red_detective (red_detective) wrote in newalliance, @ 2017-02-18 20:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | nightwing, red robin |
Who: Tim and Dick, open to Manor folk
When: Feb 15th, back some.
Where: Wayne Manor and Batcave
What: Tim isn't dying of phlegm any more, but it seems it's now Dick's turn to get put down for the count out of Bruce's adoptees. The bros talk a bit before Tim abandons him in the entertainment den.
Rating: Low.
He had to stretch and get out of his room. It felt close and cluttered and bland, like the very walls were what gave him the frequent headaches and not the sinus pressure. So when it was just after dawn and he knew Alfred had gone to run errands, he moved downstairs.
The Cave’s air was familiar, but never failed to cause Tim marvel at the elements, of the smell of old stone and churning water and the damp, mineral scent. It wasn’t as strong as it should be while he was still recovering, but the fact that he could smell a hint of the the place was good enough. For a while he just stood at the edge of the ramp, staring into where the cave’s gloom deepened to velvet pitch beyond the faintest glitter of the light on damp forms of rock. It was a clean cold to inhale, even if something still felt sharp in his cough-worn lungs.
Eventually he moved off, the sound of water fading as he moved into the closer floors and ceilings, toward the training area.
And was completely caught off guard by something hanging upside down that wasn’t a bat.
“Tim! Great, I need some help,” Dick immediately greeted him.
Tim blinked at him, mouth open a little. Then he frowned. At first he had been about to ask when he’d gotten there. But the question caught as his eyes took in Dick’s frame and changed to “Whe-What did you do?”
Dick, for his part, merely tilt his head upward to look toward where his feet were braced in between the two bars. He was dangling just a little higher than Tim’s head, in only his athletic shorts. He didn’t even seem to notice the huge bruise wrapped around his ribs, back, and, when Tim circled to his side to see, passed almost to the back of his knee on the left side. “Um. Stuff.”
“Stuff? That bruise is ‘stuff’?”
“Stuff that wasn’t on purpose! That was Croc.”
“Killer Croc surfaced again? Gee, every time we think he’s gone...” Tim had circled behind Dick now, head craned up to view the damage and seeing how high the skin was raised and the discoloration that couldn’t be more than two hours old. “He did that through the suit?”
A slight pause. “Yep.” Dick popped the word out.
Tim narrowed his eyes, circling back up front, elbow in his palm, hand against his chin. Dick looked off to the side, looking embarrassed while trying to not look embarrassed.
“You are having trouble getting down because you hurt your back,” Tim concluded.
“Um, again, Croc did that! I just didn’t dodge all the way.”
“The bruise is where you hit the wall. I’m guessing there were pipes or something else that made the landing less than ideal. So I’m guessing when your hip was jammed by the impact and your side curled, you entirely pinched you sciatic. Which means Croc got away, you limped directly here because you knew it was bad enough.”
Dick looked petulant, an upside down pout shot at Tim. “Yeah. Like I said. Stuff. Anything else?”
“Yeeeeeah?” Tim looked up to his feet then back down. “How in the world did you even get up there in that state?”
“I have my ways.” Dick wiggled his fingers, grinning maniacally. “So, little help? I thought my own weight would be enough.”
Tim’s brow raised. “You sure? If you’ve sprained something or…”
“Yes! I’ve done this before. Come on. My feet and ankles hurt gobs staying like this.”
“If you’ve blown a disc, Bruce is going to be pissed.” (They both knew that was but a playful threat, and not truth.)
“Help me not blow a disc then. Come on. Stretchy-stretchy.”
Tim shook his head at him, but obliged, moving forward and latching forearm to forearm with him. Then he started slowly dropping his weight, kneeling down and pulling steadily. Dick didn’t go quietly. He groaned, then tried to crack jokes through the groans, which didn’t make him sound less pained at all.
“Ah-ahhh, that’s the stuff, yep! Right there! Tickles...eee… ow, no. Doesn’t tickle. Hey, don’t stop, I felt it start to move! Ow… owowow… You better use your full weight. Gawd, eat a sandwich sometime, Tim! Something besides those… ngh… little… cucumber things Alfred makes.”
“I like the cucumber sandwiches,” Tim said, managing to sound annoyed when he was anything but. Because he knew Dick was in a lot of pain, could see it in his pulse and the start of new sweat. He was about to stop gravitating downward when Dick stopped talking, breathed in and released slowly, hands falling limp. There wasn’t a sound, just a silent sensation that said something did stretch finally. Dick blinked, then smiled all too smugly.
“Bravo,” Tim said. “Now, let’s get you down and to the hot tub. Hand on my shoulder. Walk down the support pole and don’t turn your hip. You jump, and I’m telling Alfred.”
Usually Tim complained if Dick got into the hot tub without rinsing off first. This time he just helped him limp upstairs, prepped it and let him sink in. He fetched quite a few items, leaving Dick to soak while he got ice packs, drugs, water and some of Bruce’s leftover smoothie. Dick popped the pills without really looking at them, then looked suspicious after he had already swallowed them.
“That wasn’t just an anti-inflammatory…”
“Muscle relaxer, too. Figured you’re not going anywhere today and you need to rest this until we’re sure it’s not just going to pop right back out. Besides, I suspect you may have pulled a muscle.”
“This is why I have trust issues!” Dick complained.
“No, your ‘trust issue’ is trusting so easily. You’re the one who put it in your mouth without looking. Come on. Up and out so we can ice that bruise a little. You need to drink more, too.”
Getting Dick out of the tub was like getting him out of wet cement. By this time Tim had been up and down stairs, half ran around the length of the manor, and by the time Dick was laying down on top of towels with the ice packs resting on the giant welt, Tim was feeling the effects of being in bed with a virus for the past week. Dick noticed, eyeing his hands where Tim was sitting cross legged, wrists resting on his knees.
“Still recovering, huh?”
Tim looked down at where his fingers were quaking ever so slightly. He spread his palm upward, opened and closed it a few times. “Yeah. Feels a lot like when I got out of the tank. Not nearly as bad, but everything is annoyingly weak.”
Dick didn’t manage to hide his surprise. Tim noticed his surprise, looked at him as equally puzzled as he was surprised. “What?”
“Just never heard you talk about it.”
Tim raised a brow. “I talked about it. Just not to you guys much. I could tell it, well, wasn’t comfortable to discuss.”
“Who else would you talk to? Pepper?”
“No, dummy. Mia.”
Dick made an O with his mouth, nodding slowly. “So you went to her…?”
“No.” Tim shrugged. “She dragged me out of the house now and then and just started bringing me up to speed on what I missed while asleep. She treated it like no big deal. Just… it happened, so moved on. No dramatizing, no tip toeing, no treating it like the elephant in the room. She just kinda… Miaed it.”
“Miaed… I’m so adding that as a verb in my vocabulary now.” Dick grimaced and wriggled against the towels, the line of ice packs starting to get colder than was comfortable. “Sooo… you two...”
Tim frowned at him briefly, then looked toward the ceiling. Tim was a champion at picking his battles in this household, and trying to withhold this information fell into the ‘not worth it’ category. “We’re doing fine. It’s… casual. But not.” He ran a hand through his hair, his other hand waving back and forth as he tried to explain. “I mean I think we’ve come to unspoken agreement that this is comfortable, we both like it, and… Doesn’t look like we’re stopping. So. Yeah. things are good.”
“So no problems?”
“No problems. She surprisingly seems able to tolerate me, and we’re busy enough with separate things that I don't get drained trying to keep up with her socially. We’ve been okay figuring out boundaries, too. She’s surprisingly observant for someone who likes to wing things so much.”
“Heh. Good.” Dick grinned. “So. Valentines. Did you send her flowers?”
Tim looked offended. “Bro! No.”
“No?” Dick blinked.
Tim held up an index, eyes half closing. “I did way better. I sent her donuts.” A shrug. “Nothing fancy. Just a dozen fresh glazed to decimate.”
Dick made a low sound of awe. “... I want someone to send me donuts. I’m jelly. A big jelly donut!”
Tim’s mouth turned, leaning back briefly before moving the ice picks quickly. “Stop rolling around. If you’re going to roll, roll back into the water, you weirdo!”
“And now I’m a jelly fish.”
Tim huffed. “And this is why you two get along so well…”
~~~
It was some time later before Tim got Dick upstairs and planted him in the comfiest, squishiest recliner in the entertainment area, continuing to act as a nurse with him and making sure he had snacks, drinks, a blanket, and an extra set of pills to take if he started feeling bad again. Dick, for his part, was loopy and sleepy, so seemed content to rest while Planet Earth played on the big TV and Damian's cat curled up on him.
Then Tim retreated to his room to sleep some more himself after texting Alfred. He was, after all, still on the mend. He could let someone else in the family deal with Dick’ weirdness.