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Dick Grayson had no issue with being the rock of his family. He’d be there to help them with anything that came with being in a cape before being allowed to drive, and anything else they needed. What were big brothers for? Of course he’d help with Damian’s homework, Cass’ boredom, Duke’s nerves, Tim’s love life, Stephanie’s lack of one, and any and all of Bruce’s parenting insecurities. He gave out hugs freely, advice willingly, and offered sleepovers in Blüdhaven every chance he could.
It was rare that any of his siblings ever took him up on that offer, least of all
Jason
, but Dick definitely wasn’t complaining. He knew what he was doing when he invited Jason over. There was supposed to be a big storm in Gotham, and Jason didn’t do well with lightning.
If he was being honest, Dick didn’t either. And if he was being really honest, he was relieved that Jason had accepted the invitation. He really didn’t want to spend another night curled up on his bathroom floor.
The doorbell rang.
“Hey, Jason!” Dick’s brother had his hands in the pockets of his well-worn leather jacket and a bag of groceries hanging from one of his wrists. His mouth was twisted into a grimace at the water dripping onto the welcome mat outside of Dick’s apartment.
“Yeah, hi. I brought you vegetables.” Jason shouldered his way past Dick and into the kitchen.
“Thanks, Little Wing.” Dick closed the door behind him, refusing to react to the smell of wet leather and city rain.
He was fine. He was in his apartment with his little brother. Totally safe.
“You got a towel or something? This water’s annoying the shit outta me.” Jason toed off his boots and peeled off his jacket, dumping them into the once-in-a-lifetime empty sink.
“Yeah.” Dick ducked into the bathroom to hand Jason a towel. “Here.”
“Thanks,” Jason muttered, mopping up the water running down his neck. He was shivering.
Just watching him made Dick shudder, too. He could practically feel the water kissing his spine, freezing him to his core, running down from his hair and into the collar of his suit, gaining more access to his skin as the zipper was pulled down-
“Dick.”
He startled, swallowing hard against the sudden bile stuck in his throat.
“Yeah?”
“Do me a favor and stop staring at me. Pervert.”
He forced a laugh up and out of his chest.
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”
Jason threw the borrowed towel into the sink, where it gracelessly flopped onto his leather jacket. Weird. Jason was usually way more particular about how his clothes were taken care of. He hated getting his clothes ruined, which made being a vigilante hard for him; especially when his style was more get hit and hit back harder.
Dick, on the other hand, was more fluid. He only got hit if he had to. Unless, of course, he was overpowered. It didn’t happen often- he has been doing this superhero gig since he was nine- but it still happened. When the other guy was bigger, or smarter, or wasn’t frozen in place like he was, or was on top of him, and oh God , he was gonna puke.
“Dick .”
“ What ,” Dick snapped.
Jason furrowed his eyebrows, his shoulders hunching at the harsh tone.
Oh shit. Dick forced himself to move, plopping down into a seat at the kitchen table. The less offensive the position, the better. Jason relaxed. Thank God.
“Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Jason huffed, waving him off.
“Whatever.”
“What?” Dick repeated after a pause, keeping his tone softer this time.
Jason took the seat opposite of him, leg bouncing and fingers twitching. God, Dick was awful. The whole point of Jason coming over was to keep him calm.
“I was asking if you wanted soup, but now I’m curious. What’s up with you, man? You look like a friggin' raccoon.”
Dick subconsciously rubbed at the sagging bottoms of his eyes. He couldn’t deny it. He was exhausted, and it still felt like he could puke if he was prodded in the wrong way.
And it was raining. Because of course it was. Bludhaven wasn’t spared from the outskirts of the storm.
But Dick would be fine. He was fine with it.
The curtains to the kitchen window were open. The water mercilessly pounded against the glass, not caring about the effect it had on him. It wouldn’t stop for him. Not if Dick begged, not if he fought it , not if he said no. It’d still happen. He would still be held down. He would still be hurt. It hurt so bad - and he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t fine. The rain was coming for him, just like the pain and terror and sick shame and the hands -
“Dick?”
Jason’s bulk was blocking the window. He had his palms braced Dick’s shoulders and he had to fight off another shudder because Oh God, she’s touching me. Oh God, it was raining.
“Please don’t-“ Dick chokes. He starts shaking all over. “Please don’t touch me . ”
Jason’s hands leave his shoulders immediately.
“Okay. Alright. Can I do anything?”
Dick shook his head, planting his face into trembling hands. He just had to ride it out. He could salvage this. He just had to get it together.
“Is it the rain?”
Dick digs his face deeper into his hands. He nods. Distantly, he hears Jason go and close the curtain, then come back to crouch in front of him.
Dick has no idea how long he sat there, but it’s long enough for his ass to go numb. It’s long enough for him to start hating himself again, because God damnit, this was supposed to be for Jason.
“Dick?”
“Yeah?” Dick’s voice is muffled through his palms, head still being cradled by his hands.
“Do you want soup?”
Dick was going to cry.
Jason was too good for him. For the world, really. With all his prickly exterior and seemingly unfeeling and disinterested nature, he was good . Dick was so proud of him. He wished he could be better for him.
“Sure,” Dick choked out. Thank you for not leaving , he didn’t say.
He felt Jason get up from his position in front of him, heard him open the fridge and rummage through his drawers. Soon, the smell of chicken stock and boiling carrots wafted through the apartment, completely overpowering any trace of wet hair and- and rain.
God, Dick messed up. Jason would never go to him for anything ever again.
“I know why you invited me.”
Dick glanced up. Jason’s back was to him, chopping celery and dumping it into the only good pot Dick owned. He used it to make stew sometimes, when he missed his parents.
“The storm in Gotham.” The sound of the knife slicing into a zucchini was a constant and comforting rhythm. “‘S the only reason I accepted.”
The only reason he came. To be comforted. To find peace. And Dick blew it.
“I’m sorry,” Dick croaked.
The knife in Jason’s hand stopped moving. Dick saw him tense.
“The fuck are you sorry for?”
For screwing up. For not being what Jason needed. For failing at being okay for not only himself, but for Jason, too. For not just stopping her. For everything.
He kept quiet.
Jason turned down the heat on the stove, abandoning the soup and pulling up a chair so that he was sitting in front of Dick. He kept his head down.
“Dickie, you’re a stubborn asshole.” He knew that. “You-“ Jason sighed.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I meant that I didn’t know you needed someone, even though you clearly fucking do. And I know for a fact that you knew what you were doing when you invited me over. What if I decided to ride it out, huh? What would you have done?”
Not sleep all night and call in sick to work the next day, most likely. Dick shrugged, his entire body hunched over.
Jason scoffed, looking entirely frustrated and lost. Dick looked down again.
“You can ask for some fucking help, dickface. What, did you just think your trauma would disappear because I hauled ass all the way to Blüd?”
No. He knew it wouldn’t disappear. He just thought he could shove it down for Jason. Be alright for a little bit, at least.
He knew he’d be fine, so long as he could hold up for who he loved. For Jason, who needed him. As long as he stayed on speaking terms with Bruce, no matter how much he pissed Dick off, and so long as he fractured but never broke. As long as he didn’t worry anybody and smiled and joked around and didn't fail. Didn’t cry.
“Dick?”
He could still hear the rain. He could feel phantom hands on him that he didn’t want and… and he couldn’t. He can't. He can’t be what they need from him. What he wished he was. The rain and the hands and the shaking was too much, and he can’t.
“Dickie, it’s okay.”
Dick shook his head. It wasn’t. He pressed his fingertips against his eyelids and breathed as shallowly as possible to avoid making any sound. Tears were streaming down his face, silent. He could do that, at least.
Jason gently places his hands on Dick’s wrists. He pulls away when Dick flinches.
“Dick, stop. You’re gonna give yourself a black eye. Come on, man, you’re hurting yourself.”
Slowly, Dick lowered his hands. He met Jason’s green gaze. It was worried in a way that Dick never wanted them to be. He failed. He can’t do this.
“Deep breath, Bigbird.”
Dick shakes his head. He can’t. He shouldn’t.
“In for four, out for six. You can do it.”
He wheezed. He smelled cigarette smoke and leather and chicken broth.
God, the one thing he was good for, and he couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t stop crying. It was loud. It was horrible, because his little brother was right there and Dick had to be fine for him. Put together and okay and fine , if only for his family.
“Dick?”
He sobbed. He just wanted to help his brother. He just wanted to be okay for him, because lord knows he couldn’t do it for himself.
“Dick, can I hug you?”
He cried harder. How, even after the mess he made of a night that was supposed to be for Jason , was his brother still here? Still able to talk to him? Able to hold him?
He nodded, wiping his face as best he could.
Immediately, strong arms enveloped him. Safe. Warm. Away from the rain and any wandering hands.
Dick sobbed into Jason’s chest fully and like he hasn’t since his Robin days, when the strong arms that held him belonged to a different vigilante who smelled more like kevlar and pricey cologne than stale nicotine.
Jason didn’t say anything. He didn’t move away.
“Sorry,” Dick said through tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shut up.” Jason held him tighter. “If you can put up with my bouts of homicidal rage I can handle some boogers on my shirt.”
Dick snorted, getting more snot on Jason’s shirt. Whoops.
“You know we can take care of each other, right? That you’re not the only one that has an apartment to hide away from Bruce or shitty brain responses to trauma?”
That… that had to be more of a nice thought than a reality. And not because he didn’t think Jason could help- this was really fucking nice- it was just.
Actually, he didn’t really know. He never really thought about it before.
Jason tensed at his silence. “Dick, you know that right ? You fucking better, or I swear to God I am going to kidnap you to make sure you know.”
The threat lost its hostility with the way Jason’s arms were clutching Dick just as tightly as Dick was holding on to Jason.
“I know,” Dick whispered after a while. Jason’s only response was to hold him tighter.
They could take care of each other. Dick could do that.