Dick cries and Jason is there to help.

. . .

Dick pulled up in his designated parking space and turned off the ignition. Two hands gripping the wheel, he sucked in a fortifying breath. No need to fear. Alfred would get over his disapproval soon enough. He and Bruce had been on good terms lately. Everything would be fine. Gravel and sand crackled underfoot as the front door loomed closer. The soft tap of rubber soles on pavestone steps. Familiar sounds. Comforting sounds. The cool brass of the doorknock with its usual weight. The heavy ring of metal on wood. All good. All normal. Straining his ears, Dick could hear the approaching footsteps of the butler. The brief pause whilst he ensures his attire was in suitable order. The last few steps. He could still make it out of sight if he bolted right now. The click of the door mechanism. Too late now. Thrusting his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, Dick remodelled his face.

Alfred opened the door to reveal the beaming smile of his eldest grandson.

    "Long time no see, Alfie," laughed the young man, reaching behind his head to scratch the back of his neck. His hair had grown out a little, just enough to almost tickle the collar of his t-shirt.

    "Indeed," the butler replied. The threshold was crossed. "I had hoped that you might keep your promise of more frequent visits this time." A blush flushed across tanned skin as the older man stepped around him to shut the door. "However, Master Dick," the man resumed, turning to face the boy. "It is certainly a pleasure to have you back home." The acrobat opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by a voice from upstairs.

    "That you, Dickiebird?" A head popped into view over the railings. "Heh. Took you long enough." Alfred raised his eyes to the heavens in a plea for patience.

    "Master Jason," the gentleman chastised. "Would you mind entering a room before you start bellowing?" The wide shouldered man laughed as he sped down the staircase.

    "Sure, Alfred," he grinned mischievously. "I'll try to remember that for next time." Clad in his usual jeans and brown, leather jacket, the rebel son crossed the floor in long, purposeful strides.

    "Jaybird." The acrobat's face was stretched in a wide so bright and wide the butler could have sworn the boy's head would explode like a firework at any given moment.

    "Now you're finally here," the younger brother explained, "we can get this game started. Console is set up in my room. Game's loaded. I've got enough snacks to last through an atomic bomb. And I even got Babybird to rig up a surround sound system. Let's go!" As he exclaimed the last two words, the taller bat clamped his hand over his older brother's shoulder. The effect was almost instantaneous.

Alfred watched in confusion as the light guttered out of the boy's face as if someone had thrown a bucket of water into the sun. A twitch of a cheek muscle. An aborted breath. A single shining tear.

    "Jay..." The nickname was cut short by the acrobat collapsing against his little brother's chest, face pressed into his grey shirt, fingers desperately clasping at the leather jacket. After a moment of stunned silence, Jason lowered himself and his weeping sibling to the tiled floor. Their grandfather stood frozen, astonished by the sudden change in atmosphere.

    "Dickie? Bigbird?" he whispered, embracing the older boy as tight as he dared. "What's going on? Why are you so upset?" The quivering skin offered no verbal answer but he could feel Dick shaking his head. "No? No what?" His shirt was cold and saturated and he could feel the rapid expansion and collapse of the other man's chest but Jason noticed his brother wasn't making any sound. And there was no warmth on his chest. No uncomfortable, sticky breath. Trying to remain as calm as possible, Jason gently removed his brother from him enough to see his face. Bloodshot eyes, snotty nose and blue tinged lips. Turquoise eyes flashed up to lock onto the butler.

    "Dick," he said evenly, not looking away from the gentleman. "You need to breathe." The boy had buried his head into Jason's chest again and he could feel it shaking back and forth. "Please, Dick. I need you to try to calm down." Alfred's back was hurriedly retreating up towards the library. He understood the message in his grandson's eye. "A breath, Dick. I know you can do it." Hopefully he'd return with an oxygen mask or sedative. Still the older boy's chest moved rapidly and without result. He was getting heavier, leaning more into his little brother's chest. Losing consciousness.

    "Dick," Jason snapped angrily. Startled blue eyes clicked with his own. "Breathe." Finally a horrible noise came out of the boy's throat. A rattly, wheezy honk like someone had filled a dog's chew toy up with gravel and given it a squeeze. And then another. And a third.

    "Good boy, Dick," the second son crooned as a weary raven head flopped helplessly into his lap. "Take it easy. You did good." The pair sat in the foyer for a few minutes longer until Alfred returned with a needle in hand. Jason shook his head as his hands carded through his brother's hair.

    "To bed, Master Jason?" the butler whispered. A nod of agreement and with Alfred's help Jason carried Dick to his room. Jason stayed a few minutes longer by his brother's bedside but seeing that the other boy was sound asleep he soon left him be.

Dick wasn't seen again until dinner was announced. He appeared at the door of the dining room, his cheeks red with residual bed warmth and sheet marks pressed into his face. This, in addition to his horrible bed head, glassy eyes and chalky pallor, had Alfred sending him straight back upstairs. Jason offered to take his meal up to him and the butler agreed, suggesting that he should take his own too.

    "Oi Dick?" he called toeing open the door. "I've got your food. Alfred said we could have a picnic in your room." A snort met his ears as the door was opened fully for him.

    "That's not a picnic, Jaybird," the shorter boy mock-scolded. "That's just eating college style." Closing the door behind them, the pair settled onto the bed and into their lamb casserole. After the first bite Jason began inhaling his. Cooked to Alfred's usual perfection, the meal was dissolving in his mouth.

    "Slow down, silly!" he was warned. "You're going to choke."

    "Na-uh," he pouted, cheeks stuffed so full of meat and potatoes that some fell back into his bowl. Of course, Dick had to be right. A mere fifteen seconds later Jason found himself being pounded on the back until he'd coughed up the piece of cauliflower that had dared to lodge itself in his throat. The older boy managed to hold his tongue. The rest of dinner went without any further incident.

    "What happened earlier, Dick?" the younger boy questioned with a groan as he stretched out across the bed. Perhaps he'd eaten a little too much. Alfred had had to guess his serving size as Jason's visits to the manor were even scarcer than the acrobat's. He usually overestimated though the rebel never complained. After all, full was better than starving and left overs were unheard of. A throw back to his youth? He mentally shrugged.

    "Earlier?" repeated the older, pushing the remains of his food around his bowl. Jason noted he had barely eaten half. "As in, the foyer?" The younger boy pulled himself to attention.

    "Yeah," he clarified. "When you suddenly broke down so much that you stopped breathing." The words came out harsher than he had anticipated they were going to but he got a dopey nod regardless.

    "I ... uh ..." stuttered the acrobat, running both hands through his hair. "I was a bit ... I mean I ... um ... just ... ah ..." Jason watched his brother swallow thickly and noted the trembling that had started up in his hands.

    "If it's too hard," he began.

    "No!" Dick shouted causing Jason to jump in shock. "I mean ..." He buried his face in his hands. "I need to say this. I need to, Jaybird. It's not even that big of a deal."

    "Okay," Jason prompted gently. "You know you can tell me anything, Bigbird because I'm ..." The rebel blew out a heavy breath. Blue met turquoise. "I'm your brother, Dick." A watery smile.

    "Today," the acrobat confessed at length. "Before I came, I ... uh. I had a bit of an accident." Dick's fingers played with the comforter in front of his crossed legs. "I get free range of the equipment after I finish teaching my classes. So I taught my one-thirty to three and mucked around on the trapeze." Jason felt snow run through his chest but didn't say anything. "I missed the bar and fell." All around the house the chorus of chimes marked eight o'clock. "It was fine. I was fine. I landed in the net like I've done a million times before. No injury. I saw the time and realised I was cutting it fine for our video game date so I packed up and drove over here." Dick glanced up and caught his brother's unhappy glare.

    "You shouldn't have driven if you were shaken up," he was reprimanded, concern clear in the younger boy's tone. "I would have understood if you were a little late." The acrobat shook his head with another weak grin.

    "I was fine, Jay," he explained. "Right up until I knocked on the front door. My chest felt a little tight like I was nervous to see Alfred, knowing I'd get one of his mildly disappointed stares. I smothered it with a smile. I was okay." A deep breath. "But then you put your hand on my shoulder and ..." Dark spots appeared on the blanket. "For a second I was back at the circus. The first time I flew, my dad ... your hand ... After that night, I just ... just wanted to feel his hand like that again." He was sobbing now. Jason didn't know how to comfort him. "They're gone, Jaybird. They fell. They ... I could have ... The net ... They were ... Oh God, Jay! I miss them." His story finished, Dick collapsed in on himself, a shaking, snotty mess. So Jason did the only thing he could do; he held his brother as he cried his heart out, he whispered sweet nothings in his ear, petted his hair, wiped his tears and kissed his cheek until he fell asleep. Alfred watched from a small gap in the door and was struck once again by the revelation that his grandsons were, deep in their hearts, still just small children with whom fate had played a dark and terrible game with. He left the pair to be. Dirty dishes could wait. 

. . .

1839 words.

How was that? A little bit cute? A little bit sad? Any advice is always welcome as is criticism but please try to be nice. :) Also feel free to give me prompts. I've seen other writers do this and I think it would be a great way of generating ideas. So yeah. 

Until we meet again.

~SpanishFox