Tim's sleeping, drained from from long hours at his work and the tail-end of a nasty cold, which is really the only thing that saves Dick from injury. Or, well, Tim mentally corrects as he fumbles the bedside lamp on and gets a better look at Dick, further injury.
"Dick." Tim grimaces at the sound of his own voice. Squints at Dick who is standing in the middle of the room looking like a deer caught in headlights. He's fresh from an after-patrol shower, hair still wet and hanging in his eyes, and shirtless, which. If it was anyone else, Tim would wonder, but it's Dick and for some reason these things just happen with him. But. Dick's bleeding. Nothing too serious, just a small cut on his face, right next to a new bruise, and.
Tim sighs, throws the covers off and pads towards Dick. Pushes him toward the bed and points, communicates, sit down, or else, with his eyebrows. Scowls when Dick snorts, the first real sign of anything out of him aside from exhaustion he's shown, and ruffles Tim's hair because he can.
Dick gives him a wide smile as he settles himself on the bed. "Sure, Tim." Obnoxiously sweet, perky. Designed to annoy.
"Whatever you say."
Another sigh before he goes to the bathroom for the first aid kit he keeps there. When he comes back into the bedroom Dick's listing to one side, eyes closed. Even in the dim lighting Tim can make out the bags under his eyes, the sharpness to his cheekbones.
"You know," Tim says, walking over. Dick opens his eyes, watches Tim as he sits next to him and sorts through the first aid kit. "I want a calm night." Tim tilts Dick's face towards the light, carefully cleans the cut. "Not one where I wake up to you topless and bloody."
Dick smiles, small, soft, as Tim works. "What, and miss out on all of this?" Dick gestures to himself at that, because he's Dick, that's just how he is, and just.
"Shut up." Tim smiles though - it's hard not to because Dick. That really shouldn't explain so much, and yet it does. "You're terrible."
Dick hmms in agreement, far too pleased with himself.
"Ugh, knock it off," Tim mutters, still gentle as he applies a butterfly band aid over the cut. "Idiot." Glares at Dick who's watching him. Amused, fond. "Dick?" Tim supposes it's a sort of progress that Dick waits until Tim closes the lid on the first aid kit before he moves, tugs Tim down on the bed with him, wrapping his arms around Tim like an octopus to keep him from pulling away. "Dick!"
"Tim," Dick says. "Shh. Sleep." Dick flails ineffectually for the blankets, tangled around their legs.
"Oh, for - " Tim sighs, pushing Dick away long enough to untangle them. "You're insufferable."
"Mm, yeah." Dick still has that inordinately pleased look on his face. "I aim to please."
Tim rolls his eyes, jerks the blankets free of Dick's feet and pulls the blankets over them, lets Dick arrange him to his satisfaction like a stuffed animal. "Idiot," he says again, quiet, as Dick's breathing evens out, Dick himself warm and solid and there. Feels his eyes grow heavy, sleep beckoning, Dick's arm over his waist, safesafesafe.