Dick Grayson one shots

I never asked for this P2

Dick peeled his eyes open with a groan. His head was heavy and felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. The world twisted nauseatingly around him, and he almost emptied what little was in his stomach onto the ground next to him.

A huff from across whatever room or cell he was in drew his attention to his current cell mate... Red Hood.

Dick's head fell to rest against the cell's wall when he tried to lift it enough for him to get a better look at the antihero.

Jason lounged across the cell from Dick, trying not to feel guilty when he looked at the bruise that bloomed down the side of the acrobat's face, one that had definitely been from him.

Their masks had both been taken, and Jason could see the blown look Dick's pupils had, denoting a possible concussion. It seemed the acrobat was too out of it to even recognize him.

Dick stared at the familiar looking man, blinking slowly. Why did he look so familiar? The white streak in black hair was new he decided... he didn't know how he knew, but he felt the man's eyes used to be bluer.

Jason, he suddenly realized. But... but that was impossible.

Dick's eyes watered. "P-please tell me I'm not hallucinating again," he mumbled.

Jason's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?" He asked.

Dick sobbed, covering his mouth with a hand. "Jay?" he breathed. He knew that voice... it had to be him.

Jason stiffened. "You don't get to call me that anymore," he snapped.

Tears traced their way down Dick's cheeks. "You were gone..." he mumbled. "My fault..."

"It wasn't your fault," Jason replied, his tone softening slightly. "Besides, you saw me a few weeks ago... you already knew I wasn't dead."

Dick huffed out a laugh as if Jason had made some sort of joke. He tried to stand, paling when he was struck with another wave of nausea. Maybe he'd just close his eyes for a little longer.

"Hey," Jason called, tapping Dick on the cheek.

Dick opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor... wasn't he just sitting up?

Jason was leaning over his brother, concern clear in his turquoise eyes.

"You look very concerned for someone who tried to kill me," Dick mumbled, his words slurring together slightly.

Jason crossed his arms over his chest and shifted away. "Sue me for changing my mind," he grumbled.

Dick tried for a smile, but he was sure it probably looked more like a grimace than anything else.

"Now. I'd be more willing not to try killing you again if you could get us out of here," Jason said.

Dick pushed himself into a sitting position, grateful when the nausea didn't return. Jason helped him to his feet, and he made his way to the cell door.

The door was made of a heavy layered steel sitting flush with the wall. The only holes in the cell were a few tiny air vents on the ceiling.

Dick rested his head on the door, pressing his hand to it to gauge what was going on inside.

Jason stood. "Dick," he started. "Falling asleep again with a concussion isn't a good idea... especially not when you're standing."

"-m not falling asleep," Dick replied, furrowing his brow in concentration. He could feel the metal responding to his touch, but bending it to his will seemed to be a bit harder than usual... most likely because of the concussion.