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Dick was just slipping into his apartment when he heard his phone start ringing.

Stifling a groan–he was tired, and just wanted to sleep–Dick closed his window and walked to the nightstand where his phone rested, blaring “I’m So Sorry” as it rang.

Picking the phone up, Dick raised a brow at the caller name.

It was Jason.

Frowning, Dick peeled the domino off, accepted the call, and lifted the phone to his ear, flopping down onto his bed after peeling the top of his uniform off and grunting in way of greeting.

…that was a very Bruce thing of him to do.

“D-Dick?”

Sighing as he rolled onto his back, Dick stared at his cieling and said, “Hey, Jason. Something the matter?”

Jason started crying, then, and Dick sat straight up, panic instantly bolting through him.

Shit, shit, shit. Jason was crying. Jason. Crying. Dick could handle this, couldn’t he? He dealt with crying kids almost every patrol. This should be a cakewalk.

But this is Jason, his mind protested, not some random kid. He didn’t know what to do when it wasn’t something impersonal, because Jason was technically his little brother, which meant this was personal, and Dick was lost and new to big brotherhood and he didn’t know what to do.

Mentally floundering, Dick’s mouth opened and closed while Jason kept crying.

“Uhh…” Dick wanted to hit himself. “It’s alright, Jay. It’s okay. Just calm down–breathe.” Okay, he could do this.

Jason kept crying though, so Dick took a deep breath and tried again.

“Jason,” he said carefully. “Jay–Little Wing–breathe. Breathe with me, okay?”

Dick tried to breathe so that Jason could hear his calm breaths, and it seemed to work. Jason took hiccuping breaths in time with Dick’s.

Eventually, after God knew how long, Jason’s crying had reduced to occasional huccups and sniffles, and Dick exhaled in relief, mentally patting himself on the back for his impromptu skills.

“Alright, Jason,” he said, laying back down and closing his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” Jason quietly answered.

Dick snorted. “Sorry little bro but I’m going to have to call bullshit on that one. You were crying.”

There was silence with Jason’s hesitant pause, and Dick closed his eyes as he waited.

“…patrol. I–it was somethin’ n'patrol.” Jason seemed to think better against saying something, because he backtracked. “S'stupid–nevermind. Bye, Dick.”

Alarmed, Dick opened his eyes and pushed himself up on his forearm. “No wait–if it bothered you, it’s not stupid Little Wing. I promise.”

“Ya mean that? Really promise?”

“Yeah, Jason, I do.”

He waited again, and Dick was seriously tired, but Jason obviously needed this right now. Dick would wait.

“Someone… The guy looked like Willis, an’ he had a bottle, an’ I froze up…”

Willis? Jason’s bio dad, wasn’t he?

Frowning, Dick said, “That’s fine, Jason. It’s alright. Bruce freezes up sometimes whenever someone pulls a gun on him, and I get scared when I’m in the air sometimes. It’s okay to be scared.” He wasn’t sure if his attempt reassurance was working, but Jason sighed.

Dick hoped it was in relief.

“Okay. I gotta go–Alf’s sayin’ he wants me t'go sleep.”

“Okay,” Dick nodded. “Goonight, Jay.”

“Bye.”

Jason hung up and Dick flopped back down on his bed, replacing the phone on the nightstand as he closed his eyes. Big brothering was hard and tiring. He was ready for some sleep.

Dick groaned when he realized he had to finish changing out of his uniform first.

Chapter Text

“Dick!”

Pausing his conversation with Alfred, Dick turned just as seventy pounds of eleven year old little brother slammed into his chest.

Grunting as he caught him, Dick asked, “Jason?”

Jason didn’t lift his face from where it was pressed against Dick’s chest, so when he spoke it was muffled. “C'n I come t'your place for the week'nd, please, please, please, pleeease?”

Confused, Dick looked to Alfred. The old butler raised a brow.

When Jason’s hands started shaking against Dick’s back, Dick frowned a little. He didn’t really want the new kid over at his place, he didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a kid Jason’s age, and he had to check his calendar to make sure he didn’t have any prior commitments for the weekend.

But… Jason might need it. Before he was anything else, Dick supposed Jason was technically his little brother. And even if Dick had a grudge, it wasn’t Jason’s fault, and Dick had to admit that to himself. It wasn’t Jason he was upset with. The kid hadn’t done anything wrong to him.

“Please say yes,” he both heard and felt Jason murmur.

Sighing a little as what little resolve he had left cracked apart, Dick replied, “Sure thing, kiddo. Go get your stuff–I was just about to leave.”

“Yes!” Jason wooped and released his big brother, landing easily on the ground and immediately taking off into a sprint for his room as he yelled, “You’re the best! I’ll be quick, I swear!”

Snorting, Dick put a hand on his hip and turned to Alfred again.

“Why is he so excited about this?” he asked, hoping Alfred could help shed some light on the whole thing.

Alfred shook his head and turned to walk away, replying, “You are his brother, Master Richard, and his hero, yet many times you refuse to give your little brother the time of day. He thrives in what little attention you offer. All he wants is to spend time with his brother.”

Dick winced at the words, but he had to admit that they were true. Dick tried to avoid Jason as much as possible a large majority of the time. In the manor, on patrols he did in Gotham, galas he had to attend…

Jason really wanted to spend time with him? Even after all that?

“I guess I’m a pretty shitty brother, huh,” Dick mumbled to the air, rubbing at the back of his neck.

The sound of feet pounding against the floor had Dick’s eyes flicking over to where Jason was just emerging from the stairs, a bad slung over his shoulder and a duffel in his other hand.

He hobbled as quickly as he could back over to Dick and looked up at him, saying, “I’m ready to go!”

Dick huffed a laugh, taking the duffel from Jason’s hand and walking out to the car.

“What’s in here?” he asked. The duffel was oddly heavy in his hand, and Dick shifted his grip on it.

Jason paused where he was a few steps ahead of Dick and turned, making a weird face. “My… Night stuff.”

Dick blinked before it registered and he nodded in understanding.

Putting the duffel in the backseats of the car, Dick waited for Jason to plop himself in the passenger’s seat before starting the car and driving off.

As they drove, Dick started a conversation with Jason about how he was doing with his training, and Jason groaned and started venting his problems and his achievements, gesturing wildly with his hands, and Dick started to feel like maybe having a little brother wasn’t too bad.

Chapter Text

“Fuck,” Dick hisses, hands shaking as they hover over his broken knee and tears blur his vision. “Hell.”

“Nightwing!”

Dick looks up at the shout of his name and the speed at which he does makes him go light-headed and dizzy.

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut and taking deep breaths in through his nose, and feels a small hand on his back a few seconds later.

“Nightwing? Are you alright?”

Oh, yeah, my knee just looks like that, is what Dick’s automatic response would have been, but he instead says, “What?” because for some reason that answer is a better alternative.

“Robin to Batman. Nightwing’s down, but he managed to take Scarecrow out, an’ we need evac.” There was a quick hesitation, then, “I don’ think we’re gonna go ‘nywhere 'nytime soon. His knee…”

Dick’s brow furrows as Robin continues talking with Batman, and he tunes them out as he thinks about what Robin had said.

“–he managed to take Scarecrow out–”

Dick frowns, cracking his eyes open. He did beat Crane, but not alone–Robin helped. Jason. But the kid made it sound like Nightwing was the hero, for some reason, and Dick can’t pin down why.

He groans again when another wave of pain flares up his leg, sucking in a sharp breath and squeezing his eyes shut. Dick forces them back open, though, because he remembers fighting Scarecrow with Robin and remembers Robin getting hit. He needs–needs to make sure Jason’s okay.

“Jason?” he gasps, struggling to try and push himself up into a sitting position, at least, but he’s stopped by a surprised sound and hands on his shoulders pushing him back down.

“Nightwing!” The voice is Jason’s and Dick’s eyes search for the kid. When he sees Jason, the kid practically hovering over him, Dick breathes a sigh of relief and lets him be pushed back to the ground gently.

“Jason,” Dick repeats in relief. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, D, m'okay.”

Jason looks worried as he glances over at Dick’s knee, and Dick realizes he should probably try and reassure the kid that he’ll be alright, but he doesn’t really know how to.

So he puts his hand on Jason’s and pats it a few times, saying uncertainly, “It’s fine. I’m gonna be fine. Barely feel it.”

Which, actually, is a bold-faced lie. Dick absolutely can feel it, he’s just trying to cope with the pain in his own way… That, actually. He has no idea what it is.

The kid gapes at him, and Dick is under the impression that he did something wrong.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me right now?” Jason says, the ridiculous expression still on his face.

Dick doesn’t know what to say so he manages a tentative, “Language?”

“Oh you have got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“No, really. Language.”

“You’re goddamn knee is fucked t'hell an’ you’re tryna tell me it’s 'gonna be okay’ an’ that ya 'don’t even feel it’?”

Dick is starting to feel like he messed up.

“Uh,” is all the intelligence he has left.

Jason shakes his head, frowning, and when Dick blinks Jason is replaced with Bruce.

“Hey, B,” Dick says, his words slurring a little. “I messed up.”

Bruce grunts and Dick feels the familiar pinch of a needle in the side of his neck.

“Jason,” he murmurs. “Sorry.”

“Nothin’ t'be sorry for, 'Wing,” he hears before his vision fades away with his consciousness.

He really needs to get better at the whole 'reassuring the little brother’ thing.

Chapter Text

They’re coordinating. Dick has to remember that. Stick it in his brain and remember.

“Nightwing, you’ll be taking the west enterance with Robin. I’ll draw their fire with an entrance from the east.”

Jason nods seriously, looking up at Dick with a smile and holding his fist out. “This’s gonna be dope,” he says, and Dick chuckles a bit weakly as he daps his fist against Jason’s.

He looks to Bruce who nods, pats his shoulder, then takes off to get into his ready position.

“C'mon, ‘Wing, let’s go!” Jason’s eager, already at the edge of the roof and just waiting on his big brother. “We can’t leave B hanging!”

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Dick tries to prepare himself for what he knows he’s going to have to do then opens them again and takes a running start off the building, Jason right behind him.

When they land, Dick takes point and gently nudges the open window to the warehouse they’re infiltrating open, waving Jason in silently. Jason slips in easily, Dick following right behind him, and he shuts the window as quietly as he’d opened it.

His comm beeps lowly, and Dick taps it to turn it on as Jason mimicks him.

“Nightwing, status?”

“Ready,” he whispers.

“Robin?”

Dick closes his eyes and takes a long inhale through his nose, exhaling through his mouth seconds later.

“Ready,” Jason answers.

A minute later Batman kicks a door open and starts taking down petty drug dealer after petty drug dealer, and it’s their cue.

Nightwing and Robin silently slink into the fray, nerve-strikes and hard hits to the head rendering their opponents unconscious as quietly as possible when there’s only the ringleader left for Bruce to interrogate.

Or they’d thought.

Dick’s standing with his arms crossed, Jason sitting on a crate next to Bruce, swinging his legs as they watch Bruce drill the guy, when he sees the glint of a gun.

Eyes widening, Dick tries to warn Jason.

It barely works.

“R–” his throat closes up a bit and Dick grits his teeth. “Fuck, Robin, down!”

Jason immediately drops to the ground as the gun goes off and Dick’s wingding is flying.

The target is the shooter’s hand, and the wingding hits its mark, slicing the skin open and making the man drop his gun and clutch at his hand with a cry.

But Dick is unconcerned with him, blood rushing through his ears and heart pounding in his chest.

“Holy shit!” Jason pops back up to his feet and Dick sighs in relief. The kid whirls on the ringleader and exclaims, “Your guy tried t'shoot me!”

Bruce’s hands tighten around the man’s throat.

Later, when they’re back in the Batcave and changing out of their uniforms, Jason plops down in the bench across from where Dick stands before his locker pulling a shirt on.

“Hey, Dick?” he says, and Dick just knows he’s not going to like this conversation.

He closes his locker and sighs, leaning back against it as he faces Jason.

“Yeah?”

Jason tilts his head a little and scuffs his shoe on the ground.

“Why’d ya choke up? On callin’ me Robin.”

Dick sighs, hanging his head a little, and rubs at his eyes with a finger and a thumb.

“Do you know where Robin came from, Jason?” he decides to ask.

Jason answers, “Nuh-uh.”

Dick nods once and moves his hand, hitting his head back on the locker gently as he looks to the ceiling.

“It was my mom’s nickname for me, when I was a kid.”

Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.

Then, “Oh.”

Dick snorts. “Yeah.”

Jason stands, then, and walks out with purpose.

Frowning a little, Dick follows him as Jason beelines for where Bruce sits in front of the Batcomputer.

“Bruce,” Jason calls as he walks over.

Bruce turns to face him, raising a brow and asking, “Yes, Jason?”

Jason stops when he’s about two feet from him, and Dick hangs back a little further, curious.

“I need a new name.”

Bruce blinks.

“What?”

“A new name,” Jason repeats. “Like, hero name. I need a new one.”

“Oh.” Bruce seems relieved. “Alright. Why?”

“Because Robin is Dick’s. His mom gave it to 'im.”

Dick’s eyes water and he has to leave before he cries, and it’s such a dumb thing to get emotional over, but he is, so he needs to leave. Before he starts crying.

Jason finds him in his room, messing with his phone and with tear tracks down his cheeks, and a bolt of concern visibly strikes him.

Dick smiles at him from his bed, lifting a hand to wipe at his face with the back of it.

“Hey, Jason,” he greets, voice rough.

Jason stays where he is at Dick’s door, unsure of himself, but he nods.

Dick pats a spot on the bed beside him and Jason scrambles over, climbing up and attaching himself to Dick’s side as Dick wraps an arm around him and squeezes a little.

“Bruce said okay to the name thing,” Jason says. “Gonna try t'think f'a new one.”

Dick sniffs, wiping at his face with his free hand, and huffs a laugh.

“I want you to keep Robin,” he says, and he can still hardly believe himself. But he means it. Really, really means it.

Jason hesitates. “But… S'yours.

“Yeah,” Dick agrees. “It… Yeah. And now I’m sharing it with you. If you want to, anyways.”

Jason shifts to look up at his brother, teal blue eyes searching deep royal blue, and he flashes a Robin smile.

“Are ya sure?” Jason presses one final time.

Dick laughs and pushes at Jason, who gives a laugh of his own.

He smiles soberly, and pauses to really think about it more than he already has. Does he want to share something so personal–so meaningful and close–with Jason?

“Yeah, Jason. I’m sure.”

Chapter Text

It’s been a long time coming, in Dick’s opinion. Jason’s been in his life for a while. Dick cares about him. All he needs is a nickname–one unique to Jason that can be his and soley his.

He’s watching Jason do a handstand, wobbly being a nice way to put his form, as he thinks about it.

Well Jason’s his little brother, so little is going to have to be somewhere in the nickname. Absolutely.

Jason glances at him and falls over with a yelp, legs flailing as he goes down.

Dick does his best not to laugh as he tries to think of the rest of the nickname.

Later they’re on patrol, Dick and Jason in Blüdhaven, and Dick watches Robin fly beside him. Not as gracefully as he did when he was Robin, but little birds have little wings, especially if they haven’t stretched them out.

Hm. Dick liked something in that thought.

Little bird? No, he’s pretty sure Oliver calls Dinah ‘Pretty Bird’. Too similar. Little Robin? Not that either–it reminds him too much of his mom’s nickname for him, and it’s still his.

Maybe Little Wing would work out.

It needed a test run, but Dick liked it.

About two weeks went by before Dick tried the nickname out.

“Jason, Little Wing, my little brother, my successor–what are you doing?”

Jason opens his mouth to reply but his hand misses the next bar and Jason falls to the net with an aborted yell, huffing as he glares up at the ceiling and equipment above him.

“I was tryna practice,” he says, still glaring, “the tricks ya taught me.”

“Ah.”

Dick’s a little disappointed by the lack in rea–

“What the fuck s'a 'Little Wing’?”

Aww, yeah.

Dick grins and looks down at Jason, poking his face over the side of the net to.

“It’s you!”

Jason blinks.

“I don’ get it.”

Dick climbs into the net and lays beside Jason, staring up at the equipment that hangs from the ceiling like stars from the sky, and he explains.

“It’s your nickname. Like I was Robin to my mom, you’re Little Wing to me.”

Jason goes silent in thought.

He speaks up about a minute later.

“Why Little Wing?”

“Because you’re my little brother, and you’ve got little flying wings.”

“I don’ got wings.”

“It’s a metaphor.”

They go quiet again for a little bit, and Dick considers a nap, when Jason says something again.

“…cool, I guess.” He looks up at his brother, squints, and adds, “Big Wing.”

Dick laughs.

Chapter Text

This kid was giving him a headache.

Dick grit his teeth as Jason continued to yell at him about something on patrol–how he handled a kid or something?–and rubbed harder at his temple.

Finally, in the middle of Jason’s persistent ranting, Dick snapped, “You can’t boss me around because you have the faintest idea of how the world works!”

Jason went silent and Dick snapped his mouth shut.

Sighing, Dick groaned and dragged his hands down his face.

“I didn’t mean–”

“No, ya did.” Jason’s tone was ice. He crossed his arms and sneered, saying, “Ya think I’m the one with the ‘faint'st idea f'how the world works’? Who lived n'the streets, D? Who saw the world work since he was six? Huh?” Jason raised his eyebrows and spoke in a mocking tone. “Oh, I’m sorry–did you watch your mom turn into nothin’? Did you get her drugs 'cause s'all that helped, an’ ya didn’t know what else t'do?”

Frustrated tears had gathered in Jason’s eyes, and he sniffed and wiped at them with the back of his hand unashamedly.

Guilt twisted in Dick’s heart and he tightened his jaw, arms crossed and hands tightening into fists.

“That was my life,” Jason said in a wobbly voice.“I knowI liv’d it.”

He jabbed a finger at Dick, still spitting mad. “Ya ain’t got shit on me, just 'cause you’re the first Robin. I know how those kids feel. You don’t.”

“Jason–”

“Fuck you.”

Then Jason was heading to the lockers and leaving Dick alone in the middle of the Batcave, guilt crashing down on him.

Chapter Text

“Damn it, Robin,” Dick hissed, tripping and nearly dropping his little brother. “I told you to stay with B.”

In his arms, Jason muttered something under his breath before speaking up.

“I can walk,” he slurred. “Lemme down.”

“No,” Dick snapped. Jason scoffed at his tone, but Dick continued, ducking under a pipe that was level with his head. “You took a hard hit to the head.”

“M'fine,” Jason insisted, struggling in Dick’s hold. “Lemme down–I’ll prove it.”

Irritation flaring, Dick said, “Alright, brat, fine. Prove it,” and released Jason abruptly, the kid cursing as he tightened his arms around Dick’s neck to keep from falling.

Jason slowly lowered himself to the ground, but Dick wasn’t waiting for him, and he kept walking as Jason stumbled after him.

If the new Robin wanted to be an idiot, how was it Dick’s problem? He’d tried to get him to listen. He’d done his part.

Dick muttered something under his breath when he heard Jason trip and throw up. The concussion was that bad, then. He sighed and turned around, watching as Jason moaned and curled up, guilt lurching in his gut.

No, he thought to himself. It’s not my fault. I tried helping him. He didn’t listen.

But then again… Maybe Jason just wanted to prove himself like Dick had so often when he was younger and even now as Nightwing. Maybe they had their differences but were more alike in their similarities than they thought…

“Damn it,” he grumbled before walking back over and scooping Jason into his arms carefully. “C'mon Little Wing. You don’t have anything to prove, you know.”

“Yeah I do,” Jason weakly replied in a raspy whisper, curling closer to Dick’s chest as they started walking again. “T'Bruce, n'you, n'everybody. I always do.”

Dick sighed, heart heavy, and curled his arms tighter around his little brother. He needed to talk to Bruce about this later. For now, he was focused on getting out of the compound safely. He could still hear distant shouts and footsteps.

“Just don’t worry about it. Count with me, okay? Don’t fall asleep.”

“But m'tired,” Jason mumbled. “Lemme sleep.”

“No,” Dick replied. “You can’t–you have a concussion. Count with me. One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

Silence.

Dick glanced down at Jason and noticed, for the first time, the blood trickling down his head and his heart lurched in immediate concern.

“Jason?” he called. “Robin. Robin, answer me; what comes after three?”

Jason was entirely limp in Dick’s arms, mouth slack, lenses of the domino thin white slits.

He didn’t respond.

“Little Wing,” Dick said harder, shaking Jason a little in his arms, aware of the desperate hitch to his voice. “Robin. Jay, please.”

But there was no reply, and the footsteps were louder now.

“Shit,” Dick murmured, looking around frantically. “Shit, shit, shit.”

There was nowhere to go but up, into a vent, but Dick couldn’t do that with Jason in his current state. Dick was supposed to have come alone.

But everything had gone wrong, and it seemed like time was running out.

Fast.

Chapter Text

Dick was woken up when a body flopped down onto his bed and gave a very brief, very muted, scream into a pillow.

He probably should have been more concerned than he was, but there were maybe a handful of people who would break into Dick’s apartment, and some of them had a key so that they didn’t need to break in.

Groggily cracking his eyes open and rolling onto his back, Dick rubbed at his eyes and yawned.

“M'tryna sleep,” he muttered tiredly. “Had a late patrol last night.”

“M'havin’ a crisis, Big Bird,” a muffled, albeit very familiar voice said. “Ain’t no time for sleep.”

Jason.

Dick dropped his hands and sighed, turning his head to look at his little brother who was face-down on the bed, wearing jeans and an oversized black and blue hoodie.

When he squinted, Dick realized with a small twinge of… Something, that the sweater was Nightwing-themed.

“A crisis,” he drawled, raising a brow.

Jason nodded. “Crisis.”

Dick was not awake enough for this conversation.

“Okay,” he said, sitting up and swinging his feet off the bed to stand up. “Let me get some coffee before we start with the crisises, alright?”

Jason groaned dramatically and pressed his face further into the pillow, but agreed.

Nodding, Dick stood up and walked to the kitchen, turning the coffee machine on and pawing around his cabinets for a coffee mug. He knew he had to at least have a Superman one somewhere in there–it’d been a gag gift from Jason last Christmas, and he was rather fond of the mug.

He heard Jason shuffle in, so Dick looked for a bowl to serve his little brother some cereal, then paused to check and make sure he had the cereal Jason liked.

Of course, Jason would eat whatever you gave him, but Dick knew that Jason liked the healthier cereal–the one with, like, oat flakes or something and strawberries. Dick preferred cereals like Trix and Lucky Charms, but usually grabbed a box of Jason’s favorite too whenever he went grocery shopping.

And, fuck yeah, he’s amazing; Dick found the box of Jason’s cereal he’d been looking for.

Giving himself a mental pat on the back, Dick poured the cereal into the bowl, then opened the fridge and grabbed the milk to add it, stuck a spoon into the bowl, and turned to place the breakfast in front of Jason.

The little brother thanked him in a mutter and started eating.

Dick smiled and resumed his search for the Superman mug, eventually finding it in the sink and washing it before pouring himself some poison and dumping an obscene amount of sugar into it.

He and Jason kept each other silent company as one woke up and the other ate cereal.

Dick poured himself a second serving, then sat down across from Jason, who was finished with the cereal and now stared into the bowl blankly.

“So,” Dick said. “You mentioned a crisis?” And, now that he was more functional, Dick could see that Jason was… Nervous.

Which was weird. Jason didn’t do nervous. He did angry, bored, sad, energetic, happy, tired, anxious, and excited, but he didn’t do nervous. Nervous meant he was worried or afraid. Robin was nervous sometimes, but Jason normally wasn’t.

Jason blinked out of his daze and lifted his eyes to meet Dick’s.

Dick raised a brow.

“I had a fight with Bruce,” Jason muttered, propping his head up with a fist on his cheek as he looked at the table and scratched at it.

“Oh.” Oh.

“He got mad ‘cause I disobey’d 'n order.”

“Oh.” Oh.

Jason fidgeted and scratched a little harder, gaze firmly on the table.

Dick processed the information and said, “So you came here, why?”

“'Cause. Advice. An’, if B kicks me out, was wonderin’ if I could stay… With ya…”

“Okay, first of all.” Dick downed the rest of his coffee like a shot, then grabbed Jason’s face with a hand and tilted it so that they were meeting gazes and held up a finger. “Bruce won’t throw you out, Jay. No matter what.”

Jason made a face. “Ya don’ know that.”

“Did he throw you out when you broke his vase?”

“…no.”

“Did he throw you out when he caught you hididng silverware and watches?”

“No.”

“How about when you cut him so bad he needed stitches?”

“No.”

Dick nodded to himself. “Alright, so why would he toss you out over an argument? One I used to have with him all the time?”

Jason sighed. “Fine. Point taken.”

Dick grinned again. “Good.”

He let Jason’s face go and crossed his arms on the table, adding, “And you’ll always be welcome here, Little Wing. Anytime, regardless of what happens, okay?”

Jason relaxed at that, nodding. “Okay.”

“Awesome.” Drumming his hands on the table, Dick said, “Do you want to call Bruce, or just hang out for a bit? I can take you back to Gotham whenever.”

Thinking it over, Jason decided he wanted to hang out.

“Cool, give me a minute to call Bruce and let him know you’re with me.”

Jason looked confused, and asked, “Why?”

Dick snorted. “He’s probably losing his mind with worry. Did you tell him you were coming here?”

Slowly, Jason shook his head. He seemed happier knowing that Bruce was worried about him.

It was both cute and sad at the same time.

Dick stepped out of the kitchen to make the call, then came back in with both Bruce’s blessing and his officer’s hat.

“First stop, my job. Coming with?”

Jason’s eyes lit up, and he eagerly agreed.

Dick was prepared for a great day.