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This is a mess. A fucking mess.
The smoke is so thick around him he can barely see anything, and all there’s to see is fire and rubble anyway. He looks up, but the ceiling is gone, and above him there’s only Gotham’s dark sky, lacking stars and poetry just as every other night. How typical.
Jason’s not in a better shape than the collapsed building himself. He’s hurt in so many places he can’t actually localize the pain anymore, he’s half blinded and his ears are still ringing, even with his helmet still intact (or at least he hopes it’s still intact).
And there’s just. so. much. blood.
“So, on a scale from I just need Alfred to stitch it up to I’m gonna reuse the empty coffin in the Manor’s backyard just how bad it is, little Wing?”
Dick’s voice sounds muffled and distorted, but at least it’s there, and Jason wants to laugh but he physically can’t. The little air his lungs still manage to keep inside of him is barely enough to let him breathe, so no, laughing is out of question. Speaking should be too, probably, but if Jason Todd was a man who could keep his mouth shut… well, then that man definitely wouldn’t be Jason Todd.
“Jay?”, Dick calls him again, fake amusement now completely gone from his voice.
Jason coughs, waits for the pain in his chest to quiet a bit, then takes a deep breath. Or, at least, a breath as deep as he can manage with at least three broken ribs and a stab wound to his abdomen - and that’s just a preliminary assessment, he’s pretty sure he’s going to hit the hospital jackpot once he gets a serious check-up.
“Don’t make jokes on my death, Dickface”, he exhales eventually. “It’s rude.”
Dick huffs, but he’s clearly relieved to hear his voice. Jason can’t really see him in the dark, but he knows he’s somewhere near him. He was moving towards him when the bomb took off, so the shock wave must have thrown him in his vicinity.
“You spend, like, eighty percent of your time making jokes about your death”, Dick retorts, and he sounds even closer now. Jason shifts, his back against the wall, his hands clutching his side.
“Yeah, that’s because I fucking died”, he retorts with no heat whatsoever. He’s actually smiling a little bit. “And I’ll have you know that irony is a healthy coping mechanism.”
Dick scoffs at him loud enough for Jason to hear even through all the creaking and squeaking of the building trying to reassess what’s left of itself.
“You’re such a hypocrite”, Dick answers. “Also Damian calls you his zombie brother in front of his friends all the time and you never say anything.”
“That’s just because I’m glad he stopped introducing me as his butler’s butler”, and also because the little shit acknowledging him as his brother kinda makes him feel all warm inside, but he’ll invite the Joker over for a romantic dinner before he gives Dick that satisfaction. “Besides, the kid died too, so he’s kinda entitled to make death jokes.”
“Hey, I die-”
Jason cuts him off before he can finish.
“Don’t. Seriously, don’t”, he warns him. “I’m so tired of having this conversation. You didn’t really die, you just had a fake funeral.”
“It still counts.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Dick pauses, then grunts painfully while he moves pieces of concrete around to make his way towards him.
“You’re just embarrassed because you cried over your big brother’s fake death.”
“I actually laughed, you egomaniac asshole.”
Something on his right shifts and there’s a shower of debris somewhere over him. Dust and pieces of plaster fall all over his head, clattering against the metal of his hood, and then Dick’s there, just beside him.
“Liar”, he whispers, and Jason can practically hear the smile on his lips.
“Ask Babs if you don’t believe me”, he retorts anyway, because at this point is a matter of honor.
“I will”, his brother promises softly, then Jason feels the brush of his hands against his body and steels himself for what he knows will come next. He groans when Dick moves his hands away to examine the open wound himself, and downright whines when his brother’s fingers sink into his flesh to determine the gravity of it.
The stream of blood intensifies and Dick’s hands move again, now to push against the wound in a vain attempt to stop it, but Jason can see it flowing between Dick’s fingers, dark trickles staining the blue stripes of his brother’s uniform.
“I’m going to glue it”, Dick informs him almost colloquially, but Jason can see the hard line of his jaw and the frown he’s trying to ease. “We’ll deal with the eventual infections when we get you back to the cave.”
“If you get me back to the cave”, Jason replies. It was supposed to be a little taunt about their already forgotten argument about death jokes, but it comes out wrong and Dick shoots him an angry glare.
“When”, he repeats through his teeth, and Jason just nods.
He remains silent while Dick works on the wound, only moves to remove the helmet from his head and place it on the ground next to both of them. He looks around and then up again at the night sky. His entire body feels like it’s covered in hellfire and look! another death joke! Kind of weak, though, and not that much funny. Dick wouldn’t laugh at it, Jason thinks, as a dizzy feeling washes over him like a sea wave and his vision becomes oddly watery.
What a fucking mess, he swears again, before passing out.
*
He wakes up with his face pressed against Dick’s neck and his brother’s arm draped around his shoulders. Apparently you can’t close your eyes for the split of a minute without some bastard taking the opportunity to manhandle you in a hug. Perverts these days.
“Help is on the way”, Dick informs him softly as soon as he realizes he’s awake. He probably doesn’t say Batman because he was raised by Alfred, so a little tact still lingers on him despite his best efforts. Jason has the same problem sometimes. Bloody british education.
He struggles against Dick, trying to straighten himself up, and his brother accommodates his movements, a hand firmly squeezing his shoulder in a silent warning to take it easy.
Jason pats himself down until he feels the graze of the bandages now wrapping his torso. They’re still wet with blood but not too much, so Dick must have glued his wound well enough. Reopen it is not going to be fun, but that’s pain for later. Right now he’s pretty happy to be alive and in less pain that he expected. All things considered, this isn’t so bad. And Dick seems to think the same thing because the moment their eyes meet, he graces Jason with a wide grin.
“Since we’re stuck waiting for the cavalry, let’s do that game, what’s its name…”, he pauses for effect and Jason rolls his eyes. “Something like we think we’re going to die so you tell me a secret you would never tell me otherwise and then we don’t die and I can use it to blackmail you for the foreseeable future.”
He even manages to look totally serious while saying it. He’s truly amazing.
“First, that’s a really long ass name for a game”, Jason retorts. “Second, I already told you to stop with the death jokes. Third, hell no, thank you.”
Dick dismisses him by waving a hand at him.
“C’mon, I’ll start”, he offers, and without even taking a moment to think about it, he lets out his big confession. “I had sex in the Batmobile.”
Jason snorts.
“Who didn’t.”
“Well, Damian, I hope.”
“Give him a couple of years.”
Dick groans at the very idea of his baby brother being old enough to even consider the idea of having sex and Jason laughs because oh boy, it’s going to be one hell of a ride for all of them when that kid hits puberty.
“Stephanie didn’t either”, Dick tries then and Jason shoots him a look of pure disbelief.
“Dick, come on, she totally took Tim’s virginity in there and you know it.”
It’s Dick’s turn to laugh now.
“And if you try to tell me that it wasn’t Barbara the one you had sex with in the Batmobile I swear I’ll shoot you”, Jason threatens him.
Dick makes an uncommitting sounds that has basically the same value of a confession.
“Okay, okay”, he surrenders. “But what about Bruce?”
A moment of silence while they both think about it.
“You know, I really don’t want to know.”
“Yeah, no, me neither”, Dick agrees. “Your turn.”
Jason huffs, and just to amuse himself he says the first thing that comes to his mind.
“I used to smoke when I was Robin.”
“That’s not a secret!”, Dick protests. “Everybody knows that!”
“And you having sex in the Batmobile was a secret? Please”, Jason scoffs. “If you tell me a shit secret you’re getting a shit secret back.”
Dick pouts at him. How he can be on his way towards his thirtieth birthday and still pout in a way that even Damian - the current master of scowling in their family - would find undignifying, it’s a mystery Jason has no interest to solve.
“Alright, a real secret then.”, Dick starts reasoning, and from his tone alone Jason immediately understands he’s not going to like the end of this conversation. “Something that I’d never tell you unless you were a mess of bruises and physically incapable of shooting me. Uhm, let me think about it for a second.”
“No”, Jason tries to interrupt him. “Stop right there. This is like the Bruce having sex thing. I don’t wanna know.”
“I lov-”, Dick starts, ignoring him and grinning like a maniac.
“I still have my guns on me, Grayson”, Jason warns.
Dick laughs.
“I missed you”, he amends, all baby blue eyes and big smile, and Jason slaps one of his hand over his face and groans.
“You fucking Disney princess”, he grumbles. “Can we just have one man-chat without you having to go all mushy on me?”
“I didn’t know we were having a man-chat”, Dick teases him, ruffling his hair because he’s obviously decided that one of them is not going to see the next sunrise. “I thought we were having a brother-chat.”
“You just like to see me suffer.”
Dick laughs again and shifts closer to him.
“I really missed you, though”, he says. “It was too long since the last time we teamed up and had a night out for ourselves. Even if it is for, you know, job.”
Jason gives him his best unimpressed glare.
“Maybe it’s because when I work with you I always seem to end up bloody.”
“Hey, that’s not my fault!”
“So you say, Dickwing.”
Dick’s comm buzzes back to life and Jason recognizes Tim’s concerned voice and the annoyed clicking of a tongue that can only belong to Damian. He goes still for a moment, then slowly relaxes. Better them than the big man himself, he thinks, and if he’s disappointed by it he’s not going to admit to anyone, much less to himself.
“So, before the kids arrive and start giving you shit for getting yourself blown up, is there something you want to say to me in return?”, Dick grins a Cheshire Cat’s grin and Jason takes in serious consideration the idea of headbutting him since he’s close enough to do it.
He knows what he’s supposed to say, and it’s not like he didn’t miss him too, because he did, in the last year he found himself missing him and Alfred and Tim and Damian and yes, even Bruce, more times that he’d like to admit. But.
“Well, let’s see. A secret that I’d never tell you unless I was in such a bad shape you could never retaliate, no matter how angry you’d be. Uhm, let me think about it”, he pretends to ponder.
“Jay, there is nothing you could do to-”, Dick starts with an indulgent smile, but he looks mildly concerned anyway. Now it’s Jason’s turn to smile like a mad men, but only mentally. If there’s something he’s learned from Tim, after all, is the value of a good bluff.
“Are you really, really sure?”, he interrupts him, looking at his brother dead in the eyes. He watches the uncertainty in Dick’s eyes turning into suspicion and then blatant distrust. Maybe he should be offended, but it truly makes him proud the way he can still keep Dick on his toes even if he’s not the bad guy anymore.
“Jason, what the fuck did you do to-”, he starts, but it’s too late. There’s some shuffling and the soft sound of two consecutives landings, and then their little brothers join them among the ruins.
“What a mess”, Tim comments, coming closer to inspection Jason’s wounds. He’s carrying a medical kit and looks like he’s already in his full doctor mode. “All you two?”
“You truly exceeded yourselves”, Damian agrees, sounding strangely approving of their trail of destruction.
“Just a bomb we didn’t take in consideration”, Dick explains quickly. “And we were having an important conversation, so if you two don’t mind-”
“I do mind”, Damian answers immediately.
“Hood needs medical care, Wing”, Tim says at the same time, crouching in front of Jason. “You can continue your conversation later. Give me a hand to lift him up.”
“But-”
“Later”, it’s Tim final word, spoken in the best Batman voice he can manage, so Dick has to suck it up and help him getting Jason - who’s trying, not that hard to be honest, not to gloat in his face - back on his feet.
“We’re not finished”, Dick growls in his ear, while fixing up one of Jason’s arm around his shoulder and the other around Tim’s. But he must know that it’s an empty threat because there’s no way Alfred or Tim would allow Dick to bother him with stupid questions about a cheated game when he’s recovering from an explosion. Death jokes are not just for fun, you know.
“Hey, I’ve never agreed to play your game in the first place”, Jason reminds him with a mocking grin. “You have only yourself to blame.”
Dick, who can be a vindictive asshole when he wants to be, only answers with a slap to the back of his head (no injuries there - until a moment ago, at least) earning himself an outraged glance from Tim, a reproaching click of the tongue from Damian and a victorious laugh from Jason.