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schweeeppess · 5 years

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all the time

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Stressed was a good word for how Dick was feeling. So was defeated; exhausted and drained were good ones too.

His ankle was in a brace since he’d nearly broken it the night before dealing with a team up between Bane, Croc, and Zsasz, his torso was taped to help with cracked ribs, and his wrist was wrapped up since a cut he’d gotten had turned out to be a laceration that needed stitches.

It pained him to say he wasn’t the worst off.

Killer Croc had gotten his teeth into Jason’s left shoulder, biting deep before anyone could get him off, Bane had broken Jason’s elbow, he had a concussion, and his leg was broken in two places. Which wasn’t to mention the stitches he’d needed for a laceration in his cheek and the cracked jaw Jason’d sustained thanks to Croc’s tail.

Now that he thought back on it, Dick had no idea how he and Jason had managed alone for so long.

Tim had shown up with his friends Conner and Bart, and their powers helped tip the odds in their favor, letting Jason and Dick retreat to get some medical attention. Bruce was upset about Superboy and Impulse’s presences in Gotham, but he’d tolerated it since they had essentially saved his sons lives.

Barely in time.

Normally Jason wouldn’t be unconscious by now—he’d probably have woken up about an hour or so ago, actually. The only reason he was still unconscious was that he was on meds so strong they’d knock out an elephant.

At this point, Dick had been sitting with Jason for about… Five hours, give or take, and he’d fallen asleep three times.

Bruce had tried to get him to at least lay in the bed with Jason, but he wouldn’t budge. Jason liked his personal space. Jason’s comfort came first. Dick could sacrifice a few aches for his little brother.

He was just waiting for him to wake up and prove he was going to be okay as he stewed in a bit of self-loathing.

Jason shouldn’t have gotten this hurt, the wind entering from the open bedroom window hissed. This is your fault.

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Dick made a small noise and buried his face in his hands.

All your fault, Gotham whispered in his ears. All your fault.

Like he sensed Dick’s rapid decline and was ready to go a few rounds with Dick’s subconscious, Jason groaned, eyes fluttering open to squint at the window with sunlight streaming through it.

Dick’s head snapped up at the sound and he stared in stunned silence at Jason’s newfound awareness.

Knowing someone is going to be okay and witnessing it are two very, very different things, and offer two very, very different emotions.

The window was to Jason’s left. Dick was sitting to Jason’s right.

Meaning Jason hadn’t noticed him yet, and Dick could leave the way the air compelled him to.

But, since his body was locked in place, stuck from the shock of Jason’s consciousness, he couldn’t move. He could just stare, heart stuttering.

Jason turned his head and squinted to see Dick.

Escape aborted.

“Hey, Jason,” Dick greeted with a strained smile that he prayed looked genuine.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jason rasped, “My leg hurts ‘n’ my shoulder’s sore.”

Dick huffed a laugh, the smile becoming more genuine as he held out a glass of water with a hot pink bendy straw in it for Jason. “Yeah, I hear that’s what happens when a cannibalistic human crocodile takes a chomp at your shoulder.”

He paused.

“Can it be called cannibalism if he’s not technically a human? Isn’t he some weird mix of a human and a crocodile? There should be a word for it. We need to update the dictionary.”

Jason was sitting up to drink and he snorted at Dick’s decision.

“You’d need to add more than just one word if you’re gonna update the dictionary. Gotham’s bullshit can make an entire dictionary by itself,” he commented after taking a sip of the water.

“True. When should we start making it?”

Jason shook his head as Dick chuckled.

It went quiet and Dick’s smile slipped as he realized that he could leave; he should leave. Him being there wasn’t helpful, not at all. Maybe he could go get Alfred or Bruce—they’d know how to help. They’d do a better job of it.

Dick never really was a good brother, was he?

“I’m gonna go get Alfred.”

Pained, Dick stood to walk out, reaching out to ruffle Jason’s hair a little before he left.

Jason’s brow furrowed as Dick turned to leave and when he spoke Dick tripped at the quiet, vulnerable tone to his voice.

“You’re leaving?”

Dick hesitated, pausing and turning to face Jason. “Yeah, Jay. I’m getting Alfred.”

“Are you coming back?”

“I…” He couldn’t lie. He couldn’t, not with Jason giving him that look. “I don’t know, Little Wing.”

Maybe lying would have been kinder.

Dick managed to see Jason’s watering eyes before his little brother shut them and turned his head to face the roof.

“I’m all alone,” Jason said, voice trembling, “all the time.”

Hand on the doorknob, Dick froze, eyes wide as he stared at Jason.

And his little brother wasn’t done, apparently.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” he whispered. “Please don’t go, Dick, please.”

The words sent Dick back to a time when he and Bruce were at odds and the new kid was wearing his colors. They sent him to a day when he’d just finished a shouting match with Bruce, both parties in the argument unaware of their audience of a boy who’d witnessed too many fights, and he’d been just about to walk out the door, hand on the knob, when a small hand grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and gasped out a quick, “Wait!”

Dick remembered pausing and scowling down at Jason’s hand, which was quickly removed when he was sure he had his brother’s attention.

“What?” Dick remembered hissing, all his anger with Bruce shortening his temper and patience smaller than an ant’s head.

“Ya can’t jus’ go n’leave things like that,” Jason had tried to convince, earnestness and fear making his voice strain.

His response had been a scoff, hand tightening around the doorknob, and a sharp, “Watch me.”

Jason’s cry of, “Please!” had Dick hesitate, but only for a second before he was out of the Manor.

That moment was one of Dick’s strongest memories. He hated the way it made him feel, hated his past self for the way he’d treated Jason, hated that he hadn’t tried.

Jason wasn’t going to ask again, this time. Dick could feel it.

Each inhale felt like someone was injecting his heart with lead, weighing it down, and Dick could only stare at his broken brother and see a younger child in his place.

Dick’s hand dropped away from the door.

He was back beside Jason’s bed in seconds, slipping his hand into one of Jason’s and holding it tight.

“I’m right here Little Wing,” he said, giving Jason’s hand a little squeeze. “I won’t leave.”

Not again.

a gift for @onipilot who always blesses me, so this is me returning the favor cheby. ily glucose guardian :)

#my writing #my work #my fanfiction #sep's gifts #i love my friends #hurt/comfort #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Robin #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Robiin

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