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“D- Nightwing ? What the fuck are you doing? It's four o'clock in the morning. I was trying t - Dick? Jesus, are you bleeding?”
Jason looped Dick’s arm over his shoulder and supported him towards the couch. Dick’s only response was a begrudged groan as he laid, exasperated and exhausted, on Jason's couch.
“Don't bleed on my couch. I made a bet with Steph I wouldn't get any blood on it for a month.”
“Sorry,” Dick managed through clenched teeth, beads of sweat rolling across his forehead. “Gotta shoulder wound. Blood. Few bruises. Definitely concussed. Feels bad, man.”
Great . Jason nodded, hurrying to his kitchen. In all honesty, he wasn't too concerned. He'd seen worse. Hell, he’d been through worse. Jason opened his cupboards and drawers, retrieving his bandages, scissors and a first aid kit.
When he returned back to his living room, Dick was clutching his shoulder, breathing raggedly. “Scissors?” He asked, eyeing the pair in Jason's hands.
“Well, yeah. I'm gonna cut open the suit.” Dick made a noise of protest, which Jason replied to with: “What, your budget too low for you to have an extra suit?”
Dick no longer made any noise, only sat, breathing heavily as Jason snipped a cut into the weaker fabric near the neck.
Jason peeled the suit from Dick’s bloodied shoulder. Jason could tell it was a stab wound. He figured it had slipped between the kevlar plates. Luckily, it didn’t seem too severe.
Jason handed Dick his tylenol bottle. He swallowed them dry, scrunching up his face as Jason screwed the cap back on and threw it to the floor. Promptly, Jason began to stitch up the wound. His hands remained steady as he leant over Dick’s shoulder, trying to ignore the hitches in his breaths with every loop.
“These guys did quite the number on you, Dick. They got a pretty ugly shot,” Jason reflected, as he gingerly wiped Dick’s shoulder wound with a wet cloth.
“Are you,” Dick started, his eyes clenched shut as he winced, “callin’ me ugly?”
Jason laughed dryly, furrowing his eyebrows to briefly assess the bruises peppered along Dick’s chest after bandaging his shoulder. His sternum was covered in purple patches and red slices, presumably from a couple well-placed jabs from a fist.
Blood trickled down his forehead and chin, dripping onto Jason's couch. Luckily, the fabric was a dark maroon color, and the droplets were virtually invisible. Steph would never know.
“Where's Batman when you need him, huh?” Jason asked humorously, wiping at one of the smaller cuts, which Jason guessed was from flying debris. “Or has Oracle started sleeping on the job?”
“Nothing from Babs.” Dick answered, shaking his head. “My comms’re down, I think.”
“I'll make sure to tell her you're okay, or she'll have my ass in the morning.”
Dick nodded in agreement, grinning, then immediately wincing afterwards. “I was going after a couple of guys - gang members making a delivery, stolen goods - when I was compromised. Oracle went dark.” Dick explained.
Jason pursed his lips, pressing a bandage to Dick's forehead. He hoped Barbara was okay.
“I think you’ve just got a mild concussion,” Jason said, taking his own glass of water he'd set down on the table before. “Here,” he said, helping Dick brace himself on his better elbow whilst putting the glass to his lips. “Gotta stay hydrated.”
“I'll tell Barbara you’re alright now,” Jason grabbed his phone and selected Babs from his contacts. He didn't speak to Barbara much; only while on patrol over the comms when Red Robin or Nightwing weren't responding.
She picked up after two rings, immediately speaking; “Are you with Dick?” down the phone.
Jason’s lips twitched into a smile. “Oh. Thanks for asking, I've been doing just fine, actually.” The line was silent, until Jason sighed. “Yeah, he's bleeding on my couch as we speak.”
“He'd been trailing a stolen truck I’d sent him after. Intercepted the route and a fight broke out, near your apartment. An explosion went off. That's when I lost contact with him.”
Jason nodded, watching Dick dab his bloody forehead with the cloth. “He's fine now, I think. I'll drop him by Leslie's in the morning, just to be sure.”
“And if he dies before the morning?”
“Then it's not my fault,” Jason shrugged, smiling faintly. Dick shook his head from the couch.
“Keep an eye on him, Jason.” Barbara ordered him softly. “He's not as tough as he looks,” she added in a jest. Barbara then hung up, leaving Jason to place his phone down on the table he was perched on.
“You should go back to sleep,” Dick suggested, settling himself into the couch cushions.
“Nope,” said Jason, “I’ve gotta stop you from falling asleep.”
Dick shook his head. “Jay, that’s a myth. You’re allowed to go to sleep if you’re concussed.”
“Yeah, I know. But you probably get concussed like, every other day of the week. Even if it’s only mild - you’re not dying in my hands.”
Dick grinned. “Oh, this must be your worst nightmare.” He laughed, rubbing his forehead. “To keep me awake, you’re gonna have to actually talk to me about stuff.”
Jason narrowed his eyes. “Or I could smother you with that pillow.”
Chuckling, Dick glanced down at the bloody cloth in his hand. A dark bruise was beginning to appear along his jaw. “You read any new books recently?”
“Uh. No.”
“C’mon. You used to call me weekly to tell me about all those classical novels you read.”
Jason glanced to his bookshelf by the wall, lined with books upon books, worn pages spilling out from the spines, books crammed into the thin lines between wood and paper. Surprisingly, he’d read a lot more when he was younger. He’d always wanted to know more. It was a shame, that he could feel himself beginning to read less now that he was more busy.
He remembered the calls he’d used to make to Dick. He'd usually been busy, off with the titans, and had never visited Wayne Manor that much. Nonetheless, Jason had never had any siblings, so the regular calls they had were a blessing each week. He’d never been sure how to act around Dick at first - always wanting to call him his brother, but never knowing if it was too early, if they were close enough yet, if Dick even accepted him as that.
Jason looked back at Dick.
“Let’s just watch a movie.” He sighed, spinning to the cupboard beneath his TV to select one.
There was a pause. “Okay, but I should get to choose.”
“What? No, this is my apartment,”
“Yeah, and you’re supposed to be keeping me awake, but you’re probably gonna choose a movie that’s really long and confusing, like Donnie Darko or something.”
Jason put away the Donnie Darko case. “Fine. We’re watching Die Hard.”
“I’d rather smother myself with the pillow.”
Jason laughed, slotting the dusty DVD into his ancient player. As the previews began playing, Jason said, “I’m going to make us toast. Please don’t die while I’m away for those two minutes.”
Dick mumbled something about trying his best.
With a plate holding two pieces of toast, Jason collapsed onto his leather chair. He offered the plain piece to Dick, whilst he chomped down his strawberry-smothered one - sugar wasn’t good for concussions.
The two then sat in silence, chewing quietly, their faces illuminated by the blue glow of the TV screen.
Dick shifted where he laid on the couch, before clearing his throat. “Thanks, Jay. For helping me out tonight.” He began, tilting his head over the couch’s arm to peer at Jason. He winced from the movement, but continued watching Jason's face. “Thanks for having my back, little wing.”
Jason exhaled deeply, trying to stop the smile creeping onto his lips. He stared forward at the television, not wanting to meet Dick’s gaze.
“I know you don’t like to admit you like me. Or any of us, to be honest, - but we’re still your brothers. You can’t just get rid of -”
“Dude, if you make me cry during Die Hard, I’m gonna be pissed.”
Dick stopped, his mouth agape, mid-word. Then, he broke into a cackle, laughing loudly. Jason couldn’t help but join in, not caring about awakening the neighbours. “Fine,” Dick chuckled, almost smugly, planting his uninjured arm over his chest. “I’ll shut up then.”
They turned to watch the movie.
Jason, and Dick, both continued smiling long after the moment had passed.