"Here I thought the first one who died got a brownie," Dick said forlornly, pushing to his feet and hiding his wince. "I've been lied to all this time..."
He hesitated, one hand against a tree, waiting to see if his leg was going to take his weight. Muscles twitched and spasmed, and he breathed slowly, settling his mind into the half-meditation that Bruce had taught him so many years ago.
Forcing overworked muscles to relax.
Releasing tension and strain, muscle by muscle.
Deep breath, increasing blood flow, increasing oxygen intake, focusing past the pain and throbbing of his heartbeat to the world outside his body.
The green, slightly rotten smell of damp jungle.
The sweet blood smell, already fading.
The sting of antibiotics.
The chirp and twitter of animals nearby.
The not-regular sound of Duo's stride.
Dick opened his eyes and started walking, focusing still on the things outside himself. "I could teach you to walk on your hands," he suggested with a smile. "Personally, I'm thinking walking on my hands might be preferable."
Then his grin turned into a smirk, an honest one at that. "And it's probably good for the pissy shark to have people who don't kowtow. I mean, I think you, me, and Kakashi make three. And his boyfriend, I suppose." He frowned briefly.
He'd slept with someone involved with someone else.