(no subject)
Oct. 30th, 2011 09:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
munninTitle: Nesting.
Rating: PG
Characters: Jason, Dick and Alfred.
Series: Home
Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit and no offence meant. Everyone is of the age of consent in their country and period of history
Author’s notes: 100% organic. May contain minor flaws and imperfections that beta-treated slash wouldn’t.
Summary: Having a big brother isn’t always the easiest thing to love with...
Note: Sorry Darth, I know I promised you Tim but the story hadn’t gotten there yet. Next one, promise.
“Do that again, Dickie,” Jason muttered groggily, rolling over to get away from Dick’s grabby embrace, “And I swear on my own grave, I will knife you where you lay.” He winced, trying not to put too much weight on his broken ribs. “Why are you even here?”
Dick pouted and snuggled close, chasing Jason across the bed. His eyes barely opening at the threat. “You’re still sick and Alfred had to go back to the manor. Someone has to look after you.
This time Jason shoved as Dick tried to hug him, pushing him off the lumpy mattress and onto the floor. “How is acting like a goddamn octopus supposed to help me recover?”
Dick pouted again as he landed on his butt on the floor but Jason slapped him across the face with a pillow. The hit was weak and soft, even without the padding. As loathed as Jason was to admit it, he was kitten weak and in no state to fight... or to be on his own.
For the better part of a week, Alfred had sat with him, bandaging his wounds and cooling his burning fever in the aftermath of the explosion. He’d falling in the harbour and without the old man’s help...well, that didn’t bear thinking about. But Alfred had to get back to the manor, for both their sakes. If Bruce has come looking for his butler and found him at the bedside of the man he had fought that night, there was no knowing how messy things might get.
But then Dick came, bearing a peace banner in the form of a strap of liquorice, the secret Jason and Alfred alone shared. Jason had made the mistake of letting him it, not realising the trap he was walking into.
‘Of course Dick and Alfred were conspiring against me.’ Jason thought as he pulled the blankets around himself in a cocoon, sick of fighting Dick for them. Alfred had never pushed him to come back, or to give up the Red Hood. Of course he hadn’t; he didn’t need to. As soon as Dick was involved, his once brother would fight all the old man’s fights for him. Mostly by being ridiculously cheerful and a goddamn blanket thief. “Why are you even in my goddamn bed?” He muttered, pulling the remaining pillow over his head to keep out the morning light.
“Because you’re still sick, because Alfred made me promise to look after you, against your will if necessary and because I get a crick in my neck if I sleep on your couch. That why.” Dick gave up the fight and tossed the pillow back, getting up to put some coffee on. “Besides, we’re brother; we should be able to share a bed.”
“Were brothers.” Jason mutters darkly. The smell of fresh coffee was enough to make him poke his nose out from under the pillow. Alfred’s coming had brought several changes to Jason’s decrepit slum, the most vital of which was the addition of a very, very good coffee machine and a supply of beans. “We’re enemies now, remember.”
“Says the man who spent half the night drooling on my tee-shirt as he slept.” There was no malice in Dick’s tone as he nudges Jason to sit up. He knelt on the floor, his head bent as he checked the bandages covering the deep gash on Jason’s thigh. “I need to clean and re-wrap this. Feel like a shower before I do? I could join you, if you... you know, need support or help or anything.”
“Tryin’ to get me naked, Grayson?” Jason growls, clinging to the offered mug of strong black coffee like a lifeline. “I didn’t think you dug on incest.”
A smile lit up Dick’s face and he flung himself into Jason’s arms, nearly spilling the coffee everywhere. “So you do still think of me as a brother!”
“Get. The fuck. Off me, you freak.” Jason shoved at him, only just managing to disentangle himself from Dick. He downed the rest of the coffee and threw the mug feebly at Dick before grabbing a knife from the nearby bookcase. “Follow me into the bathroom and I will fucking castrate you. Got that, Dickie?” He pushed off the wall, struggling to keep his feet under him as he staggered to the bathroom, slamming the door closed.
Dick flopped back down on the bed, running his hands through his hair with a tired sigh. He had sat up half the night, watching Jason sleep. In truth, he missed his brother, or at least the boy his brother had once been. In his sleep, the years and bitterness and hurt melted off Jason, leaving an innocent and injured boy. ‘Is this what Alfred saw? When all Bruce and I could see was an enemy.’ It hurt to see Jason so angry, at him, at Bruce, at everything but Dick held onto his smile, playing the cheerful fool just to keep things from getting too rough. If he told Jason what he was really thinking, ordered him to stop, begged him to come home, his once brother may well make good on those threats. He pulled himself up and started messing around in the kitchen, putting together something resembling breakfast for them both.
In the shower, Jason leant heavily on the wall, letting it take his weigh. Fuck, he hurt. His whole damn body ached. The surface of water had slammed him just as hard as the shockwave and there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t bruised. Even after he’d dragged himself out of the foul water and back to his pad; each bruise, each cut, each sob reminded him off the last time he died. He might have died this time too, alone in this slum if Alfred hadn’t come. ‘I didn’t wanna die alone.’ The thought betrayed every spark of anger and rage and hate in him. He was Red Hood, scourge of the goddamn Bat, not some scared, lonely street-rat. He wasn’t the kid who whooped every time Dick came back from New York or snuck out to share ice-cream with him after school.
And yet, for all the push and shove over the blankets, he hadn’t slept that well since the grave.
He forces himself out from under the hot water, cursing as the pipes rattled and spluttered off. He dried off as best he could, wrapping the warm and fluffy manor towel, another gift from Alfred, around himself. Dick would want to check and salve the many cuts and grazes before he bandaged Jason up like a fucking mummy again. The smell of bacon made him realise how hungry he was. “You better not be burning that, Grayson. I remember how bad your cooking was.” He flopped back down on the bed, exhausted even from this small exertion.
Dick presented him with an egg and bacon roll, pushing him to sit up as he stretches his legs to position himself behind Jason on the mattress, the first aid kit already set up within arm’s reach. “Hey, my cooking’s come a long way since living with the Titans. If someone hadn’t stepped up, Kory would do all the cooking and few people make the mistake of eating her creations twice. The only other cook in the family’s Roy and all he ever cooks is chilli.”
Jason flinched when Dick so casually referred to the Titans as family, coving it by growling at him to be more careful with the disinfectant salve. It hurt. It shouldn’t have but it did. He bit into the roll, trying not to think about what that meant. “Can’t have them at the mercy of that red-headed harpy. You should go before she poisons them all.” It was meant as a dismissal but it came out petulant.
Dick stopped, midway through smoothing a bandage over Jason’s upper arm. “You really don’t want me here, do you?”
“Whatever gave you that impression, genius?” Jason snarled, almost automatically. The hurt in Dick’s voice cut deep, deeper than he’s expected and he found himself pulling away, hiding behind the spite and fury of the Hood. “Not like I fucking invited you to come play nurse! I’d be kicking your ass if I had the strength.” He meant to storm over to the kitchen, his back to Dick but he got two steps before his leg gave way under him, tearing open Alfred’s neat stitches.
Dick hauled him back onto the bed, training taking over as he cleaned and stitched. Unable to suffer Jason’s bitten back agony and strained curses, he jabbed a needle into Jason’s arm, the quick acting painkillers making Jason’s head loll. Dick carefully re-bandaged the wound, his hand lingering on Jason’s leg. “Do you really hate me that much?” He muttered, barely more than a whisper.
“Nar, Dickie.” Jason slurred, half asleep, his head foggy with opiates. “Don’t...don’t hate you. Just... don’t wanna die alone. Not again.”
“You won’t, Little-wing.” Dick laid down at his side, wrapping Jason into his arms to hold him as the drugs pulled him under. “I’ll be here for you. I promise.”
When Alfred slipped in to check on them a few hours later, a strap of liquorice nestled in his basket of supplies, he found the brothers curled up in each other’s arms, deep asleep.
He smiled. There was still hope for them yet.
Rating: PG
Characters: Jason, Dick and Alfred.
Series: Home
Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit and no offence meant. Everyone is of the age of consent in their country and period of history
Author’s notes: 100% organic. May contain minor flaws and imperfections that beta-treated slash wouldn’t.
Summary: Having a big brother isn’t always the easiest thing to love with...
Note: Sorry Darth, I know I promised you Tim but the story hadn’t gotten there yet. Next one, promise.
“Do that again, Dickie,” Jason muttered groggily, rolling over to get away from Dick’s grabby embrace, “And I swear on my own grave, I will knife you where you lay.” He winced, trying not to put too much weight on his broken ribs. “Why are you even here?”
Dick pouted and snuggled close, chasing Jason across the bed. His eyes barely opening at the threat. “You’re still sick and Alfred had to go back to the manor. Someone has to look after you.
This time Jason shoved as Dick tried to hug him, pushing him off the lumpy mattress and onto the floor. “How is acting like a goddamn octopus supposed to help me recover?”
Dick pouted again as he landed on his butt on the floor but Jason slapped him across the face with a pillow. The hit was weak and soft, even without the padding. As loathed as Jason was to admit it, he was kitten weak and in no state to fight... or to be on his own.
For the better part of a week, Alfred had sat with him, bandaging his wounds and cooling his burning fever in the aftermath of the explosion. He’d falling in the harbour and without the old man’s help...well, that didn’t bear thinking about. But Alfred had to get back to the manor, for both their sakes. If Bruce has come looking for his butler and found him at the bedside of the man he had fought that night, there was no knowing how messy things might get.
But then Dick came, bearing a peace banner in the form of a strap of liquorice, the secret Jason and Alfred alone shared. Jason had made the mistake of letting him it, not realising the trap he was walking into.
‘Of course Dick and Alfred were conspiring against me.’ Jason thought as he pulled the blankets around himself in a cocoon, sick of fighting Dick for them. Alfred had never pushed him to come back, or to give up the Red Hood. Of course he hadn’t; he didn’t need to. As soon as Dick was involved, his once brother would fight all the old man’s fights for him. Mostly by being ridiculously cheerful and a goddamn blanket thief. “Why are you even in my goddamn bed?” He muttered, pulling the remaining pillow over his head to keep out the morning light.
“Because you’re still sick, because Alfred made me promise to look after you, against your will if necessary and because I get a crick in my neck if I sleep on your couch. That why.” Dick gave up the fight and tossed the pillow back, getting up to put some coffee on. “Besides, we’re brother; we should be able to share a bed.”
“Were brothers.” Jason mutters darkly. The smell of fresh coffee was enough to make him poke his nose out from under the pillow. Alfred’s coming had brought several changes to Jason’s decrepit slum, the most vital of which was the addition of a very, very good coffee machine and a supply of beans. “We’re enemies now, remember.”
“Says the man who spent half the night drooling on my tee-shirt as he slept.” There was no malice in Dick’s tone as he nudges Jason to sit up. He knelt on the floor, his head bent as he checked the bandages covering the deep gash on Jason’s thigh. “I need to clean and re-wrap this. Feel like a shower before I do? I could join you, if you... you know, need support or help or anything.”
“Tryin’ to get me naked, Grayson?” Jason growls, clinging to the offered mug of strong black coffee like a lifeline. “I didn’t think you dug on incest.”
A smile lit up Dick’s face and he flung himself into Jason’s arms, nearly spilling the coffee everywhere. “So you do still think of me as a brother!”
“Get. The fuck. Off me, you freak.” Jason shoved at him, only just managing to disentangle himself from Dick. He downed the rest of the coffee and threw the mug feebly at Dick before grabbing a knife from the nearby bookcase. “Follow me into the bathroom and I will fucking castrate you. Got that, Dickie?” He pushed off the wall, struggling to keep his feet under him as he staggered to the bathroom, slamming the door closed.
Dick flopped back down on the bed, running his hands through his hair with a tired sigh. He had sat up half the night, watching Jason sleep. In truth, he missed his brother, or at least the boy his brother had once been. In his sleep, the years and bitterness and hurt melted off Jason, leaving an innocent and injured boy. ‘Is this what Alfred saw? When all Bruce and I could see was an enemy.’ It hurt to see Jason so angry, at him, at Bruce, at everything but Dick held onto his smile, playing the cheerful fool just to keep things from getting too rough. If he told Jason what he was really thinking, ordered him to stop, begged him to come home, his once brother may well make good on those threats. He pulled himself up and started messing around in the kitchen, putting together something resembling breakfast for them both.
In the shower, Jason leant heavily on the wall, letting it take his weigh. Fuck, he hurt. His whole damn body ached. The surface of water had slammed him just as hard as the shockwave and there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t bruised. Even after he’d dragged himself out of the foul water and back to his pad; each bruise, each cut, each sob reminded him off the last time he died. He might have died this time too, alone in this slum if Alfred hadn’t come. ‘I didn’t wanna die alone.’ The thought betrayed every spark of anger and rage and hate in him. He was Red Hood, scourge of the goddamn Bat, not some scared, lonely street-rat. He wasn’t the kid who whooped every time Dick came back from New York or snuck out to share ice-cream with him after school.
And yet, for all the push and shove over the blankets, he hadn’t slept that well since the grave.
He forces himself out from under the hot water, cursing as the pipes rattled and spluttered off. He dried off as best he could, wrapping the warm and fluffy manor towel, another gift from Alfred, around himself. Dick would want to check and salve the many cuts and grazes before he bandaged Jason up like a fucking mummy again. The smell of bacon made him realise how hungry he was. “You better not be burning that, Grayson. I remember how bad your cooking was.” He flopped back down on the bed, exhausted even from this small exertion.
Dick presented him with an egg and bacon roll, pushing him to sit up as he stretches his legs to position himself behind Jason on the mattress, the first aid kit already set up within arm’s reach. “Hey, my cooking’s come a long way since living with the Titans. If someone hadn’t stepped up, Kory would do all the cooking and few people make the mistake of eating her creations twice. The only other cook in the family’s Roy and all he ever cooks is chilli.”
Jason flinched when Dick so casually referred to the Titans as family, coving it by growling at him to be more careful with the disinfectant salve. It hurt. It shouldn’t have but it did. He bit into the roll, trying not to think about what that meant. “Can’t have them at the mercy of that red-headed harpy. You should go before she poisons them all.” It was meant as a dismissal but it came out petulant.
Dick stopped, midway through smoothing a bandage over Jason’s upper arm. “You really don’t want me here, do you?”
“Whatever gave you that impression, genius?” Jason snarled, almost automatically. The hurt in Dick’s voice cut deep, deeper than he’s expected and he found himself pulling away, hiding behind the spite and fury of the Hood. “Not like I fucking invited you to come play nurse! I’d be kicking your ass if I had the strength.” He meant to storm over to the kitchen, his back to Dick but he got two steps before his leg gave way under him, tearing open Alfred’s neat stitches.
Dick hauled him back onto the bed, training taking over as he cleaned and stitched. Unable to suffer Jason’s bitten back agony and strained curses, he jabbed a needle into Jason’s arm, the quick acting painkillers making Jason’s head loll. Dick carefully re-bandaged the wound, his hand lingering on Jason’s leg. “Do you really hate me that much?” He muttered, barely more than a whisper.
“Nar, Dickie.” Jason slurred, half asleep, his head foggy with opiates. “Don’t...don’t hate you. Just... don’t wanna die alone. Not again.”
“You won’t, Little-wing.” Dick laid down at his side, wrapping Jason into his arms to hold him as the drugs pulled him under. “I’ll be here for you. I promise.”
When Alfred slipped in to check on them a few hours later, a strap of liquorice nestled in his basket of supplies, he found the brothers curled up in each other’s arms, deep asleep.
He smiled. There was still hope for them yet.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-30 12:51 pm (UTC)Oh this part totally needed to happen before moving on to other members of the family. Poor Jason so hurt and scared, at least Dick and Alfred there to take care of him.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-31 07:16 am (UTC)I have plans for poor Tim, oh yes I do *scheming face* Thank you love and big, big thanks for the spider. I love him!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-30 02:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-31 07:16 am (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-30 04:40 pm (UTC)/more wibbles.
<3 love it.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-31 07:17 am (UTC)Thank you! So glad you enjoyed it.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-30 05:01 pm (UTC)this line made my entire sucky week better, because it is just so Dick, right there, in just a few words. ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-31 07:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-31 01:21 am (UTC)Thank you so much for sharing this brilliant story with us. A true joy to read! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-31 07:19 am (UTC)My pleasure and thank you so much for the support.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-31 06:00 am (UTC)Awww. Blanket stealing Dick is adorable. And poor Jason, not wanting to need anyone, especially his 'family' and yet he truly does need them.
Great job!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-31 07:22 am (UTC)I just has this vision of Dick sprawled out across the bed and Jason curled up in one corner, clinging to the blankets, plotting his demise.
Thanks so much, I'm really glad you enjoyed it.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-11-01 03:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-11-01 08:16 am (UTC)