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If you would’ve told Neal that he would be hit by a hijacked truck filled with tomatoes, he probably wouldn’t have believed you.
He also probably shouldn’t have immediately craved some tomato soup after being hit by said truck.
But man, tomato soup is good comfort food.
So, there he is. Lying in bed with broken ribs, two full leg casts, and a sprained neck.
At least he has Bruce’s YouTube Premium account. Bruce doesn’t even watch YouTube but he bought it when Dick got into trickshot and parkour videos and was constantly trying to replicate them and never got rid of it.
Which works out for him because, well, no ads!
He’s somehow gotten sucked into butcher knife restoration videos and is watching as a man buffs the rust out of blade when there’s a knock at the balcony door.
“Door’s open!” Neal calls, still engrossed in the video as a shiny silver layer begins to reveal itself.
“Good heavens, Master Dick. Is this how you maintain your home?”
He looks up with a bright grin. “In my defense, Alfie, I haven’t exactly been in the shape to do a deep clean.”
“That does not excuse you to live in filth,” Alfred says, nose sticking up.
“You know I’ve lived worse,” Dick says.
Alfred gives him a flat look. “That is not nearly as reassuring as you may think.”
Dick smiles sheepishly.
“Now, my dear boy, tell me,” he sits at the edge of Dick’s bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I was hit by a truck.”
Alfred gives him the flat look again.
“Honestly, it’s not that bad,” Dick says. “Just another Tuesday for me.”
“I do wish it wasn’t,” Alfred says. “I’ve put some meals in your fridge, all portioned out for you. I’ve also left some electrolyte water there as well. I expect you to drink one with every meal.” He stands and goes to his bag. “I’ve also brought you someone.”
Dick gasps. “Zitka!”
Alfred places the plush elephant on his lap. “I figured you could use a little extra comfort while you recover.”
“Thank you, Alfie. Really. You’re the best.”
Alfred smiles. “Anything for you, dear boy.” He starts picking up the stray clothes littering the floor. “Your siblings will be paying you a visit soon. They have missed you dearly, though they will not admit it.”
Dick chuckles. “I think they would rather get their feet stuck in a bear trap than actually talk about their feelings.”
“And we all know where they get that from.”
Dick laughs. “Don’t be too hard on Bruce. He’s trying his best.”
“Even so, his, as you call it, ‘emotional constipation’ has definitely been a trait passed down and reinforced into your siblings.”
Dick laughs harder which makes his ribs ache. “Aren’t you glad you’ve got me?”
Alfred squeezes Dick’s hand. “Yes. I am.” He stands. “Now, I must be off. But you won’t be alone for long.”
“Thank you, Alfie,” Dick says.
“Anything for you.” And with that, he disappears.
Even Alfred has the bat ability to disappear into the shadows.
Who knows. Maybe that’s who Bruce got it from.
Dick makes it through five bathroom cleaning videos when there’s sudden commotion on his balcony.
“—ou can not take credit for my fuckin’ cake!”
“I did stuff!”
“You sat there eating the icing out of the bowl, spilled some of your coffee on the counter, and then made a singular strawberry rose and put it on top. I actually made the cake.”
“I can’t believe you made a fuckin’ cake, Jay. That’s so sappy.”
“Shut it, Blondie.”
“No, it’s cute! Dick’ll eat it up, figuratively and literally. He’s gonna remember this for years. I bet this fills your ‘be nice to Dick’ quota for the year.”
“I think it was nice of you to make him cake.”
“Thanks, Duke.”
“But also completely unbelievable. I mean, wow. A cake?”
“I am revoking my thanks.”
“Good brother. Good cake.”
“Thank you, Cass.”
Their voices grow louder until they all cram through his bedroom door.
“Surprise!” They all shout.
Dick grins widely. “Hey guys.”
“Wow,” Steph says. “You look like shit.”
Cass smacks Steph in the back of the head. “Be nice.”
“You look as radiant as ever,” Steph says.
“Jason made you a cake,” Duke blurts out.
“I can see that,” Dick says. “Thank you, Jay. That’s so sweet. I love it.”
Jason ducks his head, not doing a good job at hiding how much the kind words mean to him. “Yeah, whatever. I was baking anyways.”
“Still,” Dick says. “It means a lot.”
“Can’t believe you got hit by a truck out of the mask,” Tim says.
“Working for the FBI is dangerous!” Dick exclaims.
“Yeah but you work in white collar crime,” Tim says.
“The white collar criminals are very crafty,” Dick says.
“How is it going? The Neal thing?”
“It’s…” Dick pauses. “I really like it. More than I should. I hate to say it but it’s… it’s the break I needed.”
“What a break,” Jason mutters.
“Do you think you’ll come back?” Duke asks.
“Come back?” Dick repeats.
“To Gotham. To the caped life.”
Dick gnaws on his lip, looking away. “I always thought I would.”
“But do you want to?”
Dick doesn’t answer. Because he doesn’t know.
“Sorry Damian isn’t here but he’s a blackhole for fun and he didn’t want to be trapped in a room with all of us,” Steph says. She leans in and lowers her voice to a conspiratory whisper. “I think it’s because he doesn’t want to fight for your attention.” She smirks. “But that just means he’s missing out on all the fun.” She holds up her bag. “I brought some bed rest friendly card games and you bet your ass that I’m gonna crush you.”
Dick, thankful for the topic change, grins. “What’d you bring?”
“Cards Against Humanity, Uno, and What Do You Meme.”
Jason snorts. “You brought What Do You Meme?”
“I was bringing options!” Steph says, gesticulating at Jason.
“Dick likes memes,” Cass says.
“See!” Steph says.
“I think I could go for some Uno,” Dick says.
“Oh, you’re on,” Steph says.
After a brutal three rounds of Uno, Duke won once with a very tight game and Cass won twice with everyone somehow all having over fourteen cards in their hands.
“As fun as this was,” Dick says, “I think I need to take a nap.”
“You get your beauty rest, king,” Steph says.
“I hope you feel better, Dick,” Duke says.
“If I see you up in the next hour for anything other than soup, cake, or a bathroom break, I will personally steal your bones,” Tim says.
“Noted,” Dick says.
Cass comes over and ruffles his hair. “Love you, big brother.”
Dick smiles. “Love you too.”
It doesn’t take long for Dick to fall asleep, body too exhausted from the little excitement, and he has a long dreamless rest.
Dick wakes up abruptly when he senses he’s being watched. Without giving away that he’s awake, he grabs the stun wingding and throws it at the presence behind him.
A low chuckle.
“Hello to you too.”
His brows furrow. “Bruce?”
“Hey, chum.”
Dick opens his eyes and sees Bruce standing beside his bed, looking over him with a fond smile.
“What’re you doing here?” Dick asks.
“Can’t I check in on my son when he’s hurt?” Bruce asks.
“You’re… busy.”
His fond smile falters. “Dick. I know I’ve prioritized the wrong things before, but I will make room for you in my life no matter what.”
Dick, still fuzzy from sleep, just smiles and nods into his pillow.
Bruce runs his fingers through Dick’s hair. “I saw a cake on your kitchen counter.”
“Jason,” Dick says.
“Hn. That’s very thoughtful of him.”
“Did you have a piece?”
The corner of his lip tilts up. “I may have had a sliver.”
Dick hums. “Good. You deserve it. Everyone deserves cake. You don’t get enough cake, B.”
“Mhm.”
As Bruce’s fingers massage into Dick’s scalp he feels himself slipping back into sleep.
“It’s alright,” Bruce says. “Get some rest.”
The next time Dick wakes up, it’s when there’s a ding from his motion sensors at the door of his flat followed by a text on his Neal Caffrey phone.
Must be Peter.
Dick switches into Neal Caffrey and texts Peter that the door is open.
Neal pulls out a rubix cube and solves it at a speed that could rival Tim (but never beat. Tim’s too good at rubix cubes to ever beat.)
Peter knocks Neal’s door with light taps.
“Come in!” Neal says, still focusing on the rubix cube.
“Hey Neal,” Peter says.
Neal looks up and is surprised to see Elizabeth coming in with Peter.
Peter is shuffling on his feet, obviously uncomfortable seeing Neal laid up in bed covered in casts and bandages, bruises still unhealed.
Elizabeth smiles sadly. “How’re you doing?”
“Better,” Neal admits. “Bored. Already getting a bit of cabin fever. But, catching up on movies I missed in prison and never got the chance to watch.”
Peter chuckles. “You watch the Twilight movies yet?”
Neal groans exaggeratedly. “Unfortunately.”
They all laugh and Neal winces as it jostles his ribs.
Peter stops. “What’s wrong?”
“Hurts to laugh,” Neal says. “Which wasn’t a problem when I was watching Twilight.”
Elizabeth laughs again. “Well, I’m glad to see you’ve kept your spirits up.”
“I try my best,” Neal says. “No point crying over spilled milk.” He pauses. “Or shattered tibias.”
Peter frowns. “Have you been taking your pain medication?”
“When I find it necessary to,” Neal says.
“Neal—”
“I don’t like it,” Neal says, an opinion of Dick Grayson slipping out. “Makes my head too…” He trails off.
“You like to stay sharp,” Peter says. “I get it. But if you’re in pain—”
“I’m fine,” Neal says. “And believe me, I will take it if the pain gets excruciating.”
“It shouldn’t have to get excruciating, Neal.”
Neal waves his hand dismissively. “So, what brings you here? A pile of paperwork I have to do in bed? A Monet I need to paint while lying down?”
“Just here to see you,” Peter says.
“He’s been running himself ragged,” Elizabeth says, holding a hand up to her mouth and whispering conspiratorially. “He won’t admit it, but he’s been very worried.”
“Aw, Peter,” Neal says. “I’m touched.”
“I also brought you some dinner,” Elizabeth says. “But it seems someone already did.”
“My grandfather dropped some food off earlier,” Neal says.
“Oh,” Peter says. “I didn’t know you still kept in touch with your family.”
Neal just shrugs.
“Well, I brought you some casserole,” Elizabeth says. “It’s light but it’s filling.”
“Thanks El,” Neal says.
“You know, Satchmo misses you,” she says. “You better give him a visit when you’re all healed up.”
“I’ll bring the wine?” Neal says with a grin.
She grins back. “Sounds great.”
Peter picks up an Uno card off of the floor. “You have company over?”
Neal nods. “Yeah, I had some company.”
“I hope you didn’t overexert yourself…”
“I didn’t! Have a little faith in me, Peter.” He holds a hand to his heart. “There’s some cake in the kitchen if you want a piece. I know I won’t finish it.”
Peter and Elizabeth end up sitting on the loveseats in Neal’s bedroom with a plate of cake, gossiping about what’s been going on in the office, spilling the tea about the snotty woman that Elizabeth is planning a party for, and Neal’s movie opinions.
“—just can’t believe you actually like the Fast and Furious movies.”
“They’re funny,” Neal says.
“They’re not supposed to be funny. They’re action thrillers,” Peter says.
“Which is what makes them funny,” Neal says. “Everything is so dramatic. I mean, how can you even take it seriously? Best movies for a good laugh.”
“But they aren’t comedies.”
“With fight scenes like that, they’re even better than a comedy.”
Peter sighs, but his feigned frustration can’t cover the fond smile on his lips. Peter looks down at his watch. “Oh, wow, we’ve been here for a while. We’ve gotta head back.”
Elizabeth squeezes Neal’s arm lightly. “Feel better, Neal.”
“Thanks, El,” Neal says with a soft smile.
“I better not see your anklet data leave this house,” Peter says.
“I promise,” Neal says. “I am not in any shape to go steal any marble statues.”
Peter pauses. “Have you stolen marble statues before?”
Neal grins cheekily. “Bye Peter.”
“Neal!”
Elizabeth just shakes her head and leads them out of Neal’s apartment.
“-tt- I thought they would never leave.”
He looks up to see Damian standing in the corner of his room.
“Dami!” Dick says cheerfully. “I didn’t know you were coming here today, buddy.”
Damian tilts his nose, looking away as if to look uncaring. “Well, the others have come to see you and I figured you would appreciate better company.”
“I always love spending time with you,” Dick says.
Damian huffs. “Of course you do.” Damian’s impassive expression cracks with a moment of concern as he looks over at Dick. “Will you… recover?”
Dick smiles softly. “I’ll be fine, Dami, don’t worry about it. Just need a lot of bed rest and fluids.”
Damian stands up straighter. “Have you acquired substantial hydration?”
“Uh, I had a water bottle before I took a nap.”
“And when was this?”
“Uh,” Dick looks at the clock. “Maybe around 2?”
Damian frowns. “I will get you the necessary hydrants that you require.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
But before Dick can stop him, Damian is out the door.
Dick lets out a breath and relaxes into his pillows, looking up at the ceiling with an amused smile.
After a few minutes, the door opens and reveals Damian holding two glasses.
“I have brought you water that you must drink first and then juice that you may sip after.”
“Thank you,” Dick says. He takes the water and gulps it down quickly, not realizing how parched he was until he felt the first drops slide down his throat. He then takes the juice and holds it, sipping slowly at it. “How have you been?”
Damian’s nose wrinkles. “I have been fine.” At Dick’s raised brow he pauses. “I have been… concerned. After your departure, things have been… different. We are still readjusting to the new dynamic that you’ve created from your absence.”
“Is everything okay?” Dick frowns with worry.
“You have created a vacuum in the family. No one has truly been able to fill the many roles you had held. It just… is not the same.”
Dick opens up his arms. “C’mere.”
Damian immediately falls into his arms, relaxing the moment he’s in his embrace.
“I miss you too,” Dick says. “And it isn’t the same with you here. It’s lonely without you.”
“I may not be alone but I do not feel… a part of them the way I had when you were with us. I feel that they do not want me like you do.”
“They do,” Dick says. “Dami, you’ve grown so much over these past few years and I am so, so proud of you.” He smiles into Damian’s hair. “And they can see that. They can all see how much work you’ve put into learning and building on your skills and the effort you always put in to be amicable. And I know it’s hard and confusing and frustrating and you still make mistakes but you always try to learn from those mistakes, and for that, I am proud of you.”
Dick feels tears soak into his shirt and his breath hitches. He shushes Damian, running his fingers through his hair and rocking him as much as he can with the broken ribs.
“I love you so much,” Dick says, pressing a kiss to his hair.
Damian ends up exhausting himself into sleep, tucked into Dick’s arm, and with a smile on his face.
Dick lets himself fall asleep too, the sleeping boy safe in his embrace.
He dreams of tomato soup.