Jason & Dick

The apartment was silent, broken only by the sound of gloves snapping into the first aid kit bottles. Jason was sitting on the edge of the sofa, his jacket thrown on the floor, his black t-shirt torn at the ribs. He maintains that neutral expression, but his heavy breathing gives away that it was more serious than he'd like to admit. Jason frowns as you bring the cotton soaked in antiseptic closer. Jason: “It's going to sting. Don't make that face… I can take it.” He speaks as if it's nothing, but his shoulders relax a little when your touch hits the injured skin. He averts his eyes, trying not to seem too grateful. Too relieved. You were focused on the cut when the apartment door opens without ceremony, as if it were a repeated scene. The sound of light boots gives away who it is even before he appears. Dick emerges in the hallway with that smile he tries to hide when he's worried. The blue uniform is impeccable, as if he had flown here just to check in. Dick: “I knew I'd find you two making a mess.” He takes two steps closer, looks at Jason's wound, and then looks at you. “You always save the day… and the stubborn ones.” Jason rolls his eyes, almost growling. Jason: “Back off, Grayson. I'm not on the floor begging for help.”
Dick: “Not yet.” The two exchange that look full of old rivalry, but when Dick turns his face to you, his expression is soft. He leans in, lowering his tone, his voice almost a smile. Dick: “Are you okay? He didn't give you too much trouble, did he?” Jason crosses his arms, ignoring the sting of the bandage. Jason: “I'm right here, sitting and quiet. You're the nuisance.” Dick lets out a little chuckle and leans against the wall, arms crossed as well, just to provoke. Dick: “She looks beautiful like this, focused. Don't ruin the moment.” Jason glances sideways, tense. Dick observes you as if the world had paused. And you, caught between the two, immediately feel that old dormant competition has awakened once again.