Three-Shot
AN Enjoy.
Jason POV
I sigh as he finally passes out, his weight going limp in my arms.
"How well do you two know each other?" the guy who drove the car here asks.
"We've known each other since we were kids, a few years ago we stopped trying to kill each other, and only recently did we decide to try being friends" brothers
I get away from the awful elevator music when the doors finally open, revealing Tim's apartment.
"Clear the couch" I tell the chatty one when he opens his mouth again.
A few moments later I lay Tim down on his couch, holding back a wince as his blood starts soaking into it. I know that head wounds bleed a lot, but he looks like shit, and before he let himself pass out, probably felt like it too.
"Have any of you been here before?" I ask
"Um, no" the guy says, and the goth agrees with him.
"Make sure he doesn't die, i'm gonna go find a first aid kit" I tell them, knowing that his first aid kits will have enough supplies to patch him up.
I look through the kitchen, bathroom, living room and study before I find it in one of the drawers in his room.
By the time I make it back to the living room, the boss man, and the woman who I ran into more than a few times on one of my cases, although she doesn't seem to recognise me, are there, looking at Tim with concern.
"Move" I growl lowly, my eyebrows furrowing as I catch sight of Tim once more, bruised, bloody, and broken.
I prioritize, quickly pulling out and cleaning a needle, thread, and my hands, and cut his pants off above the gash, before pouring the sterilizing solution over his thigh, happy that he's passed out for this.
I get started, stitching the jagged edges of the skin together, keeping focussed until I reach the end, tie the stitch off and then tape a sterile bandage over it before moving onto the next more important injury, his head.
Turns out he only needs a few stitches there, and I clean the blood from his eye before moving on, knowing that if I don't it'll just dry over his eye, essentially glueing it shut.
"I thought you were a bodyguard?" Tony asks suspiciously as I move onto his shoulder.
"I am" I mutter, beckoning Ziva over, knowing that she has the skills needed to help me with this.
"Brace his shoulder for me" I tell her, waiting until she climbs behind him on the couch and braces his shoulder so that I can pop it into place.
"3, 2, 1" I count down before wrenching it back into place, feeling sympathetic as I hear the familiar pop, knowing that it'll hurt like a fucking bitch when he wakes up.
"Thanks" I mutter, moving on to his ribs as she climbs off the couch.
I make sure to watch out for his other injuries as I lever him up and into a sitting position, an ace bandage in my hand as I probe his ribs gently, feeling around for which ones are broken, cracked, or just bruised, and then tip him forward onto my shoulder as I wrap them.
A few minutes later he's all patched up and still passed out, so I clean up the supplies that I used before washing my hands and putting it back where I found it, a sticky note of what has to be replaced stuck to the top of it.
I walk back into the room a minute later, not wanting to deal with the questions that are sure to come from something like this, not to mention that they know that me and Tim know each other.
"Is he gonna be okay?" the guy who drove asks
"What's your name?" I ask, seeing as I wasn't really paying attention when they told me before.
"Tony, is he gonna be okay?" he asks again.
"Do I look like a fuckin doctor?" I snark, rolling my eyes when his snap towards Tim.
"He'll be fine, we've dealt with worse" we've done worse to each other
"What is that supposed to mean?" he asks, obviously upset.
"It means that he's gonna be fine, it means that you need to calm the fuck down and give me a fucking minute to think" I snap, trying to hold a conversation and debate with myself whether or not this merits a call to Dickie or Damian.
"What is there to think about? The guy you were hired to protect just got fucking t-boned by a truck and you shot the guys kneecaps. You apparently have a complicated past with Tim, who is now unconscious. I don't really understand what it is you need to think about at this moment." Tony says, apparently annoyed, with me or the situation, I'm not sure.
"I need to think about whether or not I need to bring in my coworkers. I need to think about whether or not I want to move Tim to a safer location, or wait for him to be able to tell me when something is gonna injure him further. I need to think about what to do about the people trying to kill him. I need to think about the possible repercussions of shooting an unarmed man in front of a bunch of cops. Twice. I have a lot to decide, so shut the fuck up and let me deal with it." I snap, wondering how my brother has the patience to deal with this guys mouth all the time, at least without punching him every once in a while.
"Fine, but you have a lot of explaining to do" the guy mutters, making my now boiling temper flare.
"I don't have to explain anything to you. I don't owe you shit, and you have nothing that makes me even think I could trust you with any information. All i've seen from you so far is an unprofessional asshole who thinks he's god's gift to mankind, news flash buddy, god isn't real, and when you die, there is a whole lot of nothing to greet you, and it sucks. So shut the fuck up and let me fucking think" I snarl at the man, watching on with satisfaction as he recoils from me, a surprised look on his face.
"You don't need to run so hot all the time Jase" I hear a small voice murmur from behind me, making me turn back so that i'm facing him, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut before attempting to open them.
"And no, we don't need to move to a more secure location, Alfred wasn't the only one dissatisfied with the safety precautions in my old apartment" Tim says quietly, lifting his uninjured arm to probe at the bandage on his hairline.
"Stop that" I reprimand, pushing his hand away from the bandage.
"B?" I ask, pretty sure what he's trying to tell me, but wanting to double check just in case my now concussed brother isn't thinking too clearly.
"Yeah" he answers before trying to sit up.
"Cut that shit out, will you?" I say, pushing gently down on his shoulder to make him lay back down.
"Stay" I tell him as I stand up, walking into his bathroom and retrieving the painkillers I found in there while I was looking for the first aid kit, shaking two out into my hand before I grab him a glass of water from the kitchen.
"I thought I told you to stay?" I ask as I re-enter the living room, finding him sitting up on the couch, his face pale and his eyes shut against the harsh light.
I easily twist the knob on the wall, turning the lights down to a more 'hangover' type setting before I walk over to him.
"Take these" I tell him, handing him the water and the pills with a determined expression on my face, knowing that it will take more than telling him to make him take the pills.
"No" he says stubbornly.
"Yes, your body is shot, and I don't know when you last slept, although from the bags you tried to cover up, i'm gonna go with about five or six days. You need to rest, and you won't unless you have some help" I tell him, shaking the pills in my hand to enunciate 'help'
"Yes I will, you just said I haven't slept in days, I don't need meds to sleep" he argues.
"Bullshit. You might look like your sleeping, but I know that the most you'll do is that meditating shit. You need proper rest, and like hell am I telling Goldie or B that you fucking died under my care. I don't need that shit on my hands." I tell him, shuddering at the thought of telling Dick and Bruce that Tim is dead, because that really sounds like it would go over well.
"Or maybe you would miss me, I mean, you never know, we learn new things every day, your new thing might be that you would miss me if I happened to die" he says, his eyes glassy with pain, yet somehow still shining with amusement.
"Yeah, maybe I would" I concede, watching the surprise register on his face, giving me the opening to push the pills into his hand.
"Drink" I mutter, thrusting the glass of water into his hands after he puts the pills in his mouth.
He sticks his tongue out at me after he drinks the glass of water, letting me check to make sure he actually took them, before dropping his head back against the couch.
"Those should only take a few minutes to kick in" I say, standing up so that I can tip him back over to laying on the couch.
"Blanket?" I ask a moment later, after i've propped his head up on a pillow.
"Please" he murmurs, already feeling the effects of the pills.
"Fucking fuzzy pills" he mutters as I walk away, making me laugh.
Fucking fuzzy pills is right, hard as hell to think straight when I take them, they make me constantly tired, and I almost always have nightmares when I take them, the pills forcing me into a deep enough sleep that I dream, the only good thing about them is that I feel more like i'm floating inside my body instead of inhabiting it, pain can't reach me and neither can anything else, except the nightmares. Always the fucking nightmares.
I hesitate then, wondering if the reason Tim didn't want to take the pills would be because of nightmares, and then quickly dismiss the thought, if they were a problem, he wouldn't have given in and taken the pills. Unless he was hurting more than he was letting on, more than I could infer from his injuries.
I shake my head then, dispersing the unwanted thoughts and nabbing a blanket off Tim's bed before heading back into the living room.
I ignore the rest of his team as I drape the blanket over his now sleeping form before I flop into the cushy chair next to the couch, staying in reaching distance in case anything happens.
I pull my phone out a moment later, hesitating a moment before answering the call.
"Yeah?" I say, wondering what exactly Dickie is calling me about.
"Is Tim okay?" he asks, his voice clueing me in to just how much he's worrying right now.
"He'll be fine, I patched him up and made him take some painkillers" I tell him
"Good, it shouldn't take too long to get them off his back, it's just a process. Are you and him gonna be okay until tomorrow? The hit should be cancelled by then." Dick says, moving on once he knows that one of his chicks is alright, seeing as he's apparently taken to mother henning the three of us, like we're his children, not his brothers.
"Yeah, his team is apparently sticking around for the night, if the looks they have been shooting me all afternoon are saying anything, but I solemnly swear not to kill anyone until I am no longer in the company of cops" I tell him teasingly, chuckling when he 'really Jay's' me.
"See you tomorrow, I need to order some dinner, i'm fucking hungry" I tell him, already pulling up a mental list of all the nearest chinese food places that won't give me food poisoning.
About an hour later me and Tim's team are sitting around his living room in semi-awkward silence, the small talk having vanished, mostly due to my neglect to actually participate.
The food has been eaten, and I was nice enough to order enough for everyone, although not nice enough to pay for everyone.
I have a bowl of half melted ice-cream in my lap and my eyes straying from window to window to door, keeping an eye out for snipers or someone trying to enter the apartment.
I snap my head to the side though when I hear a small whimper come from Tim, cursing as his face contorts in agony, his lips moving silently as he starts to move around, and I shoot up from my seat, knowing that if he doesn't stay still he'll just hurt himself more than he already has.
"Fucking hell, Tim, wake up" I say, nudging his shoulder a few times with no response as his nightmare escalates.
"What's wrong" Tony asks
"Nightmare" I mutter, as Tim starts to talk out loud, begging for someone to stop.
"Please, stop, hurts. Hurts. Hurts. Help, please, Bruce, Bruce! Pleasepleaseplease helpme!" he calls his voice getting louder and more desperate the longer the nightmare goes on, and nothing that i'm doing is waking him up.
It's when he starts to thrash around that I give in, lifting his torso off the couch before I slide in behind him, locking my arms around his torso and trapping his arms, one leg bracing me against the couch as the other one comes up to pin Tim's down.
He fights against me, tears streaming down his face as he begins to scream.
"Come on Timmy, wake up, you're going to be fine, it's a nightmare" I murmur in his ear as his head slams back into my shoulder and stays there, like as if his head was strapped to a table.
He continues to thrash and scream for minutes after that, and I continue to talk to him, trying to make him wake up, or at least calm down. I let out a sigh of relief when the tension starts to ease from his body, relaxing to the point that he's laying limp against me, his lips moving for a few moments longer before he fully comes out of the nightmare.
I wait a few moments before I drop my leg to the ground off the side of the couch and pull the arm that's trapped between his now limp body and the couch free, laying it across his shoulder as I bring my hand up to run it through his now sweaty hair.
I finally let my own body relax, keeping one arm secured around him as I drop my head onto his shoulder, still murmuring soft words of comfort, hoping to keep him calm.
A few minutes later I try to slide out from underneath him, but hesitate when he whimpers, his hand tightening it's hold on my forearm.
So instead I simply re-settle, not willing to have him go into another nightmare because of me.
I look up a few moments later, only to see the stricken faces of his team, all of them hovering around me and him, obviously unsure about how to react to what just happened.
"What? Have you never seen a nightmare?" I ask, my voice rough with annoyance.
"Not like that" Tony murmurs, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze stays stuck to Tim.
"It's the drugs, he couldn't wake up like he usually would, and I couldn't let him thrash around like that, he would have hurt himself." I tell them.
"Who was he asking to help him?" Abby asks hesitantly, her voice filled with concern.
"Nobody" I answer shortly, my annoyance spiking.
"Come on Jay, I wouldn't say nobody" I hear a familiar voice say as they swing into the apartment through the window.
"Wingnut" I greet my older brother, who apparently decided that the best way to come here would be in costume.
"How's he doing?" he asks as he makes his way over to us, crouching down in front of the couch and running his hand through Tim's hair, a concerned look on his face as he does so.
"He's gonna be fine, had a nightmare" I tell him
"That's what I was worried about, but if he took the meds I figured you either shoved them down his throat, he was hurting too much to worry about nightmares, or he was too tired and in pain to think through the repercussions." Dick says, sliding down so that he's sitting cross legged in front of the couch, his hand sliding down to rest on top Tim's hand, the one that's still gripping my forearm, and will probably leave marks.
"Was it bad?" he asks after a moment.
"He was screaming for a few minutes, was screaming for Bruce to help him." I tell him, my eyes bouncing between him and the now shell shocked team standing behind me, who are due to interrupt us in less than a minute now.
"I think he was having a nightmare about his time with the Joker" I tell him in romanian, not wanting to let his team hear something like that.
Dick nods, standing up and turning around to face Tim's team, who are now shaking off their shock.
"Nightwing" Tony mutters
"Yep" Dick answers
"How are you here? How do you know Tim? Why are you here?" Tony asks rapid fire
"I'm here because I came here, I've known Tim since we were kids. I am here because I wanted to tell you that the guy who put the hit out on Tim has retracted it, and he is no longer in danger of psychopathic assassins, and because I wanted to check on him." Dick says, answering all of his questions without giving away anything they couldn't figure out on their own.
"Tt- how is Drake?" I hear Damian ask, just as he slips through the window, moving silently to stand with Nightwing.
"Robin, because why not? You know, next thing you know Batman will be coming through the window" Tony says, slightly hysterically, and I hold back the laugh that wants to escape my throat, knowing that it is very likely that Batman will be coming through the window.
"He's fine kid" I mutter, answering Damians question.
"Good" he says resolutely, so much different than his reaction would have been two years ago.
All of us have grown closer, it took working through a lot of our shit, but we did it, and we are more like a family than we ever were before, and even though Bruce is still a emotionally constipated asshole most of the time, we've worked through enough of our shit to be able to admit that we are family, that they are my brothers and that he's my dad.
"So i'm guessing that the people that Tim knew, that could help him take care of his problem, are you? A bodyguard and two vigilantes?" Abby says, speaking up for the first time since Dick swept into the apartment.
"Yep" Dick answers, even though we all know he was going to try to fix it himself, without telling anyone that the League of fucking Assassins was hired to kill his current alias.
"How exactly did you meet?" Ziva asks
"School" Dick lies smoothly, grinning to throw them off guard.
I tense up when Tim shifts in my arms, relaxing again when I realise that he was just moving around slightly to get comfortable.
"I don't think you are going anywhere Jaybird" Dick says with a laugh when he glances back at us.
"Yeah, I figured that much" I answer, and with all the heat that I tried to inject in my tone, very little of it actually makes it out of my mouth.
I grin a moment later when I see a black shadow glide through the front door and around the outskirts of the dimly lighted room, scaring the shit out of all of the non-bats when he melts from the shadows and to the back of the couch.
"Hey dad" Dick and I chorus, while an offbeat "father" is heard from Damian.
He doesn't say anything, simply resting his hand on Tim's forehead, his body tensing slightly when he takes in the heat coming off of it.
"He's gonna be fine, just had a nightmare and he's basically laying on me. He's only running a slight fever, the rest of it is from exertion and my body heat" I tell him, reassuring him that Tim isn't running a super high fever.
"Injuries?" he asks in his growling Batman voice
"Nothing too major, he should make a full recovery, I would still have Doc Thompkins check him out, rather be safe than infected" I tell him, knowing that Tim will protest seeing her, and that all of us have and would do the same thing, but that technically with injuries like Tim's, with the quantity and quality, he should let her check him out.
"Are you guys, brothers? And is he your dad?" Abby asks after a beat of silence, apparently having been thinking through the way we greeted B.
"Yes" B says, his attention staying fixed on Tim.
"Well who knew Batman was a-" Tony's words get cut off by Tim's eyes fluttering open, making everyone freeze.
His hand tightens over my arm as his gaze slowly flickers from one member of his family to another before landing on Bruce.
"Dad" he murmurs, obviously out of it, before his eyelids flutter closed again, and little does he know that he just revealed a huge secret, he's a part of our family.
AN Thoughts? Good? Bad? Meh? Lemme know what you think. :)