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Penguin’s the worst, and Dick now knows this firsthand. Blüdhaven is off-limits . When he got word of something sketchy going on with Penguin in his city, that crossed the line. He really, really wishes these idiots knew that. So, he went against Bruce’s wishes and decided to pop-on by one of Penguin’s hideouts to give him a lecture, but things took a turn since now he’s tied to this chair, and at least 15 armed men surround him, menacingly.
He may, or may not have underestimated himself, and now he’s gotten beat-up for the 5th time in this annoyingly uncomfortable metal chair after being knocked unconscious, and dragged to a new location. The metal cuffs dig deep into wrists and ankles. This dark place reeks, gosh– like a wet dog. Taunts are thrown at him by petty goons for more time than Dick can handle sitting in one place, and finally, Penguin comes into view; he’s not cowering any more.
Dick breaks out a grin, despite the copper that’s lingering in his mouth.
“Seems a birdie was eager to find me?” Penguin chuckles, holding a baseball bat. It’s raised. Mentally, Dick groans since he’s already been hit with one 3 times. Thankfully, he hasn't hit Dick, yet.
“I was— but then you decided, no no, let me act uncivilized and all scared so I’ll tie this guy up and proceed to get my men to ‘soften him up’, yeah, good one pal.” He huffs out, but it’s not going to stop there with Dick; he never knows when to stop.
“Like, seriously, what kind of supervillain names themselves a fluffy, cute, harmless animal? If anything, you’re insulting Penguins of Madagascar.” Dick would point a finger, if he weren’t bound by these annoying metal cuffs.
He’s starting to notice that he feels a little woozy. Maybe those little henchmen are good at beating people up. Mighta smacked Dick straight square into the head — he’s pretty sure he’s been going crazy, anyways.
Or maybe they just gave him a concussion.
Penguin gives him an absurd look. “Y’know, you’re nothin’ like Bats, awright. All you do is yap, yap, yap— ” is the only warning Dick gets, before the baseball bat connects straight into his stomach. He immediately keels over, breathing hard, through his nose, his head falling onto his chest. Pain flares throughout his abdomen, and he wants to so badly just use his hands to knock-out Penguin, right there— but he physically can’t. He can still feel blood dripping from his nose from before, when his goons beat him, and the restraint is killing him.
He hates being restrained. In any way, or form. Whether it be physically, emotionally or mentally, he hates it. He’s a Flying Grayson, for God’s sake. As the saying goes, when Grayson’s were flying, magic was in the air. He can’t afford to be bound by something. There’s too many things to do– and accomplish. This birdie’s limit is the sky. If anyone tries to take that away, well, Dick knows about 8 people who’d easily make you rethink your decision.
“How’s that feel, Nightwing? Never shoulda left Blüdhaven, y’know.” A roar of cheers echo from Penguin’s henchmen in agreement. He hates this— Penguin, and his stupid men, and stupid little hideout—
And ugh, where’s a rescue team when you need them? Dick knows damn well his family has his tracker able to pinpoint wherever he is, anytime. Keep on stalling, Dickie, he knows is the only option.
“Honestly? You expect that to hurt? That’s funny, the only thing that’s getting hurt is my dignity, seems to be I have this short buffoon trying to scare m–” Dick cuts himself off, when the alarms in his head go off. Something grabs his attention. He snaps his head behind him, in thought and alertness.
He dismisses the seething look on Penguin’s face as he closes his eyes for a second, focusing. It’s a thud, no–It’s a steady…beep? Likely behind the wall he’s in front of, and… my god, beeping— it’s all too familiar, the specific type. It’s all the tell tale signs of—
He opens his eyes in panic, rewarding himself with the sight of Penguin still aggravated from his last comment.
“And what exactly do you think you are, you—“
Dick interjects hastily, writhing against the metal cuffs. “ Bomb. Penguin. Bomb. Get me out of these and your men out the building, you lunatic—“
Before Penguin or his men get a chance to react, everything gets drowned out in an ear-splitting explosion. Everything shakes, walls crumbling from the ceiling down to the ground, as frantic noises are thrown around.
Dick closes his eyes, knowing the inevitable outcome as he feels the impact of concrete slab make contact with his body.
“—Ick? Hey, dumba—, y— wake?”
Distant ringing invades his ears. Everything is so…dry. Dust fills the air and his lungs, he’s pretty sure. God— there’s so much of it, too. He’s trying so hard to not choke on it.
All his senses slowly come, disappear, and fizz back in during a haze. He registers something— gloved— tapping his face. He grunts, as an attempt of acknowledgment. God, his head hurts so much. Ouch.
“Thank fuck—“ the voice by him expresses in relief. Finally, Dick’s eyes opened blearily, attempting to make out his surroundings. It’s a dark area, and everything seems too close..too…caved in? Dick briefly reminds himself of the explosion. Rubble, his mind supplies.
He ignores the migraine threatening to take over, and narrows his eyes, at the person beside him. They seemed to have manipulated Dick’s position so he was comfortable and leaning against something cold— concrete. It beats lying on the floor, covered in enough dust as it is.
At first, he sees a blurb of red, but slowly lets his pupils widen to adjust to little light, and— Red Hood?
His brother looms over him, a little daunting, with his helmet flipped up.
“Ja’sn?” Dick murmurs, disoriented in shock. He’s surprised — what’s his little brother doing here?
“Yeah, Birdie, it’s me. Look, it’s great that you’re not dead, but we really oughta get outta here.”
“I…I don’t get it—“ confusion meddles with Dick’s mind. He was genuinely suspecting maybe Bruce, or Tim to come to his rescue. How’d Jason get here first and know Dick was here? Maybe he’s on good terms again with the family.
Dick wants to hope so.
“—Don’t get what, Dick? You ruined my whole plan, y’know.”
Dick narrows his eyes in confusion. “Plan?”
“Yes, dipshit. I had a deal with Penguin, but when I showed up to the location he was gonna be at, he was gone.” Jason pauses, rolling his eyes. “I tracked him, led me here, I got pissed he didn’t let me know about the plan switch, so I detonated the building…without checking, i’ll add that.”
“…And that led you to running into me, huh?” The gears finally begin to turn in Dick’s brain. That took him way too long to figure out, and he groans mentally, hoping he doesn’t have a new brain injury. A dull throb is beginning to persist behind his eyes.
Before Jason could open his mouth in reply, immediately Dick intercepted him. “Wait, what the heck were you thinking about making a plan with Penguin, Jay?”
“What the hell were you thinking about getting captured, Dick? ” Jason instantly retorted, eyes narrowed. “Also, for your sake, Bats wouldn’t have come. Any gadgets you got on you got crushed in the explosion.” Jason motions towards Dick’s body, the remains of his comms and hacking devices scattered around him, broken wires and plastic hidden under slabs of concrete. His tracker, along with other things, were destroyed.
“That uh…yeah, that checks out.” Dick clears his throat, refusing to admit his foolishness. Maybe he should stop being reckless… nah…
“Okay, but to be fair, none of this would’ve happened if you didn’t decide to detonate a building because of some issues you got—“
“Look, whatever,” Jason sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, dismissing him. “We gotta get out of here. Lack of oxygen is probably scrambling your brain more than it already is. You hit your head kinda hard.”
Ah, that makes more sense. Dick hums in acknowledgement, but as if on cue, a harsh, pounding sensation continues even as Dick closes his eyes. He can feel it against his eyeballs. Little spikes swarm his head. He can feel a sledgehammer slamming against his head, over and over. Lightning bolts shoot through his head.
He quietly winces, scrunching his eyes shut tightly. He moves his hand to the back of his head, for some comfort, but instead is instantly met with the touch of something wet and...smells like copper? He moves his hand away, and it comes sleek with…red? … Ahh..
His scalp is covered in a crimson red. Blood. Makes sense; no wonder he felt so woozy. He’s not really sure if all that blood came from those little minions beating him up, or from when a giant piece of concrete decided to say hi to his head. Maybe it’s both.
“Believe me now, bird brains?” Jason snorts, but it’s a weak veil to hide his concern that follows. Dick’s sure he’s imagining it.
“I shall prevail, young one–”
“Shut up.”
Slowly, they make their way out of the heap of rubble and debris, with Dick eliciting a couple of winces after he attempts to climb by himself and Jason mumbling the occasional, told you so, retorts when he falls, followed with his brother helping him up.
As soon as they navigate their way to the outside, a gust of wind instantly hits his face, and finally, fresh air fills his senses. He wants to faint with relief. No more of that annoyingly small limited oxygen in that condensed space full of dust.
On the topic of fainting, though, he’s pretty sure he might.
“Hey, Jay?”
“Yeah?” Jason turns to him, an eyebrow raised. He’s already getting on his motorcycle, expecting Dick to follow; not really sure if that’s gonna play out, though.
It doesn’t seem all that great now that things are beginning to swim in his vision, again. Since when did Jason double? That’s weird. Now there’s 2 of him.
A small, dry chuckle rings out from Dick, and Jason scrutinizes him with oddness.
“G’night,” is the only warning mumble that Dick provides before he decides to promptly pass out, the ground suddenly coming too close to his face.
The next thing that clicks in Dick’s mind is he’s not there anymore. He blinks, disoriented. He also feels like he’s getting suffocated by a marshmallow. Slowly, his senses come back and…oh, it’s just bandages and gauze wrapped in layers of layers. All around his head. The cotton feels absurdly soft, and comforting. He’s also been stripped of his Nightwing suit, now wearing a loose t-shirt and baggy sweats. Someone must’ve patched him up; and give some really great drugs to him because damn, no pain here mister!
Lucidly, he lifts his head to look around the room, attempting his best despite being confined to this couch. He feels like a rock.
He blinks, seeing a figure in the corner of..a kitchen?
The next time he blinks, suddenly the figure is right next to him, pulled up in a chair. Black tousled hair, pale skin and light eyes fills his vision and—
“—Jason?” Dick sputters, for the second time. His brother’s wearing a black t-shirt, paired with grey sweats.
This time, Jason just snorts. “You gotta stop treating me like some myth, Dickie. I’m not dead.”
Instantly, his heart gets hit with a pang of guilt.
He doesn’t like it when Jason jokes about the whole dying situation. It’s not funny to him, but hey, if it helps Jason cope, he’s not going to stop him all-together.
“Jay…” Dick sighs, dismissing himself. “Nevermind, er— what happened?”
“Well, your brain’s a little fucked up, if you’re curious. You passed out like an idiot, so I hauled your ass here. You’re at my safe house right now. My main one.”
Dick rolls his eyes, despite the minor dull throb it brought behind his eyes, before Jason continues. He feels a little honored, honestly, that Jason was willing to bring him to his home basically. He knows Jason spends most of his time in his safe houses anyways. He’s not even exactly sure if Jason has a place to sleep. No wonder his safehouses replicate studios.
“It’s probably just a concussion, but honestly I’d get over to B’s and check it out.” Jason pauses, his tone slightly dropping. “Your uh, suit’s on the side. I’ll grab it.”
His brother gets up, seemingly instantly. He strides his way to the side of the living room, and comes back around, with an arm reaching out to Dick holding his vigilante outfit. Dick simply shoots him with a confused look.
“Wait, am I leaving?” Dick asks, his voice a bit quieter than anticipated. A part of him felt ashamed; he thought his brother wanted him here. To spend time with him. Was he really that stupid?
He searches Jason’s face for an answer, as his brother still holds the suit out to Dick; his arm threatens to fall.
“I— yeah? I— is that not what you want?” Words tumble loosely out of Jason’s mouth. He seems to be eyeing Dick wearily.
“I mean, I'll get out of your hair if you want me to. I kinda thought I’d just chill here with you?”
Jason goes silent, a little frigid. “Oh.”
“Sorry— I’ll get going, my bad Jay.” Guilt and shame instantly bloom in Dick’s chest. Maybe Dick and Jason weren’t ever going to be as close as he thought.
“Nah, I meant—“ Jason sighs, suddenly looking frustrated but…with himself? His arm holding the suit falls to his side, dropping the suit to the table.
“Sorry just— yeah. Stay. As long as you need.” Jason puts his hands in his pockets, attempting to look relaxed, but he can see his fingers fidgeting. He suddenly clicks in Dick’s head.
Dick raises an eyebrow, a small, coy smile, but it’s filled more so with hope.
“Aww, is little Jaybird actually happy to have me here?” Dick teases lightly, laughing.
Jason’s body language immediately loosens, before he gives a dramatic eye roll and a groan. It’s filled with relief, though.
“ Haha. Funny. Whatever, dipshit.” Jason promptly spits out, before he ironically finds himself sitting beside Dick on the couch.
Half an hour later, they’re both curled up in the dark on the couch with two blankets layered, Dick laying his head on Jason’s shoulder. They watch episodes of The Adventures of Tintin , as Jason has a bowl of popcorn in his lap, which he occasionally shares to Dick. Keyword: occasionally. Dick’s wondering how long it’ll take for Jason to dump the whole bowl onto his head after he obnoxiously chews, mouth open on purpose. Dick doesn’t really keep track of how long they stay curled onto the couch, but long enough for a whole season of the show to fly by. He feels warm, both inside and outside. It’s a comforting feeling.
Maybe having a little outlaw brother isn’t that bad, after all.