Fic: Little Brother
Title: Little Brother
Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson
Rating: PG
Warnings: Talk about suicidal thoughts/death, violence
Word Count: 2500-ish
Author's Notes: Set in the Under the Red Hood animated movie 'verse. Also a sequel to Life and Death.
Dick hears it on the news. A play-by-play report of the explosion that just happened in downtown Gotham. There’s a simultaneous report on the Joker’s escape, on the Black Mask’s arrest and on whatever the hell happened with that tanker full of criminals before the Red Hood showed up.
And that’s really what Dick’s listening for; anything on the Red Hood. Because he knows there’s something up with this guy, something more than what Bruce has told him. There’s no way the Red Hood is some random costumed criminal, he’s too good for that, he moves like one of them.
He’s shooting off a line and heading downtown before he even really thinks about it. He’s going to confront Bruce about all this, even though he knows the man will be even more stoic now that a building just apparently blew up on him. But Dick needs to know.
He keeps low, preferring to swing between buildings rather than over them, and he’s glad he did. Because if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have noticed the body.
His knee protests as he drops down to street level, but when he gets a closer look and realizes exactly whose body it is, Dick figures that it was worth it. He approaches carefully, but he’s pretty sure the man in grey body armor and dark black pants is unconscious. It’s not until he gets close enough to gently roll the body over that everything falls into place.
Dick feels like his heart has stopped.
That’s probably because in the same split second he recognized the face, he also realized that Jason wasn’t breathing.
He moves by instinct, like his brain’s forgotten how to work but his body remembers the right procedures. He pulls off his glove and checks Jason’s airways, making sure there’s nothing caught in his throat, when there isn’t, Dick fiddles with the other glove until the microphones are turned on. They’re designed to pick up sound vibrations through walls, but right now Dick’s using them to pick up Jason’s pulse, it’s so thready and faint he wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise.
He starts breathing for Jason.
Something in Jason’s chest makes a heavy, grinding sound at each compression between breaths and Dick knows there must be ribs broken. But he doesn’t stop, he just needs to keep breathing for Jason until Jason starts breathing for himself.
“C’mon, Jay.” Dick’s muttering between breaths, but he doesn’t bother trying to stop himself. “You were too stubborn to die once, don’t give up this time.”
Dick hurts all over. From performing the artificial respiration, from kneeling in the same position for so long, but mostly from the sick feeling in his chest that Jason isn’t ever gonna start breathing, and that Dick’s going to lose him.
But it’s worth it. It’s so very worth it when Jason takes a breath in that sounds like something between a gasp and a groan.
Dick wants to faint from relief. He doesn’t have the luxury of that yet, even if Jason’s breathing, he’s still unconscious and injured and Dick really needs to change at least one of those conditions soon. The problem is that he doesn’t know what to do. If he takes Jason to a hospital, Bruce will find them and Jason will wind up in jail. Not to mention that Dick isn’t feeling charitable to Bruce right now. But being angry at Bruce doesn’t give him a way to get Jason to safety, so Dick stops thinking about it.
After a while, and a good stretch of his stiff muscles, he gives up on trying to think of something and calls for back-up.
“O, this is Nightwing, you busy?” Dick opens the secure-from-even-Bruce line.
“I’m always busy, N,” comes the clipped reply but Babs doesn’t hang up, so Dick carries on.
“Any chace you’ll lend me a car for a few hours?” He tries to keep his tone flippant and light. He doesn’t want to ask what for.
“What for?”
“O... Babs,” there’s a heavy sigh over the other end of the line, but Dick doesn’t stop, “I need you trust me. Give me twenty four hours and then I’ll explain everything.”
The line is silent except for the tap of computer keys, and then, “I’m sending Zinda to you with a car. You’ve got twenty four hours.”
“Thanks. I owe you one,” Dick smiles even though Babs can’t see it.
“You owe about fifty, shortpants. Don’t tell Zinda anything you don’t want me to know.”
The line goes dead and Dick sighs, leaning back against a dumpster and watching Jason, making sure his chest is still moving while they wait for a car.
-------
Zinda brought him a set of civvies, so Dick can book a room in a cheap motel half-way out of Gotham. The car ride was long and silent, Dick had pulled out the first aid kit and done what he could for Jason, while Zinda stayed focused and silent in front.
When Dick gets back to the car with keys for a room, Zinda helps him carry Jason inside and lay him down on the bed.
“Anything else you need?” Zinda asks with a smile.
“I think we’re good for now, thanks, Zinda.” Dick smiles back, he’s always liked her.
“Any chance you’ll tell me his name so I can report back to the Skipper?”
“Sorry, but I need my twenty four hours.”
“Thought as much. Good luck, kiddo.” Zinda gives a little salute and leaves, closing the door behind her.
She left the medical kit, and another change of clothes. Dick sighs and gets to work, carefully easing off Jason’s boots, then cutting away his pants and stripping off the body armor as best he can without disturbing Jason. He gets a few groans of pain in response, but Jason stays unconscious.
Once the burns, cuts and broken ribs are bandaged, and Dick has set Jason’s broken wrist as best he can, he cleans up, gives Jason a shot of morphine to help with the pain and heads into the bathroom. He should have a shower, but he doesn’t want to leave Jason alone for too long, so he just washes his face and hands, then goes back into the main room.
There’s only one bed, and Dick figures Jason won’t mind if they share. He strips down to his boxers and the t-shirt Zinda brought him, then collapses on the bed next to Jason.
It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep, listening to Jason’s steady breathing.
-------
It’s still dark when Dick wakes up; the first thing he does is make sure that Jason’s still breathing. With that out of the way, he stretches against the protest of his muscles and sits up to swing his legs over the side of the bed. He wants to go back to sleep.
It had been... odd, falling asleep next to Jason and being sort of subconsciously aware of the body next to him. It’s not as though Dick’s unfamiliar with sharing beds, but the fact that it’s Jason.
Well.
He’s pretty sure his brain has melted from worry and exhaustion. Dick scrubs at his face, then climbs out of bed and heads to the bathroom, grabbing the rest of his clothes as he does.
He undresses, waits until the shower is steaming hot, then steps under the spray. He knows he should probably actually clean himself eventually, but he’s too busy just enjoying the feeling of hot water relaxing his sore muscles.
He closes his eyes and just breathes.
After a few minutes he grabs the bar of soap and scrubs himself clean; turning off the water once he’s rinsed off. The air in the motel room is warm, so Dick just dries off and wraps the the towel around his waist before opening the bathroom door.
The steam follows him out, and he’s more than willing to blame that for why he didn’t notice the six foot something guy come out of nowhere and shove him against the door.
The towel is lost as Dick grabs at his attacker’s wrists, only to realize one of them is bandaged. He blinks to clear water from his eyes and sees Jason glaring at him.
“What the fuck?!” Jason shouts.
Dick wants to tell him to be quiet, but what comes out is, “Um. My towel.”
That makes Jason look down, then straight back up at Dick, his eyes wide. Dick takes the opportunity to gently push Jason off him.
“I’ll be back when I put clothes on, please don’t leave?” Dick asks, trying to meet Jason’s gaze.
He gets a tight nod in response, and he figures it’s the best he’ll get so he disappears into the bathroom to get dressed.
When he comes back out, Jason is sitting on the bed with his injured arm cradled against his chest and his other elbow resting on his knee, with his hand fisted in his hair.
Dick sits down next to him, keeping his voice soft, “Hey, little brother.”
“Don’t call me that.” Jason snaps.
“But it’s what you are...”
“Fuck you.”
Jason’s closed off and Dick knows, he knows he’s got almost zero chance of getting through to him when he’s like this. But he’s got to try.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I should be dead,” Jason’s voice is flat in a way that makes Dick nervous.
“You weren’t breathing...” Dick admits, staring down at his hands, “I had to breathe for you for a while, that’s probably why you feel so bad.”
Jason’s eyes lock onto him, narrowed and his mouth is set in a thin line, “What the fuck made you think that was a good idea? Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone? Jesus.”
Jason gets up, then groans with pain having apparently aggravated his injuries. Dick leaps up to help, offering a hand only to get it smacked away.
“Jason, please...”
“Don’t touch me, Grayson. Not until you can give me a goddamn answer.” Jason hisses with pain as he walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Dick sighs and drops down onto the bed, sitting on the edge, then laying back with his arms over his eyes. He stays like that even when Jason comes back and kicks him in the shin.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“My answer, dumbass. Why’d you save me? Didn’t want a death on your conscience?” Jason’s tone is harsh and it makes Dick sit up a little, leaning back on his elbows as Jason paces in the small space next to the bed.
“I didn’t want you to die.” He says it simply, because that’s really all there is to say. He could expand on it, tell Jason how much he loves him, how much he missed him but he suspects that Jason wouldn’t believe him right now, so he sticks to simplicity.
Jason glares, like that was the absolute wrong answer, and mutters, “Did ya ever think about what I want?”
Oh.
Dick opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it again. Jason’s still glaring, but his gaze is directed at the ground, like he’s avoiding Dick’s eyes.
“Jason....” Dick stands up and reaches out for Jason.
This time he gets a punch in the face for it, before being shoved back so his knees hit the side of the bed and he lands on his back on the mattress. Jason keeps coming at him, straddling Dick’s legs and lashing out at his chest and face. Dick does his best to block the hits, but enough land that he has to choke down the pained sounds he wants to make; he doesn’t hit back though, he won’t hit back.
“Jason. Jason! Please. Jason, stop,” Dick’s half-shouting as he tries to get a grip on Jason’s uninjured wrist.
He realizes that Jason’s saying something, but it’s hard to make out when half of it seems to be curse words and when he’s busy trying to not get punched in the face.
And then there are hands closing around his wrists and pinning them to the bed on either side of his head and Jason is staring down at him, eyes red and angry.
“Why won’t you fight back?!” It’s practically growled at him, Jason’s face twisted in fury.
Dick gasps for breath, there’s blood in this mouth, he swallows it, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Bullshit.” Jason snarls, “Don’t pretend like you care. If you cared you would’ve been here before now.”
Dick feels his eyes go wide, “I didn’t know! Jason, I swear I didn’t know.”
Jason’s eyes narrow in response, “Bruce knew.” He says it like an accusation.
“He didn’t tell me.” Dick searches Jason’s face, trying to see if Jason believes him. “If I’d know... Christ, Jay, if I’d known I would’ve come to you, even if it meant walking into your headquarters and being filled with bullet holes.”
“You’re a liar,” there doesn’t seem to be much conviction behind it.
“No, little brother, I’m telling the truth.” Dick knows it’s a risk to call Jason that, but he’s willing to take it, “I would’ve come to you.”
The response he gets is not what he was expecting. Jason makes this sound like he’s breaking, and drops down on the bed next to Dick, curling in on himself and starting to shake with sobs.
“S’okay, baby bird, I’ve got you.” Dick turns on his side and pulls Jason against him, tucks one arm under Jason’s head and wraps the other around his waist.
“I hate you...” Jason mumbles it against Dick’s collarbone, but he doesn’t push him away,
Dick doesn’t respond to it, just strokes his hand along Jason’s spine in long, soothing strokes until Jason’s sobs turn from violent things that wrack his body to tiny little whimpers. Then Dick rests his forehead Jason’s and sighs softly.
“I’m here now, Jason. It’s gonna be okay.”
Jason shakes his head like he doesn’t believe him, eyes still squeezed shut and his voice tight, “No. I can’t-- I’m supposed to be dead.”
“No, you’re supposed to be here with me, so I can look after you.”
He doesn’t get a response other than a little unsure sound, but Jason still hasn’t moved away, and after a moment Dick feels him shifting to get more comfortable.
“Can we argue in th’morning?” Jason asks; he sounds so exhausted that Dick can’t help pressing a soft kiss to his hair.
“Yeah, we’ll argue in the morning.” Dick tells him. “Go to sleep Jay.”
It doesn’t take long for Jason’s breathing to even out, for his body to relax in Dick’s arms. Dick has no idea what to do with him, but he’s here and it seems like he’s going to stay, so it’s not all bad.
Dick knows they’ll figure it out when they wake up.
Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson
Rating: PG
Warnings: Talk about suicidal thoughts/death, violence
Word Count: 2500-ish
Author's Notes: Set in the Under the Red Hood animated movie 'verse. Also a sequel to Life and Death.
Dick hears it on the news. A play-by-play report of the explosion that just happened in downtown Gotham. There’s a simultaneous report on the Joker’s escape, on the Black Mask’s arrest and on whatever the hell happened with that tanker full of criminals before the Red Hood showed up.
And that’s really what Dick’s listening for; anything on the Red Hood. Because he knows there’s something up with this guy, something more than what Bruce has told him. There’s no way the Red Hood is some random costumed criminal, he’s too good for that, he moves like one of them.
He’s shooting off a line and heading downtown before he even really thinks about it. He’s going to confront Bruce about all this, even though he knows the man will be even more stoic now that a building just apparently blew up on him. But Dick needs to know.
He keeps low, preferring to swing between buildings rather than over them, and he’s glad he did. Because if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have noticed the body.
His knee protests as he drops down to street level, but when he gets a closer look and realizes exactly whose body it is, Dick figures that it was worth it. He approaches carefully, but he’s pretty sure the man in grey body armor and dark black pants is unconscious. It’s not until he gets close enough to gently roll the body over that everything falls into place.
Dick feels like his heart has stopped.
That’s probably because in the same split second he recognized the face, he also realized that Jason wasn’t breathing.
He moves by instinct, like his brain’s forgotten how to work but his body remembers the right procedures. He pulls off his glove and checks Jason’s airways, making sure there’s nothing caught in his throat, when there isn’t, Dick fiddles with the other glove until the microphones are turned on. They’re designed to pick up sound vibrations through walls, but right now Dick’s using them to pick up Jason’s pulse, it’s so thready and faint he wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise.
He starts breathing for Jason.
Something in Jason’s chest makes a heavy, grinding sound at each compression between breaths and Dick knows there must be ribs broken. But he doesn’t stop, he just needs to keep breathing for Jason until Jason starts breathing for himself.
“C’mon, Jay.” Dick’s muttering between breaths, but he doesn’t bother trying to stop himself. “You were too stubborn to die once, don’t give up this time.”
Dick hurts all over. From performing the artificial respiration, from kneeling in the same position for so long, but mostly from the sick feeling in his chest that Jason isn’t ever gonna start breathing, and that Dick’s going to lose him.
But it’s worth it. It’s so very worth it when Jason takes a breath in that sounds like something between a gasp and a groan.
Dick wants to faint from relief. He doesn’t have the luxury of that yet, even if Jason’s breathing, he’s still unconscious and injured and Dick really needs to change at least one of those conditions soon. The problem is that he doesn’t know what to do. If he takes Jason to a hospital, Bruce will find them and Jason will wind up in jail. Not to mention that Dick isn’t feeling charitable to Bruce right now. But being angry at Bruce doesn’t give him a way to get Jason to safety, so Dick stops thinking about it.
After a while, and a good stretch of his stiff muscles, he gives up on trying to think of something and calls for back-up.
“O, this is Nightwing, you busy?” Dick opens the secure-from-even-Bruce line.
“I’m always busy, N,” comes the clipped reply but Babs doesn’t hang up, so Dick carries on.
“Any chace you’ll lend me a car for a few hours?” He tries to keep his tone flippant and light. He doesn’t want to ask what for.
“What for?”
“O... Babs,” there’s a heavy sigh over the other end of the line, but Dick doesn’t stop, “I need you trust me. Give me twenty four hours and then I’ll explain everything.”
The line is silent except for the tap of computer keys, and then, “I’m sending Zinda to you with a car. You’ve got twenty four hours.”
“Thanks. I owe you one,” Dick smiles even though Babs can’t see it.
“You owe about fifty, shortpants. Don’t tell Zinda anything you don’t want me to know.”
The line goes dead and Dick sighs, leaning back against a dumpster and watching Jason, making sure his chest is still moving while they wait for a car.
-------
Zinda brought him a set of civvies, so Dick can book a room in a cheap motel half-way out of Gotham. The car ride was long and silent, Dick had pulled out the first aid kit and done what he could for Jason, while Zinda stayed focused and silent in front.
When Dick gets back to the car with keys for a room, Zinda helps him carry Jason inside and lay him down on the bed.
“Anything else you need?” Zinda asks with a smile.
“I think we’re good for now, thanks, Zinda.” Dick smiles back, he’s always liked her.
“Any chance you’ll tell me his name so I can report back to the Skipper?”
“Sorry, but I need my twenty four hours.”
“Thought as much. Good luck, kiddo.” Zinda gives a little salute and leaves, closing the door behind her.
She left the medical kit, and another change of clothes. Dick sighs and gets to work, carefully easing off Jason’s boots, then cutting away his pants and stripping off the body armor as best he can without disturbing Jason. He gets a few groans of pain in response, but Jason stays unconscious.
Once the burns, cuts and broken ribs are bandaged, and Dick has set Jason’s broken wrist as best he can, he cleans up, gives Jason a shot of morphine to help with the pain and heads into the bathroom. He should have a shower, but he doesn’t want to leave Jason alone for too long, so he just washes his face and hands, then goes back into the main room.
There’s only one bed, and Dick figures Jason won’t mind if they share. He strips down to his boxers and the t-shirt Zinda brought him, then collapses on the bed next to Jason.
It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep, listening to Jason’s steady breathing.
-------
It’s still dark when Dick wakes up; the first thing he does is make sure that Jason’s still breathing. With that out of the way, he stretches against the protest of his muscles and sits up to swing his legs over the side of the bed. He wants to go back to sleep.
It had been... odd, falling asleep next to Jason and being sort of subconsciously aware of the body next to him. It’s not as though Dick’s unfamiliar with sharing beds, but the fact that it’s Jason.
Well.
He’s pretty sure his brain has melted from worry and exhaustion. Dick scrubs at his face, then climbs out of bed and heads to the bathroom, grabbing the rest of his clothes as he does.
He undresses, waits until the shower is steaming hot, then steps under the spray. He knows he should probably actually clean himself eventually, but he’s too busy just enjoying the feeling of hot water relaxing his sore muscles.
He closes his eyes and just breathes.
After a few minutes he grabs the bar of soap and scrubs himself clean; turning off the water once he’s rinsed off. The air in the motel room is warm, so Dick just dries off and wraps the the towel around his waist before opening the bathroom door.
The steam follows him out, and he’s more than willing to blame that for why he didn’t notice the six foot something guy come out of nowhere and shove him against the door.
The towel is lost as Dick grabs at his attacker’s wrists, only to realize one of them is bandaged. He blinks to clear water from his eyes and sees Jason glaring at him.
“What the fuck?!” Jason shouts.
Dick wants to tell him to be quiet, but what comes out is, “Um. My towel.”
That makes Jason look down, then straight back up at Dick, his eyes wide. Dick takes the opportunity to gently push Jason off him.
“I’ll be back when I put clothes on, please don’t leave?” Dick asks, trying to meet Jason’s gaze.
He gets a tight nod in response, and he figures it’s the best he’ll get so he disappears into the bathroom to get dressed.
When he comes back out, Jason is sitting on the bed with his injured arm cradled against his chest and his other elbow resting on his knee, with his hand fisted in his hair.
Dick sits down next to him, keeping his voice soft, “Hey, little brother.”
“Don’t call me that.” Jason snaps.
“But it’s what you are...”
“Fuck you.”
Jason’s closed off and Dick knows, he knows he’s got almost zero chance of getting through to him when he’s like this. But he’s got to try.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I should be dead,” Jason’s voice is flat in a way that makes Dick nervous.
“You weren’t breathing...” Dick admits, staring down at his hands, “I had to breathe for you for a while, that’s probably why you feel so bad.”
Jason’s eyes lock onto him, narrowed and his mouth is set in a thin line, “What the fuck made you think that was a good idea? Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone? Jesus.”
Jason gets up, then groans with pain having apparently aggravated his injuries. Dick leaps up to help, offering a hand only to get it smacked away.
“Jason, please...”
“Don’t touch me, Grayson. Not until you can give me a goddamn answer.” Jason hisses with pain as he walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Dick sighs and drops down onto the bed, sitting on the edge, then laying back with his arms over his eyes. He stays like that even when Jason comes back and kicks him in the shin.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“My answer, dumbass. Why’d you save me? Didn’t want a death on your conscience?” Jason’s tone is harsh and it makes Dick sit up a little, leaning back on his elbows as Jason paces in the small space next to the bed.
“I didn’t want you to die.” He says it simply, because that’s really all there is to say. He could expand on it, tell Jason how much he loves him, how much he missed him but he suspects that Jason wouldn’t believe him right now, so he sticks to simplicity.
Jason glares, like that was the absolute wrong answer, and mutters, “Did ya ever think about what I want?”
Oh.
Dick opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it again. Jason’s still glaring, but his gaze is directed at the ground, like he’s avoiding Dick’s eyes.
“Jason....” Dick stands up and reaches out for Jason.
This time he gets a punch in the face for it, before being shoved back so his knees hit the side of the bed and he lands on his back on the mattress. Jason keeps coming at him, straddling Dick’s legs and lashing out at his chest and face. Dick does his best to block the hits, but enough land that he has to choke down the pained sounds he wants to make; he doesn’t hit back though, he won’t hit back.
“Jason. Jason! Please. Jason, stop,” Dick’s half-shouting as he tries to get a grip on Jason’s uninjured wrist.
He realizes that Jason’s saying something, but it’s hard to make out when half of it seems to be curse words and when he’s busy trying to not get punched in the face.
And then there are hands closing around his wrists and pinning them to the bed on either side of his head and Jason is staring down at him, eyes red and angry.
“Why won’t you fight back?!” It’s practically growled at him, Jason’s face twisted in fury.
Dick gasps for breath, there’s blood in this mouth, he swallows it, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Bullshit.” Jason snarls, “Don’t pretend like you care. If you cared you would’ve been here before now.”
Dick feels his eyes go wide, “I didn’t know! Jason, I swear I didn’t know.”
Jason’s eyes narrow in response, “Bruce knew.” He says it like an accusation.
“He didn’t tell me.” Dick searches Jason’s face, trying to see if Jason believes him. “If I’d know... Christ, Jay, if I’d known I would’ve come to you, even if it meant walking into your headquarters and being filled with bullet holes.”
“You’re a liar,” there doesn’t seem to be much conviction behind it.
“No, little brother, I’m telling the truth.” Dick knows it’s a risk to call Jason that, but he’s willing to take it, “I would’ve come to you.”
The response he gets is not what he was expecting. Jason makes this sound like he’s breaking, and drops down on the bed next to Dick, curling in on himself and starting to shake with sobs.
“S’okay, baby bird, I’ve got you.” Dick turns on his side and pulls Jason against him, tucks one arm under Jason’s head and wraps the other around his waist.
“I hate you...” Jason mumbles it against Dick’s collarbone, but he doesn’t push him away,
Dick doesn’t respond to it, just strokes his hand along Jason’s spine in long, soothing strokes until Jason’s sobs turn from violent things that wrack his body to tiny little whimpers. Then Dick rests his forehead Jason’s and sighs softly.
“I’m here now, Jason. It’s gonna be okay.”
Jason shakes his head like he doesn’t believe him, eyes still squeezed shut and his voice tight, “No. I can’t-- I’m supposed to be dead.”
“No, you’re supposed to be here with me, so I can look after you.”
He doesn’t get a response other than a little unsure sound, but Jason still hasn’t moved away, and after a moment Dick feels him shifting to get more comfortable.
“Can we argue in th’morning?” Jason asks; he sounds so exhausted that Dick can’t help pressing a soft kiss to his hair.
“Yeah, we’ll argue in the morning.” Dick tells him. “Go to sleep Jay.”
It doesn’t take long for Jason’s breathing to even out, for his body to relax in Dick’s arms. Dick has no idea what to do with him, but he’s here and it seems like he’s going to stay, so it’s not all bad.
Dick knows they’ll figure it out when they wake up.