Chapter Text
Florida, Dick had lied to his coworkers, when they asked about his vacation. They didn't believe him.
Not about Florida, but about him going on holiday. Maybe he'd done a worse job at his secret identity than he'd thought... he'd picked up the workaholism from Bruce, but there wasn't a single stranger who met Bruce and harboured any illusions that he worked at all.
Dick grinned as the jolt from the road made his shoulder throb. Instead of a tan and some keychains, Gotham would send him home with an arm sling and some bruises. Memories, if he was particularly unlucky, that would make his teeth grind together longer than any injury.
The bike's rumble bounced off the tunnel walls, the acoustics something out of a gearhead's wet dream. Dick carefully brought the speed down, the Cave was packed enough nowadays that you couldn't swing a cat without hitting a sibling.
Batman was over by the Batcomputer, cape fanned out around him. Interesting... he didn't usually stay in.
Dick climbed off, wincing a little when his shoulder shifted, mentally making plans. He'd popped the shoulder back in mid-patrol but it was hurting like a bitch now.
Probably aggravated his old rotator cuff injuries too... meaning ice, also a corticosteroid shot to take down some of the swelling.
Dick knelt to rummage in the cart that held their most commonly used meds and supplies. The gauze was running low, antiseptics needed restocking, and someone had spilled over a significant number of syringes...
"I'm surprised you let this mess slide." Dick declared, rolling down the top of his suit. His shoulder was radiating heat-- goddamn it, he should've taken it easier on the grapple gun-- and he mentally added pain meds to the list of items he needed.
Bruce didn't bother replying and Dick glanced over at the screen, automatically clocking enough details to know what his siblings were up to.
"Ivy and Freeze out and about tonight?" Dick said around the needle cap, shuddering when the cold alcohol wipe swept over his shoulder. "They working together? Do our old counteragents to her venom work?"
No reply.
Dick rolled his eyes, distracting himself by stabbing the needle into his shoulder, careful not to push too much liquid in. "Okay, yes, it's poison. But she's Poison Ivy, I'm not calling it Poison Ivy poison." He recapped the needle, depositing it into their biohazard bin.
It finally occurred to Dick that Bruce was giving him the silent treatment. He quickly ran through the events of the past couple days-- months to be safe-- but he couldn't think of anything that'd reignite the cold war.
Something cold tugged at Dick's chest. He cleared his throat, climbing up the steps from the vehicle bay. "Bruce? B?" He didn't reach out, far too used to the Bat-reflexes when the comms were on and drowning everything else out.
Bruce was... asleep.
Dick stared at him, shaking his head slightly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Bruce asleep.
How bad was he hurt? There wasn't any blood on the floor, no blown-apart elements of the suit.
Maybe he was sick--
The comms crackled again and Dick carefully turned the volume lower as one of his siblings started talking.
"Hello, if anyone's there. Red Robin to Batcave." Tim said, sounding weary. "We're gonna need a bit more of that antidote. Someone missed the shot--" there was some muffled squabbling on Tim's end "--oh shut up. And she's snagged half a dozen more people. Also get hypothermia measures ready, Batgirl's half frozen to death."
Dick glanced at the fridge holding their stocks. He pressed open the comm line. "Nightwing here, I'll get you the vials. ETA..." He quickly scanned the map, making some calculations. "Ten minutes, forty five seconds."
"You planning on driving the speed limit?" Red Hood interjected.
"Giving you a chance to mop up your mess." Dick replied lightly.
"What's B's plan for Freeze?" Spoiler asked, cutting off Hood's answer. She sounded slightly breathless, voice pinched.
Dick could hear him snoring softly. "I'll brief you on the way over, he got waylaid with another situation. Oracle, you got Ivy?"
"We have Ivy." Oracle confirmed.
"Do we?" Tim asked.
"Great." Dick cracked his neck. "Ten minutes." He closed the line and studied Bruce again.
He's getting slow in his old age, Dick decided. Passing out at the monitors.
When he was younger, Dick often used the pretense of nightmares-- which, wasn't always just made up-- to convince Bruce to pass out on the chaise longue next to his bed.
Regardless, it was a little eerie to see him out like that. Dick ran a hand through his hair.
They could handle this-- it was the only, even remotely possible reason that Bruce had let himself slide under. Because Bruce never, ever did this. The man, as per usual, had probably been up for days. And the slumped posture told Dick there were some injuries he'd probably been neglecting.
"Alright." Dick murmured, carefully trying to figure out the best way to do this. Bruce was 220 pounds and the cot was a good distance away. Probably to avoid the temptation of anyone sleeping there unless they were crawling to their deathbed.
He'd carried him before, Dick reminded himself. Back when he was a great deal shorter and using a grapple line to boot. This was nothing.
Dick spent a precious half minute before he realized that wasn't happening. Not tonight anyways. "B." Dick said, repeating it before he stepped closer, shaking him by the arm. "Dad."
Bruce's eyes shot open, red and glassy. His brows furrowed together.
He looked confused. Dick swallowed hard. It was a good thing the others didn't see him like this.
"It's me," Dick said, ignoring the surge of pain when Bruce grabbed his bad shoulder. He carefully worked one kevlar-covered hand off it. "C'mon B." He hooked his good arm under Bruce's, dragging him up and out of the chair.
Memories surged up, of bloody nights post-patrol, of hours spent fleeing some psychopath hunting them down, of catching Bruce as he tumbled.
Dick focused on breathing. Bruce was mostly useless, dangerously close to flopping over. Dick ignored that, buried the need to fill the silence with words. He kept his eyes on the cot, half-carrying, half-prompting Bruce on until they'd managed to stumble over the distance.
He dropped Bruce into it, his arm throbbing horribly with the motion. Dick couldn't find their blanket. Odds were that someone had finished bleeding all over it.
Dick grabbed their shock blanket instead from the first aid kit, managing to drape it over Bruce, his arm painfully whinging with every flap of the sheet.
Bruce didn't look remotely relaxed in sleep, brow furrowed and face gaunter than Dick remembered noticing before.
It made Dick's skin crawl unpleasantly with worry. For Bruce. For all of them.
All those partners and he still-- "You have to ask for help sometime, B." He sighed quietly, letting go of the sheet and deciding it was enough. "Try to get some rest."
"Goodnight," A drowsy voice croaked when he turned.
Dick smiled. "Goodnight B." He looked back at the closed eyes once before silently sprinting to the fridge, grabbing a few armfuls of vials before racing over to the Batmobile.
The explanation he'd give for Bruce being out could wait 'till they got back. He could hear his comm crackling warningly.
Dick rolled his arm out, and swore under his breath when the engine growled its way to life. Whatever.
He tapped open the record of suit-recorded vitals up as he raced toward Red Robin's location, soothed by the even stats of Bruce's heart and breathing.