isi7140 asked: "don't close your eyes, please don't close your eyes!" with Tim and Dick?


"Please," Dick says, breathless. "Please don't close your eyes, Tim."

"Shut up," Tim says, swatting at where he thinks Dick's face might be. He misses, and the only thing that saves him from faceplanting is the arm that Dick has slung around his waist. "'M tired."

"You're also concussed," Dick tells him. And they start forward again. "You took a hard hit, and if you close your eyes, I'll get Alfred to hide your coffee stash. I know where it is."

"Noooo," Tim moans out as Dick helps him over to the medbay. He blinks as Dick carefully pushes him onto a cot, and he holds up a hand, like he's taking an oath. "I'll keep my eyes open. Scouts honor."

"You weren't a boy scout," Dick says, a frown on his fuzzy face. Tim blinks again, and Dick's in front of him, his face a lot clearer, and those blue eyes of his wide with worry as he cups Tim's cheek and whispers, "I'm serious, Tim. Don't do that again."

"Do what?" Tim slurs.

"Don't fall asleep. Not until I can get the MRI machine up and running."

"I won't," Tim promises, and Dick squeezes his face lightly before letting go and Tim falls back against the pillow. He's tired, but something in Dick's voice, the waver of it, he thinks, it keeps Tim from ignoring Dick's words and just conking out.

Something doesn't sit right with Dick's statement, though, and Tim frowns, turning the words over in his head a few times.

"Dick?" he asks. Dick hums. "Where's Alfred?"

Dick sighs. "He's with Bruce. In Japan. For a business conference."

"Oh," Tim says, not liking the answer as much as he didn't like Dick's previous statement. He doesn't like that neither Bruce nor Alfred are here for some reason. He and Dick are still on somewhat rocky ground, considering he'd only come back to Gotham a little while ago. "Okay."

"Tim," Dick says, and when Tim looks up again, Dick's in front of him. "Hey, Bruce is fine. Alfred's fine, too. We're—" Dick doesn't say fine, but he finishes with, "—okay, right? We're okay?"

"Yeah," Tim says. "Yeah, we're okay. Not fine. Okay."

Dick smiles at him, a little sad, a little fond, but he smiles. "That's good. Now what say we scan that head of yours and make sure nothing's broken inside that big brain of yours, yeah?"

Tim mm-hmms and Dick helps him back up to his feet. Something between them feels broken. Not broken enough to be replaced, but enough that Tim knows that taping it will only be a temporary fix. And Tim spends the entire time getting his head scanned wondering if him and Dick are ever going to be fine again.