Birdflash oneshots 2

Stuck

Dick was not your average superhero. Sure, he was acrobatic, gay, and had enough jokes to make Joker jealous, but most importantly, he had tics. They weren't bad, and J'onn could always stop them on missions, but at home was a different story. At home, Dick Grayson was the son of the richest man in Gotham that had Tourette's syndrome. He was the kid who "couldn't control himself," which, obviously, made people think he was some sort of monster. He was the eldest of four brothers, one who had dearly departed. Jason had insisted people think he was still dead so he could sneak into galas and steal food for free. Dick didn't really mind obliging, but he wished he could erase his past from people's minds. They all pitied him, or hated him.

Wally knew he had Tourette's. He knew that Dick couldn't control his tics, but he also knew Dick didn't want any pity for it. Dick wanted to be a regular kid with a regular life, but Fate had screwed that up. Instead, he did his best to help Dick. He'd hold him whenever he needed, holding his hands to keep him from scratching himself, kiss his forehead as he came down from the tic attacks. His family had been reluctant to let Wally date him at first, but now they were comfortable with leaving the redhead alone around Dick.  Oftentimes, Wally was what he needed. Dick would need help calming down after especially bad tics, and Wally was always there to help him. He knew exactly how to calm Dick down, no matter what.  

Dick's tic attacks were very intense, and usually left him winded and drained. They could last up to three hours, and it was nonstop pain. Dick had no control over his body during that time, and it felt like electricity was running through him. It was no fun, and if Dick got overwhelmed, it would only get worse. He had a pile of blankets and pillows set up for any attacks, and he had an emergency button that could notify any family member if he went into one. He'd usually end up asleep after they passed, curled up under a blanket as he tried to relax.  He'd usually be brought snacks and water until he felt better, and sometimes his brothers would curl up next to him. 

Nobody was really sure why, but being down in the cave seemed to trigger the worst attacks. Dick would be fine one minute, and the next he'd be lying on the ground, unable to call out for help. Bruce usually required someone with him because of that, just to make sure he wasn't stuck there. Once he got into the attacks, he couldn't move to get out of them. Bruce was trying to develop a medicine to help him, but they kept getting hit with problem after problem. It had been in development for two years, but had been kept on the down-low, so they could develop it like they needed to. Bruce's biggest worry was that he'd develop something that was bad for his clients. Dick had a gut feeling it would be ready soon, but until it was, he would have to make do.

Dick had been up in the lab one evening, examining a sample of Joker gas when a jolt of electricity ran down his spine. It brought him down to his knees, leaving him gasping for breath as his body started trembling. No no no, shit! He was having an attack. Dick felt like he couldn't breathe, and he was starting to lose control of his extremities. He needed to get someone, but he couldn't move. He was stuck on the floor of the cave, shaking and ticking out while his dad and boyfriend were within shouting distance. This was always what scared him about his attacks: how out of control he was. He couldn't do anything but sit there in excruciating pain as his body ticked beyond normal. It was this part of having tics that nobody liked to talk about: just how out of control you felt.

"Are you done up there, Dick?" Bruce's voice carried up to him, finding a way through the painful fog in his brain. No, he wasn't done. He was in the middle of a tic attack, and neither of the others knew. Unfortunately for him, he was quiet when he ticked. He'd never had any verbal tics, and it was like his vocal chords tightened up whenever he went into an attack. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't answer them. "I'll go check on him. Maybe he fell asleep." Wally suggested, zipping up the platforms to the lab. Thank the gods that Wally was fast. Dick managed to watch as Wally came into the small area, green eyes immediately locking on the bird. "Shit. Bruce, he's having an attack!" Wally called, kneeling down next to the acrobat and carefully grabbing his hand. Dick heard a voice answer back, but he wasn't sure if it was Bruce or someone else. "Hey, breathe, Dickie. I know it hurts, but you've got to breathe, okay? I'm right here." Wally's voice was there again, and a hand started carding through his hair. Once Dick was several minutes into an attack, it was dangerous to try and move him.

Wally managed to help Dick sit up, unable to do anything but hold Dick's hand as he went through the attack. It always scared him, to see how badly Dick was in pain, yet to hear nothing. He was always used to hearing grunts and screams when someone was in pain. But with Dick, when he was in the worst pain, he was always silent. The only thing that could be heard was his harsh breaths, and his body moving. "How long?" Bruce asked as he came into the lab, kneeling down next to the duo. "I'm not sure, but I wouldn't say long. He still recognizes us." "Estimate?" "Three minutes." It had only been three minutes? It had already felt like an eternity. "Run upstairs and get a blanket. Tell Alfred that Dick will need water and food. I'll stay down here with him." Bruce carefully took Dick's hand, allowing Wally to run up. 

"Dickie? I need you to listen to me, chum. Wally is going to get a few things to help you, alright? You're going to be just fine. We've got you." Bruce said gently, looking into the pain-filled eyes of his son. It was times like these that made him wish the medicine was ready. It was easy for some people to know when they were having an attack. It could come on slowly, or they could make enough noise to alert somebody else. Dick was completely silent, and his bad attacks came on extremely quickly. It was the opposite of what they needed, especially in such a large cave, where shuffling could get masked by chirping bats or rushing water. Hell, even typing on the computer could mask footprints by the loudest in their family. When it came to Dick, who was a ninja, it could be extremely bad.

It took about an hour for Dick's attack to stop. He'd slowly managed to back take control of his limbs, although they were sore and he was exhausted. The electricity was starting to dull, until it felt like tiny static shocks. Wally had the blanket next to the avian, ready to wrap it around him once the attack was over. Alfred had left the food and water on a counter, carefully putting away the gas Dick had been investigating. Dick was currently leaning against Wally, head pressed to his shoulder as he took heaving breaths. "Hey, baby. You okay? You need some water?" Wally whispered softly, petting Dick's head. Dick nodded, hiccuping quietly. He was wiped out. "We'll get you to bed once you eat something, alright? You're going to be okay." Bruce grabbed the water as Dick crawled into Wally's lap. As long as his family took care of him, he'd be okay. He probably wouldn't be going on patrol tonight, but that was okay. The others were there to help.