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“SITREP,” the Bat growled in Dick’s ear.
Dick grunted, slowly pushing himself up to his knees as the dust settled. He chanced a look around, one arm going to wrap around ribs that protested viciously against the movement.
“Y’alright, son?” One of Gotham’s finest asked, a hand out to help him up. Dick took it gratefully and allowed the officer to pull him to his feet.
“Not my idea of a fun Friday night,” Dick joked, trying not to wheeze. He scanned their surroundings - sewer walls, sewer water, a couple rats, six GCPD officers, Jason, and Ivy’s damn plants covering every inch of the place. “How does she get this stuff to grow through walls?”
“I dunno, but it packs a hell of a punch,” one of the officers complained, rubbing at a sore muscle in her neck.
“Batman to Nightwing, Red Hood. Send SITREP, over,” Batman commanded. Dick could hear fighting through the comms.
“Gimme a damn minute,” Dick muttered, then raised his voice to order, “If you are hurt, say ‘I’.”
The word did not greet him, and he sighed in relief before turning his attention back to comms. “Nightwing to Batman, I’ve got six police officers and the Red Hood. In the Sewers, about a mile out from our last check-in. North, I think. We’re completely blocked in by ivy and blooms. No deaths and no injuries, but I think I broke a rib or three, over.”
“Copy. Sit tight. Handle problems as they arise. Keep an eye on those ribs. Check in as needed. Acknowledge, over,” the Bat growled.
“Ack, WILCO. ETA, over?” Dick asked hopefully. His show was on in an hour.
He waited patiently for the sounds of punching to stop.
“ETA, ninety-five minutes. Over. Out to you.”
An hour and a half. Dick sighed. “Acknowledged. Nightwing out.”
He smiled ruefully at the officer who’d helped him up, but he wasn’t watching him - his eyes were trained cautiously on something behind Dick. “Is your buddy okay?”
Dick pivoted on his heel, following the man’s eyes to land on-
-Jason, hacking furiously at a wall of ivy with a machete. Where did he even get a machete?
Some of the officers nearest to him were edging away nervously, still wary of the crime lord - understandable, after that killing spree he went on when he first got back.
“Ah, shit,” Dick muttered, stalking towards him. He kept a hand bracing his ribs as he picked his way through rubble and vines that tried to grab on to his ankles and trip him up. He cursed at them, heartfelt, and they cringed away.
“Hood?” Dick asked hopefully as he kicked at a particularly persistent vine. “You with me, man?”
He chanced a glance up and saw that Jason was coated in a thin layer of yellow dust, helmet off. Dick fought off the urge to cry.
“No one touch the blooms,” he called to the officers, digging in his utility belt. He swiped an alcohol wipe over his inner elbow and uncapped a syringe with his teeth, sticking himself with Ivy’s antidote. Through the cap in his teeth he muttered, “Batman, this is Nightwing, over.”
Silence for a moment, then a sharp crackle. “Nightwing, this is Batman, send, over.”
Dick recapped the syringe and tucked it in his pocket for sharps. “Red Hood is unresponsive to verbal cues and hit with Ivy’s pollen. Strain unsure. Gave myself the antidote. Approaching now. Acknowledge, over?”
An irritated, possibly worried growl echoed over comms. “Ack, maintain SITREPs, over, out to you.”
“WILCO, over, out,” Dick answered, then continued forwards and called to Jason in what he hoped was a calm voice. “Hey, little wing. You wanna stop hacking at that wall? It’s kinda making things worse.”
Jason was shivering hard, noticeable in the way his shoulders shook with every movement.
“Little wing,” Dick murmured, touching gentle fingers to the back of Jason’s worn leather jacket.
Jason whirled around, machete to Dick’s throat in split seconds. Helmet gone, he could see every inch of the agony that rippled over his brother’s face.
Dick cocked an eyebrow and put his hands up, tensing when he heard guns cock behind him.
“Weapons down,” he called. “Everything’s fine. Hood, get with it or I’m going to have to beat you up and you’re going to lose your precious reputation right here in the sewers in front of all these nice police officers. You want that? No? Well, I kinda do, but not like this so how bout you just let me-“
He pulled off his glove and crept his fingers closer to Jason’s jawline with every word, eventually landing feather-light on bare skin.
Immediately, Jason lunged at him. Dick yelped, staggering back as the full weight of Gotham’s baddest crime boss knocked him to the floor like a sack of bricks. His vision whited out when he hit the ground, ribs grinding like fire against each other and the hard stone, and he shouted out in pain.
“Ribs, little wing,” Dick hissed, high-pitched, when his vision came back. He scrabbled at Jason’s arms, trying to dislodge him, voice rising even higher in pitch with every word- “Ribs ribs ribs ribs RIBS-“
“Cold,” Jason gasped, shuddering so hard his skull knocked against Dick’s chin and made him see stars. To his credit, Jason managed to let go and start a death grip around his shoulders instead of his ribs, but his full weight was still dropped on Dick’s chest. “Cold, cold, N, I’m so cold-“
“It’s that- goddam- armor,” Dick wheezed, fighting for breath. He got his arms under Jason’s undershirt and pressed as much of his bare hands and wrists to Jason’s skin as he could. Jason only squeezed harder, struggling to get closer, and Dick yelled. “Ow, motherfucker!”
“Sorry sorry sorry,” Jason chanted, fingers twisted so hard in Dick’s suit that Dick worried he would rip it.
Dick panted raggedly, gathering all his resolve, and flipped them over. He wrestled Jason to the ground on his front, knee planted in the small of his back and one hand holding Jason’s wrists trapped behind him.
It hurt like hell, but he could breathe again. He hunched over Jason’s struggling form, free hand bracing himself on the floor by Jason’s head so he could take slow, measured breaths - letting gravity do all the dirty work of pulling air into his lungs for him until the pain subsided to minor stabbing levels instead of gunshot wound levels.
He’d had both, so he would know. He was the reigning expert, actually.
Jason keened lowly, cheek pressed into the floor, and Dick sat back carefully.
“I know,” he muttered, running his free hand through Jason’s hair. His little brother sobbed pitifully. “I know, dammit. Just- lemme catch my breath, ok? Then I’ll hug you all you want.”
Dick froze when he glanced up and remembered that they had an audience. He grinned sheepishly at the six officers staring at them in a mixture of horror, sympathy, and worry. “Fridays, amirite?”
“You okay, kid?” The older gentleman - the one who’d helped him up at the start of this whole mess - asked, eyes creased with concern.
“Oh, yeah,” Dick spit through gritted teeth as Jason tried to struggle away again. He calmed him with a hand squeezing the nape of his neck firmly, and Jason went limp. Dick didn’t let up. “So okay. Okay-est I’ve ever been, actually. Can you, ah-“
The cop knelt down beside them. “What do you need?”
“He needs warmth,” Dick explained lowly. “Human warmth. He’s just being a massive asshole about it. Not his fault, though. Help me get his jacket off? Put this on, first. Don’t inhale any of the pollen.”
The cop nodded and took Dick’s rebreather, then started working Jason’s arms out of his jacket. He squeezed Jason’s shoulder comfortingly as he went and Jason groaned lowly.
“What’s your name?” Dick asked, letting go of one hand and then the other to allow the jacket to be wrestled off of his brother and discarded in a heap.
“Sergeant Dennis Falcon,” the man said, voice a bit muffled through the rebreather.
Dick laughed. “That’s a badass name.”
“Don’t supposed I get yours?”
“Nightwing,” Dick said cheekily, helping him work at all the buckles and straps of Jason’s armor. There were a lot of them. “But most folks know that already.”
Armor finally off, Dick let go of his brother. Jason slammed into him again but Dick was ready for it this time, going limp as soon as arms wrapped around him and letting Jason move him however he wanted.
They wound up with Jason sitting with his back against one of the sewer walls, Dick in his lap with his chest pressed to Jason’s as firmly as he could without crying.
“Y’ok?” Jason asked hoarsely - he could almost pass off as completely fine, now, if it weren’t for the way he whimpered and squeezed harder every time Dick fidgeted to try and get comfortable.
Ow, Dick thought miserably as Jason’s arms tightened like steel around his ribs.
“Peachy,” he wheezed, tucking his head under Jason’s chin with a sigh. “I hate Fridays. Why does this shit always happen on Fridays?”
One of the cops snickered, a woman standing a few feet away from them with one hand resting on her holster. “You’re right; Ivy’s really got a thing for Fridays, doesn’t she?”
“Right?” Dick asked, one hand waving in a tell me about it gesture. “It’s always a Friday! Seriously, there are so many other days in the week. Hey, what’s your name?”
“Michelle,” she said easily, holding out a hand to shake. Dick tried to take it but Jason grabbed his hand with a whine and shoved it back in his hair.
“Good to meet you, Michelle,” Dick said awkwardly, obediently scratching at Jason’s scalp until his little brother groaned with delight. “I’ll probably forget that. I’m terrible with names.”
“Me too,” she said, amused, fingers tapping at the butt of her gun like a nervous habit. “It’s… Nightlight, right?”
“Hardy har,” Dick grumbled, wrapping Jason up tighter. He sighed, head resting on his brother’s collarbone. “This sucks.”
“Tell me ‘bout it,” Jason said through gritted teeth, obviously holding back from holding Dick even tighter. A shiver wracked through him as he spoke and Dick frowned.
“How long until this wears off?” Jason complained petulantly. “And when’s the old man getting here?”
“Bats said ninety-five minutes,” Dick said, checking his watch. “That was… fifteen minutes ago.”
“Well, thank god I’m not claustrophobic, or anything,” Jason grumbled into the top of Dick’s head.
Dick winced. Right. “I can check if anyone else is closer. Red Robin might be free.”
“Ooh, bring the kid I tried to kill in a pit-induced rage into a dark, enclosed environment with me while I can’t defend myself,” Jason said sourly. “Real good plan, Dickwing.”
Dick rolled his eyes. “Well who would you like me to call, your highness? You’ll be mad no matter who shows up.”
Jason paused. Hopefully, he said, “Big Blue?”
“Of course,” Dick grumbled, squirming one hand out of where it was pinned to his side to tap his comm open to a private channel. He should have known. “Nightwing to Superman.”
“Supes here, go ahead,” Clark answered easily.
“In a bit of a pickle,” Dick admitted. “You busy?”
“Depends on the pickle,” Clark said, a rush of air from his comm indicating that he was already donning his suit. “I was trying to take today off from the League. Fridays, you know.”
Dick snorted. “Tell me about it. Listen, Hood’s been hit with cuddle pollen. I’ve got broken ribs and I’m scared they’ll puncture a lung if he keeps squeezing me to death.”
“Am not,” Jason muttered.
“Are too,” Dick shot back. Then, to Clark, “Anyway. Bats said he wouldn’t be able to come for another hour or so and you were Hood’s next choice.”
“He’s my first choice,” Jason huffed. “Why would I want the Bat to save me if I could have Big Blue? I’ve been saved by the Bat enough, it’s just getting sad.”
“It’s because he lovessss youuuu,” Dick said to Clark in a sing-song.
“I have a reputation,” Jason hissed.
Clark laughed, already flying if the sound of wind was any indication. “I’ll be there in a second, son. No way am I turning my nose up at a Hood hug.”
“You’re the best, Uncle Kal,” Dick said gratefully. “We’re in the Sewers - probably somewhere near that ugly ass Wayne building, if I had to guess. We’re blocked in by Ivy’s vines, so keep your rebreather on.”
“Way ahead of you,” Clark assured. “Be there in five, Supes out.”
Dick smiled distantly and switch comm lines again. “Batman, this is Nightwing, over.”
“Nightwing, this is Batman, send, over,” came the answer.
“Just contacted Superman, he should be here in five,” Dick explained. “I’ll have him bring us back to the Cave, over.”
“Copy,” the Bat said - and was that a touch of relief in his voice? “Hood okay, over?”
“Been better, been worse,” Jason groaned - apparently Bruce was in his ear, too. “Ready to get the fuck out of here.”
Bruce chuckled lowly. “Sorry I can’t come quicker - Ivy’s still causing a ruckus. Robin’s been hit as well, sent him home in the Batmobile. Take care of him when you get home, over, out to you.”
“Ack, WILCO, over, out,” Dick sighed. “Poor little bird.”
“He’ll be fine,” Jason rasped, chest rumbling under Dick’s ear. “We’ll be home in no time. Big Blue’ll show up with his stupid over powered laser eyes and blast this shit to high heaven.”
Dick snorted, picking his head up to address the GCPD officers. “Superman’s on his way, folks. The Bat’s still taking care of Ivy, but Supes was taking the night off, apparently.”
“Oh, good,” one of them said ruefully. “I’m starving. Hey, anyone wanna get burgers after this?”
Some of the other officers open their mouths to reply but a beam of red split through the wall of ivy and cut them off.
Clark stepped through, smiling brilliantly behind his rebreather as he burned the rest of the wall away to make a gap for them. “Someone say burgers?”
“Kal,” Dick gasped, relieved. He started struggling away from Jason, ready to be able to breathe properly again. “Get this asshole off me.”
“Ope,” Clark said, hurrying forward to pick Jason up by the armpits. The man latched onto him immediately, arms around Clark’s neck and legs wrapped around his waist like a koala. Clark chuckled and slung him around to his back like he weighed nothing, situating the cape to hide him from view as best as possible.
Dick pulled himself to his feet, taking slow breaths and gingerly prodding at his ribs. “Ow.”
Clark scanned him with a critical gaze. “Three? Really? How do you even break three ribs fighting Ivy?”
“She threw me through a brick wall,” Dick muttered angrily, hobbling towards the exit after the GCPD that was filing out.
“Two brick walls, actually,” Jason piped up. Then, with a touch of pride, “She did it to me, too, Uncle Kal, and I’m completely fine.”
Dick wordlessly tasered him in the side with two fingers as he walked past and Jason yelped
“Be nice to your brother,” Clark reprimanded lightheartedly, shaking his head as he brought up the rear of the pack behind Dick and the GCPD. “What would your father say?”
“Well, one of ‘em’s dead and the other is 70% absentee,” Dick shot back. “So I’m not sure.”
Clark sighed, clearing the sewer in one hop and turning back to hold a hand to help Dick up. Dick placed his hand in Clark’s, allowing himself to be half-dragged to the surface. Wayne Tower greeted him and he pointed at it triumphantly. “See! I knew it. Directional skills on point.”
“Come on,” Clark laughed, poking him in the back. “Back to the cave, or the Bat’ll kill me.”
Dick waved a cheery good-bye to the GCPD officers, who waved back with a chorus of thank you’s before disappearing into the Gotham gloom.
Dick allowed himself to be picked up and held to Clark’s front, and the man flew them back to the cave in record time.
Dick stumbled off, popping his ears with a yawn, and made a beeline for the showers. “C’mon. We gotta get Jason in decontamination or he’ll infect everyone in the house. You and me too, Clark.”
“‘You and I’,” Jason corrected, sulking.
Dick paused. “No, it’s ‘you and me’. Cause we gotta get me in the de-con shower, we don’t gotta get I in the de-con shower. So, Clark and me.”
“Whatever,” Jason groaned, face in the back of Clark’s neck. “Just- get this shit off me so I can go to bed.”
A little blur of black and red colors slammed into Dick before he could answer, shivering violently.
“Grayson,” Damian complained through chattering teeth. “I am freezing.”
Dick wheezed as his ribs ground, carefully patting Damian on the back. “Yep, I know, kiddo. Can you do me a favor and go hug Uncle Clark? I broke a couple ribs.”
Silence, for a long moment. Then- “I… cannot let go.”
Dick sighed. Of course not. “Where’s Alfred?”
“Grandfather did not want to become infected,” Damian sulked.
“Right,” Dick sighed again, slowly waddling them towards the showers. “C’mon, let’s jump in the de-con and wash this shit off.”
“I have already showered,” Damian protested, but his petulant tone was thrown off by the way he buried his face in Dick’s belly.
“Well, I haven’t, and you won’t let go of me,” Dick explained. He got them to the showers and shuffled them in, then hit the de-con button.
Damian howled when the cold water hit his skin, arms only tightening around Dick’s waist.
“Sorry sorry sorry,” Dick chanted, scrubbing at his own hair and shoulders and chest, then Damian’s for good measure. “I know, it’s cold, I know.”
“No!” Damian shouted when Dick pushed him away for a moment so he could scrub all the spots that were previously blocked by Damian’s form. The kid keened loudly, arms folding over his stomach like something in there hurt.
“Yikes,” Clark muttered, still with Jason attached to his back as they waited for their turn. “I do not envy you guys this.”
“Keep your rebreather on if you wanna stay that way,” Dick muttered. He got his and Damian’s suits off until they were both just in their boxers, then picked the kid up with a pained grunt and stepped out of the de-con. “All yours. Both of you get down to your boxers - it’s all over your suit too, Clark - and scrub yourselves thoroughly. We don’t wanna track that shit in the house. Jason can tell you where spare clothes and stuff are. We’ll meet you up in Bruce’s room when you’re done, okay? C’mon, Dami.”
“Should I give him an antidote?” Clark asked.
“Only works before the symptoms start,” Dick said with a shrug.
Clark nodded and pulled his cape off, then swung Jason back around to his front. Dick stuck around just long enough to make sure he was following orders before making a beeline for the lockers. He ruthlessly shoved Damian into one of Bruce’s hoodies, smiling fondly when the kid ended up all but swimming in it.
“These are not my clothes,” Damian hissed, gluing himself right back to Dick’s front. “Father will be-“
“Bah, Bruce’ll be fine,” Dick said, ruffling the kid’s hair. He picked him up, situated him in a way that hurt his ribs the least as he made his way up the stairs. “C’mon, let’s go lay down so we can give my ribs a break.”
“…I am sorry,” Damian muttered quietly. “I do not wish… if I could let go, I-“
“Not your fault, pipsqueak,” Dick said. He put a soothing hand on the back of Damian’s neck, scuffing him, and rested his chin on the kid’s wet hair with a sigh. A thought came to him and he cocked his head. “Hey. You’ve never been hit with this, have you?”
Damian’s silence was answer enough. Dick hugged him tighter. “Sorry it took us so long to get back to you. How long were you here alone?”
“Hours,” Damian whined.
Dick smiled. “Yeah, it can feel like that, sometimes.”
They passed Alfred, making tea and scones in the kitchen.
“Taking him to B’s room,” Dick stage-whispered.
Alfred smiled at them fondly and attacked their heads with a clean dish towel until there was less water dripping down their necks. “And, Master Jason…?”
“In the de-con with Uncle Clark,” Dick explained, shaking his head out like a dog to dispel the last droplets. “I told them to meet us in Bruce’s room. I bet Clark’s gonna get hit with a little pollen too - he’s never dealt with it before. And I can’t get the antidote syringe through his skin.”
“Maybe he will surprise you.”
Dick cocked an eyebrow. “Have we ever been that lucky, Alfred?”
Alfred chuckled and shooed them off. “Never, I dare say. I will deliver hot tea and scones shortly. Has Master Bruce given an estimate as to when he will return?”
“‘Bout half an hour,” Dick admitted. “Send him up when he gets home, will you? Don’t even let him on the bat computer- if Clark gets hit I’m not gonna be the one stuck cuddling with him. Ribs, y’know.”
“Of course,” Alfred said sincerely, then waved them away for good.
Dick climbed the steps to Bruce’s room slowly, taking careful steps so as to not hit the creaky floor boards and wake anyone else who might have been around.
Bruce’s room was the largest, with one of those massive, fancy orthopedic gel-cooling mattresses that could fit well over five people. Dick pulled the covers back and gingerly slipped in, situating Damian so his arm wouldn’t fall asleep under Dick’s side.
“Alright?” Dick asked, brushing a feather-light kiss over the kid’s hair.
Damian scowled at his collarbones. “I do not appreciate the sensation from Ms. Ivy’s blooms.”
Dick laughed aloud, squeezing the kid affectionately. “No one does. Hey, you wanna pick a movie while we wait for the others?”
Damian glowered. “…may we watch The Princess Bride?”
“Aw, you little romantic,” Dick teased, reaching for the remote. “Of course we can, pipsqueak.”
He hit play on the movie once he found it and hugged Damian as close as he could stand, laying basically on top of the kid until Damian’s shivers abated.
“Love you, kiddo,” Dick mumbled. Damian grunted, dismissive.
Clark appeared in a gust of wind, wearing one of Bruce’s ratty old hoodies with Jason held to his chest and looking frazzled.
“I-“ the meta said, blinking. “Feel… really cold? And shivery? And I’m having a hard time putting Jason down?”
Dick sighed. “Did you take your rebreather off in the shower?”
“I told him not to,” Jason mumbled sullenly, face forcibly held to Clark’s chest. “Swear to god.”
Dick rolled his eyes. “You got hit with the pollen, Big Blue. Just- lay down and cuddle Jason until Bruce gets here, okay? Try not to… squish him like a bug, or something.”
“I wouldn’t,” Clark said, horrified. “Would I? Could this make me do that?”
“NO, no,” Dick rushed to say. “Sorry, that was a bad joke. It’s just cuddle pollen, makes you crave human warmth or else things start to hurt like hell. You’ll both be fine. I just, y’know. Figured you’d rather hug Bruce.”
“I kinda wanna hug all of you right now,” Clark admitted, sitting with his back to the headrest and eyeing Dick and Damian nervously. “Are you warm enough, Damian? Dick, is he warm enough?”
“Great idea,” Dick said, happily shoving his littlest brother over to Clark’s waiting arms. Clark hugged him immediately, smothering both him and Jason to his chest. Dick finally took a big, deep breath without someone strangling his ribs to death and rolled off the bed. “I’m gonna go get Tim. Tim for Jason, Damian for me, Bruce for Clark since they’re- y’know, together. Perfect, perfect, we’re on a roll, guys. Okay. Be right back.”
He made his way to Tim’s room a couple doors down, beating on the door until it opened and revealed a grumpy, half-asleep Tim Drake.
“What,” he snapped.
“Cuddle pollen,” Dick said by way of explanation, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
Tim groaned, dropping the blanket that was around his shoulders and staggering down the hallway. “B’s room?”
“Yup,” Dick said, following. “Careful, though - Clark got hit too and I’m scared he’ll break bones. We’ll hand him off to B once he gets home.”
“ETA?” Tim mumbled sleepily, scrubbing at his eye with the palm of his hand.
“‘Bout twenty-five minutes,” Dick said, holding the door to Bruce’s room open for him. “You get Jason, I get Damian, and Clark gets Bruce.”
“Just shove me at whoever,” Tim muttered, falling face-first on the bed and going back to snoring in seconds.
Dick snorted, manhandling him under the covers and slipping in next to him.
“What if I don’t wanna cuddle the Replacement?” Jason growled, a whine touching the edge of his voice.
“Too bad,” Dick said shortly. “Uncle Clark? How about you give me Damian, and you can hang on to Jason till Bruce gets here.”
“Don’t wanna,” Clark said mulishly.
“You’re squishing him,” Dick said, amused, slowly extracting Damian from his hold. Damian latched onto him again - arms around his shoulders, little legs squeezing his waist. Clark huffed at the loss and cuddled Jason closer.
Damian mumbled something about dignity and honor and went back to watching the movie.
Bruce showed up not much later, hair still wet from the de-con shower and wearing a thin t-shirt with the Iron Man symbol on it - a gag gift from Tim back in the day. He took in the scene unfolding on his bed with a critical eye, eventually landing on Dick.
“Everyone okay?” He asked quietly.
“Fine,” Dick sighed. “Get Jason away from Clark before someone starts biting someone.”
“How’re your ribs?” Bruce asked, carefully shoving Jason over to Tim and letting Clark reel him in.
“Sorry,” Clark said, tense, teeth grit. Bruce patted him on the shoulder consolingly and kissed his cheek.
“Fine,” Dick said - mostly true. “That’s why I have Damian and not Jason.”
“Take anything for it?”
“Not yet.”
Bruce sighed, dug around blindly in his nightstand until he came out with a bottle of painkillers. He tossed them to Dick, who caught it effortlessly. “Take one of those every 4-6 hours. Don’t take anything else with it.”
“Thanks,” Dick said, popping one in his mouth and dry swallowing. “Are these the sleepy kind or the nausea kind?”
“Sleepy kind,” Bruce said. A shiver went down his spine and he curled closer to Clark. “Clark- did you get all the pollen off?”
“I tried,” Clark said sheepishly.
Bruce sighed heavily.
“Sorry,” Clark said, miserable.
“S’ok,” Bruce murmured. He wrapped his arms around Clark’s shoulders and leaned in to him. “Thanks for taking care of my boys. Sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”
“Of course,” Clark said. He managed to get a hand off of Bruce and lay it on Jason’s shoulder, reeling both him and Tim in closer. Dick happily followed suit until Damian’s back was pressed to Jason’s. Clark smiled down at them fondly. “They’re my kids too.”