For the 2011 Gotham Secret Santas Project. Requested by Meindraws.
A month before Dick's seventh birthday, his mother had asked him what he wanted as a present. "A little brother," he had called down from his perch on Zitka. He had gotten a pair of shiny, new shoes. Seven years later, Alfred had asked him the same thing. "A little brother," Dick had joked from the parallel bars. He had gotten a set of shiny, new wing-dings.
A few years later, Dick had gotten his little brother, only by that time he had outgrown the idea. Outgrown Bruce, he thought, and outgrown the fantasy that, in this case, a brother would be anything other than a replacement. It took a couple years more for Dick to grow fond of the idea of having a little brother again. And a couple of months more before it was time for Dick to mourn him.
And then the little brother came back, less of a brother than he had been, and it took a few more years for them to try out that brother thing again. Friday night bonding, pizza, beer, maybe a bit of commiserating if Jason felt like allowing it. And Jason was more of a brother, sure, but also less little.
"Y'got big, Jay," Dick murmured as Jason stretched out on the couch, dangling his pizza into his mouth. And by this time, Dick already had two other little brothers and it was getting harder to remember that Jason was supposed to be one too.
"Yeah, happened when I died." Jason turned a wide grin in Dick's direction and took a bite, dragging the cheese of the crust with his teeth.
"Manners," Dick managed through a mouthful of his own pizza and he leaned forward, just slightly, from his own spot leaning against the bottom of the armchair. He turned away from the sight for exactly two reasons and neither of them had anything to do with Jason's eating habits. And by the way Jason stretched again, smiling around the pizza as he arched his back on the couch and dug his heels into the arm, he had noticed at least one of them. (Probably the other reason too, but the more discomfort, the more guilt Dick expressed over Jason's death, the more Jason liked bringing it up.)
Well, shit. Dick never did know Jason not to take advantage of an opening.
"Whatever, Alfie," and Jason smacked lips before darting his tongue out to lick over them. Dick thought he saw a flash of teeth. He reached over to steal Jason's beer and he took a long swig, closing his eyes for just a moment as it ran over his tongue. When he looked back at him, Jason's eyebrows were raised and and his mouth was twisted up in a smirk Dick should have found ugly.
That was the night Dick realized he was going to hell. But he figured that was fine. He'd probably find Jay there too