time is it?”

Jason raises his head quickly, not having heard Dick going down the stairs. It looks like the Robin stealth isn’t hindered by a fever.

Bruce, as expected, isn’t phased by the sudden apparition. “We’re just before midday,” he says, without even looking up from the thing he’s working on.

“I need to go to class,” Dick says and that has Bruce look up in an exasperated way. Jason is also kinda exasperated; he was hoping Dick wouldn’t remind Bruce and Alfred about school.

“I think not,” Alfred says, turning back sharply from whatever he’s doing. “You are still feverish, and, I would think, exhausted from the ordeal your body went through just last night. Go sit on that couch with Master Jason while I go fetch some lunch for the lot of you.”

Dick looks like he wants to argue, but he knows Alfred is right, and there is no way to argue with him anyway. So, instead, he just sighs, thanks him, and goes sit next to Jason.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks.

Dick looks steadily in front of him. “Yeah,” he says.

“You’re an excellent student, missing a day or two won’t hurt your grades.”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s not as if you could follow class properly with a fever anyway.”

Dick turns toward him. “You’re probably right,” he says. And then he smiles. “Looks like you gave me a bit too much warmth, right, spring bird?”

Jason immediately feels his cheeks heating up. “So, you remember what happened last night?”

Dick turns back to look at the wall. “Yes. Look, I was… I wasn’t in my normal state. What I said-”

“No, you were right. I mean, I’m glad you said it. I still want to help, but it doesn’t have to be by being Robin. I can be something else.”

Dick turns back to him with a smirk. “Titmouse?” he asks and his voice is still not back to normal but the gentle teasing heals something inside Jason’s heart he didn’t know needed healing.

“Shut up,” he says.

They stay in silence for a while before Jason dares ask, “Do you want to be adopted.”

Dick let out a long breath that makes Jason wish he hadn’t asked before saying “I don’t know.”

Jason doesn’t push it. He doesn’t know how to respond to that, anyways. After a time, Dick talks again. “But what I said is true. For however long it lasts, I’m proud to call you my brother.” His knuckles move to hit Jason’s head gently. “And if it’s still your choice, I would be happy to be your partner in the streets of Gotham.”

#dc #batfam #fanfiction #my writing #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #whump #dick grayson whump #hurt/comfort

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ohnoithurts · 1 year

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Brute forcing my way through learning anatomy by torturing blorbo

#whump art #nightwing whump #dick grayson whump #torture #chains #blood #bruises #my art #batfam

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wait-whos-batman · 3 months

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does anyone have any batfam fanfics to recommend? I lost all of my ao3 tabs and need something to numb the pain of existence.

#whump #ao3 #batfam #batman #batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #comics #fanfic #hurt/comfort #im hurtin #wheres the comfort #jaydick #damijon #timkon #superbat

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daydreamsandcrashingwaves · 4 months

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Keeping It Close To The Chest Pt 1

Edited 12/25/23 ~~ Here's Part Two ~~

Part Three Part Four

I devoured the Damian Wayne and Danny Fenton are Twins tags and had to make something of my own to add. This is my first fanfic I've decided to post. I'm much more familiar with the DP side of things but I gave it my best shot. Hope this brings joy anyway. If I decide to post this on A03 I will have it beta'd since I made this in like four parts and then wove them together so the flow may not always be there whoopps.. but for now I just wanted to share this with all you!

TW/CW: Medical experimentation and trauma, parental abuse/neglect, wound description, blood-ectoplasm and human, death (it's danny, he's the culprit lol will apply to Jason too if I add to this), body horror (to be safe), PTSD and flashbacks, childhood trauma and abuse, dehumanization

If I missed a tag/warning please let me know! I've never been an extensive tagger so i tried real hard to get everything, but I am human and could've missed something. Much love, stay safe.

~Ren

He had to keep moving. He could still hear their screams of rage ringing in his ears. Faster, he had to be faster. His blind panic had created an opportunity, a sliver of hope Danyal was determined to twist to his advantage. He was limping forward on uncertain legs. His vision swayed with the movement, and he fought to keep upright. His chest was on fire, Danny pressed his hands tightly to the wound there in a desperate attempt to keep his organs from spilling out like confetti. He kept his arms tucked close and rounded his shoulders to try and keep his torso still while he moved quickly through the empty streets of his once home. His chest was by far injured the worst, but he had paid no mind to the others. If he dared to stop, he would fully die.

Even in his human form, Danny just knows he's leaving a glowing blood trail behind him, the ectoplasm burning into the ground behind him. Whatever side of his transformation his body was currently showing it didn't matter, he was simultaneously both, always. The trail was evidence he transformed due to necessity, he became so durable after dying that it took a lot to hurt him. Danny risked a glance down and paled further. The green he spilled as Phantom mixed with red. A fucked up corrosive bread trail right to him. He was sure he truly was in deep shit. He just had to get to his go bag. Over time with his parent's inventions getting more dangerous the more Danny had to think about putting into motion The Great Escape.

Anything important he had always kept hidden, but Danny had taken everything out of his room once he had died the second time, and Danny was grateful for the convenience to be able to phase things into walls, floors, ceilings. It made his things pretty secure; no human could find it and any ghost that came through was too focused on their obsession or fighting him to go on a treasure hunt for his hidden things.

Danny's willful ignorance of his body as he stumbles farther from FentonWorks doesn’t stop the slight burn of his ectoplasm against the edges of his wounds and the tatters of his hazmat suit pulling on the scabbing blood or the smell. Ancients the smell. It’s rancid, he hasn’t been able to cycle it properly without his normal supply of fresh ectoplasm from the Zone. Only provided in small bursts when his parents wanted to see how his body healed with and without ectoplasm. He can feel the whispers of his terror, anger, grief that’s flowing through his blood.

He had been overconfident way back when he had threatened Vlad with exposing his secret. He had thought they'd love him despite having kept his halfa status from them, he hadn't been prepared for the distrust, the hatred, the way they moved farther and farther from thought out experiments to revenge. Danny knows Maddie and Jack still see him as the quiet, shaken child so desperate to be good, craving acceptance by the eccentric family that took him in when they look at him. If Danny had to guess they had been so blinded in their rage to even realized it was their machine, their failure that made him this way. Now they really did want him dead.

He’s whole somehow, despite their best effort, he just needs time. Ancients, He’s not exactly the monster they pictured, but He's not human... He’s whole.

The thought tastes bitter and Danny strangles it before it can expand. He must be focused. Taking a measured breath Danny turns down a familiar alley, he goes intangible with a slight twinge in his core, slipping into the bathroom of Nasty Burger. He’s done this so many times the familiar path brings comfort, reassurance. Like maybe things will start to turn for the better. Making his way over to the stall Danny debated whether it was worth climbing the toilet or floating up there. No, it was better to grit his teeth and bare it. There were only three containers of ectoplasm in his bag, he needed to preserve what strength he had. He would soon have no way to access the Zone for a refill.

Danny took one hand and placed it on the wall before careful stepping up. Lifting his leg had sent waves of pain across his nerves but with a grunt he leveraged himself up. His vision went black at the edges, he was dizzy, and bile clawed at the back of his throat. Danny took a few breaths, while he might not need to breathe, he’s been human longer than not, and well.. he’s only half ghost so the habit carried over to when he's Phantom. Danny was immensely grateful for his time in the League, the training was brutal, he still has nightmares about dying the first time but.. he did learn how to survive in situations that if he was truly a Fenton, would've killed him many times over. As Danny was Danyal Al Ghul Fenton, he always had back up plans. His Mother had been heavy handed with those lessons.

It was painful to think about Talia. She had been Grandfather’s favored child and the weight of his expectations of his grandsons was enforced by her. Lessons or punishment, very rarely praise was given to Danny by his Mother's hand. Each milestone was meticulously observed and reported back, doubly so for their failures. Tiny bodies with too big of weapons, green and blue eyes, a face mirroring his own but twisted in determination, competition. His older brother, his twin. They were inseparable, until they weren't.

Danny's core throbs in his chest, he wanted to shy away from the thought, yet the inconsolable part of him screams at the injustice of being the only one to escape their Grandfather. If only Danny could've proven himself, perhaps his brother would've had a chance to leave in his stead, but Danny knows just how much he was lacking in comparison to his brother, and it was their skill, or lack thereof in Danny's case, that sealed their fates. Danny was able to avoid Ra's overseeing eyes when they moved off the failure of a Spare and homed in on his true Heir. The grandson who took to their lessons like a duck in water. Deathly beautiful, Danny used to think as he watched his brother dance and fly through his training. Talia couldn't defy Ra's orders but if she just.. misplaced.. the Spare that was abandoned, well, no one has come for him yet.

Danny knows she loved him, somewhere hidden, deep inside his Grandfather's perfect pet assassin. She loved him enough to send him away when it became clear Ra’s saw no need in the Spare that was no longer needed, she had loved him when she had beaten him and left mortal wounds-their only chance to fool Grandfather, she loved him when she had given him his packed bag and left him outside that orphanage in Chicago with lazarus water raging in his veins, and she loved him when she told him to forget.

Forget about the League her and his brother, his family.

With brief tight squeeze to his small shoulder her she told him if he was in danger to find Bruce Wayne and then Talia Al Ghul was gone and Danyal-just Danyal now- was left truly on his own for the first time ever.

Danny was definitely in danger now; his situation was grave and despite everything the pun brought a small smile to his face. He couldn’t go back home to the Fenton's. He tries to forget how he froze in his surprise when he realized his parents didn’t take his reveal as Phantom as well as they had let on. They had smiled and stalled until they had found a way to contain him. By then it was too late, he had gotten too complacent in his run on a normal life.

Only after Ancients knows how long he had been resisting, pleading, screaming-I’m still Danny, it hurts mom please, I’m still me, Dad I’m alive- did Maddie find his core. Too tired to move it away from her gaze any longer and when her fingers brushed it the wave of mind-numbing terror exploded out of him. Something must've been on her gloves because his core burned. It ripped a wail from his throat while he writhed on the table. Ice responded like it never was taken from him by the anti-ghost restraints.

Danny could still distantly feel the ghostly ice that had trapped them in place and shattered his restraints under the pressure the frozen water bursting into existence. Even trapped in his ghost ice they were steadily working on getting out and would be on the hunt for him again soon. He wouldn't allow them to catch him again.

The mere idea they’d be on their way already spurred Danny back into action. Slipping his hand into the wall he grabbed the strap and pulled his bag out, careful to keep it weightless, and slid off the toilet and back down to the floor. He hasn't seen his dagger in months, it hurt too much to practice without Dami, his other half. Here it is though, innocently tied to his bag and his gaze traced it lovingly, before searching inside the biggest pocket for his first aid kit. He didn't have time for stiches, so he reaches for the butterfly bandages and starts to pull the skin together before securing it. It's really the first proper look he gets, it's... unsettling at the very least, horrifying, to see a wound reserved for autopsies on his chest.

The Y incision is inflamed and still bleeding so he carefully follows its path until he's done. Grabbing gauze, he starts to reinforce pad, wrapping a roll of bandages around to hold everything in place. Danny bites his lip and thinks for a moment, he will need stitches, he's been wounded enough in this half-life to know that. The likelihood for his work to stay in place while he flies is less than he'd like. Making a decision and with a mental shrug he takes an ectoshot from the smaller pocket and stabbed it into his thigh before pressing the depressor. Pure energy zapped through his system hard, angerly surges to settle in his chest. Feeling a bit better but more.. wired Danny takes a second to calm. Steeling himself he tries to nudge his core, it responds in a weak pulse.

Danny's body protests, he can feel his muscles shred and reform, his bones twist like taffy, his organs melt together before settling to form his ectobody. It's all over in a flash of bright light, yet the pain felt endless. Overwhelming in its intensity but gone just as quickly as it came leaving Danny sweaty and panting. Transforming injured was tricky, he had to carefully picture where the bandages were, so he didn't lose all his hard work.

Confusion settled as a fog, clinging to his thoughts, making them murky. His hands were covered in blood, his body hurt, and he couldn't quite remember why, there was a siren coming closer. Everything in him screamed to run, to escape, but his hunters were too close now, freed from his ice to kill him fully. On instinct Danny's nails grew to claws, ripping into space to create a portal. He was weak, always had been, but he was good at running, hiding away in the shadows. Ghost was once a name of his, a proud title, not just what he is now.

Just as the doors burst open in a teal and orange blur Danny dove into the swirling green and hoped Clockwork was watching so at least someone knew things had exploded here in Amity. He hasn't needed to be on his own like this since after Jazz first saw him and demanded that her parents bring Danny home with them. He misses her now as the path out of Nasty Burger closes behind him. Danny's falling, dropping towards the ground too fast for eyes to track but his impact had definitely shaken the room. With a pained whine and a flash Danny was back to being human again, his landing had pulled at whatever scab was able to form in the twentyish minutes it took him to drag himself away from the basement. Danny was going to be sick, the sticky cool liquid that had his clothes clinging to him, was going to be very alarming when he finally could give himself a proper once over. He could feel the new bruises as he tried to roll off the pallets he had crushed.

"Oh! Someone decided to drop by! " A man called out with glee as he sauntered in his direction. "Shall we see who our special guest is?" Danny could feel the rotten soul as he got closer. Too close. Forgoing moving Danny tensed in anticipation. He was hurt, yes, but he would go down fighting. He could do that much to make his brother proud, even if he never realized Danny lived to 15 not 5. Before he could uncurl to swing at the man there was the soft sound of fabric rustling and a blade being drawn. Curling tighter Danny hoped he had enough juice to go intangible.

"You will not reach your goal Joker; Do you not get sick of trying?" The voice was smooth, deeper than he remembered but it's been 10 years, it's understandable that puberty changed his brother's voice. Danny would recognize it anywhere. Danny jinxed himself, somehow. How he ended up in the same room as the brother he hadn't seen in a decade, Danny wasn't sure. He was terrified though. Where Damian was the League and their Grandfather wasn't far behind. Damian had carefully hidden away his care as a child but would shower Danny in it in the darkness of their room. After years apart and Grandfather's continued influence Danny was uncertain how much of Damian truly remained.

There was a burst of noise, of movement and a struggle then silence covered the room. Danny's hands were shaking. "Nightwing, first aid is required inside, bring the kit." His brother paused, "No, a civilian, a metahuman if his unusually colored blood is to be taken into account."

Danny could feel his brother's scrutiny, his gaze held weight as it scanned over his collapsed form, he tried to curl more but a hand brushing his shoulder had Danny screaming and scrambling away.

Damian's hands twitched at his side, an aborted motion to draw his sword. He seemed to pause then they flew up empty, placating- it didn't bring Danny any comfort.

An assassin's greatest tool was always their hands. Green eyes tracked him, narrowing at the way Danny was shrinking into the shadows. Dread swam down his spine to settle hard in his gut. Of all the ways to meet his brother again, it had to be when he was dying, for a third time. Danny reached blindly for whatever was next to him to pull himself up, his knees wobbled precariously but he would be standing for this. He had to be. Black spots were now in his vision, but he forced a smirk onto his face. Danny was sure he was a sight to see, torn clothes, skin riddled with bruises, green and red blood splattered all over like a kindergartener's messy painting of Christmas, limp dirty hair.

Danny knows Damian is assessing him, taking in what he can see in front of him to efficiently deal with it as they were trained to do. potential strengths and weaknesses. Behind both the domino mask and his calm exterior Damian is taking in a snapshot. Danny wonders what he sees, if his brother recognizes the boy he’s grown into, Danny’s core thrums wildly and he tries not to fidget. The slight frown that pulls at Damian’s mouth means he caught the aborted motion.

"Damn, green, yellow and red... You look like a traffic light!" He gets one giggle in before he chokes on it. Danny can't breathe. His brother had gone deathly still when Danny spoke. He could see the war of emotions fighting through his brother, suspicion was quickly doused with rage. "How dare she." The Arabic was an unexpected comfort, but Danny felt confusion at the words. He's severely out of practice, he thought he understood but doubt settled in. He wasn't sure.

Damian had always stood firm next to him in the League, calm, driven and decisive, the perfect heir for their Grandfather. He was always warm to Danny though, would allow traces of his true feelings to be visible when Damian would inevitably catch Danny sneaking out of his bed to stargaze. Danny would get scolded, every time. Grandfather would punish him harshly for such indulgences, he knew it. Attachments were weaknesses and Grandfather would not grow weakness in the League, in his heirs. Danny may be weak and the Spare but he was smart. He knows what the looks of distaste meant from his Grandfather. He knew how his failures would catch up to him and how Grandfather disapproved of his influence on Damian. Yet Danny kept going back, hiding in the shadows to gaze at the stars and wait for his brother to come find him.

Danny had braced for Damian to be mad when he realizes Danny didn’t truly die that day and has stayed away from his brother, but Danny couldn’t have expected this.

Pure hatred lights up in Damian’s eyes when he finally realizes what is in front of him. It's Danny’s undoing. Everything else that has happened seemed like a cakewalk compared to being rejected by the person who had always understood him most. Ghosts are the manifestation of their emotions. Frostbite had explained once how injuries can manifest in a ghost's form on their own. Emotional pain could make them unravel down to their cores, until even that disappeared.

For Danny, there was uncertainty, halfas were so rare that there wasn’t much off hand knowledge, but Danny has always known from the second he died. There was no separation between his human and ghost halves. He just was. What fancy wrapping he showed off hardly mattered. Things bleed so easily between them, Danny Fenton and Phantom.

"I'll kill her painfully for this, but you abomination it will be swift." Damian has balanced on his toes, ready for a quick burst of speed. His sword now clenched so tightly in his hands it almost shakes.

An abomination the words looped through Danny's mind. The wounded sob that came forth when he opened his mouth to reply was unexpected. Danny took halting steps back from his twin. The hitching breath brought his attention back to his chest. This wasn't how Danny had pictured this moment, all those years of stolen daydreams. His core felt wrong in his chest. He felt cold, cold and brittle but his chest was on fire-and wet. The surgical cut seeping like its minutes fresh, this was by far Danny’s worst idea, to believe to ever hope, his brother would ever keep a monster by his side Danny was a fool to hope even for a moment-hands hands reaching for him to bring him back, grabbing his arm-

“No! I don't know! No please” Danny gasps as he flails weakly “I’m sorry I’m sorry!”

Damian hesitates again, before his resolve firms, "Danyal-" His name cracks over his brother's tongue. Danny isn't aware enough to unpack the way his brother's face twists in heartbreak the longer he watches Danny bleed. A warm body comes up behind him, blocking him in, he’s crying now, a weakness that he never could smother. "No!" Danny avoids his gaze scrambling to grip onto whatever fabric is in his hands. Danny wants the moment to last but he knows what’s coming. Damian won’t protect him now. His older brother had been steadfast by his side in their childhood, but now… now maybe it was better he’s bleeding out.

Danny vaguely registered the man behind him cutting off his shirt, kit at the ready besides him. Pressure on his wound forces a long high whine from his throat. He wants to shove it away, his hand swatting at it but he missed, and it thuds uselessly on the ground. He doesn't have the energy to try again.

The shock of a hot hand against his face brings everything into abrupt focus. Danny flinches but can’t move, the body unyielding behind him. He sees the room is covered in his frost and ice. Batman and Red Robin are farther back, their feet trapped in the ghostly ice, they had things in hand to try and hack away at the ice trapping them in place.

“Danyal” The pain in his twin's voice has him turning in that direction; his brother was there. For how well they could read each other in childhood Danny had no clue what his brother was thinking now. His twice dead brother, back to only die again at his feet. “Are you destabilizing? Why were you sent here? What does Mother want?”

“What?” Danny can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, even if it hurts, it seems his ice kept his organs in place while he tumbled through his hastily made portal. He must've lost consciousness at some point though; his ice seems to have melted to leaving him fully exposed. “That bitch- She has nothing to do with this- wait. You think-” Danny laughs even harder until he can’t breathe and he’s hacking and spitting up more ectoplasm. He’s pulled more fully against the warm body behind him, his head lulls-oh it’s Nightwing, the blatant concern radiating from the man stings Danny’s eyes and a few tears scatter down his face.

“I’m not a clone Dami, I didn’t even know you weren’t with the League anymore." Danny's speech slurs more the harder he tries to piece sentences together, "I'm sorry I don't know how I ended up here.” Danny is growing quieter the longer he talks- can feel his life draining onto the floor and there’s panic in the air now, Batman had sprung up next to Damian's side. Seemed to say something to Damian before he retreated slightly. Batman was hovering ready to interfere but unsure in what actions needed to take place.

Damian is staring at him intently, looking to match his scars to the one's he remembers. He taps his fingers insistently on Danny's cheek and Danny doesn't fight looking back at him. The fingers linger against the scar hidden behind his hair next to his ear, traces the edges. Damian was the one to give it to him, a training error. He had looked at Danny similarly to how he was now. Fear, regret, panic. Words are being said, they blend together, warp, so Danny just hums in response. Everything is more distant now. Danny's own fear floating out of reach. He knows death intimately, he's not afraid to greet her a third time.

The words became frantic as he struggles to stay awake, and someone was talking again. “-ood to see you though- no tss okay no pain.. mma be cold soon-" Oh. That's Danny. The face he has ached to see for years fills his vision. The shade of green he could never replace. Danny was picked up and hustled out a door into the by Nightwing while a harsh discussion flew over his head. They were in some sort of vehicle now, the door shutting causes silence to blanket the group. His head is in Damian's lap, and it takes a second, but Danny realizes Damian is carting his fingers through his greasy hair. His other hand was holding Danny's, playing with his fingers like he did as children. Danny's vision fills with tears and spills down his face.

"Danyal? Can you hear me?" Damian calls his attention softly, his sweet, sweet brother tries to keep the concern out of his voice, off his face. Once he sees Danny focus on him a trembling smile makes its home on Damian's face. His domino mask is gone, Danny drinks in the unobscured view of his brother. "We'll be back to the Cave shortly, Alfred will attend to you, then you're going to tell me exactly how this happened so I can make sure it never does again." Danny can tell Damian is scared, the minute tremble in his petting only confirmed it. Danny let a smile tug at his lips too, "It's gonna be okay Dami" Danny slurred, he hears Damian insisting they were almost home.

Home with Damian. That was a fool's dream, just out of reach. Danny never indulged in the idea; he wouldn't put Dami in danger by reappearing. But- Danny was with him now, a twitch of his fingers against Damian's proves it. Danny went limp as the Batmobile skidded into the Cave, Damian was a silent statue watching Alfred take his brother away from him. Batman saddled up next to him- Damian should shower and change, whatever it was that changed his brother was making his skin itch- but he couldn't move. His baby brother was in there, dying, again.

"Damian, chum... what was all that?" Damian ignores his eyes itching as tears built, he clears his throat to report- reporting was vital with their nighttime activities, Father needed information to help Danny. He couldn't take his eyes of the little glowing red 'In Use' sign above the surgery door though.

Damian cuts a glance at the man next to him, more Bat than Father at the moment. "Once Danyal is stable, I will give you an explanation Father."

~~~~

I thought of a name, added it to the tags, I'll add a link to the next post if I write one, will tag future posts with 'Keeping It Close To The Chest' as well

much love

~Ren

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