#lmao the beginning of this is so RHPS 😂😂😅😅

[daemoninwhiteround2]

VAMPIRE DICK! VAMPIRE JAYDICK. PLZ.

Jason cursed a blue streak as he slammed the trunk shut, thunder rumbling in rhythm to his words. He was going to hunt down his siblings and fillet whichever one decided to use the spare tyre and not replace it. It was the worst possible timing to get a flat too: it was night, it was pissing down rain (and that thunder was getting louder), and he was smack dab in the fanciest part of Bristol. At least if he'd been in the city proper there'd probably be some all-night tyre store within walking distance that he could go and pick another one up at, but out here? There's nothing but estates for miles.

And he can't even call an emergency mechanic to come help him because of course the moment he got out of the car his phone slipped out of his hand and landed in a puddle so big it had actually sunk. He'd fished it out immediately but it was completely black and non-responsive. He's got it upright in the cup holder right now in the vain hope that the water will drain out and he won't have to scrounge up the funds for a new one, but with the way his luck is going tonight...

The one good thing is that he passed the turnoff to one of the massive manor houses not 30 seconds ago and he's fairly certain he remembers seeing lights on in the distant house. He's a pitiful, water-logged sight and maybe that'll be enough for one of the servants to let him use a phone to call one of his siblings and get them to buy a tyre and get an Uber out here.

He sighs, puts his wallet in his back pocket (maybe he can offer to pay?), locks the car and trudges off.

--

The rain gets so heavy that he's almost on top of the white marble gate posts before he actually sees them. Fuck he hopes they'll let him borrow a towel, and if their generosity can stretch to an umbrella for the walk back, he'll never have a bad thing to say about the--he squints at the name helpfully engraved in the plaque above the intercom--the Waynes again.

He takes a deep breath, pulls on his friendliest, hapless customer service voice, and presses the buzzer.

"Uh, hello? Is anyone there?"

There's silence for long enough that Jason's gut sinks into his stomach.

"Please explain your business," an elderly, British man says.

Jason gives a sheepish grin and tries to look as not-murdery as possible. These things have cameras, right? "Hi, I'm so sorry to bother you, I'm Jason Todd, I got a flat tyre a little ways down the road and was hoping I could borrow your phone to call one of my siblings to come help me? Mine isn't working."

There's another beat of silence. Jason keeps the grin on even as ice creeps down his spine. It had taken a solid 15 minutes to get from the house before this to here, and he doesn't even want to think how long a 15 minute trip by car might take when walking in this weather.

Finally the intercom buzzes back to life. "I've unlocked the gate. Come in and head straight down the road, someone will meet you at the front doors."

Relief nearly takes Jason's knees out from underneath him. "Thank you, thank you so much--I'll be right there!"

The gates swing open. If they make a noise Jason can't hear it over the storm. The house is set far back from the road, of course, and what's probably only a couple of minutes by car takes him almost fifteen and he slips over twice. He manages to just go to his knees the first time but the second time he fully falls over, pushed by the rain and the wind, and scraps the shit out of his palms. By the time he gets to the front doors he's got mud splattered all up his right side and he's trying to be grateful for the rain because it's at least washing it away, even if it stings like a bitch in his cuts. He would do hideous things for a hot shower right now.

He stumbles up the stairs--hits his shins on them, fuck this night is just a total write off--and he's never been so grateful for the weird little enclosed bit whatever this style of architecture has because he's finally out of that fucking rain.

As if in agreement, sheet lightning flashes everything in black and white and thunder booms so loud and close that Jason actually jumps.

...Maybe when he sees the road rash and the mud the nice British man will offer to drive him back?

Speaking of, Jason's fairly certain he said that he'd meet him at the doors, and he kind of assumed that meant outside, that they didn't want him inside--fair enough, Jason didn't really want to go inside. But no one is there.

He swallows, cracks his neck and knocks on the door with his non-injured hand.

His knuckles have barely left the wood after the first knock when it's thrown open. A young man--much younger than Jason was expecting--stands there, and when he sees Jason, a massive smile blooms across his face.

"You made it! We thought you'd been swept away with the wind and the water!"

There's a trace of an accent there, just enough to make him sound sweeter, but definitely not the accent Jason was expecting.

"Uh..."

"Hi! I'm Dick! Well, Richard, but everyone calls me Dick! Come in come in, look at you, you're soaked!" He grabs Jason's wrists and drags him across the threshold.

The temperature change is nearly enough to make Jason moan--it's so nice in here.

"It's soaked through--here, take off your jacket, we brought towels down."

Richard--Dick--has his hands out waiting for Jason's jacket. When Jason just blinks blankly at him he has the audacity to wriggle his fingers. "The towels were just taken out of the dryer."

"Oh well in that case," Jason says dryly, but he does peel off his soaked, clinging jacket and give it to Dick. There is indeed a beautiful stack of fluffy white towels on a little table next to the door and when Jason grabs one it is toasty warm. Jason's fairly certain he does make some sort of weird noise at that but in his defence he'd just walked through a hurricane and his reward was warm, fluffy towels; he earned the weird noise.

Dick clucks his tongue and grabs his injured hand. "Just look at what you've done to yourself."

"Ah, yeah, kind of slipped over. Sorry about the mud, as well. Don't suppose you have a band-aid to go with them towels I could allow borrow?"

Dick just looks at Jason, his eyes.

His eyes.

They're so blue.

Dick smiles and everything just goes.

Quiet.

"So, Al says that you're just here to use the phone, but I've got to say, Jay, I think you'll be staying for longer, ok?" Dick cradles Jason's injured hand like... Like it's holy. He bends over it and for an inane moment the thought that he's going to turn it over and kiss Jason's knuckles floats through Jason's cotton-filled mind.

He just licks a long line from Jason's wrist to where his fingers meet his palm, and hums in delight. "Yeah, you're gonna stay with me for a while Jay."

Jason would like that. Whatever Dick wants.

[tigertigertigertime]

BRINGING THIS BACK TO ATTENTION

VAMPIRE DICK! VAMPIRE JAYDICK. PLZ.

Jason cursed a blue streak as he slammed the trunk shut, thunder rumbling in rhythm to his words. He was going to hunt down his siblings and fillet whichever one decided to use the spare tyre and not replace it. It was the worst possible timing to get a flat too: it was night, it was pissing down rain (and that thunder was getting louder), and he was smack dab in the fanciest part of Bristol. At least if he'd been in the city proper there'd probably be some all-night tyre store within walking distance that he could go and pick another one up at, but out here? There's nothing but estates for miles.

And he can't even call an emergency mechanic to come help him because of course the moment he got out of the car his phone slipped out of his hand and landed in a puddle so big it had actually sunk. He'd fished it out immediately but it was completely black and non-responsive. He's got it upright in the cup holder right now in the vain hope that the water will drain out and he won't have to scrounge up the funds for a new one, but with the way his luck is going tonight...

The one good thing is that he passed the turnoff to one of the massive manor houses not 30 seconds ago and he's fairly certain he remembers seeing lights on in the distant house. He's a pitiful, water-logged sight and maybe that'll be enough for one of the servants to let him use a phone to call one of his siblings and get them to buy a tyre and get an Uber out here.

He sighs, puts his wallet in his back pocket (maybe he can offer to pay?), locks the car and trudges off.

--

The rain gets so heavy that he's almost on top of the white marble gate posts before he actually sees them. Fuck he hopes they'll let him borrow a towel, and if their generosity can stretch to an umbrella for the walk back, he'll never have a bad thing to say about the--he squints at the name helpfully engraved in the plaque above the intercom--the Waynes again.

He takes a deep breath, pulls on his friendliest, hapless customer service voice, and presses the buzzer.

"Uh, hello? Is anyone there?"

There's silence for long enough that Jason's gut sinks into his stomach.

"Please explain your business," an elderly, British man says.

Jason gives a sheepish grin and tries to look as not-murdery as possible. These things have cameras, right? "Hi, I'm so sorry to bother you, I'm Jason Todd, I got a flat tyre a little ways down the road and was hoping I could borrow your phone to call one of my siblings to come help me? Mine isn't working."

There's another beat of silence. Jason keeps the grin on even as ice creeps down his spine. It had taken a solid 15 minutes to get from the house before this to here, and he doesn't even want to think how long a 15 minute trip by car might take when walking in this weather.

Finally the intercom buzzes back to life. "I've unlocked the gate. Come in and head straight down the road, someone will meet you at the front doors."

Relief nearly takes Jason's knees out from underneath him. "Thank you, thank you so much--I'll be right there!"

The gates swing open. If they make a noise Jason can't hear it over the storm. The house is set far back from the road, of course, and what's probably only a couple of minutes by car takes him almost fifteen and he slips over twice. He manages to just go to his knees the first time but the second time he fully falls over, pushed by the rain and the wind, and scraps the shit out of his palms. By the time he gets to the front doors he's got mud splattered all up his right side and he's trying to be grateful for the rain because it's at least washing it away, even if it stings like a bitch in his cuts. He would do hideous things for a hot shower right now.

He stumbles up the stairs--hits his shins on them, fuck this night is just a total write off--and he's never been so grateful for the weird little enclosed bit whatever this style of architecture has because he's finally out of that fucking rain.

As if in agreement, sheet lightning flashes everything in black and white and thunder booms so loud and close that Jason actually jumps.

...Maybe when he sees the road rash and the mud the nice British man will offer to drive him back?

Speaking of, Jason's fairly certain he said that he'd meet him at the doors, and he kind of assumed that meant outside, that they didn't want him inside--fair enough, Jason didn't really want to go inside. But no one is there.

He swallows, cracks his neck and knocks on the door with his non-injured hand.

His knuckles have barely left the wood after the first knock when it's thrown open. A young man--much younger than Jason was expecting--stands there, and when he sees Jason, a massive smile blooms across his face.

"You made it! We thought you'd been swept away with the wind and the water!"

There's a trace of an accent there, just enough to make him sound sweeter, but definitely not the accent Jason was expecting.

"Uh..."

"Hi! I'm Dick! Well, Richard, but everyone calls me Dick! Come in come in, look at you, you're soaked!" He grabs Jason's wrists and drags him across the threshold.

The temperature change is nearly enough to make Jason moan--it's so nice in here.

"It's soaked through--here, take off your jacket, we brought towels down."

Richard--Dick--has his hands out waiting for Jason's jacket. When Jason just blinks blankly at him he has the audacity to wriggle his fingers. "The towels were just taken out of the dryer."

"Oh well in that case," Jason says dryly, but he does peel off his soaked, clinging jacket and give it to Dick. There is indeed a beautiful stack of fluffy white towels on a little table next to the door and when Jason grabs one it is toasty warm. Jason's fairly certain he does make some sort of weird noise at that but in his defence he'd just walked through a hurricane and his reward was warm, fluffy towels; he earned the weird noise.

Dick clucks his tongue and grabs his injured hand. "Just look at what you've done to yourself."

"Ah, yeah, kind of slipped over. Sorry about the mud, as well. Don't suppose you have a band-aid to go with them towels I could allow borrow?"

Dick just looks at Jason, his eyes.

His eyes.

They're so blue.

Dick smiles and everything just goes.

Quiet.

"So, Al says that you're just here to use the phone, but I've got to say, Jay, I think you'll be staying for longer, ok?" Dick cradles Jason's injured hand like... Like it's holy. He bends over it and for an inane moment the thought that he's going to turn it over and kiss Jason's knuckles floats through Jason's cotton-filled mind.

He just licks a long line from Jason's wrist to where his fingers meet his palm, and hums in delight. "Yeah, you're gonna stay with me for a while Jay."

Jason would like that. Whatever Dick wants.