WARNING: This chapter contains vulgar language and conversation. It includes drugs, rape aftermath, and mentions cutting.

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

Just One More Taste (Against) AU

By: Cas

Beta'd By: Leradomi


Chapter Six:

Dick awoke to someone calling his name. He jerked to a sitting position, confused as to how someone was in his apartment. He'd changed the locks! There was utter disorientation as he tried to grasp where he was.

Oh.

He was home.

"Dickhead!" Jason called again from the doorway. The kid was dressed for the day, but not in his school uniform. Just jeans, bare feet and t-shirt with a logo Dick didn't recognize. "I'm supposed to wake you up for breakfast. And fair warning, you're going to hate it."

"What? Why?" Dick collapsed back into the clean sheets and struggled to remember how he'd gotten here. This wasn't good. Groaning, Dick ran his hands over his face and into his hair. He wanted to inquire as to what had happened, but didn't like the idea of admitting he'd blacked out.

Jason was talking again. "Pretty sure it's about yesterday. Bruce said I'm supposed to make you get up. I had my breakfast early so I wouldn't have to witness the upcoming shit storm."

"Oh, great." Dick groaned. "Is it Saturday?"

"Wednesday."

"Then why aren't you in your school uniform?"

"Expelled." Jason said with pride.

"Shit, kid – can't imagine that's something to brag about."

Jason simply lifted his shoulders. "At least it got me out of the re-election party Bruce is holding here this weekend."

"Probably got you out of Robin duty too."

"That won't last. With the JLA refusing to let Nightwing operate, Bruce'll need my help. You'll see." Jason smugly turned and left Dick thinking how flawed that logic was.

There was no point hiding from it. Bruce would track him down one way or another. Dick forced himself out of bed and changed into the jeans he'd worn yesterday. He dug through his old chest of drawers and found a long sleeve shirt. It was that or a jacket, and he didn't want anyone seeing his cuts.

As he pulled off his hoodie his eyes widened with surprise. A few stitches decorated his arms, none of which he recalled receiving.

Fuck. That meant Bruce knew. 'Shit!'

Well, nothing to do about it now. He made his way downstairs, heart picking up pace the closer he got to the kitchen.

Upon entering the dining room, Dick found Bruce seated with a cup of coffee and a paper. "Morning." Dick offered, taking a seat a few chairs away.

Bruce nodded, still focused on the news. No motion was made to speak. So, instead they sat in an uneasy silence.

Alfred suddenly appeared and placed a bowl of fruit and some juice in front of Dick. "Good to see you, young sir."

"Heya, Alfie." Dick returned, trying to sound at ease. He wished the butler would stay, but knew better. Alfred didn't intervene when it came to lectures.

It wasn't till the butler exited the kitchen that Bruce lowered his paper and studied Dick.

"Is this the part where I get a lecture? Cause, you know, I'm really sorry. I was an idiot and just maybe drank too much is all."

"Is that so," Bruce questioned dryly. "Just drank a little too much?"

The Romani ducked his head and didn't reply.

"You've been gracing the news lately. Did you know that?"

"Uh, no." The teen felt his face growing warmer.

Bruce pulled out his phone and typed something in. He then slid it down the table towards Dick. "Would you like to see?"

No, Dick didn't want to see, but he was pretty sure this was one of those rhetorical questions. Picking up the phone he found a picture of Bruce helping him down the stairs from his loft, and another of him being helped into the car. Dick didn't remember either. Well, at least Bruce had the sense to put a hat and hood over Dick's head, somewhat protecting his identity.

The article was painful to read though it was mostly assumptions.

"You've become quite the celebrity lately. There was even one about your DUI."

"What? But I don't even have that on my record anymore!"

Bruce motioned for his phone back. "Richard, I'm going to talk now, and you're going to listen. When I'm done, I'd like you to tell me what's going on. Understood?"

Fuck. This was going to be horrible. Jason hadn't been kidding. Dick slowly shrugged, unable to do much else. He felt his body going numb at the prospect of this conversation.

"If you keep doing what you've been doing, you're going to wind up dead or killing someone."

"I don't drink and dri-."

"Stop. I'm talking now." Bruce interrupted, oddly calm. "Drugs, drinking, and self harm where you don't even bother to take care of your wounds? It's idiotic. Do you remember me coming to your apartment yesterday?"

Slowly, Dick shook his head. There was no point lying about it. "No..."

"The last few times I've seen you, you've either been drunk or high or both. When I found you yesterday, I thought you'd OD'd. You had allergy medication out with your usual pain pills and liquor. A stupid, dangerous, idiotic combination that could easily have killed you. You were so wasted you couldn't even dress yourself, Dick. That's bad." Bruce didn't wait for an answer. "You don't remember crying either? Telling me you're punishing yourself, that you're sorry. You said you hated yourself, that you couldn't stand yourself anymore. You kept apologizing again and again."

Dick childishly drew his hands to his ears, regret and shame rushing through him. He closed his eyes and pleaded. "Stop, ok? Just stop. I don't need to hear this."

He was aware of movement, and realized Bruce was sitting down in the chair beside him. Hands pulled his arms down, forcing him to listen.

"Open your eyes," Bruce urged.

Dick didn't know why he obeyed. Eyes now open, he refused to look at his guardian.

"I'd like to know why you're so sorry. I'd like to know what it is that is so hard to face that you have to drink and snort yourself into oblivion. I realize you've struggled with drugs before, but it was never like this. I mean, you've graduated from bad choices to full blown mental illness. Ok?"

"M'not mentally ill." Dick mumbled, looking in the opposite direction.

"Dick, with what you've been doing, yeah, you are suffering from mental illness. You're not thinking correctly, and it's nothing to be ashamed of." As soon as Bruce said that, Dick broke into unexpected tears of relief. This was something he had needed to hear.

Yes, Dick understood that the things he did were stupid. There were times his actions scared him, but stopping seemed impossible. Heck, it was impossible, or so he told himself. Living with a nonstop train of thoughts was more frightening than living a life where he didn't feel.

Dick took big swallows of air, calming himself and trying to get back under control. "Sorry, uh, sorry. Stupid. Don't know why I did that," he muttered ruefully.

Bruce waited patiently, carefully observing. "It's not stupid, chum."

"Please don't call me that right now." Dick managed, using his thumb to remove the moisture from below his eyes. He knew if Bruce kept his nickname up he'd probably wind up dissolving into another fit of tears, and he was far too old for that shit.

"Ok. Well, now comes the part where you tell me what's really going on. The part where you explain why you hate yourself so much, and why you don't even bother with stitches or washing your cuts."

There was no way Dick could do that. There wasn't even the remotest possibility that he could tell the man who'd raised him these past ten years, the truth. It was so far removed. It was too scary. It was humiliating and disgusting. Even though Dick was perfectly aware that Bruce wouldn't hurt him, or make him feel bad. "I don't know."

"We both know that's not true."

"I really don't, ok? I just like getting high is all. It feels good." Dick felt so tired. Exhausted. He focused on the bowl of fruit, tracing a finger around the rim.

Bruce waited for a good minute before speaking. Almost as if he hoped Dick would say more. "Well, I've been thinking about it. I've trained you for a lot of situations."

Dick nodded, aware his body was shivering as his emotions ran wild.

"I was in the cave last night, talking with Jason. He had a question for me regarding you. You wanna know what he-."

"NO!" Dick suddenly exclaimed, gladly interrupting. "No, I don't." He moved to get up, but Bruce put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down.

"He asked me if you'd ever been sexually assaulted."

Blood turned to ice and Dick began talking without realizing it. "Well, he's an idiot. Of course I haven't. I mean, not seriously. You're always going to encounter a few weirdos out there, but you know that as well as I do. If Jay is worried about something happening to him in the field, maybe he shouldn't be doing this. I'm not mad at him or anything, he just shouldn't ask stuff like that … that's all. Because I haven't." He offered a nervous laugh that sounded as fake as his monologue.

As Bruce listened the more his expression became impossible to read. He ran a hand down his face as he slowly exhaled. Suddenly he reached out and gently grasped the teenagers upper arm. Aware there was a possibility Dick would leave. "WhoDick? Who and when?"

"I don't know what you're going on about, ok? Just because Jason asked a stupid question, doesn't make it true. I'm done talking, so let me go!" He tried to jerk away. "LET ME THE FUCK GO! You're being a fucking asshole, Bruce!"

Any other day Dick would have been reprimanded for the accusation. So it was a relief when Bruce simply released his grip. Dick flew to his feet and for a few seconds he just stared at his mentor. "You guys don't know what you're talking about. Got it? You just make up shit so you won't have to face the fact that I'm a fuck-up."

Bruce's steeled expression only managed to piss Dick off all the more.

"You should have left me at the loft," accused Dick as he took his leave. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard Jason's door swing open. All his raw fear and anger found its target. He sped up, watching as the fourteen year old approached him, earbuds in, and a friendly smile.

Dick waited until he was close enough and shoved a hand into the boys chest. He ripped out the headphones then, forcing Jason to listen. "Hey, next time you wanna know something about me, ask me! Don't go running around putting ideas in people's heads!"

Jason knocked Dick's hand away as it came back for another shove. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Or what?! What could you possibly do?"

"What's wrong with you?"

Oh, Dick had enough material to go for days. "You're my problem. You've always been my problem! You move in here and act like you belong, but you don't. You fuck everything up. Just cause Bruce adopted you, doesn't make you my family. I'm not your family! So stay outta my business and don't talk about me ever again."

"Get outta my face, fucktwat," Jason warned, his patience drained. "I don't care how pathetic you are. I don't care if you're fragile and we all need to tip toe around you, I'll put you on your ass."

A deep voice bellowed from the bottom of the stairs. "What's going on?"

Dick ignored Bruce and shoved Jason, hard, knocking him against the wall before passing. He was about to his bedroom when he heard Jason coming up fast behind him. Dick swung around neatly and side stepped, causing Jason to pitch forward and tumble to the ground. Then, before Jason could get back up, Dick used a foot to push him back down.

"Please don't," Dick requested, his sarcastic undertone obvious.

Jason glared up at the eighteen year old and snaked out a hand, trying to grab the Romani's ankle, which Dick easily avoided. Bruce was now storming towards them, and Jason figured if he couldn't physically hurt Dick, he could verbally do so. "Tell me, did the guy prepare you or just shove it in and let you tear?!"

Dick's face instantly grew dark while his eyes became dull. He dropped down, grabbed Jason's shirt and shoved their faces together. "You-."

Jason got in a hard, sharp slap to Dick's right ear. He knew from experience that it hurt.

"Shit." Dick had time to utter the word before he gasped as someone hauled him off the younger figure. "Hey!" He was physically dragged a few feet from Jason before Bruce forcibly pushed him against the wall.

"Don't move." The billionaire snarled, holding Dick back with a hand against the skinny chest.

Jason was getting to his feet, glaring at the two older figures. "I could have taken the crying pussy."

"FUCK YOU!"Dick actually screamed the words. He wasn't sure if they were directed at Jason or Bruce or himself. All he knew was his anger had absorbed his fear, and for that he was thankful. Yet, the trouble was that he hadn't considered his actions through anyone's eyes but his own. To him, his response was appropriate, it made sense, but to everyone else? To everyone else his actions proved he was teetering towards total instability.

"E-NOUGH! Goddamn, Dick!" Bruce's ears were ringing. "Both of you, get to your rooms! It's done. It's over." With his free he gave Jason a little shove towards the open door located down and across the hall. The teen retreated, but not without first offering Dick a vulgar gesture.

"Go to hell," Dick snarled.

Jason slammed his door in reply.

"When I say it's over, I mean it's over. Understand?" A pause was taken as Bruce studied the figure before him. His dark eyebrows drew together in contemplation. "This isn't you."

Dick fumed at the command, question and observation. Once again fear flickered in warning, and he forced his jaw to remain taut.

"You've got nothing to say?"

"Whatever, I'm outta here."He knocked away Bruce's now relaxed hand.

"No, you are not. I have both your phone and your wallet. I'm not letting you go back to your pathetic drug den. So if you want to be alone, you've got a whole bedroom to do just that." Bruce instructed. "And don't even try the 'I'm an adult' rant. I'm not hearing it."

"You can't-."

"Yes. I can."

Dick's eyes burned with uncharacteristic hate. He made a disgruntled noise and turned, going into his room. When he slammed the door, it was hard enough that the pictures on the walls rattled.

Bruce sighed and walked to Jason's room. He opened without knocking and stepped inside. "Don't you think that maybe, just once, you could ignore someone when they're trying to bait you? First school and now this?"

"Dick was the one who started it!"

"You knew perfectly well he and I were having a serious conversation this morning. I'm not excusing his behavior, but at times like these, try and be the bigger person!"

"He's older!"

"I am aware. I'm just as mad at him. But you seem to have the ability to make any situation completely destruct."

Jason crossed his arms, offended. "Of course you take his side. He's the perfect fucking kid in your eyes. Just because you raised him don't make him a good person!"

"I'm not playing this game. You're both to blame. And if I ever hear you say something like what you said to Dick out there, Robin will be benched for a year...and watch your language!"Bruce rebuked before taking his leave.

"Augh!" Jason kicked at the air in a fit of pique as the door clicked shut. This was so unfair! Bruce treated Dick like he was his flesh and blood, his pride and joy. Jason had thought the mothers at his school were bad, but Bruce was just as pathetic. He coddled Dick. It was no wonder the older teen was such a big crybaby.

Everything would always take a backseat to the goddamn eighteen year old across the hall.

Dick had started it!

DICK HAD FUCKING STARTED IT!

Intervals of hot and cold raced through his body as Jason paced back and forth. He hoped Bruce forced Dick into rehab. He hoped Dick was stuck there for months, surrounded by mental patients and annoying assholes. He hoped the food was shit and the beds were worse.

God, he hoped.

It took about fifteen minutes for his anger to alleviate. And when it did his head felt fuzzy and he was tired. But hey, he hadn't broken anything. That, at least, was an improvement.


Dick refused to leave his room, locking his door for good measure. He burrowed under his covers and stayed there. Why? 'Cause he was scared shitless. He kept telling himself that he'd convinced Bruce it hadn't been sexual assault. Though, no matter how many times he tried, something told him it wasn't true.

Bruce knew.

Jason knew.

Alfred knew.

His stomach was a mess and his head not much better. He'd thrown up three times already. It was mostly just the water he continued to guzzle from the bathroom faucet. He knew it wasn't withdrawal making him sick, no it was the panic. The panic and the unwanted flashes of memory that assaulted his thoughts at random.

Bruce was the Batman, but he couldn't – he wouldn't be able to prove it. Would he? What if he did? What if he went mental and got someone to talk?

'Who is going to talk?' Dick clapped his ears shut at the memory of being pinned against the bed, too confused to fight back. Echoes of laughter. It had started out as a joke, just a joke... "SHUT UP!" He hadn't meant to yell, but his voice pulled him back to reality.

He needed to drink or get high. This was impossible otherwise.

Sneaking out his window was no longer an option. The upper stories all had the windows redone so that they wouldn't open fully. Apparently another thing he had to thank Jason for. So, Dick grabbed one of his old military cut jackets and a pair of broken-in shoes. He quietly unlocked the door and tipped away, skipping the steps he knew creaked.

He was about to the entrance hall when a throat cleared behind him. Swinging around, he found Alfred. The butler had his arms crossed and a scowl at play.

"Just wanted some fresh air," Dick lied with an innocent smile.

"Ah, I see, and you are creeping downstairs just to take this fabled walk because?"

"Cause I didn't want to run into anyone?"

"Very well, let me accompany on you this stroll. It sounds absolutely delightful," Alfred walked past the teen and opened one of the closets, pulling out his jacket. The same long one he wore for just about everything. "Come along."

Dick shoved his hands in his pockets and followed the butler outdoors. They began to go down the lane in shared silence. Though, halfway to the gate, Alfred spoke.

"You were trying to go back to your place?"

"No." Dick lied.

"You do know I am aware of what has been happening with you. Even though you've neglected calling as of late. Master Bruce usually keeps me informed, and of course I overheard your screaming match with Master Jason."

Dick flushed at that despite the cool air. "Sorry."

"Perhaps it's Master Jason who deserves your apology?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Will you talk to me, Dick? Please?" The voice was lined with sadness. It was the kind that usually got Dick to open up and spill everything, but not this time. Alfred watched as Dick just ducked his head lower. "I heard about the cutting. Thank you for letting Master Bruce stitch you up."

A shrug.

"It makes us feel better. We worry."

"Everything's all good, Alfred. I just need to stop with drugs and stuff. That's all. See, acceptance, first step." He tossed his head with a famous smile.

The butler did not return the gesture. They were drawing near the gate, and both automatically turned around, headed back for the house. "You were leaving to go back to your place, but you'll be angry when I inform you that is where your deeply concerned guardian is returning from."

Dick froze, his blood going cold before a burning rage began to bubble up. "What?!"

"Master Bruce has removing all illegal substances and alcohol from the premises. He also found texts to your drug supplier yesterday, and has informed Commissioner Gordon. Needless to say, you won't be purchasing anything else from that young man." Alfred stopped, aware that Dick wasn't moving. There was no concern in his face as he observed Dick, only determination.

"That son of a bitch! He has no right, this is MY life! How dare that controlling asshole go through my phone and my house! He-."

"Shame on you!" Alfred suddenly snapped. He'd known Dick would lose his temper, and he felt it was time to be the bad cop."He has every right! You are his child and you are drowning! He's doing everything he can to save you!"

Dick was chided into silence, but he remained glaring. His hands were balled into tight fists.

"We have tried to let you figure things out. We have tried to give you space, but you've done nothing to prove that you're capable of sustaining yourself. You may be a legal adult, but it's time to realize that something is very wrong, young man. Master Bruce– look at me Richard!" Alfred waited for the narrowed blue eyes to meet his own. "Master Bruce makes mistakes at times, and he can be unfair, but concerning this, he has actually asked myself and Dr. Thompson for help. He's asked how to approach you, how to talk to you so you don't get worse. That man is doing his best."

"He kicked me out last year!* He hit me!* And this year he's hardly been better. I tried to talk to him, but as soon as he found out I had a slip up he told me to just go home!" Dick argued. No way did he care how hard Bruce was trying. It didn't excuse the invasion of privacy.

Alfred nodded. "Yes, last year you both handled the drug situation poorly. Both of you. As he was the adult, I put a lot of blame on him, but that was then and this is now. Think about it, these past few days has he been unreasonable, or has he tried to help?"

"Whatever. I'm going back inside," Dick snapped, his tone contemptuous. He didn't want to think about whether or not Bruce had been helpful and understanding of late. All he cared about was getting back to his loft and out of this prison.

"Very well, but you are to remain in the manor. You aren't to leave."

Dick ignored him, furious. He began a slight jog back to the house, getting there before the butler. Since when did Alfred become such a jackass? Well, fine, two could play at that. Dick went into the kitchen and found the cabinet where baskets of common medication were stored. The Diphenhydramine was easy to find. It's a normal while bottle with green print. Leslie kept them well stocked, so there were two bottles. Why? Why not. Dick took one and pocketed it in his coat, shutting the cabinet back up and going to the fridge. He pulled out two bottles of Gatorade and a chilled glass bottle of coffee just as Alfred walked in.

The butler raised an eyebrow. "May I help you?"

Dick tried to ignore him, but it didn't work.

"No matter how angry you may be, I am still a person and deserve your respect."

"M'fine, sir." Dick snapped and left, jogging back upstairs to his room. He locked his door behind him and flipped his TV and Xbox on, purely for noise. Snorting Benadryl was idiotic, it burned like a mother, but orally taking a handful of pills plus a little caffeine? He could get some hallucinations going. Yeah, it was a coin toss between seeing and hearing scary shit , but Dick was willing to chance it.

Anything to stop his constant thinking and worrying.

'Yeah, this might make your paranoia worse, dumbass.' Dick opened the bottle and shook out about twenty pills. Problem was, he found himself unable to do anything more than stare at the pink capsules. 'You do this, and they find out…'

It wasn't late enough in the day that he could expect to be left alone. Not after the talk with Bruce this morning, the pathetic fight with Jason, and, of course, Alfred's declaration. Chances were that somebody was going to insist on speaking with him. If he appeared drugged when that happened things would get even worse.

He couldn't do this.

So, returning the pills to the bottle, he went to his closet and found a jacket hanging up. He slipped the bottle in the pocket and then moved the hanger so it was between all the other clothes.

Great.

Now there was just the problem of his overactive brain he had to contend with.

To be continued…

(*) From the first installment from this series Just One More Taste.

1) Thanks for reading and double thanks to ya'll who review. It's really appreciated.

2) As always, thanks to Leradomi!

3) I'm probably gonna take a bit of a hiatus. I've got some shit I need to take care of. I'll be back though, I just need some time.

Thanks to everyone who reads.