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Dick breaks four ribs and cracks another five. He doesn’t think much of the injury outside the immediate discomfort, and Dick’s been hurt before. Worse than anything a thief with a baseball bat could deliver. Far worse than the resulting five storey fall.
“Missed my handhold,” he explains as Bruce shakes his head, sitting in the Cave with his suit rolled down around his waist, bruises blooming over his sides. “You know how it is, busy running my mouth and next thing I know I’m kissing the pavement.”
“Left side is worse than the right,” Bruce tells him. “Pain?”
“When I move, or if I press them,” Dick says, shrugging. Bruce sighs, rubs his forehead. “I’m fine, Bruce, really.”
“You’re better than a missed handhold,” Bruce snaps. “Be more careful.”
“Yessir,” he promises as Bruce moves back to the monitors, leaving Dick to consider the merits of bandaging his torso.
Damian arrives nearly ten minutes later, crashing into the cave with his mask torn free and his eyes bloodshot.
“Father!” he screams hoarsely, turning on his toes and searching the Cave. When he sees Dick he blanches, the relief flooding his expression frighteningly raw. For a second Dick thinks he’s about to cry, then the moment passes and relief transforms into fury. “Y-you.”
“Me?” Dick wonders out loud, as Damian crosses the space between them. Dick doesn’t see the blow, but he feels the palm of Damian’s hand connect with his cheek, stinging and unexpected pain. Damian follows after it, colliding with Dick’s chest and grabbing for his hair, ramming their lips together in a desperate approximation of affection. It’s over as soon as it starts, Damian burying his face in the side of Dick’s neck, mumbling words that aren’t from any language Dick understands. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs, frantically feeling down the Robin’s sides. “What happened? You hurt?” Damian flinches. “Damian!”
“…you don’t know,” he accuses, sitting up and watching Dick’s expression with burning eyes. “You don’t…you haven’t even…”
“Don’t know what?” Dick tries, circling his arms around Damian’s waist.
“There was a malfunction,” Bruce explains gruffly, appearing over Damian’s shoulder. “The fall must have damaged your suit’s receptors. It failed to read your life signs correctly and issued an alert, then a death report.”
“A dea – oh.” Damian’s hands are unsteady on his neck, a slight tremble that suddenly makes sense. “The warnings issue to the nearest Batman agent.”
“Which wasn’t me,” Bruce confirms, stepping closer and smoothing a hand over Damian’s shoulders. Dick slides his palms up Damian’s back, pressing the boy into a slightly awkward embrace as Bruce takes a step back. “I’m…sorry I didn’t see the issue sooner.”
“This is hardly your fault,” Damian snipes, pulling out of Dick’s embrace and yanking roughly on his hair. “It’s yours. Be more careful!” Dick winces, laughs, and Damian twitches.
“Your dad said exactly the same thing,” he explains sheepishly. Damian’s eyes skirt across to Bruce, expression clouding. “Sorry.” Damian pulls away and Dick catches his wrist. “Hey, I’m sorry I scared you.” Damian softens slightly, then bristles again when Dick leans over to kiss his cheek.
“Don’t do it again,” the boy snaps, yanking out of Dick’s hands and stalking across the Cave. “I need to finish my patrol. Your antics have put me behind.” He pauses in the doorway, shoulders tensing, then turns quickly to face them again. “Grayson, I’m sharing your chambers tonight so leave the door unlocked.”
“Report to me first,” Bruce cuts in. Dick shoots him a glare that the man ignores, but Damian meets his father’s eyes without blinking.
“I trust this won’t be regarding patrol?” Bruce doesn’t move, doesn’t smile, and Damian shrugs. “Very well. Don’t wait up, Grayson, I’ll join you once I’m done.” He vanishes with a twirl of his cape, and Dick stays silent until he hears the Cave elevator beep and begin its ascent.
“You better not be planning on chewing him out over this,” Dick warns darkly. “Seriously, Bruce. Leave him alone. Take it up with me.”
“He’s my son, Dick, and I reserve the right to speak to him about his…relationships,” Bruce fires back.
“And I’m speaking to you about it right now!” Dick snaps. “I know we didn’t tell you, and I should have. As soon as it started, I should have come to you.”
“Probably,” Bruce agrees gently. Dick sighs. “I’m not displeased, Dick.”
“Really? You have nothing to say about me putting my hands all over your underage kid?” Dick offers blandly.
“Only that I doubt you do anything to Damian that he doesn’t either instigate or propagate.” Dick bites back a chuckle, watching as Bruce rubs one of his temples. “I’m not going to forbid him from seeing you. I’m not even going to argue with him. I just want to touch base, nothing more.” He pauses, opens his eyes and watches Dick carefully. “Don’t hurt him, Dick.”
“I don’t plan to,” Dick promises honestly.
“Good.” Bruce stands, back to business, the weary set of his shoulders evaporating. “I’ll have Alfred bring you something to help you sleep. I want you out of action for the rest of the week, Dick. We can reevaluate after that.”
*
He wakes to the soft click of his bedroom door closing. Dull pain threads down both his sides and Dick smiles, rolling onto his side and watching as Damian eases across the floor. He’s out of costume, down to a pair of tracksuit pants and a loose shirt.
“What’s the time?” he asks softly.
“Early,” Damian tells him. “Go back to sleep, Grayson.” He hovers on the edge of the bed, eyes scanning across the length of Dick’s body. “Father said you broke ribs.”
“Mm,” Dick agrees, shifting and reaching for Damian’s wrist. “C’mere.”
“Grayson,” he warns tightly, inching forwards until his knees touch the bed. “Ribs.”
“It’s fine, you barely move when you sleep,” Dick agues softly. Damian makes a sound in the back of his throat.
“Only for a minute,” Damian relents, sliding under the covers and freezing as Dick curls around him. “Grayson…”
“You’ve had a shower,” Dick murmurs, nestling his face into the back of Damian’s neck, breathing in the smell of shampoo from his damp hair. He rubs a thumb under Damian’s shirt, stroking across his stomach and over his hipbones. “Relax. You’re not hurting me. It’s fine.” He does, fractionally, shoulders losing some of their tension. Dick kisses his neck. “You spoke to your dad?”
“Yes.”
“…you okay? Do I need to go talk to him?” Dick asks gently, tracing the waistband of Damian’s pants.
“No. Father warned me to be careful of your injuries,” Damian explains, sighing. “He also tried to open a discussion on the mechanics of sexual intercourse.”
“He what?” Dick laughs. “Really? Why?”
“He decided my lack of experience equated to lack of knowledge,” Damian mutters darkly. “Though I doubt my trauma will be as extensive as yours.”
“Mine? What did I do?” Dick asks.
“Apparently, father assumed I was sexually active already,” Damian offers smugly. He slides his hand over Dick’s and threads their fingers together. “Discovering I’m not has turned you into a cradle robber. I didn’t feel the need to defend you too vigorously.” Dick groans into Damian’s shoulder.
“…this is because I scared you, right?”
“Oh yes,” Damian admits, nodding. “I’m never forgiving you for today.”
“I really am sorry, you know,” Dick murmurs, pressing closer to Damian’s back.
“You will be,” Damian counters, still smug. “You most definitely will be.”