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All things considered, Jason had been quite enjoying the night.
He was at Dick's place in Blüdhaven, along with Tim and Damian, for a "boy's night" where they'd stayed up late attempting to binge every Fast and Furious movie in existence and eating crappy frozen Tex-Mex. Cass and Steph had been invited as well, but Cass had an early ballet practice in the morning and Steph's mom had wanted to do something with her, too, so it was just the four of them in Dick's apartment. Which was perfect, because that's how many controllers Dick had for Mario Kart.
They'd had a wonderful time. They watched four of the planned eleven films, only dumped one bowl of popcorn on Tim's head, and fell asleep to the hum of the air conditioner sometime after 3AM in various spots across the living room (with the exception of Dick, who'd gone to sleep in his own bed and room, because he was old and complained about being stiff when he slept on couches). It was a resounding success.
Still, Jason was not immune to the perils of dehydration, so when he woke up with a throat like the Atacama to find the sun still stubbornly below the horizon, he resigned himself to grabbing some water. Which meant he'd have to leave his nice warm pile of blankets for as long as that took. Lovely. Reluctantly, Jason stood up and trudged towards the kitchen, feeling around in the darkness to make sure he didn't accidentally step on Damian.
He had just filled up his cup from the sink when he heard it. A faint sound that he couldn't quite place, and it seemed to be coming from Dick's bedroom. Jason frowned, listening closer. Was that… crying?
Something had to be wrong. Jason drained the cup—mostly so his thirst wouldn't distract him if he had to fight something—and headed towards Dick.
He knocked on the door before entering. "Dick?" he said, not turning on the light. Even in the dim moonlight filtering in through his curtains Jason could see Dick was alone, laying on the bed on his side, facing away from him.
"I’m fine," came the reply, even though Jason hadn't asked. It was muffled by the pillow Dick had buried his face in, but Jason could still tell he'd been crying.
Jason softly closed the door behind him. Whatever this was, the rest of the apartment didn't need to hear it. "People who are fine don't usually cry at 4 in the morning. What's going on?"
"Nothing. Just a nightmare."
"…About what? Come on, you can sit up and talk to me. You wouldn't be like this if it really was nothing."
"It is," Dick insisted, not moving. "Just leave me alone. Don't look at me."
Now Jason was really concerned. "Dick. I’m not leaving until we talk about this. You're not okay. Why can't I look at you?" A sudden thought hit him with a rush of dread. "Did you hurt yourself?"
"No." Dick sounded exasperated. "Nothing like that. It's just…"
He trailed off. Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't like prying, but Dick wasn't giving him much choice. "Just what? I want to go back to sleep, but I can't because unfortunately I give a shit about you. Please don't make me prompt you for every fucking question."
Dick sighed and hesitated for a moment. "You remember Catalina." It wasn't a question.
And unfortunately, Jason did. "…Yeah. Is that what the nightmare was about?"
Instead of answering, Dick finally sat up and faced him. "Do you think I'm too pretty?"
"Huh?" Jason furrowed his brow. "I'm your brother, I don't—"
"I mean objectively. I don't understand it. She wasn't the first, and with the way my life has been going she probably won't be the last either. There must be something wrong with me. Something making them do this to me. So that's why I asked. Am I too pretty? Am I just… like that? Hot enough that women forget themselves and see me like an object instead of a man?"
Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, regretting pushing Dick to answer in the first place. This was not a conversation he wanted to have. Especially not at 4AM. "Dick, that's… that's not on you. You understand that, right? This is on them. It's not your fault they took advantage of you."
"I know." He didn't sound like he meant it.
"Okay." Jason sat down on the edge of Dick's bed. "So then why are you blaming yourself?"
"I’m not." Dick looked at him, completely serious. "I just want to know what's wrong with me."
Jason gave him a look. "How is that not blaming yourself?"
"Because I don't feel bad, I just need to know what I have to change!" Frustration was clear on Dick's face. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be in my shoes? First it was Liu. I didn't see that for what it was at the time. Only realized how bad it was when she betrayed me, and it took a few more years to sink in that even if she had been genuine, it still would have been wrong. Then there was Mirage, which all my friends blamed me for, and I believed them for too long. And then Tarantula—" He cut himself off and looked down. "It doesn't matter. Those are just the ones that went all the way. I can't even count how many times I've been verbally harassed, kissed, groped…"
What the absolute fuck. Jason stared at Dick in shock, struggling to find words. "Christ." He ran his fingers through his hair. "None of that is okay."
Dick let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh. "You think I don't know that? I just don't know what to do about it. Should I give myself an awful haircut? Permanently stop showering? Have Clark fly me to the Fortress of Solitude and leave me there forever? But no. If I did any of those, it would reflect in Nightwing too, and people would figure out who I am. I can't jeopardize all your identities. And I also can't abandon Blüdhaven."
"Dick…"
Dick buried his face in his hands. "I’m stuck, Jason. I can't—I can't take it anymore. I have nightmares about their touch. Not just Catalina, but all of them. Of any woman I get close to, even the ones I’m sure would never hurt me. Because do I really know that? Do I? I never thought any of them would—" He cut himself off with a hitched sob.
Hesitantly, Jason leaned in, and wrapped his arms around him. Any worries it might have sent Dick spiraling further dissolved as Dick leaned into the embrace and cried harder into his shoulder. And Jason felt awful. He couldn't just wave his hands and fix it with some kind words. That simply wasn't possible for something like this, even for someone better with emotions than himself. But he couldn't let Dick remain this miserable, either. He had to try something.
"Maybe," he said softly, grasping at straws for any possible solution, "maybe in the morning we can try to figure out a plan to help. See if Zatanna can cast a protection spell, or get Bruce to sponsor awareness about sexual assault from women. Or talk to Clark and see if he has ideas, or something. We don't even have to tell them anything you don't want to. And I know those might not work. It's not perfect, but…"
"It doesn't have to be." Dick sat back up straight and wiped his tears with his sleeve. "Just knowing that you care helps enough. Thank you. For trying."
"Of course I care." Jason gave him a small smile. He never really knew what to do in these sorts of situations.
What he did know, though, was that none of this was on Dick.
And Jason wasn't going anywhere.