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“I fucking love you.”
Dick sighed, and put his cellphone on mute as he muttered a string of expletives he hardly ever said in normal circumstances. This was not a normal circumstance. It was happening more often than he’d like (his preference is for it to never happen at all), but he was damned if he’d let himself be lulled into thinking it was a normal circumstance by sheer repetition.
“Hey, hey, are you there? Know you’re there... *hic* Dis... Disk... Dick! Dickie bird! Know you’re there... fuckin’ say something *hic*.”
Gods, Dick thought. He’s hiccuping. He only ever hiccups when he’s really drunk. He stared at his phone for a moment while the whining continued on the other end. He should have never picked up. It’s three in the morning and it was an unknown number and yet muscle memory had him reaching over his nightstand and picking up his phone and sliding it to answer without involving his brain in the process. If he wasn’t so sleep drunk he would have immediately known not to answer it. An unknown number at three in the morning? It could only be one person. The number always changed but the time did not. And no, it wasn’t an overzealous telemarketer. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tight as he un-muted his phone and placed it back near his ear.
“Yeah, I’m here. What do you want Jason.”
He could hear Jason grinning by the sound of his voice. “Ha! Knew you’d answer. You always answer. You know, I think you’re the only one who would ever always *hic* answer...”
Dick made a face as he listened to Jason belch over the phone and then laugh the hysterical laugh of a drunk.
“Jason, what do you want.”
“D’you know, d’you know, huh... wow that burp got riddamy... got... anyway no more hippycups... hiccups!”
“Great. Okay now Jason I need you to focus and tell me what is it that you want from me that you’d call me at three in the morning.”
“Fuckin’ so what if its three? Ain’t a problem beef... ‘fore. Ain’t a problem before... used to still be swining... swinging on roofytops at three in’a mornin’ before.”
Dick grumbled a noise of frustration and sat up. He wasn’t going to get back to sleep anytime soon. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back on the cushioned headboard he’d bought on a whim at Ikea. Seemed like a good idea now, he thought. Great for leaning back on when your drunk step-brother calls you at three in the morning. It’s not like he’s taking anybody home to appreciate it anyway. He cleared his throat and steeled his voice into the most stern it can sound at this ungodly hour.
“Jason.” He started but was rudely interrupted.
“Jason Jason Jason... wha’ with all this JASON bullit? Bullshit? ‘Ya never call me Jason.”
“I do.”
“Nah, ‘ya call me... what was it ‘ya call me all the time... Jay! Jaybird... al-a-ways callin’ me Jaybird... hated it. Fuckin’ hated it!” Another drunk laughter break. “But actually also loved it? Like, ‘yanno, it was a... a... a thing between us. You were my Dickie and I was your little Jaybird... only, only... ‘m not so little now am I? Hah, grew up bigger an’ taller than you.”
Dick took a pillow and stuffed it behind his back and slumped. Might as well get comfortable. This is going to be a while. If he was being honest, there was a time he welcomed these 3 A.M. calls from Jason. Back when no one in the family knew where Jason was. But now he was back in the fold, more or less, and back to operating in Gotham with the reserved blessings of their father, the Batman. He’d even eschewed using real bullets at the behest of the family. Dick remembered arguing about that. He liked to think he got through to Jason at least on that occasion. On other things, he never does. Like when the 3 A.M. calls started being about Jason drunk calling him to tell him this one thing.
“Dick... Dickie... I fuckin’ love you.”
There wasn’t any background noise save for the sometimes clinking of bottles if Jason was moving around while talking. He always called when he was drunk as a skunk in whatever shithole apartment he’d be bunking in with whatever version of the Outlaw group he was in now. And he always said those words that Dick never had an answer to. Heretofore he’d only ever said okay and then hung up. And then life went on, and Jason never ever brings it up, and neither does Dick, and they both pretend that one of them doesn’t periodically declare love for the other in the dead of the night in a drunken haze. Dick wished it would stop. But, if he was being honest, truly hand-to-God honest, he’s a bit glad it doesn’t. It’s twisted, he knew, and that’s why he’d never admit to it, but these stupid calls and declarations were the only interactions he had with his step-brother that didn’t involve them shouting and fighting with each other. It was the closest to a decent conversation Jason would bring himself to have with anyone in the family save probably for Alfred, as far as Dick knew. Well, as decent as a 3 A.M. drunk call could be. And it’s the only thing they have. So he answers the call every single time.
“I don’t think ‘ya heard me, so lemme say it again... Dick... Richard fuckin’ Grayson. I. Fuckin’. Love. You. So there.”
Dick chewed his lip. He could end it like they always do. But the calls were getting more frequent and something’s got to give. He sighed again.
“Jason, listen...”
“Ugh, again with the Jason!”
“Fu... okay. Okay. Jaybird, listen. I want you to do something for me, okay?”
“Fuckin’ finally!”
“Here’s what I want you to do: hang up and and tell me this when you’re sober.”
He must’ve gotten through Jason’s beer-addled brain in one go because there was only the sound of deep breaths on the other end of the line. Dick let the silence sit for a while. And then, Jason finally replied.
“What did you say?” But there was no confusion in the voice. There was a tinge of nervousness Dick had never heard from the other before. He realized, belatedly, that maybe Jason wasn’t as drunk as he made himself sound during these calls. He smiled darkly to no one in particular.
“You know what I said. I’m hanging up now.”
“Wai-”
But Dick had already hung up, giving Jason no chance to protest. The phone started ringing instantly, and he declined the call and turned off his phone for good measure. Tired, but also a little triumphant, he threw the phone somewhere in his bed and then let himself slide back down to lying on his bed, arms and legs splayed. He closed his eyes. He knew sleep wasn’t going to come back anytime soon, but he might as well be comfortable while he waited for it. That last bit, when the drunk voice fell and he heard the real Jason ask the question, it felt good, he had to admit. The little shit, Dick thought. Never learns. He chuckled and then turned to his side, and tried to catch some sleep.