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Jason had seen Dick dislocate his joints and contort himself in horrific positions plenty of times back in his Robin days, and it always freaked him the fuck out. Dick was a flexible and talented acrobat, not to mention all his vigilante experience, so he was more than adept at safe joint manipulation.
After the two had started to settle into their sibling relationship, the big-brother teasing started to come out in full force. So, the minute Dick realized his dislocations and contortions crept the younger out, he began easily popping a thumb out of place or contorting in some other horrifying way to spook him.
The worst time had been after Dick tricked him into watching The Exorcist.
It was the weekend before Halloween, and Bruce was out of town on ‘Wayne’ business, so Dick had come down to the manor for a sleepover. Naturally, sleepovers meant movies Dick had insisted, and considering the season, a classic horror movie was appropriate—unless Jason ‘didn’t like these kinds of movies.’ A clear challenge meant to TRICK Jason into agreeing! Which he did! Because he WASN’T a scaredy-cat.
And then, after a terrifying hour, (which he totally didn’t spend ducking his head into his brother's shoulder), Jason declared they needed more popcorn (totally not to escape the movie). And on his way back from the kitchen, he was greeted by the horrific sight of Dick spider-crawling toward him down the darkened hall at speeds Regan couldn’t even imagine.
Popcorn was spilled, tears were shed, apologies and cuddles were given, and a promise was made to watch the full six-hour miniseries of Pride and Prejudice. The night ended with Jason curled up in his big brother’s bed, as Dick ran fingers through his hair promising he’d kicked plenty of demon ass before and that no spooky demons could so much as look at Jason as long as his big brother was around.
Too bad that promise apparently didn’t extend to clowns.
Jason tended not to think about those days—about movie marathons, train surfing, math homework help, teasing, and weekend trips to Blüdhaven—Jason usually focused on more useful thoughts. Like how Dick had failed him. Betrayed him. Just like Bruce.
No use remembering everything else. It was better to focus on the hatred.
Since Bruce's death, Dick had renewed his efforts to convince Jason to 'come home.' That now was the time for them all to 'process,' 'reflect,' and 'grieve.' That they were a family, and Bruce had always hoped he would come back. That Dick still wants him to come back.
Shooting him down and spitting the offer back with hatred was especially easy to do now that Dick was running around in Daddy Bats gear.
Jason hated seeing Dick in the cowl.
It was so obvious. Even with the stupid lifts in his shoes and the bulked-out shoulders of the suit attempting the create the illusion of Bruce’s shape, it was so fucking obvious there was a different person in the suit. They were just lucky that most street-level criminals were too dumb and too unfamiliar with the Bat to actually notice. To most of them, the Bat was a shape that emerged from the darkness in a flurry of violence and then disappeared leaving them tied up for the cops. So, they didn’t really notice a few inches and dozens of pounds missing. But the Rogues or anyone who’d spent any amount of real-time around the Bat could see at a glance they weren’t the same.
(And somehow all that padding and costuming only reminded Jason of how small his big brother was. It reminded him of how young they both were. Seeing Dick (his brother) dressed up in their father’s ill-fitting cloak—Reminded him how heavy what Dick was trying to do must weigh in him, how poorly it suited him, and how much Bruce had dominated both their lives.)
And it was so constraining on Dick. He still moved with a fluidity Bruce never could have managed, but the suit and the persona he adopted didn’t allow for Dicks signature style. Nightwing’s acrobatic, flexible flair was all buried away when he wore the cowl.
Maybe that was part of what made the present so jarring.
The false Batman and Robin came soaring in as Jason was already fending off three wolf-human hybrids in some shitty chemist's basement.
Jason had come in hoping to bust the chemist for pushing drugs at the local high school. But apparently, this chemist was moonlighting in creating her ideal Twilight fantasy to chemically induce lycanthropy in wolves. So rather than turning human subjects into werewolves, it seemed all she’d managed to do was give a handful of wolves a strength buff and the ability to stand bipedal. As soon as Jason came crashing into her lab, she had let loose her creations and made an escape and so he was left with these three... dudes? Dogs?
Doesn’t matter.
Batman and Robin arrived late into the action, and Jason had no intention of giving them any special thanks.
Jason sneered as Dickman flew into action, deflecting a sweeping claw with an overly showy kick before it even came near his Robin. (Where was that protection when Jason needed it? Dick had promised he would always—)
“I don’t need you to baby me!” Damian snapped, ducking out from around the Bat’s cape to take on one of the wolves himself, not appreciating the protection.
“Of course not, just stretching my muscles,” Dick smiled amiably, indulging the brat’s ego as he continued fending off his wolf’s attacks without even trying to land a blow. “Gotta stay limber.” With a flurry of forceful blocks and strategic navigation, Dick had managed to force the beast back towards its cage. “Now, let’s get these puppies back in their kennel.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Jason spat, aiming an admittedly risky shot over Dick’s shoulder to get the beast right between the eyes.
“Hood!”
“I’ll wrap this up faster without you two moralizing. They’re literally monster wolves.”
At least he assumed so—but the way both the other wolves turned on Jason the instant he shot one of their own down maybe said otherwise.
The wolf Jason had been dealing with redoubled its ferocity as it roared at him, nearly taking off his whole gun hand with a swipe of its fierce jaws. Batman and Robin meanwhile combined to cut off the wolf Damian had been fighting from jumping on Jason as well.
It took Jason several misfired shots as he struggled to beat back the snapping jaws from getting to his neck, and in the end, he only managed to keep them away from the tender flesh of his throat by getting snapped around the torso. Gasping in pain as sharp teeth managed to pierce the heavy lining of Kevlar through the powerful force of monstrous jaws, Jason took the painful opportunity to put a bullet in this one’s head too. Sighing in relief as the force of the bite lessened, Jason collapsed to the floor with the beast still on top of him.
He was a tank now, he could handle one giant wolfman bite, but he just needed a moment to breathe and—
A fierce roar pierced the air as the final wolf broke past Batman and Robin, jaws wide as it lunged toward Jason.
He preemptively winced, he couldn’t stand, the heavy, furred body of the last beast still pinning his legs. He couldn’t escape.
And then he was suddenly staring at the back of a familiar cape instead of the gaping maw of the wolfman.
Dick had jumped in front of him. Just like he had with Damian. Just like he had for young Jason. (Just like Bruce used to).
Jason lay there frozen—momentarily nothing more than a thirteen-year-old in deep over his head but always overconfident that he would be safe as long as Batman and Nightwing were there.
And then the real horror began. The teeth had closed around Dick‘s upper arm, and then it started SHAKING.
It’s a canine hunting instinct. Jason remembered how cute it was watching Ace chase down his raggedy old rope toy and shake. When watching a domesticated dog play, it was easy to forget it came down from its instinct to snap its prey’s neck.
Jason clearly heard the first snap of broken bone, then Dick’s strangled scream—then everything seemed to cut out. Everything narrowed to a point, darkness tunning his vision.
He couldn’t hear anything, everything was moving in slow motion—he could only see one thing, and that was his big brother being rag-dolled by a giant beast. The angles were unnatural. The movement more like a fabric toy than a human body. Jason could almost imagine it was one of those novelty plush Batman toys they sell to tourists. And then it was tossed aside in a horrifically mangled pile. But it wasn’t a doll. It was his big brother. His brother lay in a heap, arm dislocated from the shoulder and clearly broken in several places pointing at different unnatural angles, and he lay there
Unmoving.
Jason bolted awake, heart racing.
“Quiet, Todd!” A familiar brat hissed. “You’ll wake him!”
Jason instantly recognized he was in the manor.
He was in Dick’s bed.
He hadn’t been here since he’d been back.
It took a moment to process the change in time. They were out of the basement. The last thing he remembered was bone-cracking, Dick’s scream, his brother lying broken—
But now Jason was sitting in bed at his brother’s side. His broken side. Dick’s arm was cast, wrapped, and bound to his side, with bags of ice layered on top. His neck was in a brace, and face was covered in mottled bruises, and his lower half was obscured by a familiar Superman blanket.
Beat and bruised, but alive, and with Damian nestled in on the less injured opposite side with a fearsome scowl.
Jason couldn’t help but collapse in unnamable relief, flopping back and curling softly as close as he could without disturbing the delicate wrappings. “What happened?” He whispered, more to himself really than Damian, as if he could will the missing memories back.
“You eliminated the threat. In a manner Grayson would not have approved. Then carried Grayson to the Batmobile and drove us back to the cave while I stabilized his condition.” Despite the clinical nature of the words, the boy’s voice was thick with some emotion Jason had never seen from the brat before. But then again, Jason hadn’t spent much time around the kid outside of the masks. “Pennyworth and Dr. Thompkins treated him. Concussion, whiplash, three broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, multiple breaks in the right arm, and lacerations.” Little fingers curled into the blanket over their big brother’s chest. “But stable. He’s going to be fine.”
“More than fine.” Both boys jumped up as Dick’s scratchy voice surprised them. Eyes barely open, a smile crooked across his face, Dick was awake. "I got two of my favorite brothers here. We just need a Tim!"
“Grayson!”
“Dickie—”
The two younger brothers both exclaimed. Dick looked like he was about to laugh at their surprise, but instead, it came out as a wheezing cough.
“I’ll summon Dr. Thompkins—” Damian started, but Dick waved his free hand dismissively.
“I’m all good Dami, but could you get me some water?”
With a sharp nod and a mission, Damian took off, leaving the elder two.
“I should go.” Jason declared, swinging his legs off the bed as the reality of the situation suddenly crashed down on him. Dick was alive. And Jason was in the manor. He was supposed to hate Dick. He was supposed to hate his memories of the manor. He shouldn’t be here.
“No, Little Wing, please wait.” The desperation in Dick’s voice froze Jason in his tracks. “Please, could you—” He trailed off as if unsure of what he was asking, though they both knew it was a plea to stay.
“You know... I’ve always hated watching your weird dislocation shit.” Jason grumbled, hanging his head to avoid looking at the other. “Keeping you all wrapped up is probably for the best.”
Dick chuckled, holding up his uninjured hand. “What? You mean this?” He popped the damn finger and Jason squirmed.
“STOP THAT!”
Now Dick was full-on laughing, until it turned to a pained wince. “Fine, fine. I’m sorry.” But the smile didn’t budge from his face as he looked at Jason like having his little brother back made it all worth it. “Is there some other overly long miniseries adaptation of a Romance novel I can watch to make it up to you?” He batted his eyes facetiously, and once again, Jason felt he was a little underfed tween, looking up at his cool, awful, perfect, menace of a big brother. A big brother who for all his teasing and torture, would fight demons and wolfmen to keep him safe.
“The BBC miniseries of Sense and Sensibility,” Jason replied and Dick’s laughter froze.
“Wait, there are actually more miniseries? Didn’t we watch them all?”
“You’ve only seen Pride and Prejudice and Emma.”
“I’ve definitely seen Sense & Sensibility and Persuasion too.”
“Those were movies. This is a miniseries by the same screenwriter that adapted Pride and Prejudice.”
Dick groaned, before sending Jason an oddly vulnerable look, he whispered. “And you’ll stay?”
Jason lay back down, now after the pit, after everything, he was so much bigger than the other, and he used that to curl up around him. “Yeah.”