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Dick gasps, pushing himself upwards as the last feelings of sleep leave his body. The room is enveloped in gentle blue lights from the LED’s running across his walls. As he wakes up a little more, the dull thudding running through his legs turn to more persistent, sharp pain. Dick takes a stuttering breath, trying to will the tears that are building up in his eyes to go away. He lets out a pained hum before laying back down, thinking of anything and everything to try and distract him from the pain that fills his body.
After a moment, he lets out a strangled scream, rolling to the other side of his bed. Stupid body, he thinks, stupid hypermobility and stupid, cursed joints. He rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling as he desperately tries to get sleep to catch up to him, even if he feels wide awake. He glaces at the side table, his eyes lingering on the bottle of pain meds that forever sits on the nightstand. He debates picking them up and taking some, even though his water cup is empty and the pills are so far away. He takes a deep breath before reaching out, straining his arm to reach as far as they can. His fingers just barely brush against the bottle, Dick letting out a whine as he shifts himself a tad closer, just enough to snatch the bottle. He lets out a triumphant yelp, the sound turning into a hiss when he jostles his legs a little too much.
Dick opens the bottle and pours out two of the meds, gulping them down and ignoring the feeling of them getting stuck in his throat. He shifts himself to lay on his back again, counting sheep (or, in this case, seeing how many aerial moves he can name off the top of his head) as he waits for the medication to kick in.
As the sky begins to brighten and the pain starts to return to it’s usual dull thudding, sleep finally starts creeping on the edges of Dick’s vision. He closes his eyes, forcing a deep breath in an attempt to make his mind settle down and his thoughts go quiet. He takes another breath, slowly relaxing his joints, letting the tenseness flow out of his form and letting the pain take over instead of trying to make it go away. He holds back a pained gasp, instead accepting the pain that evens out over his body. He goes limp in the warmth of the bed, letting out a breathy sigh as the pain medication numbs the pain, allowing Dick to finally settle down.
~~~
A loud crash startles Dick out of his half-asleep state, a shout following close after that makes his peel open his eyes, only to be greeted with a barely-rising sun’s light streaming through the cracks of his blinds. Dick lays in bed, allowing himself that quick comfort as he feels the pain return to his joints.
He slowly peels himself out from under his blankets, wincing as he waddles towards his crutches, the sound of the pill bottle falling onto the ground and the pills rolling out making him pause for a moment, but he elects that to be a problem for later him. He rests against the wall, trying to return his breathing to normal as he slides his arms into the cuffs, wrapping his hands around the bar before sleepily making his way out into the hallway.
Damian stands at the end of the it, right in front of the stairs, his face red with embarrassment, Duke standing a few feet away with wide eyes as the two stare at the glass shards that lay in front of their feet. Dick sighs before making his way over to them.
“What happened?” He asks tiredly. The two teenagers glance up at Dick in surprise, as if they didn’t realize he was there (which Dick finds silly, because his crutches click with every step), but neither of them answer. Dick stares at them, an unimpressed expression on his face. Damian purses his lips.
“I was coming up the stairs and Thomas surprised me, is all.” Damian explains vaguely. Dick narrows his eyes.
“And what’s the glass from?” He prompts. Damian glances at Duke before answering.
“...The chandelier." Dick looks up, seeing a lone chain attached to the ceiling above them, swinging wildly. Dick opens his mouth, then closes it again, and opens it, and then closes it once more, trying to formulate a response.
“What time is it?” Dick asks rather suddenly.
“Almost 6.” Duke answered happily. Dick nods slowly.
“Damian, clean this up. I’ll go start making breakfast. It’s too early for this.” He says, more to himself than anything, before he starts waddling down the stairs, carefully taking one at a time so as to not fall.
He heads to the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for oatmeal, dumping the water and oats into the pot haphazardly and turning on the heat. He pulls out a cutting board, chopping up and apple into small cubes and putting them into a small pan, sprinkling cinnamon on top of them before he goes back to the oats. He balances on one crutch while he mixes the oatmeal. He pours the soggy grains into three bowls, adding some of the apples on top and garnishing with cinnamon. He nudges the bowls to be on the counter across from him, going around to the other side in order to transfer the bowls to the kitchen table. He makes sure that one of the bowls is in Damian’s spot, and the other in Duke’s spot, before he sits down at his own seat with the third bowl, slowly eating the warm oats with little enjoyment, merely trying to wake himself up enough for the day ahead. The warmth of the oatmeal soothes the pain in his joints, Dick letting his eyes drift close as he rests against the table, finally falling asleep.
(Damian walks down the stairs, already opening his mouth to complain about the fragility of the chandelier when Duke shushes him. Damian huffs, about to tell Duke not to shush him, when he sees Dick sleeping against the kitchen table, his pained expression finally relaxed as the dark circles under his eyes seem to already be receding. Damian quietly grabs his bowl, bringing it to the dining room to leave Dick alone to sleep. Duke follows quickly behind him. Before the two leave for school, Damian leaves a sticky note on the stairwell to inform the rest of their family to stay quiet when downstairs. Dick is still sleeping when the pair get back from school.)