ICARUS BLAZING ✦ jason todd

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐.

[ now ]

"Oh, wow, you look like shit."

Valentine narrows her eyes in mock defiance as she turns the lock behind Dick. "Thanks, Grayson," she retorts, dry with sarcasm. "No wonder Barb left you."

He drops his battered grey duffel in the entryway and takes off his shoes, shrugging off her jab with familiarity. "We left each other," he clarifies, half-hearted. "It was mutual."

"Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night." Her retort comes without hesitation as she brushes past him, heading into her small kitchen. The narrowness of the space feels grounding, ordinary, as she reaches for two mismatched mugs from the cabinet above the sink. Her movements are surprisingly steady. "What do you take in your coffee again? Sugar? Milk?"

"Milk would be nice," Dick replies, leaning casually against the counter. His eyes follow her quietly, though the faint crease in his brow betrays his concern. "Are you holding up okay?"

As she fills the mugs and fishes for the milk in the fridge, Valentine is acutely aware of his gaze. The simple act of moving around the kitchen suddenly feels heavier, like wading through mud. She hands him his coffee with a small nod before retreating to the living room, leading him to the familiar worn couch.

They sink into the cushions, their softness enveloping Valentine like an old friend. Her exhaustion is impossible to hide, etched painfully across her features, but she figures it doesn't matter. This is Dick and he's seen her at her worst — far worse than this.

"You know, when you said you were thinking of visiting today, I didn't think you actually meant it," Valentine remarks.

Dick takes a slow sip of his coffee, letting the warmth seep into him before leaning his head back against the couch's weathered fabric. "Yeah, well, Tim called me last night," he says, his voice even, though the pause that follows feels deliberate. "After you hung up on me."

A bitterness spreads on Valentine's tongue, sharper than the coffee she's nursing. "Oh? And what did the replacement want?"

"Valentine."

The way Dick says her full name makes her jaw tighten. She hates it — how his tone carries both a reprimand and a plea, as if trying to tether her to some higher moral ground she has no interest in standing on.

"Yeah, yeah. What did he want?"

Dick sighs. "Someone broke into Wayne Towers yesterday during the riots. They stole money from one of Bruce's accounts."

"How much?"

"Half a billion dollars."

Valentine's breath catches mid-sip, and she chokes on her coffee, hard enough to make her eyes water. "Are you fucking serious?" she sputters. "Holy shit."

"And get this — he was wearing a mask not unlike Deathstroke's."

Her frown deepens. "What, you think they're working together?"

"Yeah. Deathstroke himself picked him up in a helicopter. Tim tried to follow" — Dick winces — "and got dropped. Literally dropped."

Valentine leans back against the cushions, the corners of her lips curling up just barely.

"Well, that's what you get for lowering the Boy Wonder standards."

The glare Dick throws at her can practically cut glass. "What is your problem?"

"Oh come on, Dick, how long did Bruce wait before taking Tim on?" Her voice rises slightly, the words spilling out before she can stop them. "Six months in and he was already wearing the fucking uniform. His uniform." She sets her mug down on the coffee table with a deliberate heaviness, the noise unnaturally loud in the charged silence. "The dude's way in over his head."