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Dick only raised his eyebrows at the scene of his living room in the dark- something he could not quite decipher yet.
“Sup?” He popped the “P” on the end of the greeting and flipped on the lightswitch. “Happy First of Turkey month, by the way.”
Whoever was under the six blankets groaned like he’d been stabbed.
“Turn that off,” The voice rasped, sounding so pained that Dick cringed in sympathy. (But all the same did not comply.) “If you have any humane bone in your body, Richard, you’d turn that fucking light off.”
There was a sudden rustling in the kitchen, and Tim’s irksome face popped through the doorway. He seemed fine- tired, like always, with a bed head to match at 1 PM in the afternoon. But fine.
“You can’t see that the lights are on through all the layers.” His younger brother argued with the afflicted couch lump. “Hi, Dick!” He added, a cereal bowl clear in his hands as he entered the room. “You need more Booster Gold Flakies, Bee-Tee-Double-You.”
“I can sense the lights.” The wad of blankets steered on. “They disturb me. Dickhead is doing this on purpose. In my own home-”
“This is my place,” Dick interrupted. “Notably, it is indeed my apartment.
“In his own home! To torture and offend me. That’s what he chooses. I died- haven’t I been through enough?”
Dick processed the fact that Tim had finished off an unopened box of collectible discontinued cereal and the identity of the couch invader at the same time.
“Jason!?” He decided to focus on the latter fact, knowing that Tim could pay later- in both realms of finance and vengeance. “What the hell!? Do you have a concussion?”
He moved to turn the light off out of concern before Tim giggled. “Nope- even better. So much better.”
“I wish I had a concussion.” Jason’s whimper came out muffled. “Then, I’d still have my honor. My dignity. I’d have earnt a concussion through something on the field. I’d still recognize the person that I’m striving to be. But something about me has changed. Something irreparable.”
“I took him out for his first Halloweekend,” Tim happily filled in, plopping himself on the couch right next to their suffering brother. “And it’s ‘baby’s first hangover.’ “
“Why did I choose to do this to myself?”
Dick blinked. Then blinked again. “Jason’s twenty-two.”
“I’m so old. What have I done with my life?” The cloth pile moaned. “Or my death? Or my second life? What have I done? Just in general?”
TIm brought the cereal bowl to his lips, and took his time drinking the leftover lukewarm milk. Now that Dick could see him in the light, there indeed was body glitter all around his forehead and hands. Evidence of a night out not totally cleansed off.
“He’s not happy about it,” The boy informed him, to which he wanted to respond “Yeah, no fucking shit.”
“I don’t get it.” Dick continued. “I’ve gotten drinks with Jason before.”
Usually at Narrows bars, where a head on a swivel was a requirement and IDs discouraged. He remembered the early days of Jason being back- how it was colored by mistrust, regret, and a fair amount of animosity on both sides. Those times were still colored with bittersweetness in his minds- both the joy of his brother returned and the recurring betrayal that came with that same little boy now being a crime lord.
They were over that. But Dick had also never seen his brother so angsty, heads in a duffle bag and all.
“Sure,” The nineteen-year-old agreed easily, and put down the leaking bowl onto the wood coffee table. “You’ve gotten a drink- singular- with him before. But Jay here has never gone to a party- not at least,” He waved his hands for dramatic effect. “Until last night.”
“What about-” Dick was about to say ‘high school’ before he clenched his jaw shut. “Oh. Shit. Wait, Jason, you’d never gone to a party before?”
Suddenly, the blankets were tossed to the floor, and the two brothers were confronted with a very disgruntled Jason Todd-Wayne.
“When,” He hissed, clad in a tanktop and boxers. “Would I have gotten the chance to do that? I spent the latter half of my teens and twenties dead- and/or killing people?”
Dick bit back laughter at the green body paint still evident across his middle brother’s face. “Haven’t gotten the chance to take a shower yet, buddy?”
“I’ve taken five today,” Jason faceplanted into a couch pillow. “It’s not coming off. Why did I think it’d be a good idea to be a zombie? ”
Dick snorted at the misery before him.
“You know,” He mused and moved to the kitchen to check the time on the microwave clock. “You two are going to owe me new blankets- and anything your gross drunk painted selves touched. Also- what do you guys think of Chinese food for lunch?”
“Lunch?” Tim’s eyes widened at the concept of time and the fact that it passed on.
“I think,” Jason drawled, and looked at him with oh-so-sad eyes. “That I hate myself at this current moment and want to drown in a hole.”
“Huh,” Dick stared at the two of them. “Toast and eggs it is.”
He opened up the cupboards, and pulled out the two necessary items, keeping an ear and eye on the living room
“Jason,” Tim rubbed his eyes, not unaffected from their night out himself. “How many drinks did you have?”
“How many drinks didn’t I have, is the question.” The other man gagged. “I had those gross jello shots- I had the weird orange juice-vodka thing. I had shots of fireball, all the shit. Never again.”
“Maybe it’s the orange juice that’s making you feel like crap,” Tim offered. “Whenever i have anything with oranges, my throat closes up and I get dizzy.”
Jason was shocked into stone cold sobriety for a moment, evidenced by his immediate concern. “Tim, you do realize that means you’re allergic to oranges, right?”
“It doesn’t. Because then that would mean that I’m allergic to bananas too.”
Silence, then-
“Shit, am I allergic to bananas?”
Dick decided to scrap the eggs, with the knowledge that the two recovering drunkards wouldn’t be able to keep the rubbery texture down.
Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose as his two brothers morosely ate their toast. “Where, exactly, was this party?”
“Oh!” Tim took a bite and then answered with his mouth full. “Ives’ dorm, at Gotham U. I think, like, thirty people in this tiny apartment and it didn’t get busted till 3 am.”
“Gotham U.” Dick repeated that detail. “Tim, that’s an hour and a half away from Bludhaven.”
“I dunno, I just put your address on Uber.” Tim shrugged. He briefly went back to his toast, until it hit him. ”wait- how much did I spend on that ride?”
“I knew that that drive took way too damn long.” Jason’s forehead now rested on the counter. His recovery meal and Gatorade was forgotten. “I knew it.“
Dick patted his shoulder. “Alright, Jay-money. Just drink your electrolytes.”
“I spent 350 bucks getting here,” Tim looked up, horror clear on his face. “350 dollars, Dick.”
“And isn’t your place maybe ten minutes away from Ives?” Dick couldn’t help but rub it in. ”In walking distance?”
“This is the worst thing I’ve ever gone through.” Jason added helpfully. He looked up to illustrate his deep sorrow “I’m never going to touch alchohol again. I’m going to become a Catholic priest.”
“We’re Jewish.” Dick deadpanned, and tapped the Gatorade glass. “ And Catholic priests are required to drink the blood- wine thing, or whatever. Also - let’s hydrate.”
“What’s the other religion then?” Jason let his forehead hit the counter once more. “I’ll be Islam.”
“You’ll be the entirety of the religion of Islam, got it.” Dick sighed, before he turned back to Tim. “But Tim- don’t sweat the small fortune you just spent. Wasn’t it worth it to let Jay have his teenage dirtbag moment?”
“Young adult dirt bag.” Jason corrected. “And I feel very bad about it.”
Tim didn’t look up from his phone, brows intensely furrowed. Suddenly, the stress melted off his face , like felony charges on a rich man. “Oh good! It was Bruce’s account I charged it to. We’re in the clear, guys.”
“Cool. Awesome.” Dick said flatly. “Feel free to take a similarly priced Uber back.”
“Oh I actually think I’ll stay here for now,” Tim refused to take the hint and finished his toast. “Now what was this about Chinese food?”
Jason shot up, like divine intervention had struck him. “Tim,” He said hollowly. “We forgot.”
“Forgot what?” Dick asked as Tim paled by three shades. “What did you guys forget?”
“The window,” Tim breathed, then straightened out. He grabbed Jason by the shoulder. “Thanks for your hospitality, Dick! Yeah, let’s get that Uber- or bus or plane or Super family member- or whatever back!”
“What the hell,” Dick followed after them as the front door screeched shut. He heard them scrambling down the backstairs and knew he couldn’t catch up. “What the hell did you do to my window!?”