Hi!

This is my second translation of one of my fictions. This fic takes place just after the return of Bruce Wayne in Batman & Robin issue 16 (I think), Dick has taken a bullet in the head (but he's okay now…).

This will shortly be followed by a sequel, I'm Yours, You're mine

Dr. Carter pushed the heavy door that lead to the waiting room to find a pair of ice-blue eyes drilling through him. He considered for a second going back in the operation room and fetch a scalpel to defend himself with, but eventually gathered his will to face the one man who had enough money to wake him in the middle of the night and make him fly all the way here in a jet to extract a bullet from his adoptive son's skull.

Despite the bullet wound, the surgeon had been instructed to keep this operation and all the events of the night a secret between him and the Wayne family. He usually didn't respond well to bribery, but he was here to save someone, not judge him or his family. And the look on Mr. Wayne's face at this very moment didn't prompt him to ask questions. Mostly because he looked like he could eat him right now, and also because, even though he promised to warn him as soon as he was finished, he refused to go home and get some rest. He just sat there for most of the night on a little plastic chair, his probably very expensive tailored jacket neatly folded beside him, in the empty waiting room. Though not the slightest hint of an emotion showed on the billionaire's face, the surgeon could see through his stoical mask that he was worried, terrified almost. He didn't make him wait another second and opened the corridor door, nodding towards the man.

"Mr. Wayne, the operation went well, he's safe. He's in his room but don't expect any coherent speech, he's barely conscious. He needs to rest."

Stopping at the room's door, he shook hands with the man and let him go in alone.

XxX

Bruce slowly shut the door and walked to the bed in the dark to sit on an armchair near the pillow. Dick was asleep under a thin white sheet, his head tilted on his side to prevent him from lying on the dressing on the back of his head. He sat there a long time, just to watch the young man sleep, considering going home to let him rest for the rest of the night, but he couldn't manage to stand up and leave the room just yet. He just watched him breathe quietly for what seems like an eternity, no sign of any pain on his beautiful face. He couldn't get his eyes off the figure he couldn't precisely see in the dark, trying to make out his athlete's built under the sheets, and the only move he dared make was lifting a hand to gently caress the soft skin of Dick's cheek and neck.

He quickly moved his hand away when the younger one began to move a little, deep furrows in his forehead. He groaned and blinked before focusing on the face of the man at his bedside. He smiled a little and stretched, pushing his sheets away a little.

"Hey… you look terrible… should see a doctor…"

Bruce smiled slightly. If he was good enough to joke, all was well in the world. His smirk was his only answer as Dick tried to sit up without tearing out his perfusion or shaking his head too much. Eventually he sat leaning against his pillow, still looking miles away and voice raspy from the anesthesia.

"So, what'd the doc say… ready to bury me?"

"He said the operation went well, and that you needed to rest."

"Yeah… figures"

"That doesn't mean he isn't right, you need to rest."

It wasn't open to discussions; he wasn't going to let the kid dance around in tights on roofs anytime soon. He would stay at home for at least two months.

"Come on… s'not as if he hit a vital organ…"

Bruce couldn't tell if he was delirious or just joking as usual, so he didn't answer. He knew Dick would rest at home, whether he liked it or not. The young man lost his smile and frowned a little.

"If I didn't know you so well I'd say you were worried about me."

He lifted a hand from under the sheets and took the hand of his mentor, squeezing it a second. Without thinking about it, Bruce intertwined their fingers and stood to lean towards him and gently kiss his forehead. He closed his eyes and stayed like this a second before whispering to his ear.

"I was worried about you."

Dick let go of his hand to close his arms around him, hugging him tight. He had closed his eyes and was breathing heavily, his pain probably awaken by all the moving.

"You can't…"

"Shh…"

"No. You can't. A bullet in the head, it's nothing… just a bad cough. You… you were dead, I saw your corpse… I… I was…"

He stopped, unable to carry on, to admit what he felt, what he did. Bruce took a deep breath as he felt a single tear run along the younger man's cheek. He slowly let him go and sat on the edge of the bed, took one of his hands again and gently kissed his lips, tasting the salt of his tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Next time you do this to me, I kill you myself."

He squeezed his hand and wiped his eyes with his free hand.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"The world needs Batman… and I don't like capes. So you'd better not do that again."

He lifted an arm seemingly made of cotton candy and hit his arm to mark his point. Bruce took his closed fist and gently put it back on the mattress, before leaning towards him again, eyes locked in his.

"And I… need you."

Dick was lost for a moment in the blue intensity of his eyes, before lowering his gaze to the older one's hand, the one that was now pressing on his morphine pump. As the drug began running through his veins, clouding his thoughts, he let Bruce kiss him one last time before the man stood up, gently caressing his cheeks. His eyelids were already heavy with sleep.

"Bruce…?"

He turned around, halfway to the door already.

"Tomorrow… I won't remember it, right?"

"…no."

FIN

Excuse me again for any mistranslation or typo, reviews are much appreciated!

Merci d'avoir lu! (thank you for reading)