#dickxjay

Something quick and sappy for a certain Kris who apparently needs a boot to the head...I mean...a hug...

Title: Once Upon a Gunshot

Author: Tyrror

Rating: PG

Pairing: Dick/Jay

Summary: The aftermath of a close call leaves Jason annoyed and Dick a little more than overprotective.

“Dick...”

The older man's response was no more than a vague hum and the ever insistent pressing of his face into Jason's back. He had no idea how this had started. Even more uncertain in his mind was how he was going to end it, but the butterfly kisses along the base of his neck were rather distracting and he wasn't even certain at this moment if they were real.

He tried to recall, it seemed like it was only minutes ago; could it have really been only minutes? Whatever the case, it seemed like it was only minutes since Dick had taken up residence behind him. There was the vague memory of video games and cursing. Something about cars on the television screen and an explosion and then Jason's mind was filled with his older brother's arms and the way that he smell and...god damn it if he wasn't getting distracted again.

Dick's arms were wrapped around his chest, his face pressed into the back of Jason's neck and the subtle rise and fall of his chest the only indicator that he was even still alive and not just clutching the younger man out of rigor mortis. Jason shifted slightly again, thinking that maybe Dick had fallen asleep and he could escape this time, but the whimper behind his ear and the slight tightening of the older man's hold told him otherwise.

“Dick,” he tried again, a light shift in his sibling's grip the only response he got, “You have to let me go eventually.”

“No,” Dick muttered into his skin, “Mine.”

His world stopped for a brief second at the comment and he lifted an eyebrow despite knowing the other man couldn't see him. The arms around his chest flexed slightly and Dick threw a leg over his own, tangling them together in a manner that would have made a ball of yarn jealous.

“Why are you doing this?” He tried after several long moments of silence.

The breath that Dick drew in, long and labored, led the younger man to believe he might actually get an answer this time when Dick's hand shifted slightly and brushed across the bandage on his chest where it lay hidden beneath his shirt. The bullet wound had never worried him, it was a flesh wound at best, but it still stung like a bitch and the simple touch caused him to hiss in pain as Dick settled against him once more. There was a small whimper from the older man's throat at the sound and the scenario suddenly made sense in a manner that he simply couldn't contemplate before that point.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his hand shifting to rest over where Dick's still held him uncomfortably tight. “I'll try not to scare you next time.”

He noticed for the first time in the entire conversation the way that Dick's hands subtly trembled and how that got so much worse when he actually acknowledged his wounds. The arms around him were like a trembling cage after mere moments and he smiled sadly at the floor before he spoke again.

“As nice as this is and all, Dickie bird, I'm about half an inch from tumbling off this couch. Any possibility we can move this to somewhere a little more stable?”

The words had barely left his mouth before he found himself being carried bridal style by the older man. The change in position was so sudden that even his ego didn't have a chance to respond and it was only several minutes later that he realized their ultimate destination as being the older man's room. Letting his face hide in the crook of Dick's neck, he resigned himself to this one indignity, well aware that escaping the wrath of an over-protective dick (take that as you will) was nigh upon impossible and he fought back the inner chuckle that came with the indignity of being carried.

Song-meme fic #2: "Now I'm All Over the Shop by Maixmo Park --- Jason/Dick" ~magebird~

Yet another character I'm not well acquainted with, but at least with Jason I have several fic I enjoy that paint a good enough picture for me to try and capture him a bit. This isn't as long as I normally like, but I thought that this made a better ending than what I was originally planning so...yeah...

Title: Now That You're Not Mine

Author: Tyrror

Rating: PG

Pairing: Dick/Jason (Nightwing/Red Hood)

Summary: Jason takes just a little more time to wonder if Dick really would be better off without Jason to bring him down.

Warnings: Mystery and inner dialogue...you have been warned...

Looking down at where the other man was sleeping so peacefully in his bed, Jason almost couldn't bring himself to do what he was planning. The way Dick's hair fell into his face as he sighed and twitched, groping for the warm body that wasn't next to him any longer bringing a rare, truly caring smile onto his face. Removing the small box almost gently from the pocket of his discarded leather jacket, the redhead placed it on the bedside table where it was certain to not be missed and almost, almost thought of simply doing away with the entire plan before steeling himself back up again.

Sure, it was a jerk thing to do. Even more so if he were to stop and consider that this was very high on the list of “ways not to go about doing such a thing” but he'd be stupid and an ass if he ever suggested that he could accomplish this in any other way. Tracing his hands along the plain, brown paper that wrapped the small box, he twirled his finger along where he knew the outline of Dick's name to be written in his mannishly awful scrawl before getting back to the business at hand.

His jacket was on and he was halfway across the room when he heard the bed shift and the other man grunted his name in that half awake place that nightmares come from but no one ever remembers and the redhead stopped suddenly, praying under his breath. With a small groan and a gentle sigh, he heard the older man slip back into the grasps of sleep, still reaching for the non-existent warmth on the other side of the bed that he would never find.

“I'm...” the breath left him in a rush when he suddenly realized that he couldn't even bring himself to apologize to someone who would never remember the words, “Oh fuck, you know...”

Starting forward again, he unlatched the window as quietly as he knew how and placed a single booted foot on the sill, taking one last look over his shoulder at the room he was leaving behind...again. The frown that was etched into his face deepened, the line on his forehead becoming more pronounced until finally, with all the effort he could muster, “Goodbye...”