C8: Healing hands

Once she had calmed down, Cassie had asked Dick to leave her only so she could think, and he'd told her he'd wait for her to come and get him in his room.

He'd done as she bid and when he arrived back in his room, found a pair of clean, silky pyjamas on the bed and a small first aid kit.

Alfred had thought of everything (as usual), but Dick quickly made his way downstairs and grabbed the 'non-necessities'.

He grabbed a tray full of fruit and whipped up hot chocolate, just like his mother used to make to cheer up himself and his brother. Marshmallows being a must. He just hoped it would work on Cassie.

He moved to his room and waited as she said, but it was only a few minutes before she tentatively knocked on his door.

When he answered, he ushered her back to her own room.

"Come on, we'll get you comfy," he grabbed the tray and gestured with his head, "if you grab the kit, we can treat you in your room."

"Aren't you going to put on your silk pyjamas?" She teased but her chuckled and looked her up and down.

"I don't know if you want to be matching right now," she had obviously finished cleaning, dressing in her new attire and braided her wet hair back in a thick braid.

They went back in her room and Dick settled the tray down, Cassie sitting on the edge of her bed whilst he chose to bring a chair closer.

"Do you need a hand after your bath?"

She sighed sadly and shrugged.

"Actually, I can't have a bath. Doctor told me I'm not allowed to get soap in the wound, and it may loosen the stitches or...whatever, I wasn't really paying attention."

"Damn," he looked at her damp hair and raised an eyebrow, "so...did you wash yourself in the sink?"

"Yerp. Safest way and I had to. My hair was starting to grease more than that burger we had."

She picked at the fruit, popping a strawberry into her mouth as Dick grabbed a handful of grapes.

"So...do you need a hand? I can get Alfred if you want, he's usually the one who does first aid?"

"Oh? Do you hurt yourself a lot?"

'All the time.'

"Yeah, I always come off my bike," he thought quickly, knowing that'd be the perfect excuse.

"Well, as long as I can keep eating, I don't mind you helping. Although, promise not to accidentally get a grape in my wounds?"

"I promise," he quickly pulled the kit away from her and opened it up, "I even have gloves."

"VERY professional. You must come off your bike a lot."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

'Way to open your big fat mouth, bat boy.'

Dick put on a glove and quickly got to work. He carefully pulled off bandages, wiped, cleaned, and re-bandaged the wounds on her face and neck, chatting away as she ate and sipped on hot chocolate.

"Do you think I'm going to look like one of those cage fighters?"

"Oh yeah, very gnarly."

She laughed and arched her neck without him saying a word, giving him easier access.

"So, when you come off your bike, how long does it usually take to heal?"

"Worst case?" He thought back to his worst fights where he still bore those scars, "You'll have them close in a few weeks and a nice, silvery reminder of something that you can tell your kids one day."

She snorted.

"I think you mean, my many dogs and one cat."

He stopped where he was and realised, he needed her to remove her clothes.

"I-urm," he suddenly felt a little hot and didn't know why he was stuttering, "I need to get to your back. You need to slip your shirt down."

"Hang on."

He watched her shift about and unbutton her shirt, all the way down and turned away when he realised she was about to take it off completely.

"You-you don't have to do that, I mean, we-"

"RELAX, Master Grayson," she laughed and poked him, making him turn back around to see that she was in fact wearing a thin vest underneath, "I'm not trying to seduce you. I don't think my body will be able to handle anything more than a hug right now."

He got over himself quickly and continued to fix her up, letting her hand him snacks as they talked about schools, the circus and bits and pieces of her job. Though Cassie had to admit she already knew bits and pieces of his past, especially since his story was big in the newspapers. 'Boy Wonder' rescued by Millionaire was a popular piece.

"Tragic backstory and glorified orphan," he quoted to her as he finished up, helping her put her shirt back on, "that's all I was. A good story spawned from something awful."

She gave him one quick dry laugh.

"I get that."

He gave her a confused look, observing her features as they contorted sadly.

She put her drink down and turned to him.

"You wanted to ask me something earlier, back at my house."

He wondered if he was ready for her answer.

"Why don't you look like your parents?"

"Because they were not my biological parents. They were my foster ones."

She reached for her bag at the end of her bed, pulling it up onto her lap and digging into it. She carefully pulled out the cracked frame and handed it to him.

"Everyone has some tragedies in their lives."

He'd remembered his own pain at the loss of his mother, father, and brother. She had that same pain in her voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"...Yes, but you'll probably want to eat something. It's a long story."