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Wally West: can you check on dick for me??? hes not answering me
Of all of the texts Tim had thought he’d be getting today, this one definitely came out of nowhere. It’s not like Tim wants to tell Wally no, but—
Dick isn’t in Gotham right now, Tim texts back. Anxiety shivers down his back as the worst case scenarios start to creep into his mind. Should I be worried?
hes at the manor
Tim furrows his brows. Instead of answering Wally, he hits Dick’s contact and presses call. It rings out, but Tim, in his bedroom in the manor, can hear the sounds of Dick’s ringtone faintly playing down the hallway.
What the hell? When did Dick even get there? Tim has been here since he came home from patrol last night, and it’s noon. Tim has been up for hours and he hadn’t heard anything to signal that anyone else besides Alfred is even here.
Damian’s at school. Duke is on patrol. Bruce is on a mission with the Justice League, which is probably why Wally hasn't come to check on Dick himself. Wally’s never really listened to Batman’s “no metas in Gotham” rules, even when it was more strictly enforced.
With Duke, the rule has completely gone out the window.
Tim abandons his bed and makes for Dick’s room, ending the call as soon as Dick’s bedroom door comes into view. Dick never picked up. The bedroom door is open, like it usually is whether Dick is here or not, so Tim doesn’t feel bad about peeking in.
There’s a lump under the covers about Dick’s size. Tim snaps a picture and sends it to Wally.
“Delete that,” Dick says, startlingly Tim slightly. So much for being asleep. Bat-trained hyperawareness is a skill they’ve all developed to some degree, but Dick has been doing the vigilante thing for twenty years. Of course he caught Tim sneaking a picture of him.
It’s annoying, because Tim can’t even see his face.
“Wally asked me to check on you,” Tim says, trying to force his nerves to go back to normal. “Are you alright?”
“Tell Wally I’m fine.” Dick sounds annoyed.
Tim bites his lip. He pulls up his messages with Wally again. In response to the picture, Wally has written back, actually check on him please i can guarantee hes not sleeping
He told me to tell you he’s fine. What happened? Anything specific I should ask about?
check if hes bled thru the bandages he wont tell you he got shot i bet i gtg ill check in later
“You were shot?!” Tim cries, throwing his phone on the foot of Dick’s bed and climbing up after it. He tries to keep the jostling to a minimum, but he needs the momentum to rip away the covers from where Dick’s using them to hide.
“Tim!” Dick hisses as Tim successfully pulls away the blanket, leaving Dick blinking at his sunlit bedroom, looking awfully pale. Tim searches frantically for the stark white, but can’t seem to find them. Dick’s wearing a loose hoodie—Bruce’s or Jason’s by the looks of it—and sweats.
“Where were you shot?” Tim demands, sitting back on his heels, blankets still clenched in his hands. “And why am I finding out from Wally?!”
“It was an arrow, not a bullet,” Dick grumbles, collapsing back into his pillow with a muted wince. “And you didn’t hear about it because it’s embarrassing.”
Tim squints at Dick. “You’re acting weird.”
“You’re interrupting my nap,” Dick counters. “I’m grumpy because you woke me up.”
“You weren’t sleeping,” Tim tells him. He looks Dick over again. His brother is pale, yes, but there are dark shadows under his eyes. He looks exhausted. It hits Tim, then. “Oh.”
Dick lifts his head up enough to peer suspiciously at Tim. “Oh?”
“Wally said he could guarantee you weren’t sleeping,” Tim says. “Which means you got hurt because you aren’t sleeping.”
Dick sighs, dropping his head again to stare up at the ceiling. “Wally needs to mind his own business.”
“He sounded worried,” Tim tells him, chewing on his lip. He feels it split open again, which reminds him that he needs to grab some more gum. Alfred is going to kill him if he finds out Tim hasn’t been careful. Looking back to Dick, Tim sighs. “Are you actually okay? Like not in danger of bleeding out?”
Dick lifts up his hoodie. There are spots of red dotting the white gauze wrapped around Dick’s torso. It’s not a lot, not enough to be super worried, but still.
“You’re bleeding through the bandages,” Tim tells him.
Dick hums, closing his eyes. “Alfred’s coming to change the bandages in a few minutes.”
Silence descends on the room in a way Dick doesn’t usually let it. Tim forgets sometimes how well Dick can keep away awkwardness, and when Dick doesn’t try, it seems to settle between them like an elephant stomping about the room. Tim doesn’t know how to talk around it.
It’s been like this since Dick first became Batman, and Tim has never known how to fix it. If there’s even the possibility of fixing it.
There’s too much that’s happened between them for things to slot into place when it’s Tim directing their interactions.
It’s probably unfair to both of them that TIm wishes that Dick would pretend that everything is okay between them.
“You’re really alright?” Tim asks again.
Dick sighs. “Tired, really. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Oh,” Tim says.
Dick smiles at him. He really does look exhausted, but Tim doesn’t know how to fix that. “I’ll be okay, Timmy. Thanks for checking on me.”
“You should text Wally back,” TIm says, instead of addressing all of the complicated feelings that come after Dick’s thank you. “He’s the one who told me that you were here.”
“Oh trust me,” Dick huffs. “I’ll talk to Wally.”
“Can I stay?” Tim asks after another minute of silence. He digs his phone out from underneath him and carefully doesn’t look at Dick. “At least until Alfred gets here?”
“Yeah, Tim,” Dick says fondly. “You can stay. Always.”