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Jason's breath caught as he shifted under his too-rough sheets. The fabric scratched at his chest, grabbed at the gauze and tape on his torso and made the adhesive prick at his skin.
But the hammer in his head made all else distant.
Some people thought having a high pain tolerance just meant you couldn't feel as much pain as other people.
Unfortunately, that was very untrue.
Jason had a high pain tolerance. Perhaps even too high of one. It was something that he naturally possessed, and something he had built up over years of living a life that destroyed his body on a regular basis. And that pain tolerance was something that had served him quite well in the past.
But, right now, it was as though all that pain tolerance had walked out the door and given him an extra kick in the head as a parting gift.
Stifling a moan as he shifted again, he gingerly brought a pillow over his face to shield out the first hints of morning sunshine that crept around the thin curtains. He couldn't bring himself to close the blackout curtain last night.
Which was the primary source of his regret currently.
At least his family wasn't around. That would just be the worst. He could just imagine their concern, the pity oozing from their voices.
Breathing lightly, he could feel his two knife wounds starting to bleed again. They would need attention, but this freaking concussion was going to--
The doorbell ringing pierced his head like a red-hot knife blade.
Swallowing bile as a wave of nausea hit him, he vaguely wondered who would be so audacious to ring his doorbell at...probably close to six in the morning.
The concussed brain in his skull still had enough gears working to make a guess. And the person in question would be most unwelcome right--
"Jaybird! I know you're here. You left your phone location on."
The moan did escape Jason's lips this time. His concussed brain was right.
Dick.
The gears in Jason's brain that weren't working so well wondered if, just maybe, Dick might go away if Jason stayed quiet.
"Jay? You alright?"
Dick's voice sounded closer to the room. And pierced through Jason's skull, this time like a knife, but without the heat. Mercifully.
Soft footsteps finally reached Jason's muffled ears.
"Good grief, are you alive?" Dick's tight voice mingled with hastened steps.
Jason weakly waved the man away. "Quiet," he whispered. Because, really, Dick's voice was murder right now.
"What happened?" Jason started at Dick's hands pulling away the pillow.
Jason's own hands tightened around it, sending a shot of pain from where he'd been hit on the side of the head through his body, again bringing bile into his throat.
He wasn't so fortunate this time in keeping it there.
Twisting, his stomach emptied its sparse contents onto the floor.
"Leave...me...alone," Jason finally panted, pressing his hands to his eyes because why did the sun have to be out?
There was silence for a moment, then soft footsteps retreating and exiting the room.
Sweet mercy good thought the muddled part of Jason's brain.
Moments later, the footsteps returned.
"Here," came Dick's soft voice. A cool rag was pressed to Jason's hand. The limb acted on its own accord. Instead of swatting away the gift, its coolness insidiously convinced his hand to grasp it and press it to his head.
No, I don't want this. I don't want to be taken care of, especially by Dick--
A thunk of something being placed on the floor, a bit of rustling, a dip in the mattress, and the amount of light in the room decreased with the gentle shick of the curtains being closed.
The dip moved, and Jason assumed Dick had positioned himself next to him on the mattress.
"And take this." Jason pried one eye open into a slit to watch Dick pick up a glass of water and a couple pills.
Again, his treacherous hand did as Dick commanded. Placing the pills in his mouth, he dry swallowed them.
Couldn't give Dick all the satisfaction.
The glass thumped softly onto the nightstand as Dick whispered, "What happened?"
"Some thugs got a lucky shot on me."
There was silence for a moment, then the sound of a zipper and of gloves being put on. "Several shots, it looks like. Let me take a look at your side."
Before Jason's mouth could work, Dick was already peeling back the large chunk of gauze and tape. Gentle fingers probed the area.
"Goodness, you got lucky." Even through the haze in his head, Jason could hear the relief in Dick's voice. And, traitorous throat, a lump was forming in it.
Definitely not because of Dick's concern. It was the pain. Because, remember, he didn't want any of his family around.
Some more rustling, then cool liquid was applied in a wiping motion. "You also stitched it all up remarkably well for having such a severe concussion." Dick paused. "Which, how did you get this injured? I thought your armor was just fixed."
Heat rushed to Jason's face. "Wasn't in it," he muttered. "Stopped a mugging in street clothes."
"Mm." Dick graciously didn't point out that, even in street clothes, Jason shouldn't have a severe concussion with two stab wounds on top of it.
"Don't tell Bruce," he griped.
"Promise." The distinct sound of gloves being removed punctuated Dick's pause. "I'm going to stay over to make sure you don't die. And to clean up your floor." Dick's hand pushed gently on Jason's shoulder. "Go ahead and sleep, but I'm going to wake you up once in a while."
Jason allowed himself to lie down, but muttered, "If you do I'll kill you."
Dick snorted. "I'm terrified, considering I could cripple you just by opening your curtains."
Jason ignored the too true comment, and said, "You've been warned."
"Love you too, Jay."
And Jason's eyes definitely didn't water at that as Dick's footsteps retreated again. It was just the pain.