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Dick wakes up feeling like death warmed over. Like he hadn't slept at all, despite the sun now shining brightly outside.
He moves his head enough -cracks his eyes open enough -to see Jason still sleeping in the chair. Although, to be fair, it doesn't look like Jason is sleeping any better than Dick was; Jason's face is scrunched up a bit, cheek twitching, and the throw blanket is twisted up around his legs in a way that's almost constraining.
Which is Dick's fault, and there's no two ways around it. Not only did he make Jason deal with Dick's falling apart at the gym, then spilling his guts about his own trauma… But then Dick had made him sleep in the living room, instead of in his bed.
Of course, Jason will insist that he wanted to. And no amount of Dick pointing out that Jason didn't want to sleep in the chair, that he just wanted Dick to be happy, will make any kind of difference.
As quietly as he can, Dick hauls himself up off the couch, and makes his way out to the kitchen to start making coffee. He glances at the clock on the stove as he grabs the coffee container from the shelf, and resists the urge to sigh. It's a little past eight AM, meaning he slept for about four and a half hours. Which…
Well, it's not the least amount of sleep he's gotten in a night.
He putters around, getting the coffee set, and then unloading their gym bags from last night. Jason hates having clutter laying around, keeps his house almost ridiculously clean and tidy, in a way that would make Alfred pleased as punch.
There isn't much in the bags, obviously, but he takes the used gym clothes to the washing machine, and starts them running on a gentle cycle, to keep the noise down. But when he wanders back into the kitchen, he sees Jason standing at the counter, pouring two cups of coffee.
"Hey. Sorry, did I wake you up?" Dick asks quietly, sliding onto one of the barstools.
Jason grimaces. "No. Chair did. 'Bout the uncomfiest thing I've ever slept on, and I've slept on cardboard boxes, so. Maybe s'bout time I replace it."
He slides Dick's cup over to him, and Dick can't help the mixture of sad fondness that runs through him when he takes his first sip. Because of course Jason used his creamer, and added sugar, despite the fact that he bitches about Dick's 'princess coffee' all the time.
"Thanks, Jay," he says quietly, giving his brother a small smile. "This is great."
"Yeah, don't thank me yet, I'm makin' you eat fruit for breakfast," Jason says, shifting his shoulders a bit, before he turns and starts rooting through the fridge. "So uh… I think we should probably talk. 'Bout last night, and… the whole um…"
He trails off, and Dick can't help but sigh into his coffee.
"Can we just… not?" he asks quietly. "I just… I'm tired of talking, Little Wing. I just… I don't wanna talk, I don't wanna fight, I just… can we just have a quiet day? Just the two of us?"
Jason clearly hesitates for a few seconds before speaking. "How 'bout a compromise? I was thinkin'… I got a little vacation house upstate. Few hours drive from here. We could go spend the weekend up there. Do some grilling, some hiking… think there's still some fishing shit in the shed from the people I bought it from."
Dick blinks. Then blinks again. "I… fishing?" he says, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice at the idea of Jason fishing.
But Jason just shrugs. "Yeah. Why not? Figure it can't be that hard; put the worm on the hook, throw the hook into the water, right? Besides, it was just… It was just an example, man. I meant just… something to do, go out and be one with nature and all that shit. Get outta Gotham for a while, and just… decompress. Not super far, just a couple of hours, so we can come back if we need to. You know, just… road trip, and a weekend getaway or whatever."
"So… you wanna go to the woods and go fishing, and then talk?" Dick asks suspiciously. "Jason, I don't… I'm not trying to be mean, but absolutely none of that sounds appealing."
"Well, we can sit here and talk if you want, but we're gonna talk," Jason says, a stubborn set to his jaw. "There's no part of the equation that doesn't involve talking. And I think gettin' outside, moving around, and not just sitting here and both of us being pissy and mopey would do us a lot of good. But it's your choice: we can talk here, or we can road trip, and take a weekend vacation."
Dick sighs into his coffee. "Fine. Whatever. We can go commune with nature or whatever. When we both get eaten by a bear though, remember this was your idea."
Jason snorts a bit. "Don't worry, princess, I'll keep you safe from Koda."
As it turns out, it doesn't take them all that long to get ready. Jason says there's a store nearby where they can get groceries on their way up, and packing three days clothes takes less than twenty minutes. So within an hour, they're throwing their duffelbags into the car, and arguing about what music they're going to listen to.
Not that it matters; they talk about stupid little things until they're out of Gotham. They've just crossed the border into New York, when Jason goes quiet for a few minutes.
And normally? Dick would chatter on just to fill the silence. But at the moment, he knows what Jason's working up to. So he has zero interest in Jason talking again.
But he's knows it's coming. He knows what Jason wants to talk about -or at least, the general gist of it -and he honestly would rather swallow glass.
"So. About this whole 'if something happens to one of us, you're gonna swallow a pharmacy again' thing."
As an opener, it makes Dick wince. Because putting it like that sounds bad. And that's not even what Dick said. At least… he didn't say it like that.
"That's not… I just… I meant I couldn't take losing one of you again," he says quietly, staring out the window. "It's not like…"
He struggles for a minute, trying to figure out how to put it into words. To Jason's credit, he stays silent, watching the road, as Dick tries to pull his thoughts together, to figure out the best way to say it.
"You weren't… Jason, you… you died. You died, and I could've stopped it," he says finally. "And I know you think it wasn't my fault, or responsibility or whatever. But this?" He waves his hand towards the road. "This wasn't your responsibility either, but you're still doing it, right? And that's… You were dead. You… The Joker beat you to death. And I… I had to live with that. With knowing if I had been here, maybe things would've been different."
He takes a deep breath, trying to fight down the pang in his chest, the intrinsic ache at the thought of it. "And you can say what you want, that I didn't adopt you guys, that I'm not Bruce, but… you're all my brothers, Jason. You're all the most important things to me. And I can't… I don't want to live with that kinda pain again. It's just… It hurts."
"Yeah, Dick, I know it does. But that's… What about everybody who's left, man?" Jason asks quietly. "What happens to Tim and Damian if I die, and you off yourself, huh? Then they gotta live with losing both of us. Or if Tim dies, then Damian and I gotta live without both of you. I ain't tryin' to be mean, Dick, but… That attitude of yours? Real fuckin' selfish, not gonna lie to you.
"And I'm gonna be completely fuckin' honest with you right now, alright? So take it for what it's worth. But I don't think that you're actually bein' selfish; I think you're already depressed, and hate your life, and one of us dyin'? That'd just be your excuse. You're lookin' for reasons, and that's what you're runnin' with," he finishes quietly.
"I… what?" Dick asks, unable to keep the indignation from his voice as he sputters a bit. "That's… Jesus Christ, Jason, that's… that's fucking stupid, man, I don't… What the fuck."
Jason shrugs as he passes a car -that's doing twenty under the speed limit - on a double solid line, around a curve. "I'm not bein' mean, Dick. I mean… c'mon, if you put more than thirty seconds of thought into it, rather than just how you feel, it doesn't make any sense. You love all three of us so much, that if one of us dies, you leave the other two alone? You off yourself, and never see the other two again? That just… it doesn't make any fuckin' sense. I think you just… I'm not tryin' to make light of what happened, Dick. But you gotta…"
He sighs, scrubbing one hand through his hair, as he speeds up a bit now that they're in a more open area, and the two-lane road has widened a bit. "Normally, Dick? You're the type of guy who just keep gettin' back up. You've never had the common sense to stay down, and know when you're beat. And maybe… maybe that's what got you to this point, but you don't just… You've never once let anything stop you.
"Back when I died? You did survive it, Dick. You managed to hold everything together, you taught Tim, trained him, and all that shit. You survived it, and you came out the other side. So don't tell me you can't survive it, that you can't handle it. 'Cause you can, and you've done it before. So it's that you don't want to anymore," Jason says, and his voice is just… he says it so simply, like it's just… here it is. "So all we gotta do is figure out how to get you to want to again. That's all."
"Jason… I love you, but… you sure you had enough sleep to be driving?" Dick asks, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. "'Cause… Not gonna lie, that's stupid. You don't… You just… You don't get it."
There's a minute of silence, long enough that Dick feels some of his annoyance bleed out, as he stares over at Jason, who's staring out of the windshield at the road.
"I don't, huh?" Jason finally says, his voice laced with so many emotions Dick can't quite pick through them. "Yeah, what would I know about bein' responsible for somebody I shouldn't have been responsible for, and watchin' 'em slowly die, not able to do anything about it? 'Bout watchin' 'em rot away from the inside out, killin' themselves slowly, leavin' you behind while you're so fuckin' desperate for 'em to stay, that you'd do anything just to keep 'em around another day?"
Dick can feel his stomach trying to crawl into a little pit and die, somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. "I… Fuck, Jason, I didn't… I don't mean…"
He trails off, horrified. Because… Jesus, he hadn't really thought about that. Not that he didn't know that Jason's mom had died, that she'd overdosed on heroin, but he'd never actually stopped to think about pre-teen Jason, trying to drag his mom through one more day. How desperately Jason would've taken care of her, to keep from being all alone.
"Yeah. Yeah, that was probably 'bout the shittiest thing you've said to me so far, Dickhead," Jason says, and his voice is quiet. "'Cause I do get it. I watched my mom die over two years, so I know what it's like to lose someone you care about. I know what it's like to live with thinkin' that if you'd just tried a little bit harder, been a little bit better, maybe they'd still be around."
"I… I know you do," Dick mumbles, hating himself a bit more than he did five minutes ago. "Christ, Jason, I'm sorry, I didn't… I didn't mean that."
Jason's quiet for a second, before he sighs, shifting his shoulders around a bit before he speaks. "Yeah, I know you didn't. I know… you're hurtin' and lashin' out, and that's… I know you didn't mean it. S'fine. Just… I'm tryin' to help, you know that, right? M'not tryin' to be an asshole here, not tryin' to make you feel worse about yourself, I'm just… M'tryin' to help, Dick. And part a that is helpin' you figure out what's goin' on in your head, right? Like… You gotta admit, sometimes… what you're thinkin' doesn't make any sense."
"I… I know that," Dick says, his voice quiet. "I do, I just… I don't wanna live through that again, you know? It… it… it sucked, Jay," he says, unable to encapsulate the pain, the anger, the deep dark pit in his chest that seemed to swallow everything good and bright and happy.
"I know it did," Jason says, his eyes thankfully still on the road. "But you got through it the first time without blowin' your brains out, so… What was different?"
Dick shrugs. "I… dunno, honestly. It was just… I was mad at Bruce. I was so pissed, I didn't even… We fought about it a lot. Like… a lot," he admits quietly. "Seemed like we couldn't go more than two minutes without us sniping at each other, blaming each other. We both… we said a lot of really shitty things to each other."
"So… you were angry, and fighting with Bruce."
"Well, yeah, Jay, that's kind of what happens when your family gets brutally murdered and nothing is done about it," Dick says a little heatedly. "You get a little pissed about it."
"Yeah, but you're not angry right now. You're not blamin' Bruce right now," Jason points out, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You're depressed and blaming yourself. Somethin' changed, between then and now."
"Ten years is a long time," Dick says, for lack of anything better to say. Because… Jason's not wrong. But Dick isn't sure how to say that he changed, that he finally realized that at some point, bad luck doesn't account for everything. That he's had too much of it to not be at least partially responsible.
Because he knows what Jason will say. He'll give him the whole impassioned speech again about how sometimes people don't have to do anything wrong to have bad things happen to them.
But Dick knows that logic only stretches so far. That eventually, at some point… personal responsibility comes into play.
Every relationship Dick's ever had has come crashing down around his ears. He's had two different women do… that. He's lost more friends and teammates and family than he can count. He's never had a stable relationship -platonic or romantic -that hasn't had screaming fist fights at some point.
At some point, he's gotta look at his life, look over what's happened, and acknowledge that it's just him. His choices, his mistakes, his issues. He can't just keep blaming everything bad that happens on someone else, can't keep coming up with excuses for why it all keeps going wrong.
"Talk to me, Dick," Jason says, cutting through Dick's thoughts. "What's goin' on in that head a yours?"
Dick… hesitates. "You're not gonna like it."
"I don't like a lot things," Jason scoffs. "Doesn't mean I don't want to hear it. C'mon, tell me what you're thinkin'."
"I…" Dick takes a deep breath. "At some point… It's me, right?"
He looks over, to see Jason staring back at him, blinking slowly. "Huh?"
"No, I mean like… All this… all this shit. At some point… it's me. I'm the common denominator. I'm the constant. I'm the thing that never changes. So at some point, I gotta accept that it's… it's not everyone else in the world that has the problem. It's me. I'm the problem," he says, trying to explain it in a way that makes sense. When Jason just keeps staring at him, Dick snaps, "Eyes on the road."
Jason glances at the road for a split second, before looking back at Dick. "I uh… Dick, this is gonna sound… really, really bad. And I don't know any other way to say it. So… just remember I love you, alright? Because… Dick… That's really, really fuckin' stupid. Like… You've said a lot of stupid shit in the time I've known you. And that might just be the absolute dumbest."
"It's not stupid," Dick snaps, turning in the seat a bit, so he's facing Jason more. "It's… It's not just romantic relationships, it's… Look at me and Bruce. Me and the Titans. Hell, me and the League. I've never had a functional relationship that didn't end in screaming matches, whether it was a romantic relationship, a work relationship, or a family relationship. What's that saying? If everyone in the world has a problem with you, it's not the world that has the problem?"
It's quiet in the car for what feels like forever, but is probably only a minute or two. But that minute or two fills the silence with a tension so thick that Dick can feel himself practically choke on it. Just when he starts wondering if it'd be better to try and throw himself out of the car than to deal with it any longer, Jason finally speaks.
"You and me aren't like that," he says quietly. And where before, he couldn't be bothered to look at the road, was too busy looking at Dick, now he keeps his gaze firmly locked out the windshield. "I mean… I know we fight sometimes, but… Not like that."
Dick doesn't miss the way Jason's voice lilts up at the end a bit, turning it into almost a question. Like he's asking Dick if he views their relationship like that.
And despite how Dick's feeling, despite the ugly thing squirming around in his chest… He can't bring himself to point out that Jason wouldn't know a healthy relationship if it bit him in the ass. That Bruce has attacked Jason multiple times, has nearly killed him twice, that Bruce's pathological avoidance of emotion lead to Jason's death, and Jason still goes running whenever Bruce whistles.
That Dick was an absolute bastard to Jason when Bruce first adopted him. That Dick took his frustration at Bruce out on a thirteen year old kid, who'd been through absolute hell, and was desperate for someone to love him. That Dick took one look at Jason, and decided to be the world's biggest asshole for no other reason than that Dick was pissed at Bruce.
They'd been working their way towards something that was somewhat functional, when Jason died. But even that had been something small and tentative, after almost two years of Jason living with Bruce. And Dick will admit to it being entirely his fault, because Jason had offered nothing but a sense of hero worship, and damn near religious reverence for the Robin costume.
"No, we're… We're not, Jay," Dick says quietly. "But that has more to do with you than it does me. And it just… It's me. I'm the problem."
"You're not a problem, Dick. You're a person, and everybody wants to forget that you're a human person. The shit everybody asks of you? C'mon, Dick, you led a team of fuckin' metas and aliens for years. You've been doin' this shit since you were eight. You ever think that it's not you, but the goddamn expectations everybody keeps puttin' on you?" Jason practically snarls. "Like… Jesus Christ, Dick, you're literally only human."
Dick can't help but roll his eyes a bit. "That's not… C'mon, Jay, that's just… Nobody expects anything of me that I don't expect of myself, you know?"
"Oh yes, because clearly, Bruce turning you into a vigilante at eight years old gave you very healthy expectations," Jason snorts, turning off the road, and onto a road that's technically paved, but has no painted lines at all.
"Bruce didn't turn me into anything, Jay, and you know that as well as I do," Dick retorts. "He let us be vigilantes, and that's a whole other discussion, but he didn't make us do anything."
"Dick… You wouldn't know how to slow down, or stop, if it bit you in the ass. You throw absolutely everything you got into whatever you're doin', or whoever you're with. And the second it stops workin', everybody wants to know what you're doin'. Don't fuckin' lie to me and say they don't," Jason snaps, turning to glare at him. "'Cause I know you, Dick. Look at what tryin' to keep up with the Titans did to Roy. Neither of you should've been on that fuckin' team, because you physically can't keep up without killin' yourselves."
"Yeah, well, I did," Dick says quietly. "So clearly I could."
"No, you fuckin' couldn't, Dick that's what I'm tryin' to tell you. Seriously, man, you think I tried to keep up with Kori? Forget about Donna, and Wally, and whoever else for a minute. Just Kori. I worked with her, just like you did. I did it as an adult, and I couldn't keep pace with her. You were a goddamn kid, tryin' to keep up with her. She's stronger, she's faster, she's more durable, and she can literally throw fire around," Jason says, as he pulls the car onto a little driveway that's basically just a dirt path. "But you managed to hold your own on a team of people like that, when you were thirteen. Forget expectations, your standards are fucked all to hell and back."
Dick opens his mouth to say… something. But unfortunately, he can't think of a single counterargument to that, because Jason isn't wrong. Just because Jason has the same standards, doesn't mean that either of their standards are good, or healthy.
But Jason's already made it clear that he doesn't like Dick pointing out that Jason's floundering just as much as Dick. Or well… maybe not as much, but he sure as hell isn't doing good either.
So instead, he stays silent as Jason pulls up in front of… well, 'cabin' isn't exactly the right word. It's a small a-frame, but it's relatively modern looking at least. Honestly, Dick was a little afraid that Jason was taking them to some ramshackle log cabin without electricity or running water.
He climbs out of the car, stretching his shoulder out a bit -as surreptitiously as possible, so Jason doesn't freak out -as he looks around the area.
It's pretty heavily wooded, outside of the small clearing the house itself sits in, although Dick can smell almost marsh like water coming from somewhere. Everything is green, almost obnoxiously so, and the sun is bright enough that Dick squints a bit as he takes it all in.
"Wow, Jay," he says, finally turning to look at Jason, who's leaning on top of the car. "This is… really nice."
Jason snorts, rolling his eyes. "Don't sound so surprised," he says, but he's smiling as he walks around to the trunk, and opens it. He pulls out both his and Dick's duffle bags, and swings them up over his shoulder. "C'mon, we'll get settled in, then we figure out what we wanna do for dinner and head up to the store. Stock up for the weekend."
Dick dutifully follows along behind him, up the little paved stone walkway, onto the porch. "What, you don't want us to go hunting for our own food?"
"Yeah, somehow I'm thinkin' you're not gonna be able to shoot Bambi, Dickhead," Jason says, as he unlocks the door, then steps inside.
It's Dick's turn to roll his eyes. "You're supposed to shoot Bambi's dad, not Bambi, Jay."
Jason sets the bags down on the small leather love seat, shrugging as he does. "Dunno, never actually seen it."
"I… what? How have you never seen Bambi?" Dick asks in disbelief, trailing behind Jason as they move from the little living room into the kitchen. "It's a time honored classic; you can't say you've ever been a kid if you weren't traumatized by Bambi."
"Well, I never really was a kid, even when I was actually a kid, so I guess I'll just have to make do. And no, we're not watching fuckin' Bambi tonight," Jason warns, fiddling with the thermostat. "There. I know it's a bit chilly, but I keep the temp set to sixty-five if I'm not here. There's the bedroom down the hallway there, or you can have the loft upstairs."
He points towards a set of stairs leading up to what Dick thought was a balcony, maybe a game room or something.
"That's… there's a bed up there?" he asks a little suspiciously.
"Well, yeah," Jason says, his voice defensive. "It's not like I bring anybody but Roy up here, and after sharing a ship slightly larger than the average sardine can, it ain't like I'm worried he's gonna see me in my boxers. S'cool, you can have the bedroom, I usually sleep up there anyway. Got a big window thing that looks out on the lake."
"I… yeah, I'd rather have the bedroom, not gonna lie," Dick says honestly. He's not even sure why the idea of sleeping up there makes him squirm a bit, but it does.
"Cool. So like I said, bedroom's right down that hall. S'the doorway that doesn't open into a bathroom. I got a grill on the back porch, I was thinkin' I could do some steaks, or maybe sausages," Jason says, as he starts rooting through the cupboards. "They got these sausages up here they sell, Gianelli, and I swear to Christ, best sausages you'll ever taste. Or I can pick up some t-bones or somethin', your choice."
"Uh… sausages, I guess?" Dick responds, a little unsurely. "But I mean… I'm not really hungry right now," he adds. It's only a little past noon, and they had breakfast a few hours ago.
"Yeah, I know, but after we get settled, we're gonna run to the store. And it's a thirty minute trip one way, so I wanna plan for the whole weekend, so we don't have to waste an hour and a half runnin' to the store every day, you know? And if we're gonna go, better to just go and get it outta the way. Then we can come back, and not have to leave again 'til we head home."
"Yeah. Sounds good. I'm just… gonna go put my stuff away, I guess," Dick says, grabbing his bag, and hiking it up over his good shoulder.
"Sounds good; lemme know if you can't find anything, or if we need to grab somethin' at the store," Jason says, almost distractedly, as he continues to look through the cupboards.
Dick doesn't bother responding, as he heads down the hallway, going for the door at the back. Sure enough, it leads into the bedroom and… Yeah, Dick can immediately tell that this is where Roy sleeps when him and Jason come here together.
There's two sticks of green Speed deodorant on the dresser, at least five pillows on the bed at first glance, and what might've been a toaster on the little puzzle table in the corner, all torn apart. The mirror on top of the dresser has pictures stuck into the wood molding around the edges, pictures of Jason, Roy, and Kori, pictures of Roy, Jason, and Lian, and a few of the Arrows at what look like holiday parties.
Dick can't help but smile a bit, as he sets his bag down on the bed. Obviously Jason goes through and cleans, because there's no towels on the floor, no bunched up clothes half sticking out of the dresser, or socks sticking out from underneath the bed. Which is made, despite Roy's repeated -and vehement -insistence during his Titan days that it was 'pointless' to make a bed he was just gonna sleep in again.
He looks over the pictures, careful not to touch. He should probably call Roy at some point; Dick hasn't talked to him since… Well, probably since before the… thing… with Catalina. He can't even really remember exactly when they last talked, or where it was, or what they talked about.
Lian's getting big; Dick runs some quick math in his head, and figures she has to be about nine or ten now. He hasn't seen her since she was getting ready to start kindergarten, and it's amazing how much she looks like Roy, aside from her jet black hair.
He can't help but notice that there's no pictures of the Titans. He's got pictures with Kori, sure, but it's all photos of the Outlaws.
They all look happy though. Even Jason is grinning, practically ear to ear, even if the effect is a little disturbing, given the burning building behind them. But still… it's amazing how relaxed, and happy they all look.
A knock startles him, and he pulls away from the dresser, spotting Jason leaning against the doorframe.
"You alright?"
Dick can feel his cheeks redden a bit. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. Was just…" He waves towards the pictures.
Jason's eyes dart over towards the mirror, then back at Dick, and to Dick's amazement, Jason blushes a little, before shaking his head. "Yeah, Roy's a sap like that; c'mon, let's get to the store and get back, huh? I wanna get back 'fore it gets dark. These roads are a bitch at night."
It's barely noon, and even in upstate New York, it's not likely to get dark this time of year much before seven. Dick doesn't say that though, doesn't point out that Jason looks uncomfortable as hell looking at the photos.
He also doesn't point out that Jason never actually crosses the threshold into the bedroom either. He stays in the doorway, but doesn't actually enter.
Instead, he just nods. "Yeah, sure. I'm good, we can head out whenever."
"Aright, then let's get movin'." He tosses his phone to Dick, and Dick -despite being caught off guard -manages to catch it without fumbling. "Add whatever you want for the weekend to the list. I got the basics, Folger coffee, pancake mix, Gatorade… Even got some Honey Nut Cheerios from when Roy was here."
"Coffee creamer?" Dick asks, trailing behind Jason as they head back out to the car.
"Yeah I added your creamer to the list. French Vanilla," Jason says, climbing into the driver's seat. "And I figured you've been doin' real good, so I even added some candy on there."
As he says it, he squirms a little bit, ducking his head and he immediately starts fiddling with the seat adjuster, despite the fact that he literally just got out of the car less than fifteen minutes ago. His cheeks are still a bit red, and he's…
Dick stares in astonishment. Is Jason embarrassed by the fact that he's getting Dick candy? If it upsets him that much -if it means that much -it's not like Dick actually cares. Before last year? Sure, maybe. Right now? Candy sounds about as appealing as any other kind of food: not at all, and eaten mostly to stop him from getting a headache. He definitely doesn't need it. He -
"Listen… M'sorry, I know I'm throwin' a lot at you at one time. And I know it ain't exactly fair, since I've been right there with everybody else, expectin' the world from you, and never stoppin' to wonder what that pressure was doin'," Jason says quietly, cutting through Dick's thoughts. "You had a rough night last night, then I yelled at you, made it sound like I didn't care that you cared, then I started yellin' at you again this mornin'. And I'm not tryin' to yell, but I just… I need you to get how much none of this is your fault."
Dick blinks a few times. "I… Jason, I'm not mad at you," he says quietly. "I know you're just trying to help. And I appreciate it. Really."
And he definitely doesn't need… what, apology candy? Is that what it is? Jason feels bad, and is trying to apologize -apologize for trying to help -by buying Dick candy? Because that's… well, that's simultaneously one of the saddest and sweetest things Dick can think of at this exact moment.
Jason finally stops screwing around with the seat adjuster, taking a quick glance over at Dick. "I know, I just… Patience isn't my strong suite," he says, giving Dick a rueful smile. "And I'm not really… I don't do 'gentle' well, I know that. Just… I know I can be pushy. But m'just tryin' to help, you know?"
"I know, Jay," Dick says softly, smiling over at his little brother. "You're doing more for me than anybody has in a long time. And I appreciate it."
Jason doesn't look any happier, as he sighs. "Yeah. I know you do. Alright, let's just… Let's go get food, and maybe pick up some cards; I'll let you kick my ass at poker to make up for it."
"Uh huh. You know, if you wouldn't cheat, I'd kick your ass regardless," Dick says with an eyeroll, as Jason starts backing the car down the driveway.
"If you'd learn to cheat better, it might actually be a challenge."
"You cheat at cribbage, Jason. Cribbage. The game they play in retirement homes," Dick points out. "Who does that?"
"Alfred," Jason says confidently. "Alfred cheats at cribbage. Where do you think I learned?"
"Oh, bullshit," Dick snorts as they get back onto the 'main' road, which wouldn't even count as an alley in Gotham. "Alfred doesn't cheat at cards."
"Yeah, sure thing. I just figured out how to cheat at this 'retirement home' game on my own," Jason says, rolling his eyes.
"Fine. I'll just ask him," Dick challenges.
"Go ahead; see what he says."
Shopping with Jason is… it's an experience, that's for sure.
The local grocery store is mostly empty, aside from the teenager running one of the two registers, an older guy stocking the shelves, and one mom with two toddlers. Which is nice, because Dick is still… well, kinda 'iffy' on the whole 'being around other people' thing.
But despite the lack of people, Jason moves like a man on a mission. Every movement is precise, and despite the fact that he doesn't physically have a list, he doesn't look at anything aside from what he picks up and puts in the cart. No extras, no browsing around, no stopping to see if he wants to get something, just moving towards what he wants, then moving on.
At least, until he gets to the candy aisle. He almost walks right past it, before he stops, so abruptly that Dick nearly falls over trying to stop before he walks into Jason's back.
"Alright, go nuts; pick out what you want," Jason says, parking the cart by the endcap, and leaning on it. "Or if you're not feelin' it, we can get ice cream. They got this one brand, Byrne Dairy, it's actually pretty good. The Espress-dough, and Chocolate Raspberry are actually pretty good."
Dick can't help but raise an eyebrow, even as he looks down the aisle. "You… eating ice cream. You eating Espress-dough ice cream."
"I splurge. Once in a while," Jason grumbles, but he's got half a smirk on his face as he says it. "But it's your choice; I ain't picky either way."
Jason never 'splurges'. Not on himself, anyway. Odds are good that Roy -since he's apparently the one who comes up here with Jay -bought it for Jason to try. The only thing Dick has ever seen Jason splurge on for himself is his guns and his gear, and even then, he haggles like a granny at a flea market.
So. Ice cream it is. Specifically, 'Espress-dough' and chocolate raspberry. Dick doesn't really care -although he's curious to try the espress-dough, he'll admit -but it seems like the only way Jason ever lets himself have the little 'treats' is when somebody else does it for him.
"Ice cream sounds good," Dick says, giving Jason a smile. "I'm curious about 'espress-dough'."
Jason rolls his eyes, but he doesn't say anything, just starts pushing the cart again, going down the next aisle. And on it goes, Dick watching as the groceries start filling up the cart with the basics for the weekend. Bread, bottled water, a few different fruits and vegetables -although not enough for smoothies, so probably just for snacks -a bag of potatoes, sausage, burger, chicken, and a package of t-bone steaks. Some weird cracker like things, V8 juice, coffee creamer, everything bagels, cream cheese and milk.
Then they're at the ice cream. Jason parks the cart next to one of the long, open freezers, and motions Dick towards the upright freezers with the ice cream. And Jason wasn't wrong, this 'Byrne Dairy' brand has a shitton of pretty unique flavors, from 'triple vanilla' to 'scratch baked brownie' to 'grasshopper pie'. For the first time in a long time, Dick actually finds himself wondering how something would taste, as he grabs the espress-dough, and chocolate raspberry out.
On a whim -because he does have his own money if Jason doesn't want to spend too much -he grabs the scratch baked brownie, ballpark crunch, and Maine blueberry to try. He turns and raises an eyebrow at Jason, as he balances the five half-gallon containers.
Jason just shrugs. "Whatever you want, man; what we don't eat, we can throw in a cooler and take back home with us."
"You sure?" Dick asks, even as he drops the containers in the cart. Mostly because if he doesn't, he's going to drop them on the floor. He's good at balancing things, sure, but the weird 'wider on top, narrower on the bottom' design of the carton is throwing him off. "'Cause we can just get the espress-dough and chocolate raspberry if you want."
"Dick. I don't care. Buy what you want, alright? As much as I hate to admit it, a few gallons of ice cream probably isn't gonna kill you. If you want somethin' else, for all I'll bitch about it, you can grab what you want. You want some soda? Get some soda. You want some candy too? Get some candy. Hell, you want chips and dips, go nuts. This is our cheat weekend; get whatever the fuck you want."
"Nah, this is good," Dick says, smiling. "You want anything?"
Jason shakes his head as he starts moving towards the checkout stands at the front. "Nah, I'm good. I'll just have some of the ice cream if I want somethin'. Let's get outta here, get back to the house then. Not gonna lie, lookin' forward to doin' some grillin'. Plus, these sausages? I'm tellin' you, Dick, they're ballpark worthy. I'll fry up some onions and peppers on the grill, do 'em up right."
Dick chuckles as they get into line, but before he can say anything, he's cut off by the cashier.
"Oh! Mr. Todd! Hi!" she says, her voice surprised. "Don't usually see you up here twice a season. And no Mr. Harper?"
Jason gives the cashier a smile, as he starts unloading the cart. "Nah, brought my brother up for the weekend. How're you doin'?"
Dick misses the interchange between the two, fascinated by the way Jason carefully organizes everything on the converyor belt, everything in groups -vegetables with vegetables, cold stuff with cold stuff -and then by weight within those groups. It isn't until Jason elbows him in the gut that Dick realizes he missed something.
"Huh? Oh, sorry. Hi," he says, giving the cashier a small smile. "I'm the brother. Dick."
The teenager laughs. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Todd. I hope you enjoy it up here as much as your brother and his friend. Always nice to see new faces."
Before Dick can correct her on the name, Jason steps in. "Hey, can you add a thing of charcoal to that, Cindy? Actually… better make it two, just to be on the safe side."
"Sure! Did you see the different kinds on your way in? We have applewood, mesquite, hickory, and a new one, 'beercoal'. I haven't tried it, but my uncle swears it's the best charcoal he's ever used," she says brightly.
"Eh, let's keep it basic and go with two bags of hickory," Jason says, almost distractedly as he stares at the converyor. "Shit. Forgot to grab peppers. Dick, you wanna go grab me one green, one red?"
"Uh… sure?" Dick says, a little unsurely. "Just like… any green and red pepper?"
Jason looks up, a bit disbelieving. "Well not like… I mean chili peppers are green, so no. Two sweet peppers."
"Or we have the bag of three, a red, a green, and an orange, if you want," the cashier offers. "Cheaper to buy them like that."
"Yeah. Yeah, go grab that," Jason says, turning back to the display on the computer, showing him the total so far. "Can you just add that with the charcoal, Cindy? Or is that -"
"Oh, of course! It's super easy!"
Dick wanders off towards the produce section, which at least is in the front of the store, maybe twenty yards from the checkout stands. Even before all this, he never really bought groceries, either having someone deliver things he orders online, or grabbing a few things like peanut butter and cereal from the little convenience store down the block from his apartment. So while he's watched Jason get groceries at the bodega down the road from the townhouse, he still has no idea what he's actually looking for in vegetables.
Not that he doesn't know what a pepper is, obviously. But as he stares down at the box like thing with the bags of peppers, he's not sure what makes a good pepper.
He grabs a bag, and looks as closely as he can through the cellophane bag. They… well, they look like peppers, at least? They'll probably be fine.
Hesitating for a second, he grabs a second bag. This way, Jason can pick which one looks better, and Dick can just take the other bag back. He heads back towards the checkouts, a bag in each hand, to find Jason already paying for the order.
"Uh… I didn't know which one to get, so… I figured I can run whichever one you don't want back," Dick says, holding them out for Jason to inspect.
Jason -in the middle of handing the cashier some cash -turns, and looks from Dick, to the bag of peppers, and back to Dick again. "Uh… yeah, m'sure they're fine. We're cookin' 'em up tonight so…"
He reaches out, and takes one of the bags, still looking at Dick like he isn't sure what's going on. And Dick just… As long as Jason's happy, it's fine, he doesn't really care. It'll be fine.
So he leaves Jason to finish checking out, as he takes the other bag back, and by the time he makes it back around to the checkout, Jason's got all the bags in the cart, and is waiting by the front door.
"All good?" he asks, as Dick walks up next to him.
"Yeah, I'm good. You good?"
"Yeah. Here, start loadin' this into the car; I'm gonna grab the charcoal."
It's a little amusing, honestly, that this town is small enough that they just… keep stuff outside, and plan on people being honest enough to pay for it before they take it. If it were Gotham, it'd be gone before the owner could even make it back inside to man the register, forget just sitting out there in a stack twenty-four/seven.
It's the kind of town where people probably don't even bother locking their doors. Where they say, 'things like that don't happen here'.
One day, of course, something will happen to show that things like 'that' happen everywhere. That nowhere and no one is safe from 'things like that'. Somebody will break in, and murder a whole family, or somebody will kidnap a kid from the bus stop, or some girl will get jumped on the way home from her afterschool job.
And then everyone will say 'things like that just don't happen around here!'. 'We never thought something like this could happen!'. 'We don't even lock our doors!'.
Then everything will change. They won't just start locking their doors… they'll get security systems. They won't just start walking their kids to the bus stop, they'll start taking them directly to and from school. Teenagers won't work afterschool jobs, they'll be expected to come right home after school.
Everything will change. The people will change. All because of one thing going wrong, one brush of the crime that cities like Gotham deal with on a daily basis. But it'd shatter the safety, the community of the town in an instant.
As Dick closes the trunk of the car, and starts taking the cart back to the little beat-up cart corral… he can't help but wonder what it'd be like to live like that. To feel that sense of safety and security, to be able to sleep in a house where the doors were all unlocked, and kids went out to play without supervision until 'the street lights come on'.
"Uh… You okay?"
Dick startles a little bit, turning to spot Jay looking at him from over top of the car. The charcoal is already loaded into the backseat, and Dick wonders how long he's been staring at the little grocery store like some kind of weirdo.
"I… yeah. Yeah, I'm good," Dick says slowly, as he turns and makes his way back to the car. "Sorry. Was just thinking."
Jason waits until they're both in the car to comment. "'Bout what?" he asks, as he starts the car, and pulls out of the parking lot.
"Just… I dunno," Dick says quietly. "How different things would be, living in a place like this, you know? It's just… different, I guess. How… peaceful it all is."
"You mean like… if you'd been born here?" Jason asks, his voice curious. "Or like… to move here now?"
"To move here. Or, well… some place like it, I guess. Not that I wanna leave Bludhaven, but… Jay, they're leaving product outside. Where any random person could just… walk up and take it, you know? I bet you these people don't lock their doors. Imagine living in a place where you don't have to lock your doors," Dick says, and even he isn't sure if it's wonder or disbelief in his voice.
Jason stares over at him for a second, before returning his gaze to the road. "Do… do you want to leave the doors unlocked to the cabin?"
He sounds like he's asking if Dick really wants to pull Jason's teeth out with a pair of rusty pliers; like he'll do it, if Dick really, really wants to, but he's hoping Dick won't ask. Which is… sweet. Kind of. Sad. But sweet. But also not the point.
So Dick shakes his head a bit. "No, that's not… Jason, neither of us would get any sleep if we left a window unlocked, forget a door," he says quietly. Because he sure as hell wouldn't be able to even take a shower knowing the front door was unlocked. "No, it's just… I look at it and think like… maybe we could've had this, you know? Like… What if, instead of Bruce… we'd been adopted by some farmer out in the country? Like… the Kents, you know?
"Just… if we'd gotten to be kids, living in a small town. Growing up, going to school, going to parties, working the farm, exploring outdoors, and just… growing up a in a town where everybody trusted everybody. Where we could just… go off and play until it got dark outside, without somebody worrying.
"You and me… I can't even take a shower with the door closed, because what if someone comes in and I can't hear them? You sleep with one gun strapped to the headboard, one under the mattress and two in the nightstand. We see someone walking around at night, we think it's something bad. A random stranger says hello, and we wonder what they want, why're they talking to us, instead of just saying hello back," he finishes quietly. "I just… might be nice. If things were different."
Jason looks over at him, scrutinizing him long enough that Dick is getting ready to snap something about keeping his eyes on the road. But finally, Jason just… shrugs, almost helplessly, as he turns his focus back on driving.
"I… we know what's out there, Dick. Even… Even without Bruce, without… all this, we knew what was out there. Or, well… at least I did. And you figured it out pretty quick after your parents. We… were never gonna have this. And even if we… Even if we moved out here, I don't think we could have it now. We're just… too much has happened. And maybe…"
He goes quiet for a minute, clearly trying to figure out how to put whatever it is he wants to say. Then finally, he takes a deep breath. "Maybe it's… it's something you could have, Dick. I don't know. But me? I'm too jaded, Dick. I'll never not be able to look at someone and figure out how much of a threat they are. And I'm not sure I'd want to? Like… we know what's out there, man. We know how people are. These people here, they…"
Jason sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Dick, there are scumbags and bad people here too. They should lock their doors. They won't until… until it's too late, and the worst happens. And it will," he says firmly. "We both know it. Just because they don't think about it, doesn't mean it won't happen. Sure, maybe it's stressful, clocking every exit, every threat, figuring out escape plans and contingencies in our head every time we go out to eat. But when the worst fuckin' happens, we're ready at least. Our world ain't devastated by it, we don't fall apart, because we expect it.
"And maybe… maybe that ain't the best way to live, Dick," he admits softly. "I dunno, honestly. Because a lot of times… sure, maybe things don't happen. Shit, even in Gotham, not everybody is gettin' mugged or raped or murdered. Not every bodega gets robbed. Not every convenience store clerk gets shot. But it happens. A lot. Not just in Gotham, but… even places like this. Eventually.
"And maybe we ain't the healthiest, maybe we're gonna stroke out at forty-five. I dunno. But at least … we know what's out there, right? We lock our doors, because we know it'll happen eventually. We don't leave shit sittin' outside, 'cause we know somebody will take it eventually. It's just… I'm not sayin' it's bad. But I'm sayin' the idea of livin' a safe life forever, even in a place like this just… It ain't ever gonna actually happen," he finishes quietly. "Not just for us, but… even for them. Somethin's gonna happen, and all of this? It'll be gone. It's just… it's the way things are."
His voice is… almost hesitant. Contemplative. Like he's trying to work through it himself. And Dick just sighs quietly. Because… yeah. That's pretty much exactly what he told himself, exactly how he knows towns like this end up. And while the idea of it is nice… It's not a life he could ever live.
The idea of it is nice. The reality of it… he's not sure it's something he'd take, even if a genie popped up and offered to make it happen. A nice daydream, maybe. A different life, an escape, but not something to actually want happen.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right, I just… it's different, huh?" he says, trying to force himself to chuckle a bit, to lift the heavy mood he's dropped like a nuclear bomb.
Jason doesn't say anything, looking like he's caught up in his own thoughts. And it's quiet for the rest of the car ride.
It's nearly dusk, when Jason brings over the sausages, setting them down on the little side table between their chairs by the firepit.
And it's… nice. The smoke from the fire is keeping most of the bugs away, the sausages actually smell really good, and it's… peaceful. Relaxing. It's just the two of them, and an easy, unpressured silence other than the crackling of the wood in the firepit.
However, Dick can't help but think… It's not going to last. It's not sustainable. They can't just… hide up here in the woods for the rest of their lives, and even if they could, neither of them would be happy. It's going to come to an end, and then where does that leave them? Where does that leave Dick?
Because soon, Jason's going to have to get back to his own life. He's got his own life to lead, his own territory to run, and while he's been taking the occasional phone call over the last month and a half… Dick knows that the Red Hood can't run things like that. He has to go back eventually, and this… whatever this is -because it's sure as hell not a vacation, taking care of Dick like this -is gonna have to end.
And where is that going to leave Dick? What's he gonna do then? When Jason goes back to work, when everything goes right back to what it was? When it's just him in his apartment, for agonizing months on end, nothing but his own thoughts for company, nothing but nightmares and phantom hands for companionship.
"Dick? You okay?"
Dick's head jerks up, and he stares over at Jason, who's looking at him with concern. And before Dick can stop himself, before he can keep from adding to Jason's worry, his mouth opens, and words come out.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Jay."
"About what?"
Dick carefully sets the sausage back down on the plate, before turning his attention to the fire. "I… this has to end. And I get it, I know I'm… I'm not doing so good right now. But I'm not… I don't know where I'm supposed to go after. What I'm supposed to do when… When I go back to Blud, and you go back to being Red Hood," he admits softly, watching the way the flames twist and jump back and forth. "I just… I don't know where I'm supposed to go from here. Especially since… I mean, this has been great, but… I can't give up Nightwing. I can't. It's… it's who I am. But I don't… I don't know how to make it all work without… without ending up right back where I was.
"And it's not like… I can't just go find a therapist, who's gonna put me on happy pills, you know? Even if that… Even if that was something I was interested in, the only person I could really talk to would be Dinah. And I don't… I'm not sharing all of that with someone who's basically a co-worker, you know? I just… I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do here," he finishes quietly.
He glances up as Jason sighs, stretching his feet out in front of him as he leans back a bit in the Adirondack style chair. And he's quiet for long enough that Dick starts to feel that twisted knot of anxiety settle into his gut, that his heartbeat starts going just a bit faster.
Because that sounds ungrateful. He knows it does. He's throwing his problems on Jason -again -and expecting Jason to fix everything for him -again -and for Jason to have all the answers for him -again.
He opens his mouth to take it all back, to tell Jason he's just being an idiot, it's fine, Dick's fine… but before he can, Jason finally speaks.
"I… truthfully, Dick? I ain't sure either," Jay says quietly, staring up at the wide open sky above them. "'Cause you're right. Dinah ain't gonna be able to really help, not with shit like this, because you just… she's like a… a co-worker or whatever. You don't really go to her for the personal shit. And… I mean, fuck, I get it, man. You can't live in my spare room your whole life. I'd let you, obviously, but… you're a grown ass adult. You don't wanna spend your life livin' with your brother."
He takes a deep breath, and finally looks over at Dick. "I know you gotta go back to your own life. I get that. But I think… we gotta have some kinda plan, Dick. So that if… if shit gets bad, you don't try to slit your wrists in the bathroom next time," he says bluntly. "Maybe… Alright. What if we… If you have a bad day… you can call me, or text and… and Code:SNAFU. And either I'll come pick you up, and we can come back to one of my places, or I can come stay with you in Blud for the night. Can you… You'd have to promise me you'd call though, Dick."
Dick forces himself to nod around the lump in his throat, around the idea of everything going back to what it was before, to his lonely apartment. But Jason's right: Dick can't live with him forever. "I… I can do that."
"And we can… Once a week. Once a week check-ins. I can go to Blud, or you can come to Gotham, but at least once a week, we… we meet up and do… I dunno, get somethin' to eat, or watch a movie or whatever. That way you're not… So I can just make sure. You know?"
"Yeah," Dick says, feeling a little choked up now for an entirely different reason, as he gives Jason a small, grateful smile. "I'd… that'd be good."
"But we don't… I said two months, Dick," Jason says, and he's staring at his boots now. "It doesn't…" He sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I don't want you leavin' just yet. Not that I think you… It's just I don't know… I wanna have more than just 'hey, let's hang out more', you know? And I just… If you can gimme another couple a weeks, maybe… maybe I can have somethin' a bit more helpful, a better support system. I just… M'not sayin' I don't trust you or whatever, just… I don't know if I'd sleep real good, knowin' I just… just kicked you out, without makin' sure you're gonna be okay on your own."
"I… don't know if I would," Dick admits softly. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. hanging his head a bit. "I just… I get I'm not okay. I know that. I've known that for a while. I just… I don't know how to be okay. Shit, Jason, I'm not even sure how to pinpoint what's wrong. I know you're gonna say being too protective, or living for other people," he says, when Jason opens his mouth, presumably to argue. "But I don't… I get that's the problem, but I don't… I don't know why, or how to change it. Or I mean… I understand why, but it doesn't feel like it should be a problem," he amends.
"I… dunno either, Dick," Jason says, pushing himself to his feet, and moving a bit closer to the fire. He holds his hands out over the firepit, rubbing them together a bit, even though it's not really cold. "I know… Therapy ain't really somethin' people like us can do. Ninety percent of the shit you need to talk about is ninety-five percent of the shit you can't talk about. Which defeats the purpose of even goin'. And I… M'tryin', but I dunno what I'm doin' either.
"Like… I ain't sure what I'm supposed to say, or do, or how I can help, other than tellin' you where you're thinkin' ain't right. And…" He hesitates, before sighing quietly. "You weren't exactly wrong, I might not be as bad off as you are, but I ain't a picture of mental health either. And m'tryin', but… I'm probably doin' at least half of this completely wrong and fucked up. Or just makin' it worse."
He runs a hand through his hair. "I just… Gimme a couple weeks. Just to try'n… to figure somethin' out. And maybe… maybe when we go back we can uh… We can go out. As Red Hood and Nightwing, I mean," he adds, a bit unnecessarily. "That way… I mean, we've been out of the game for more'n a month, right? We can… we can start easy, just runnin' some patrols'n shit. Nothin' big or anything, just… ease back into it, you know? That way… I have a couple a weeks to put shit in order, and we can get back into it together."
Dick can't help his small smile as he stands up, moving over towards Jason, and lightly nudging him with his shoulder.
"Jay… I'm not in a big hurry to leave," he says quietly. "I… I know I can't stay with you forever; I know I gotta get back to Blud, and… and dealing with my shit on my own. Let you get back to your own life. But… I don't really wanna leave. It's more I know at some point… well, like you said, I can't live in your spare room forever."
Jason smiles back, although it doesn't look confident at all. "So you uh… you ain't in a big hurry to move out then?"
"Not really," Dick says with a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle. "I mean… obviously I know I have to at some point. I can't leave Blud, and you can't leave the Alley, so… you know, we got limited options there. But for right now… I don't wanna end up where I was. And I think… If I go back, the way things stand… nothing's gonna change, you know?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I get it, and uh…" Jason sighs quietly, although he nudges Dick back. "Let's just take this weekend, huh? Let's just… We'll take the weekend, and chill, and then… I'll start makin' plans and seein' what I can come up with when we get back. But let's just… Enjoy the weekend. Sound good?"
Dick looks down at the fire. Looks up at the stars, stars he probably hasn't seen since he was a kid traveling with his parents. Stars usually hidden behind Gotham smog, and a fire that doesn't mean some sort of disaster.
At the peace and quiet, where there's just… no pressure. No responsibility.
"Yeah. That sounds nice, Jay," Dick says quietly.
And for once… Dick isn't lying.