Chapter Text
Mustering all of his strength, Jason pulled himself up the fire escape that lined up to the window of his apartment. A gasp of pain and a temporary loss of vision, and he felt his knees hit the wrought iron. He took a moment to catch his breath, panting as he braced himself on his forearms, taking stock of his injuries.
For starters, he was fairly certain that at least a few of his ribs were broken. Each ragged inhale sent sharp stabs of pain through his torso, and each exhale was just as bad. It was a little easier when he took small, short breaths, but it also made him feel like he would pass out.
A black eye, a split lip, and a cut above one eyebrow that oozed a steady trickle of blood into his eye adorned his face. No matter how many times he’d wiped the blood away, it just came back, so he’d eventually given up. There was a red tint to everything, but he could still see out of it, for the most part.
What really made it hard to see was the double vision. At some point, he’d gotten his head slammed into the pavement, after his helmet had been removed. And yeah, that one had taken the prize for sure. Jason had immediately felt like he would throw up, but there’d been no time to succumb to bodily functions.
He’d managed to overtake them by the skin of his teeth, putting bullets in places that wouldn’t kill, Bruce, but would certainly cause permanent damage.
So sure, he looked pretty bad, but if someone pointed it out, his response would be, “You should see the other guys.” At least he still had both his kneecaps.
Nonetheless, he was in excruciating pain and looking forward to hiding away and licking his wounds for a while. The painful trek to his apartment had felt like it had taken hours. There had been a few times that Jason considered hiding behind a dumpster for a while to rest, like he’d done many times as a kid. Ultimately, he decided against it because he worried that if he stopped moving, he wouldn’t be able to make himself start again. But it was a close call.
He’d made it, though, he just had to get inside. Just one last push. He braced himself and stumbled to his feet. He took a few steadying breaths and hobbled to the window, only realizing that he’d also broken a few fingers at some point when he felt sharp stabs of pain in his hands as he slid the bottom pane as high as he could. It stuck, about two-thirds of the way up. Good enough, he thought.
A wave of nausea hit him as he stumbled through the window, and he quickly sat down on the ground, waiting for the world to stop spinning. He pulled off his helmet, wincing as he did, and tossed it aside. It took a few seconds for the rushing in his ears to dissipate, but eventually it did enough for him to mentally prepare himself to stand.
But before he could, he realized that he was not alone. As muddled as his mind was right now, his senses were still sharp as ever and he could tell there was definitely another person in the apartment with him. He almost groaned out loud — he honestly wasn’t sure if he could put up a good fight in his condition. Bruce’s no-killing-in-Gotham rule be damned, he’d have to kill someone. Did it count if it was truly self-defense?
“Jason? Are you okay?”
Jason recognized that voice. He should’ve been pissed that Dick had broken into his apartment — so much for so-called impenetrable security systems — but he was so relieved that he wouldn’t have to fight someone who was hellbent on him being dead that he could do nothing but sigh in relief, his muscles relaxing as much as they dared in his injured state.
Jason looked up with hazy eyes, squinting to try to get his double vision to focus on the figure across the room. Dick was sitting at his kitchen table, a spoon frozen in hand, a bowl in front of him.
“Are you eating my cereal, fucker?” Jason slurred, then burst into tears. And man, that was embarrassing. He hadn’t meant to do that.
Jason blinked and Dick was right next to him, eyes wide and hands hovering over him fretfully like they were unsure of what to do but desperate to do something. Jason groggily wondered if Dick had become a meta and neglected to tell him. It was the only thing that could explain him being able to move that fast.
Or maybe Jason was just losing time.
“Hey, hey,” Dick consoled. “What happened? Where are you hurt?”
Mortifyingly, Jason was crying too hard to respond. He hid his head in his hands, but the bent forward position simultaneously tugged on his injured ribs and caused a huge wave of nausea to hit him, so he leaned back up, trying to will the tears away with little success.
“Should I call Bru—” Jason’s heartbeat ratcheted up in his chest. He shook his head, sending another wave of nausea crashing through him, another flood of tears from his eyes. There was no way Bruce could see him this way. “Okay, okay. No Batcave. Message received.”
Dick sat with him then and said nothing more, waiting until Jason was more composed and able to talk. He rubbed soothingly at Jason’s shoulder and Jason couldn’t decide whether he wanted to pull away or lean in further. He compromised by doing neither.
Slowly, Jason calmed down a bit, though his breath still had the occasional hitch and stray tears continued to slip down his face every few seconds. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against the wall, taking a deep, shaky breath.
“C-c’ncussion,” he finally managed, the taste of copper on his tongue.
“Ah,” Dick said in understanding. “Poor kid. Are you okay here for a second?”
Jason wanted to protest the nickname, but all he could muster the energy for was a weak nod. His head was pounding and the tears weren’t helping. And his ribs hurt — every inhale was agony. Add to that the mortification of his sort-of-brother seeing him completely lose control, and Jason was really feeling sorry for himself.
Dick returned a second later with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel, which he set down on the side table next to the couch, and a wet rag. He handed Jason the rag, who tried to mop clumsily at his face, but his broken fingers protested the action and he hissed in pain.
“Shit, Jason, how many bones did you break?” Dick asked, eyeing his swollen, bruising hands before gently grabbing the washcloth from him and wiping at his face, sure to be especially gentle dabbing around Jason’s split lip and eyebrow. Jason allowed it without protest, his head groggy and fuzzy enough that he didn’t care as much how pathetic he must look. The action itself and the cool cloth against his warm cheeks were soothing, and Jason felt himself growing more relaxed, leaning into the touch.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me. You know the concussion protocol, no sleeping until I’m sure you’re not gonna need a hospital,” Dick said. Jason couldn’t help the whine that came from his throat. He was exhausted.
“I know, Jay,” Dick soothed, rubbing his shoulder again. “Do you think you can stand up? I bet you’ll feel better if we can get you on the couch.”
Jason shrugged, but made no inclination to move. Dick huffed.
“I can’t exactly pick you up,” Dick chuckled.
“Don’t wanna move. Hurts,” Jason said.
Dick hummed in sympathy. “I’m sure it hurts. I promise, once we get you to the couch and get you cleaned up, I won’t make you move again.”
Jason let out a shuddering sigh. He tried to pull himself to his feet, but stabbing pain in his torso made him fall back to the ground. Tears sprung back to his eyes. “I can’t,” he gasped in a thick voice. “I’ll just die here, leave me ‘lone.”
“Hey, you can do it, Jay,” Dick encouraged, patting his bicep. “Or, if you’d prefer, I can call Bruce and get him to take you to the Batcave so you can get real medical treatment. Which is probably what I should be doing anyway.”
“No,” Jason growled, glaring at him. The effect was diminished by his inability to tell where Dick actually was — Jason wasn’t sure which of the two of him that he saw was the real one — as well as his tear-covered cheeks and swollen eyes. He looked the opposite of intimidating right now. He looked pitiful. He knew just by the way Dick was looking at him, like he was a toddler who had skinned his knee and needed to be fussed over.
“Oh, look at that. There’s the Jason I know!” Dick cheered. Jason glared harder. “Alright, then your other option is to let me help you to the couch.”
Jason thought for a second before reluctantly nodding. Dick smiled at him. “Okay, so here’s what we’ll do. I’m gonna grab under your armpits and help pull you to your feet. You try not to use your torso too much, just your legs, but I’m gonna need you to trust me to keep you balanced. Think you can do that?”
Jason sighed shakily but nodded again, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hands to try and rid the evidence of his breakdown. His head felt fuzzy and he wanted more than anything to go to sleep, but he couldn’t even do that. And his whole body hurt so much. He hadn’t hurt this badly since — well, since he was murdered.
The way he felt sure was bringing back fond memories.
“Alright, count of three. One, two,” Dick counted. Jason braced himself for searing pain as he settled his feet on the ground and Dick reached under his arms. “Three!”
Dick pulled him up in one quick motion, and Jason hardly had to do anything. The movement made his head swim, but surprisingly, he felt no searing pain in his torso like he was expecting, just the same base level that he was already feeling. He looked at Dick in surprise, unable to articulate his shock.
“All good?” Dick asked in concern.
Jason was aware that he wasn’t talking nearly as much as he usually did and probably freaking Dick out a little, but he couldn’t help it. Words were hard, his head hurt, and he was overwhelmingly exhausted. He just wanted to lay down and think and feel nothing.
He settled on a nod, shuffling clumsily with Dick’s hands on his shoulders for balance over to the couch. He groaned as he sat down. “Ow.”
Dick sat down next to him, grabbing the ice from the table and setting it gently on Jason’s head. At first the cold hurt and Jason was about to shove it away, then he grew accustomed to it and it started to feel good, soothing some of the ache. He decided to leave it alone. Lifting his arms was too hard, anyways. He closed his eyes, sinking into the cushions. Now that he was no longer full of adrenaline, he felt completely sapped of energy.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Dick warned.
“‘M not,” Jason whined.
“Just making sure,” Dick replied, voice dripping with doubt. “I’m gonna go grab some things, I’ll be right back.”
Jason wanted to protest his leaving, but he didn’t want to come off as needy — wait, no. He didn’t care if Dick left. He didn’t want him around. At least if Dick was gone, Jason could sleep.
With his eyes closed, Jason wasn’t sure if Dick had left, but the silence of the room made him guess that he had. Alone, Jason felt comfortable letting another groan leave his mouth. This was a bad concussion, and he was no stranger to concussions. He’d never felt whatever weird, fuzzy feeling he was feeling right now with any of his previous concussions. Some small voice yelled that he was acting pathetic and vulnerable and it was unacceptable, but that was only in the back of his mind. The overwhelming feeling of pain allowed him to largely ignore the part of his brain yelling at him that Dick was here to see him completely lose it.
Whatever. It wasn’t like he had any of his family’s respect to begin with.
Minutes or maybe hours later, Dick returned and Jason felt a firm hand touch his shoulder. He noted with appreciation how careful Dick had been to only touch where he was sure that Jason wasn’t injured. “Hey, I said no sleeping,” Dick reprimanded gently.
“Wasn’t sleepin’,” Jason rasped, not bothering to open his eyes.
Dick laughed a little, sounding amused. “Sure you weren’t. Just resting your eyes, huh?”
“Mhm,” Jason agreed.
“Alright, well I’m gonna start patching you up. Is that okay?” Dick asked. Jason nodded his head slightly, eyes still closed. “Jason, can you open your eyes for me?”
Jason ignored him.
“Please?”
Jason huffed, squinting his uninjured eye at him.
“Here,” Dick said, holding out his hand. Jason put out his own, and Dick dropped a few pills into his palm. “It’s just acetaminophen. It should help with some of the pain.”
Jason frowned down at the pills.
Dick held out a cup of water with a straw. Jason moved to grab it, and Dick pulled it out of reach. Jason looked at him and frowned harder.
“Your fingers,” Dick reminded him.
“Oh,” Jason said, realizing that Dick meant to hold the water for him while he drank. The idea should’ve bothered him more, but he couldn’t muster the energy. Dick brought the cup back and Jason took a sip, then another to take the pills in his hand. When he was finished, Dick set the cup down.
“I’m gonna wrap up your hands now, okay?” Dick waited until Jason gave the okay before he got to work. It only took a few minutes, and Jason zoned out, calmed by the feeling of Dick gently maneuvering his hands, wrapping the bandage around his fingers, then around his palm, then around his fingers again, finally ending at his wrist before repeating the process with his other hand. When he’d finished, Dick patted his knee and stood up.
“There’s not much I can do for your ribs, Jay,” Dick said apologetically. Jason blearily shrugged one shoulder, and with a bandaged hand, patted the couch next to him. Dick smiled sympathetically at him. “I will, but I think we should get you changed first. You’re, uh. Well, you have a not-small amount of blood on your clothes.”
“No, ‘s fine,” Jason said, struggling to hold his eyes open. “Deal with it t’morrow.”
“Jason, you can’t sit here covered in blood. I’ll be quick,” Dick said, not waiting to hear Jason’s protests before turning around and leaving the room.
Jason blinked at the empty room. Dick moving around so much was starting to make him dizzy.
“Okay,” Dick said, suddenly back in the room. Jason jumped, then winced. “I grabbed some sweatpants and a shirt, do you think you can get them on?”
Jason groaned. “Don’t wanna, Dickhead.”
“I know you don’t, but you’re so covered in filth right now I’m pretty sure you’re gonna need to burn your couch as it is. This is the last thing, I promise,” Dick placated. “C’mon, Jay. You can do it.”
Jason felt a frustrated lump in his throat begin to form, his eyes beginning to water again. He tried to bite his lip to keep them at bay, forgetting about his split lip, and blood bloomed in his mouth.
Why was Dick still even here? He didn’t owe Jason anything. It didn’t make sense for him to be watching over Jason like this, let alone to do so with so much patience.
Jason was grateful, if not baffled. He wanted to do what Dick said without a fight, he didn’t want to make things difficult when Dick didn’t even need to be helping him, but he was in so much pain already. He just couldn’t. He felt awful about it, but he couldn’t.
“I can’t,” Jason mumbled. “Hurts too much. Just wanna go to sleep, Dick, please.”
”Oh, Jay.” Dick looked heartbroken. “Here, how — how about I help you?”
“Help?”
“Yeah, you just sit there and I’ll do most of the work. That way you don’t get jostled around too much,” Dick said.
Jason thought about it for a moment. He’d already thoroughly embarrassed himself, so letting Dick change his clothes wasn’t going to make things much worse. He shrugged, figuring it was better to just agree and get it over with. Then, maybe Dick would finally sit down and Jason’s head would stop spinning. Maybe he could even go to sleep.
Dick’s eyebrows raised, surprised at Jason’s easy approval, but he sprung into action. He gently tugged Jason’s Kevlar shirt up, exposing his torso, mottled with various shades of purple and black. Dick inhaled a hiss.
“Poor kid,” he muttered, a deep frown on his face. Dick slowly directed Jason to move one arm out of his sleeve, then the other, without having to raise them above his head. When Jason winced, Dick winced in sympathy and moved a little slower. He tugged the bloody shirt over Jason’s head and tossed it aside before gently reversing the process with the new, clean shirt. Jason’s mind went fuzzy during the whole thing, only able to focus on Dick’s gentle maneuvering.
“Hard part’s over,” Dick said, patting Jason’s knee, like he needed comforting after the horrible ordeal of having his shirt changed. “Almost done.”
Jason closed his eyes again, another stupid wave of emotion compelling him to start crying.
He’d never — this was foreign to him. Being taken care of like this. Sure, there had been a few times, with Bruce, before he’d become Robin and things had gone to shit. A few noisy nightmares that Jason hadn’t yet learned how to muffle, that Bruce had sat with him after. Or, more accurately, he’d invited Jason to sit with him in the Batcave after. Once, he’d even taken him on a ride in the Batmobile when Jason couldn’t settle back down, and Jason had fallen asleep against the window.
And Alfred, he’d always been great, had always shoved food at Jason any chance he got. He’d read to Jason, pretending that he was reading out loud because he preferred to, because he knew that Jason liked it but would never admit to it. He’d make Jason tea when Jason asked for it, even though he’d always take two sips and abandon the rest.
So it wasn’t like he’d never been cared for. Things got rocky with Bruce as he got older, but they hadn’t started off that way.
But there had never been anything like this, never this level of intimacy. Never anyone else taking care of him, casually touching him like this. Not in some perverted way, just — he’d never really been looked after. And for some reason, right now, it was hitting him like a truck.
He hadn’t gotten that with his parents. His dad was — a can of worms he didn’t want to open up. And his mom had tried, but she was usually either too drugged out to remember that he was alive, or too desperate for more drugs to pay much attention to him. The short periods where she had a hint of lucidity, she felt so lost and guilty that she didn’t really look at him then, either. During those periods, she at least tried to keep him fed, would weakly tell him she loved him, her words etched with guilt and desperation. It had always sounded more like please forgive me than I love you. He doesn’t blame her for her disease, she was sick and needed help that no one gave her, but sometimes seeing mothers hugging their kids made his heart ache.
And by the time he’d come to Bruce, he was much too old for coddling. Besides, even if Bruce had tried, at that point Jason’s walls were already built too high. He’d already learned that he was on his own. He wore his independence like a shield, and if anyone had tried to take it away, he would’ve retaliated with the ferocity of a cornered stray dog. It just wouldn’t have gone well, he wasn’t the type of person who needed that type of thing. He’d always survived without it.
So why the fuck was he about to cry?
“Jason?” Dick said, his tone implying that it wasn’t the first time he’d said his name.
Jason blinked a few times, looking in Dick’s direction.
“You okay? I lost you there for a second,” Dick said, eyebrows furrowed in concern.
Jason nodded, looking away and blinking again. Stupid tears. Stupid concussion.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dick said, immediately noticing that Jason was not actually okay. He took a seat next to Jason and put a hand on his arm. “Did I hurt you?”
Jason let out a wet laugh and then gasped, a stabbing pain in his ribs protesting the action. “No. Just… don’t know why you’re here.”
It wasn’t even close to what he wanted to say, to what he meant — he didn’t even know what he meant. But it was all he could manage with his brain scrambled up the way it was. Hopefully, Dick didn’t take it the wrong way.
“Well, I was here because it was the closest place after I got done with patrol and I wanted some cereal,” Dick said, smiling. His smile then grew softer and Jason had to look down, a lump in his throat. “Then, I saw that my little brother needed my help. Simple as that.”
Jason felt some of the tears he’d been holding back slip down his face. His chin wobbled and he sniffled. “I can’t really… I don’t know how to— thanks. I mean. For—”
Jason gestured vaguely. Dick huffed an amused laugh, though he looked mildly concerned that Jason was crying again.
“You don’t ever have to thank me,” Dick replied, patting his arm soothingly. “Besides, don’t thank me yet, because we’re not done. We still have to change you out of those pants.”
With some creative thinking, Dick managed to help Jason out of his old pants and into the new pair without him having to stand up. Jason could tell that Dick tried to make it as painless as possible, but he was still feeling pretty achy by the time all was said and done. Not to mention completely exhausted. His thoughts moved like molasses, slowed down and simple.
“Now I can sleep?” Jason asked hopefully. It didn’t even occur to him that he could technically ignore Dick’s advice and go to sleep if he really wanted to.
“Afraid not,” Dick said sympathetically. Upon seeing Jason’s crestfallen face, he added, “But hey, why don’t I tell you some stories? And I’ll keep an eye on you for a bit, and if you’re still doing okay, you can sleep a little. Does that sound like a plan?”
Jason shrugged. All he really wanted was to sleep.
Dick noticed his dilemma but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he asked, “Did I ever tell you about the time I had to wrestle a lion?”
“What?” Jason said skeptically. Dick wrestled a lion? “No way.”
“Yep, sure did. It was a couple years ago, when I had to go back to the circus…”
And Dick launched into telling Jason stories, most of them from his time in the circus rather than his time spent as a vigilante. Jason zoned in and out, but he appreciated the constant stream of noise coming from his brother, reminding him that he wasn't alone. Occasionally he’d make a comment, just to show Dick that he was alive and well enough to be allowed to sleep without having a seizure or falling into a coma or whatever Dick was scared he’d do.
As Dick finished his last story, he looked over to Jason, who was still awake but just barely. “Jason?”
“Hm?”
“You can go to sleep now,” Dick said.
Jason opened his eyes, looking at his brother hopefully. “Really?”
“Yeah, I think you’re okay to sleep. I’m staying here to watch, though, and I’m waking you up every two hours to look at your pupils,” Dick said, his voice indicating that he would take no arguments.
“Okay,” Jason agreed easily. Wasting no time, Jason leaned his head back and started to finally, mercifully drift towards unconsciousness.
“Don’t you want to get to your bed first?” Dick said, pulling Jason back up from the half-asleep state he’d so easily drifted into.
Jason glared at him. “I’m not moving again.”
Dick held his hands up. “That’s fine, I’m just making sure you’re comfortable.”
“You’ve done more than enough,” Jason replied. “Seriously… thanks.”
“Hey, I already told you that you don’t have to thank me. This is just what brothers do,” Dick said.
Jason gave him a small smile, then closed his eyes and leaned back into the couch cushion. “Now shut up and let me sleep.”
Dick snorted but said nothing else. Jason was almost asleep when he felt a blanket being wrapped around him. Instinctively he let out a small sigh, sinking deeper into unconsciousness where everything hurt a little less.
“Sweet dreams, Jay,” Dick whispered. Jason was already asleep, unable to respond.