Dick Grayson one shots

Enemies

Whumptober day 9: alternate prompt —> friendly fire

I genuinely hope these things are coherent 😅 I haven't been proof reading any since the start of the month, simply hoping they make sense and pressing publish lol

Jason stumbled as the haze of pit madness faded from his mind. He cursed himself under his breath for allowing the rage to overtake him again.

His memories were a scattered blur in his mind, but he was grateful he'd at least ended up back at his safe-house.

He tugged his helmet off as he walked up to the door, bypassing the security measures and nearly tripping on a body on the way in.

Dick was curled up in front of the safe-house door, his breathing painful, broken only with shaking whimpers.

Jason nearly fell over again when he recognized the man. He knelt at the acrobat's side and gently shook his shoulder.

White lenses shot open, Dick's breath hitching for a moment.

Jason stared at his brother for a moment. Why was he here? Red Hood was the enemy.

"J-ay," Dick breathed, relief flooding his body when he saw the noticeable lack of glowing green in his brother's eyes.

Jason teetered on the edge of indecision. Should he bring Dick inside? Should he leave him outside for Batman to find?

His resolve finally crumbling, Jason hooked his arms under Dick's and dragged him inside, ignoring the elder's pained cry.

Jason picked Dick up long enough to carry him to the couch. It was then he realized that the black kevlar of Dick's suit was slicked with blood. His chest was torn apart by gunshot wounds, looking like he'd gotten caught in a spray of bullets. He swore under his breath. "Why did you come here of all places?" He mumbled under his breath.

Dick's half lidded eyes blinked up at him from under his mask. "D-didn't know... w-where else to... to go," he mumbled.

"Bruce would've been a start," Jason snapped back. "I know he doesn't have the best bedside manner, but he's got a lot more practice digging out bullets."

Dick groaned again as Jason began to pack the bullet wounds to stop as much of the blood loss as he could. "Y-ou know... he... he doesn't c-are a-about m-e," he mumbled, clenching his jaw and arching his back in pain.

"Yeah right," Jason scoffed. "You're his little golden boy. He loves you more than he ever loved me."

Dick let out a weak chuckle which eventually faded into a wet cough. "You d-didn't see h-m when... when you died," he breathed.

Jason froze for a moment. Was that true? Had Bruce truly cared? "Even if that were true, it's surely changed by now," he said.

Dick didn't respond, his eyes closed as he continued to bleed out on Jason's couch.

Jason swore under his breath, rifling through the cupboards of his safe house as he looked for more medical supplies. He found his first aid kit and tore through it, snatching up the gloves and various other medical supplies he'd need.

He wished anyone else could be fishing the bullets out of his brother's chest. Admittedly, he hadn't paid as much attention during Alfred's first aid trainings as he should've those few years ago.

It was more than an hour later when he finally finished.

Dick lay on his couch, looking pale and lifeless. A quick check of his pulse point reassured Jason that he hadn't kicked the bucket yet. It was, however still a possibility if he didn't get some sort of blood transfusion.