WARNING: Jason Todd gets mad. A tad more swearing and what not.

"Control yourself, take only what you need from it." MGMT


Just One More Taste (Again)

By: Cas


Chapter Three: Ignoring a Problem Does('nt) Help

Dick was slumped beside the toilet. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there.

Despair. Some self pity.

His body was numb. He had a buzz in his head and a churning his stomach. No tears. Never tears. They weren't purposeful anyway. Occasionally he'd feel himself choke on fear as it bubbled up so strong he couldn't even move. The only feeling worse than the despair and fear was the guilt.

It was confusing.

He tried to dissociate, he knew how, and even if he hadn't his body occasionally slipped into that timeless, buzzing arena where feelings didn't exist. 'You're supposed to be happy. I want to be happy.'

Dick tried to straighten his fingers and found he couldn't muster the energy.

'You know how to make things better, and it's only a text away.'

So, the text was sent and in little over an hour there was a knock at his door. Dick exchanged the hundred for the fifth of vodka, some joints and the baggie of Oxy. He ignored the "you look like shit," comment and tagged his hand against his old dealers before closing the door and retreating back inside.

He grabbed a hardback book to use as a cutting board, pulled out his drivers license and dug in the kitchen for a spoon. Dick had a momentary freak out upon realizing there was no straw available.

Fuck.

Booze weren't his first choice, but at this point he'd take them.

Twenty minutes later, accompanied by straight vodka with a cold can of soup to wash it down, Dick had mustered up the strength to made his own straw. He took it up the nose and fell into bed, happy with the Internet and streaming for the moment.

Memories eased into a faze; they were there, but unable to touch him unless accessed.

Dick passed out within two hours and 13 minutes. Relaxed, and for once able to sleep. Healthy or not, here he was.


Jason Todd was wandering the halls of his school. It was a private academy, and he hated it. Though Bruce had promised that once Jason was caught up to his grade level and maintained decorum, he could transfer. At first Jason had thought the task impossible, but after a few weeks discovered he wasn't as stupid as his parents had always claimed. He actually liked reading, and with a little extra work the other subjects weren't so bad either.

It was the decorum and staying out of fights that were hard. But, so far so good.

Until today.

He had left class on the pretense of needing the bathroom, but honestly he just wanted to stretch his legs. So, wandering the halls, he ran into two upperclassman.

Adrian Pierre was Jason's age, about the same size, but a year ahead. He and Jason knew of each other but never spoke. His friend was bigger, Samuel Salzburg.

"Hey Todd, how's it hanging?"

Jason gave a shrug, slowing down, suspicious.

"Heard that rumors were confirmed. Your new family does take it up the ass."

A cold fury whipped in Jason. "Is this supposed to be bullying?" He was surprised. Most everyone at the school had been aware of his past and seemed to accept him instantly as the Crime Alley badass. It had gained him respect, fame, and even friends. People didn't bully him.

"Nah, just passing it along."

"Your wet dreams might seem vivid, but that don't make them real."

Adrian's face went bright red. "That kid that Wayne took in before you? Yeah, heard he went to a party high as a fucking kite and got it on with, like, eight guys."

Jason stared. He was perfectly aware that Dick was into girls. Could be he was bi? Jason decided he didn't care, this was a bad rumor at best and he needed to squash it. "You ever open that fat fucking liar mouth again and you'll find it shut so hard your teeth break."

"I'm just warning you, Todd, don't wanna wake up with something poking you-"

Jason had his shoe off before more could be said. He hurled it at Adrian's face and ran, barreling into Samuel's gut. He heard a crack and a shout as the shoe hit its mark. Samuel was starting to say something, but upon impact from Jason the air left him in a whoosh. He went falling backwards. Jason caught his balance only to kick Salzburg in the side of the head.

He didn't have time to check the damage, rather he spun towards Adrian. The boy was clutching his forehead and cursing. Jason launched himself and brought them both crashing to the floor. He sat on the upperclassmans chest and dragged the boys hands so that they were being crushed under Jason's knees.

"You done it now, and right after I fucking warned you! You just signed up to be my personal bitch for the rest of the year, you sorry fuck!" Jason pulled his arm back, ready to strike. He could hear classroom doors opening and knew he had to act fast.

"You just ensured this rumor is spread, you fairy twink!"

"I promised you broken teeth, but we'll settle for a busted nose." Jason brought the heel of his hand into Adrian's face and smiled at the responding crunch and scream.


When Dick was a kid, he was so freaking happy. Bruce always felt the best thing he had done was take in the traumatized, dejected child and watch happiness reroot and grow. Mornings, as he'd get ready for work, Dick would suddenly appear, colorful pajamas and hair sticking up left and right. He'd launch into the unmade bed, giggling for no reason.

No reason what so ever.

Bruce would be brushing his teeth, occasionally observing Dick's reflection through the mirror. The kid would continuously move, kicking the sheets and blankets, and chattering up a storm. He'd toss up pillows and just – he'd just giggle.

How was it humanly possible to be that happy?

For Bruce, at the time, it had been strange and hard to understand, but days like this he made the memory a focal point. Dick was worth saving.

Dick would always be worth saving.

He had given Dick a day too cool off before making the drive to the teenagers apartment. He was fortunate enough to find a parking space nearby, so the trek wasn't too long. He climbed the outdoor stairs and rapped his knuckles against the door. He had spotted Dick's car, so he felt sure the Romani would be home. It was too early for Nightwing duty, unless he was working a case Bruce was unaware of.

He waited a few seconds before knocking again, and when that went unanswered he pulled out his keys. He'd made a copy from the key Dick had given Barbara and felt no shame in that. With a twist and a click he gained admittance.

Bruce entered, softly shutting the door behind him and surveyed the one bedroom unit. It was a bit messy, but nothing too bad. "Dick?" He stepped over the Vans skater shoes lying by the front door as he looked around. "Richard?"

There was no reply, but the bedroom door was open and the sound of music trickled into the air.

The billionaire made his way past the messy kitchen and into the bedroom. He found the eighteen-year-old sprawled across the bed. The television was on, hooked up to Dick's phone. There were a few messages against the backdrop of whirling colors that danced with the musical tempo. Bruce ignored them and focused on the person sound asleep.

Dick had apparently passed out with a can of soup. The foodstuffs had been knocked over and created a thick puddle of chicken noodle sludge.

Bruce told himself to ignore it and searched the vicinity. He found a cup half full of clear liquid and upon a quick taste Bruce confirmed it to be vodka. There was also a book covered in white powder, a spoon, some paper rolled and taped as a makeshift straw as well as Dick's recently reinstated drivers license. He picked up the card and felt anger spike.

Dick had been doing well. He'd gotten his life back together. He'd attended the mandatory classes and been tested for six months, all to earn back the right to drive. So to use this newly acquired drivers license to make lines of powder was just … stupid.

"Dick!" Bruce gave the figure a shake before forcible rolling Dick onto his back. "Hey!"

"Mhm?" Dick's eyes played at opening. "Ugh, what?"

"20 grand upon turning eighteen, 20 grand aside from your currently frozen trust fund. 300 grand towards residence, if found and proven acceptable." Bruce Wayne was never one to waste words.

Blue eyes came into view as Dick listened, his face displayed confusion and a hangover. He didn't move to sit up. "Huh?"

"You were given that money because I thought it would go towards your future, not your need to self destruct. I can see I was wrong."

Dick slowly pulled himself into the sitting position with a groan. No doubt his head and neck were in agony from his little narcotic vacation. "Why are you here? You shouldn't have a key."

"Yes I should."

Another groan and Dick squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his hands. "Fuck me, I-…" He suddenly dropped his hands and franticly looked towards his nightstand.

"I already saw your crushed pills and vodka."

Dick's cheeks colored and he ducked his head. "You broke into my house. You had no right."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me!" The teenager got to his feet and began to clean up the powder and equipment. "I never gave you a key. You need to get the hell out."

Bruce followed the young man into the kitchen where Dick stood before the overflowing sink. He stared as if he hadn't expected it to be full. Finally, with a shrug, he flipped the water on and washed the powder away from the book jacket. No doubt he had more pills and this was just a display for Bruce's benefit.

"I'd like to talk to you." Bruce said

"I thought you didn't want me coming around anymore."

"I don't. Not until we figure out what's going on. My not wanting you near the others is just a protective measure. Not just for them, but for you too."

Dick hit the faucet, stopping the water flow. He turned around as he wiped his hands against the seat of his jeans. "That right?"

"Yes. I doubt you'd thank me if I let you hurt others."

"So, what then? I'm only allowed to talk to you?"

Bruce remained quiet.

"Lucky me. You're such a great conversationalist that I'll never miss the others." Dick rolled his eyes before becoming a bit more serious. "Well, you haven't yelled at me about the drugs yet, which is weird, so what is that you want?"

Bruce shrugged off his jacket and turned towards the couch. He took a seat and motioned for Dick to accompany him. "Come here, please."

There was blatant hesitation before Dick walked over. He sat on the opposite end, perched on the arm of the couch.

"You're an adult now. You get to make choices and you get to deal with the consequences."

Dick made an exasperated noise as he lazily looked away.

"I don't like your choices, but … but that's mainly because I don't understand them. I'd like you to try and tell me why you feel that these are the best options available to you." There, he'd done it. Bruce wished Alfred had been around. The butler would be proud. The two had planned what Bruce would say the night before. The billionaire felt like he'd done a pretty good job. "Dick?"

There was no second guessing the apparent surprise in Dick's face. The kid hadn't expected his guardian to EVER say something like that. "Uh… I dunno."

"You don't know?"

"I don't know."

"Well, try."

Dick tossed his head, flipping all his hair to hang to the left. It loosely covered his eyes, offering a hideout of sorts. "This is weird."

"Well, may I inquire about your cut?" Bruce jerked his head towards Dick's shoulder. "Did you stitch it?"

A hand instantly rose to cover the right shoulder and Dick flushed.

"May I see?" Bruce stood and approached. He was aware that Dick went stiff as soon as his fingers brushed the teens skin to roll the T-shirt sleeve up. Bruce unwound the tape and carefully pulled away the cotton that was soaked-through red and fused to the skin by dried blood. Once removed fresh blood rose to the surface of the gash, but not enough to cause alarm.

It was deep, Dick had cut through skin and into what little fat he had. Thus the whiteness between the blood. Yes, stitches would be best for a quicker heal and less scarring. There was some infection starting, nothing unusual or worrying, but it needed to be washed out as a preventative measure. "Why haven't you treated this?"

Dick just looked away.

"Why are you cutting yourself?" Bruce tried instead.

"I'm not-."

"Yes you are. So, why? Why are you cutting yourself? Drinking, drugs, self harm … there are better coping skills, Dick. I know you know that. Come on, let's clean this up."

Dick jerked free and shook his head. "It's fine, ok? Why are you being so weird?" It was a fair question, Bruce was being very weird. The billionaire usually didn't waste time being understanding. When it came to parenting he was more of a 'shoot first, ask questions later' kind of guy.

It was then that Bruce cell began to ring. The billionaire pulled it out and frowned. "Just a moment." He turned away, had a short conversation and then hung up. "I have to go, we'll talk later."

Dick felt relief as his guardian finally left.


"Why, Jason?! Why did you do it?" Bruce had come home upon the call from Alfred. The butler had told him that the fourteen year old beat up two other kids, going as far as even breaking a nose. He also said that Jason had made threats to the two boys, but as for the reason … No one seemed to know. The two victims swore they had just said 'hello'. If that was true or not, who knew, because Jason wasn't saying anything. "I don't care if you have some code, you tell me now."

"I know what happens when I tell you things, Bruce. You go and make me a snitch. Well, those two kids were begging for I, so I delivered."

"A snitch? What are you talking about?"

"With Dick! I shoulda never said nothing about him hitting me. You told him I flaked, that I snitched!"

Bruce paused. Oh. Figure a kid from the Alley to be more worried about that then anything else. "We can discuss that later. Why did you break your classmates nose?"

"Between me and him."

"That's just great, just great. Between you and Dick it's a shock CPS haven't beaten down my door." Bruce shook his head.

Jason doubted anyone had much to worry about. Compared to all the parents he'd ever known, Bruce was a five star resort. "Why are you so worried about Dick? He's like, the poster boy for the white, rich, teenage snob. I mean, pot? Alcohol? Scripts? Can he be any more mainstream?"

Bruce stared, speechless.

"I've done harder shit than that push over. You ever see a rich kid slummin' and you just assume it's for scripts. Cut him a break. If anything be glad he's not stealing that shit from his friends parents. He's paying for it."

The billionaire covered his face momentarily. "Goddamn, kid."

"What?!"

Bruce decided not to get into what normal should be. That was a discussion for another time. "Is it a norm for young people like Dick to hit someone offering only help?"

Jason narrowed his eyes but shrugged. "No, but he didn't do that cause he was messed up or high. You knew it then and you know it now. You've been around enough tweekers and junkies to recognize what that looks like. He'd have to be off his ass doped-up and he wasn't. No, he was sleep walking or something. I told you then and I'm telling you now."

Something terrible flickered in the back of Bruce's mind. Jason had a point. Dick was a functional alcoholic, that much he knew. But he'd always been able to tell when the kid was drunk. Functioning or not. "We're discussing you right now."

"…I kicked their asses cause I wanted to."

Bruce knew it was a lie, but he was done going in circles. If Jason wanted all the blame, fine. "You're grounded. Stay in your room unless told otherwise ... and mind your language or else."

"Is Dick gay?" The teenager blurted out the words and then looked like he regretted speaking. "Or, you know, bi?"

"What?"

"I'm just asking."

Bruce studied Jason's face for a moment and then shook his head. "I've had Dick since he was eight. That kid only thinks about girls most of the time. So, no, I don't think so." He paused thoughtfully. "But if he were, I'd be ok with it ... Why?"

Jason simply shook his head.

Bruce realized this would probably be the time to press the matter of sexual orientation further, but he'd leave that to Alfred. There were some aspects of parenting he just didn't want to handle. So, he left, closing the door behind him and felt flooded with the need to hit something. It was early still, but he decided to suit up. Anything to get away from this house and the responsibilities surrounding it.

To be continued…

1. Thanks for reading and DOUBLE thanks to those who reviewed. It helps. :)

2. Hit me up with any mistakes.

3. Jason is so much fun to write. The story was getting far too dull and emotional for me. Thank god for Jays.