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Dick prowled the halls of the Manor. He didn’t know if he was avoiding the other inhabitants (Bruce) or searching for someone (Bruce). They (Bruce) knew he was home this weekend, so it’s not like they (Bruce) couldn’t seek him out as well. It’s not like Dick has to do all the work on the relationship here. After all, he’s “still a minor” and “immature” and, what was the new one he threw out last month? Oh!
Unsteady in his sense of self.
Yeah.
Sure, Bruce. Whatever you say.
Dick huffed and scrubbed his hands across his face. He’s never been unsteady a day in his life.
Something sharp in his gut drove the air from his lungs and his legs became tangled. A yelp, and he went down.
Except he’s not the one who yelp. Groaning, Dick opened his eyes to find Jason twisted beneath him.
“Dagnabbit, Little Wing,” Dick sighed. “Why were you sneaking up on me? Don’t do that!”
“But you ran into me, Bird Brain!” Jason scowled and shoved him. “Get off. Your fat ass is crushing me.”
Dick moaned theatrically and slowly clambered to his feet.
“Oh my god, move your ancient bones faster, Dickface,” Jason groused. Dick decided he needed some extra support and used the thirteen-year-old’s face to push himself up. Jason licked his palm.
“Ew!” Dick wrinkled his nose, hiding an impulsive grin. He wiped his hand roughly on Jason’s soft curls, mussing his hair. “Gross, Jay.”
“You’re gross,” muttered the boy as he tried to fix his hair while picking up the small stack of books that had fallen in their collision. “Asshole, you bent the pages!” Jason looked up, aghast at the state of the old tome in his hands.
“Ah, shit.” Dick winced. “Sorry, Jay. Is that from the library or home?” He didn’t even choke on the last word, look at that.
“Here. It’s one of B’s mom’s old poetry books.” Small, clever fingers kept trying to gently smooth the pages.
“Hm.”
“Oh dear, what happened here?” They both turned as Alfred silently joined them. Jason silently held it up for inspection. Alfred’s fingers floated over the page as a sad smile flickered under his mustache. “Not to worry, lad. I assure you Martha did worse to many of her beloved books back in the day.”
Jason blinked, still only taking small breaths. “So. Bruce won’t be mad? I only borrowed it because I have a report due on Monday and I didn’t want to bother asking to go to the library when we have like so many books here and I didn’t think he would mind if I stayed in tonight to work on it and I didn’t expect Dick the Brick to fu— flipping run me over.” He punctuated his point with a glare at Dick.
Dick exchanged a look with Alfred, part frustration part fondness. “Dick the Brick is a new one,” he mused. “Don’t think it’s your best work, though.”
Jason huffed. Alfred smoothly cut in before he could respond. “I assure you, Master Bruce will not be upset. All the books in the library are available to the residents of the Manor. And I do believe that Mistress Martha would have preferred her grandchildren to read and use her books rather than let them collect dust.” He gently touched each of their cheeks.
Dick couldn’t help but melt into the contact, and he could see Jason soften as well. As Alfred stepped away, he called over his shoulder, “And don’t think I’m not aware of what you each owe to the swear jar.”
Chuckling, Dick waited till he rounded the corner. “Damn,” he whispered.
“Richard!”
“Sorry, Alfie!”
Jason giggled, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth to hide it.
The corner of Dick’s lips tilted up of their own accord. “So,” he started slowly, rocking back on his heels, “who are you doing your report on?”
Jason ducked his head, closing the book and offering it to Dick. “Gerard Manley Hopkins. We’re supposed to pick a poem and analyze it for rhythm and theme. I’ve flipped through this book before and liked some of what I read, so,” he shrugged, as if he didn’t care all that much, like Dick didn’t know how much his little brother loved words.
Dick carefully accepted the book and recited, “As kingfisher’s catch fire, dragonflies draw flame; as tumbled over rim in roundy wells sones ring…. I forget the next bit. It’s been awhile since I’ve read or heard Hopkins. Alf used to make me memorize poems in the summers to keep my brain busy with something. Which one were you thinking of using?”
Jason blinked and shut his jaw, the bit of fascination on his face tucked away in an instant. “Um, either The Caged Skylark or Carrion Comfort. I feel like there’s a lot about despair in there that I could write about. Can’t believe you actually remembered any of the poem, with so much brain damaged you’ve had.”
“Hey, squirt, I’ve been reciting poetry longer than you’ve been reading.” Dick mock-glared at him, jerking his head for the kid to follow.
Jason matched his pace. “Bet I know more than you.”
“Bet not.”
“Bet I do.”
“Bet I can recite more. Alf and I used to go to the Shakespeare in the Park every year. I can pull out references out the wazoo.”
“Bet I can get more than you.”
Dick grinned and held out his hand. “You’re on, Little Wing. We’ll make B judge on patrol.”
Jay smirked fiercely. “You’re going down, Big Bird.”
Dick contemplated the threat seriously for a moment. “Nah.”