Whumptober Day 11
Hey there! Hope you enjoy-
And for the one, blackmail loving person that I know is reading this, I already have plans for the week I missed alr
Fair warning, this one was rushed as hell
Fuck
Tim's arm was limp- hanging out of his socket at an odd angle- bent completely wrong at the elbows. Just great.
Even worse, though, his insanely broken, dislocated arm meant that he couldn't use his scooter to ride out to his safe house or the Batcave.
Fuck
There was one person, though, who had too many safe houses in Gotham city. Namely, his estranged brother Jason.
And, although he wasn't on the wrong side of the Red Hood's list, Tim was hesitant.
What the heck, though. It was either walking to Gotham with a broken arm or talking with one of his many estranged brothers.
Climbing up to the seventh fucking floor of Jason's apartment building was a challenge, but he had managed. Tim hauled himself up into the window, which was opened.
Tim paused, not only because he was tired, but also because there were trace amounts of dried blood on the windowsill. Tim pressed on, but this time, more alert.
Nothing inside was afoot though, except for bright yellow light.
"Damn Timbo, you look like shit!" Said the disembodied voice of Jason.
Tim grunted in response
Jason, coming into view, helped Tim in, not failing to notice the broken arm.
After both were inside the room with the windows shut, Jason whistled?
"Timmy, why didn't you call?"
Tim felt his ears turning red- why hadn't he called anyone? It wasn't like it was that bad of an injury, so he said so.
"Timbo, your arm's broken in like three places, how the hell did you climb up here?"
Then hesitating, "how long were you down there?" and though his voice was still as gruff, Tim could see that he also wanted to ask: "Why didn't you call me?"
But just as he was opening his mouth, Jason clapped his hands.
"Here, I have some stuff we can use as a splint so your arm can get less broken."
And, as an addendum,
"Tim, you should move to the couch or something- grab the blanket."
Tim nodded and obliged. There was a soft, red blanket under one of the throw pillows that he grabbed, covering what he could.
And drifted off to sleep.
Tim woke up to a stinging in his arm first, and then Jason's face, and a bright, focused light second.
"Relax, Timmy, I just need to make sure your arm is splinted right."
Timmy cringed at the pain, but he could feel now that his arm was righted. Now that his mind was no longer occupied by trying to not pass out, Tim took a pause from his supine position and looked around. The safe house was quite nice- pretty beige walls with warm accent furniture, and a large brass bookshelf.
Next was Jason. Just as jock-shaped as the rest of his brothers, Jason's shock of white hair had begun to shrink, or at the very least, Jason had gotten much better at covering it. He was wearing a casual brown zip-up hoodie (which didn't look like his leather jacket at all) over a stained pink shirt. But there was something odd.
The shirt was thin Tim could see hastily placed bandages under the torso.
"Jason", he suddenly said, breaking the silence.
"Yeah?"
"Are you bleeding?"
The silence returned, as Jason's (empty) brain searched for a good answer.
But it was too late- Tim could see the subtle way that his hands shook, the way his forehead was pale and sweaty under the bright lights of Jason's studio apartment. Had it been a civilian person, Tim would take it for a light fever, but Jason had been trained to hide any injuries. If Tim could see that something was wrong, especially in his slightly tipsy state was very bad.
And Jason could tell that Tim knew.
He sighed, puffing out air unsteadily. "Yeah, some idiot thug was able to get the hit on me."
His brother's idiocy shocked him.
"Jason you should sit down, you look less stable like a card house."
Even more worrying was Jason's compliance.
Tim stood up to get the med kit on Jason's table, which was filled with unorganized bandages spilling out of the small bag. After choosing a clean (looking) bandage and an alcohol wipe, Tim walked back.
"Here Jay, I'll untie the bandage now, if that's okay." Jason, now tight-faced with pain, laying down against the couch cushions, nodded.
Tim tenderly cut the bandage with his pocketknife, only now realizing that his mask was gone, and his face was clean, which means...
But he had a job to do. Quickly, Tim sanitized the thankfully and surprisingly uninfected wound, tightly binding it in a bandage.
"That should do it, but Jason... I need to know why?"
"Why what?" The older bird mumbled, forearm overhead.
"Why you splinted my arm before, you know, treating a cut." Bad here was implied, and so was "you stupid, self-sacrificing asshole."
"You're my little brother Tim, it's my job." Tim held his breath, Jason was delirious, for sure this time.
"You wanna watch a movie?" Jason asked, to which Tim accepted
"Yeah, get your ass over here."
And the blanket was warm and soft, and neither he nor his brother was dead, which made the Devil Wears Prada so much better.
Dick was paranoid, and he knew that. So when both his brothers disappeared, he begged Oracle to track them. Although she was hesitant, Dick persisted, and because Barbara was well-versed in bat logic, she checked. To her surprise, both were together, in Jason's safe house, both with heart rates lower than their average when awake (Barbara didn't try to pry more than she needed to it felt weird, and she didn't want to know about teenage boys' personal lives.) However, Jason's blood pressure was much lower than it should have been, so she begrudgingly lent Dick the information he needed.
Rushed, Nightwing headed over to his brother's safe house, wary of what would lay inside. Instead, he found his younger brothers sleeping- nay, cuddling- on the couch, covered in a fuzzy blanket that Dick knew was Jason's best. Sense of panic gone, Dick snapped a few photos under the guise of blackmail. Though he'd share it with Barbra, the photo was probably going on his fridge, a proud reminder of when his family wasn't trying to kill each other/ being killed/ dying. He headed out, but before going home, he decided to pick up some food for them. There was a nice pizza stand a few blocks down, and Dick needed an excuse to try it.