Dick Grayson one shots

I borrowed this

"Need to borrow this," Dick said, snatching a gun from one of Jason's hands and throwing it at an approaching attacker's head.

"Seriously? You couldn't just shoot him?" Jason asked, firing off shots at the thugs currently swarming him.

"Throwing it was faster," Dick said, throwing a punch towards one man's face.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Isn't that why you have your escrimas?" He asked.

"I have no idea where those went," Dick replied.

Sirens echoed outside, red and blue lights flashing through the windows of the abandoned house they were fighting in.

"That's my cue to leave," Jason said, shooting a grappling line out the window and allowing it to pull him away.

"Hey!" Dick shouted after him, grumbling as the rest of the goons closed in on him.

—

Dick turned Jason's gun over and over in his hands. He really needed to return that, in fact, he'd meant to return it by now, but he hadn't seen Jason in the last week.

It wasn't totally unusual for Jason to disappear for days at a time, but the instances had been scarce the past few months. Besides, Jason would usually tell them where he was going in case of an emergency.

Dick sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket and selecting Jason's contact labeled 'Bucket Head', and pressing call.

The phone went straight to voicemail and Dick frowned. Something felt extremely wrong... not Jason dodging phone calls, that was normal... but extended periods of radio silence weren't usually his thing anymore.

Dick glanced down at the gun once again... surely hacking into his brother's helmet and accessing its tracking software wasn't a breech of privacy if he was concerned for his wellbeing... Right?

He shifted the gun from hand to hand while he pondered it, eventually giving in to the thought and moving to his computer.

—

The location blinking on Dick's screen didn't seem atypical for one of Jason's hangouts. Random rundown buildings in the middle of the slums were kinda his thing... the dot, however, hadn't moved for more than an hour, again, something easily explained... But Dick was feeling increasingly more and more uneasy about the whole situation.

In the end, he uploaded the tracking information to one of his holo-gloves, pulled on his Nightwing suit, and hopped onto his motorcycle.

—

Jason's head was hung, his typical red domino mask he wore under his helmet was shredded, pieces just barely hanging onto his face.

His breathing was unsteady, his hands tied to the chair behind him. He'd been tied up for long enough that his muscles had started spasming randomly, no longer willing to hold up his weight.

A shockingly cold hand tilted Jason's feverish face up. "How does it feel to be bait for the bigger fish?" Poison Ivy said, a predatory grin on her face.

"Th-they won't come," Jason mumbled, head lulling to the side.

Ivy chuckled. "I think you underestimate them," she replied.

Jason was silent for a moment. "They don't even know where I was going," he said, surprised to be suddenly holding back tears.

Ivy just laughed even louder. "You underestimate just how loyal that hero Nightwing is," she said. "He's the one I want to talk to anyway, out of all of you bats he's the only one I can see joining my cause. With the right motivation that is."