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Jason groans, and he shifts only slightly before realising how much of a mistake that was. Pain shoots through his torso, and he curls in on himself with another low groan. Sweat is sticking his hair to his face, and he moves his hand to cover over the wound; blood leaks onto his hands.
“Hood,” A voice weakly breaks through the silence, and Jason only grunts in response before the voice repeats itself and — Jason knows that voice. “Little wing.”
Jason manages to roll onto his back, and he hears a wet wheeze and then Dick goes still. Jason grunts, his brother is no longer speaking and it takes all of his effort to pull himself into a half sitting position.
The blood dried into Dick’s hair speaks for itself — he’s laid on his stomach but his head is propped up onto his arm. His hand is outstretched; Jason hates it, he hates it. He hates it. His brother was reaching for him .
Jason swallows and blood is running down his own torso and his hands are coated with blood, his blood. He grunts again, and ignoring all medical procedures he’s learnt from Bruce, he slides across the — most likely — grimy floor to stop by his brother’s head.
“Wing,” Jason starts and his hand moves to pull back Dick’s hair, to see the injury on the scalp. Dick whines at the touch, and Jason’s heart drops. “Talk to me, c’mon,” He mutters. “I’m sorry — if it hurts but I need to,” He shifts more hair, it’s plastered to the scalp.
Jason is nauseous, but who’s to say if that was because of his own untreated injury or Dick’s head injury. He just hopes this isn’t another situation like when his brother lost all his memories — he needs Nightwing to help him get out of—
He spares a quick glance around, only to note that he has no idea where he is. Even worse, he’s been stripped off all of his weapons and from the looks of it, so has Dick.
Great.
“Dick,” He mutters, and is relieved as he shifts the final piece of hair to see that it’s indeed not a bullet wound but instead just a hit. From a steel pipe, Jason would guess. It’s still dangerous, but at least when he drags Dick back to his safehouse, he’ll only be dealing with concussion and slight amnesia not death and full blown amnesia.
“Jay,” Dick manages to whisper out, and Jason sighs in relief. He sets Dick’s head down gently in his lap, and his brother’s hand lifts up to prod at the skin around his bullet wound. Jason fights the urge to swat at Dick’s hand, and only hisses in pain when Dick pushes too close to the entry point.
“Careful,” Jason mutters, and he brings his bloodied hand to rub the hair off his forehead. He’s well aware that this will leave a stain of blood against his head but he can’t bring himself to care. “Don’t,” He closes his eyes, and he forces himself to blink them open again. “Die on me, okay?”
“‘Kay,” Dick just mumbles, and his hand is still prodding Jason’s torso. Jason hisses every now and then, but he doesn’t object to the touch; it’s the only thing that gives him proof Dick is conscious and alive .
Jason falls asleep, Dick doesn’t. The older man seems more stable down, and he even spent a few minutes tending to Jason’s bullet wound. He had ripped off part of his under shirt, and wrapped it around Jason’s torso; the young man hissed in pain as it got tightened.
Dick stares down at his brother, and he runs a shaky hand through Jason’s hair before staring around the room. He looks upwards; the roof goes on for several feet so that’s not a route they can escape through.
Dick doesn’t even know where they are, or why they’re here. Jason didn’t press much information out of him, but from the frustrated edge in his tone, Dick guessed that he also couldn’t remember how they got here.
The door rattles, and Dick only glances at it once before it pulls back. His hand stills in Jason’s hair, and he must look a mess because the man — a doctor, judging by the scrubs he’s wearing — sends him a small look of pity.
“Nightwing,” The doctor just says, and he turns back to pull the door closed behind. Dick scowls, he hates that they know he’s too injured and frankly too exhausted to scramble to his feet to attack the man. Not to mention having to leave Jason’s side.
“I don’t have a name to call you by.” Dick glared at the man, and Jason stirs. The doctor turns at the sound of Jason’s low groan, and he looks ultimately pleased — that they’re both awake, maybe?
“Oh,” The doctor starts, and he moves towards the pair, and Jason seemingly scrambles backwards — into Dick, into safety . “You can just call me doctor.”
“I’ll pass.” Jason speaks wetly, and Dick presses a finger against his brother’s trapezius. Jason fidgets but he shuts up after that.
“Doctor,” Dick says, and he’s curbing all of his raw anger. He meets the man’s gaze and the doctor just looks down at him with a satisfied grin. “What do you want?” His voice displays some of that rage because the doctor’s smile falters.
“To talk.”
Dick blinks, because of course, of course it’s for talking. His eye twitches, and he looks down at Jason; his blood is already seeping through the white makeshift bandage. “About what?” His tone is clipped now.
“Weapons shipment.” He says simply, and his own eyes flicker down to Jason’s wound. He looks back at Dick. “Tell me and I’ll deal with your—” he pauses for lack of better words, and finally settles on, “Teammate’s injury.”
Dick glares, and he opens his mouth to agree; Jason’s life is more important now and he’ll just get the weapons back again before they hit the streets.
“No can do,” Jason’s weak voice breaks through again and Dick’s hand splays against his trapezius again. Jason doesn’t shut up this time and he even moves to sit up, Dick moves his hand to the middle of his brother’s back. “Here’s the deal. You let us go and I won’t hunt you down and blow your brains out.”
“Hood.” Dick says carefully, and his eyes track the doctor’s movements.
The man isn’t smiling anymore. Dick swallows, and Jason is just glaring at the man. Two steps and he’s right next to Jason. Dick watches him carefully, but even he’s not prepared when the man’s foot connects with Jason’s torso.
Jason doubles over and he’s panting like an injured dog; he bites back a pained sob as the next kick lands. Dick’s startled, and his brother is gripping onto his arm. Jason tries to speak, but the foot connecting with his fresh wound is too much. Dick’s going to be sick.
“Stop, stop,” Dick begs, and the man has the mercy in him to stop — he glances at Dick with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t,” Jason’s breathing heavily, and his hand has a deathly grip on Dick’s arm. “Don’t hurt him, don’t .”
The doctor, if he can even be called that, steps back and he hums in satisfaction at what? That Dick has the desire to protect his brother? He nods. “I’ll come back and see if your answer has changed.”
He leaves the room, pulling the door shut with a clang behind him, but Dick doesn’t care. His head, despite it being relatively okay for the past few hours, is now pounding at the sound of Jason’s wet cries.
“Jay,” Dick rubs his hand up and down his brother’s back, and Jason’s grip loosens only slightly on Dick’s arm. “Jay, hey. Say something.”
“‘M sorry,” Jason just says, but Dick doesn’t see that there’s anything he needs to apologise for. “It hurts,” He whines instead, and Dick shushes him with the gentle back rubs.
“I know, little wing, I know.”
Jason doesn’t know what to do, he’s hungry — Dick’s been breathing in and out deeply every few moments, and his hand is still there, resting in Jason’s hair.
“Dickie,” He says, exhaustion leaking into his voice and Dick’s hand shifts in his hair to acknowledge his words. He doesn’t lecture him about the use of real names in the field; Dick had already broken that rule earlier. “We’ll get out of here.”
He doesn’t know if that’s a promise to his brother or himself, but when he hears an alarm sound outside the door, he perks up. Dick has the same reaction, but his hand pushes Jason’s head down.
“Stay,” Dick says — an order made out of fear. His eyes stay on the door, and Jason has no choice but to keep rested against Dick’s lap. He’s too exhausted to even argue, and the door pulls back with a creak once more.
He braces himself, shutting his eyes and he can feel Dick tense for a second before his whole body relaxes.
“Robin,” he breathes out, and Jason’s eyes open because he doesn’t believe it. Sometimes the mind makes you see what you want to, but Damian’s actually staring back at them.
The boy looks relieved to see them, and he turns back to the door before a sliver of purple clothing appears. “Batgirl.” Damian says, and Stephanie pops through the doorway. “Deal with Red Hood,” he commands and Steph just bobs her head once.
Damian takes one glance at Dick, and at the blood caked in his hair, before he frowns. “Nightwing,” he says carefully and Dick just nods, moving his hand out of Jason’s hair.
Jason groans, and he leans onto Steph for support. He’s glad it’s her and Damian that came; he doesn’t think he’d want to be dragged back to the Batcave by Bruce. Steph loops her hand around Jason’s torso, taking care to avoid his injury.
Damian holds a hand out to Dick, who takes it appreciatively. “Thanks, Robin,” Dick says hoarsely, and Damian hesitates before nodding. “Let’s go home, kiddo.” He doesn’t take his eyes off Jason once, even as Steph sits him onto the motorcycle.
“Sit back .” Leslie says for the second time, and Dick complies, allowing her to stitch the final parts of his head injury up. “Dick.” she says firmly, as he tries to sit up for the third time.
“Sorry, doc.” he grimaces and pulls a face as Leslie ties the stitches off, and swings his legs off the medical table. “Where’s—”
Leslie already knows who he’s going to ask for, and she sighs. “You have a concussion so no patrolling for at least a week and a half.” Dick meets her gaze pointedly, and she rolls her eyes. “He’s in the next room, Steph and Damian are already there.”
“Thanks, Leslie!” Dick calls, and he practically runs down the hallway. He stops at the next room, pulls open the door and sighs in relief at the sight of Jason.
Steph clears her throat, and Jason lifts his head to stare at his brother. Dick steps into the room, closing the door behind him, and exhales shakily. “Jay.”
“Dickie.” Jason says once more, and Dick takes in his brother’s appearance. Dick’s glad to see that Leslie replaced the makeshift bandage with a real one; he expected that of her. “Are you okay?”
“Should be asking you that.” Dick mumbles, and he stops at the top of Jason’s bed. “I should have told him, then he wouldn’t have,” He gestures to Jason’s torso, and he’s well aware that Damian exchanges a glance with Stephanie.
“Been through worse,” Jason says weakly, and Dick shoots him a playful glare. “And I’m the one that aggravated him,” He says before grinning. “Besides, I'm making good on my promise to him.”
Steph suddenly clears her throat, and they both turn to face her. Her eyes instantly widen, and Dick sends her a soft smile — she takes that as the courage to continue. “I dropped all of your weapons at Jason’s safehouse,” she stares at Jason. “Even the guns.”
“Thanks, Steph.” Jason smiled gratefully, and Dick nodded before giving his own thanks.
Damian watches the whole exchange, and he clears his own throat. “Father doesn’t know,” He informed, more to Jason than to Dick, but to both of them overall. “And he won’t, unless either of you wish for him to know.”
“Dami,” Dick starts, and his tone is full of appreciation. He smiles warmly at the boy, and glances appreciatively at Steph; she nods. “Thank you, guys.”