#two sicko peas in a pod

[malifiquemakes]

Sick fascination

[proselles]

two sicko peas in a gay little pod

[slvttyspider]

"hey, how ... /does/ fat nuggets deal with crowds?" is that concern growing for the pig? yes. - THE VAG. bc chill interactions gud and pig is ALSO GUD ♥

     ‘   my lil fat nuggets rarely ever comes around crowds.   ’  he says matter of factly while patting said Fat Nuggets, who’s quietly curled up in his lap, lovingly on the head.

   ‘   mostly because there’s some real sickos out there, ya know?            but when he is around, say, a small group … he does alright.  he gets a lil jittery until someone offers him food, which i totally get.  ’   like two peas in a pod.  ‘  i wouldn’t jeopardize my little nugget’s safety, though.  he’s all i’ve got in this miserable world.  ’

                                ‘  but if something ever happened to this pig,                                     i’d be out there hunting the pig who hurt ‘im, i tell ya.  ’

[itispossibleihaveissues]

And Who By Fire - chapter 17

Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Permanent injury, amputation, behavioural changes due to brain injury, dysfunctional relationships [big shock, I know] I will put any extras at the beginning of each chapter.

Summery:  Both Dick and Jason are caught in an explosion that changes everything. Burdened with a shared sense of guilt and isolation, they are forced to rely on each other. Together they might heal. Or possibly just kill each other.

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 15 16

Thanks to burkesl17 for the beta!

Notes: This is for Iamjasonssmirkingrevenge and is also all her fault.

Jason spent a few long moments standing stock still in the ruins of his living-room. He was completely emotionally unprepared for this confrontation; he had no idea what he wanted to say – what he could say . He was exhausted in every possible way, the small boost he had felt from uninterrupted sleep had evaporated, to be replaced with a sickening bubble of adrenalin sitting in his gut. And to top it off, he was poorly balanced on a pair of crappy-ass crutches. On the upside, at least the house was already mostly destroyed, so no need to worry on that account.

Of course Bruce would turn up as Batman, and in typical Batman fashion, he just seemed to materialise from thin air. Stepping out of the shadows of Jason's own bedroom while Jason still stood in the living room clutching his phone and leaning heavily on his crutches.  The fact it was his bedroom just added insult to injury. If he came out of this confrontation in one piece he was going to have to look into better security.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Bruce said, by way of greeting. His gravely voice all Bat and all business. Just the tone was enough to straighten Jason's spine. He hated it, the quiet rage.

When he had been Robin, he had seen Bruce mad, seen him scornful and harsh – but Batman never struck him in anger. They spared, and he didn’t always hold back, and ��Jason felt those punches like he was meant to. Because the bad guys wouldn’t be pulling their punches just because he was a kid. He had never feared Bruce's anger in a physical sense, but he had feared his disappointment, his disapproval and his disinterest. It galled him to know that even after everything, the same was still true.

“I was going to tell you,” Jason said at last, opting for a vague sense of honesty. He was already stripped bare. And there was likely nothing he could say that would stop this from reaching its inevitable conclusion.

“Really.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, really! I just didn’t know how. How do you say something like that?”

“That’s never been an issue for you in the past.”

Batman flowed towards him, cape moving sinuously behind him. His jaw was clenched with rage. Jason suspected it would only take a nudge or two to push him over into violence. Like father like son. Tim was the only one of them he had never seen lose his shit and start swinging his fists when pushed. The girls at least seemed to have more control over their uglier emotions – well, Babs had bashed him on the head a time or two, but that was fairly controlled bursts of irritation rather than the irrational fury Dick, Bruce and Jason himself seemed to fall into. Not to mention Damian, who was shaping up to be a real chip off the old block too.

There was a time, when pushing Bruce to that limit was the highlight of Jason’s week. When he had first come back, having Bruce’s attention and causing him to lose control was the only thing that made the chaos in his mind ease. It had been easy to do – he just had to go after the family. Tim had been easy, Dick more challenging in a fight, Jason could admit that he rarely won when going toe to toe with him – but it had riled Bruce to unreasonable levels.

He had wanted the violence, the quiet fury, because even back then, the truth was, words hurt more than fists. And when it came verbal warfare, Bruce was an expert at landing precise and debilitating blows. Jason suspected he was going to get a taste of that tonight.

“You surprise me, Jason. You never seemed like a person to enjoy charity, you certainly didn’t as a child. But here you are, living off my dime, enjoying the best rehabilitative care money can buy, when you are the one who caused your disability in the first place.”

Now that hurt. Because he was right and yet so wrong at the same time, and Jason couldn't find the words to explain how he ended up here, living off Bruce. It wasn’t because he needed charity, it wasn’t even that he needed help, if he had to go it alone, he would.

He was here because of Dick, and guilt and despair.

And love, somewhere under the mess, that was at the heart of what kept him here.

Jason was aware that he had a tendency to lash out when he felt cornered, when he felt attacked. And he could pretty much give as good as he got. But he barely had it in him today. “You’re a piece of work, Bruce,” he managed at last. “You act all holier than thou with me, but there's such spite in you. You know how to make your words really sting.” He laughed, and it sounded on the edge of madness. “Must be where Dickiebird gets it from, two peas in a fucked up hateful pod.”

“Don’t you dare talk about him,” Bruce growled, advancing. His boots crunched in the broken glass like t he precursor to a death knell. “You destroyed his life!”

“It was an accident!” Jason yelled back, he could feel his control slipping. He’d lost it in everything else in his life, why not himself, too? He teetered on the edge.

“It should never have happened!” Bruce said.

Jason let go another bitter, warbly laugh. “Yeah? Well there’s plenty that should never have happened. I’m a walking talking example of that!”

“Yes, you are.”

God he just wanted Bruce to hit him and stop with the words, it was stunning how alike they were sometimes. He might mock the similarity between Dick and Bruce, but damn if he wasn’t the worst offender himself.

And with that thought, came the rush of anger, soothing in its familiar intensity. This wasn’t even about Bruce, it was about Dick. “And where have you been, huh?” Jason said, his voice just a little too loud and wild. Despite everything he had done and despite everything Bruce had done for them – Jason realised he was mad at him. He didn’t deserve Bruce's respect after what he had done, sure. But Dick did, and Tim did. And Bruce had failed them. Again. “You talk about charity, but other than throwing money at us you haven’t done squat for Dick since he got hurt. He’s no use to you now he’s too broken to help in your crusade? What about Tim? Do you know how traumatised he was after the blast? He put you and your mission before Dick and himself, that’s fucked up!”

“You know nothing about Tim,” Bruce growled.

“I know nothing about Red Robin, I know plenty about Tim. You ever considered the impact of what happened on him? On Damian?”

“If you hadn’t blown Dick up, it wouldn’t be an issue at all.”

“Yeah, but I did , Bruce! That’s the thing. Do I regret it with every fibre of my being? Yeah. Would I do anything to fix it?” Jason's arm made an aborted gesture, almost letting go of the crutches and sending him flying. “I would give up my life in heartbeat if I could restore Dick to the way he was before. But I can’t, and done is done.”

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily.  He wasn’t ready for this, for the fucking pain of it. But that was nothing but the truth. And surprisingly, saying it steadied him, finally gave him a bit of control back. He had done a dumb, stupid and terrible thing. He couldn’t undo it. He had to accept that and do what he could from here.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Bruce, no, Batman was still there, still radiating icy fury. “There is nothing I can do to change what happened,” Jason said again. “All I can do is try to do what I can to make amends.”

“You can go to jail, Jason. For murdering that dealer. And for blowing up my son.”

Jason clenched his teeth, this was typical Bruce, he didn’t seem able to grasp it wasn’t about making amends to him . “If that’s what Dick wants. Then I’ll go, but I won’t on your say so.”

“You will ,” Bruce said. He was using his Bat voice, and that hurt, deep down. Jason didn’t want to have this discussion with an impersonal vigilante.

“It’s not up to you, it’s about Dick and what he wants from me,” Jason said again , because Bruce didn’t seem to be able to grasp the concept.  

“And the dealer who died in the explosion? They found his teeth embedded in the wall, Jason.”

“The building was fucking empty when I rigged it. He wasn’t supposed to be there any more than Dick was,” Jason shrugged. Honesty probably wasn’t the best policy in this case, but Jason had literally run out of fucks to give. “To be perfectly honest, Bruce I really couldn’t give a crap about him. He was a forgettable waste of oxygen.”

“You sound like a sociopath, with such a flagrant disregard for life,” Bruce shot back.

“Well it takes one to know one, B. If we’re laying on the blame, how about you, huh? Would I be like this if you hadn’t trained me to fight on the streets as a kid? Put me into the path of real sickos like the Joker? Would Dick be in the other room with his brain scrambled all to hell if you hadn’t stuck him in the short pants before he even hit double digits? Who's really the fucked up psycho out of the two of us?”Jason all but shouted. He took a step forward, so caught up in his rage he could barely even see straight.

Bruce shoved him back, a blow that in other circumstances wouldn’t have even rocked him on his heels, but unbalanced and precarious on his crutches, the force of it sent Jason toppling backwards onto his ass. He broke his fall slightly with an elbow and a flailing hand, cutting both in the shattered glass littering the floor.

Jason could feel humiliation burning his cheeks as he attempted to shove himself into a better position, cutting his palm further. Bruce was looking down at him, his face inscrutable behind the cowl. They both seemed too shocked by Jason's fall to know what to say or do.

Before either had a chance to rally and start throwing out further venom or punches, Dick dashed into the room and barrelled bodily into Bruce; the uncoordinated impact pushing him back a few steps making his boots grind against the glass on the floor alarmingly.

Taken by surprise, Bruce just seemed to stop himself before lashing out, a good thing in Jason's opinion or he would have to drag himself over there and punch his knees. Or shoot him, with the pistol that was strapped to the underside of the sofa.

“Leave him alone!” Dick yelled at Bruce. His face was a little puffy and his eyes were red. Jason couldn’t help but wonder how long he had been listening.

“Dick,” Bruce said, somewhat at a loss. “Do you know what he did?”

Dick nodded, sniffing wetly. “Yeah, he told me. He’s an asshole.” He stepped forward and shoved at Bruce again, although it lacked any force. “But that doesn’t mean you get to come in here and hit him. I already did, which I shouldn’t have done.” He clutched his hair, one of his very obvious signs of distress.

Jason could see the tension in Bruce's jaw, the sadness in the set of his mouth – he wanted to comfort Dick, that much was obvious, but he didn’t know how. Jason suddenly felt exhausted, tired and sad. He gave up trying to get his crutches and resigned himself to bleeding on the floor.

During the lull in the shouting, PB took the opportunity to emerge from Dick's room and scuttled across the floor into Jason's arms. He held it carefully, trying to avoid getting blood on its plumage.

“ Clunk fizz, ” PB said.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed absently while he pet it with his undamaged hand.

Dick stepped forward again. “Take off the cowl,” he demanded, drawing in a deep breath. “If you want to talk to him, or me about this stuff you doing as Bruce, not Batman.”

Bruce hesitated, but finally did as Dick asked, and pulled off the mask. His bare face looked more vulnerable, the lines of tension clear to see along with the maelstrom of emotion held in check behind his gaze.

Dick let out a soft, pained noise and threw himself into Bruce's arms, the impact staggered him again slightly, but he folded Dick into a hug that looked almost painful in its intensity.

“Dick,” Bruce said, his voice was full of emotion and confusion.

“Don’t put Jason in jail,” Dick said, proving that he had been listening for some time before exploding out of his room. His voice was muffled against Bruce's broad chest. Surrounded by Bruce’s impressive bulk he looked deceptively small in his superman sleep pants and one of Jason's old t-shirts.

“He deserves it,” Bruce rumbled, but the venom had gone out of his tone. He sounded exhausted too.

“Yeah he does,” Dick said, “and so do you. Me too. We all break the law. I know what he did was wrong, and a man died, but people have died because of our actions too – even if we didn’t mean it to happen.”

“It’s not quite the same, Dick. And what he did to you...” he trailed off.

“I know, I know what he did. And am fucking furious about it. But he told me, and that means a lot.”

“But-”

“ I deserve to go to jail, Bruce!” Dick burst out, flailing his arms. “I punched him because he ate my yogurt, I smashed a glass over his head because he changed over the channel and I beat him up with his own leg and threw it out the window.”

“You, what?” Bruce sounded honestly baffled.

“I beat him up with his own leg and threw it out he window. That’s why his face is all messed up and he’s on crutches.”

Bruce was looking at Dick in bewilderment, but there seemed to have been a shift in the atmosphere, it was still highly charged but it had lost the edge of insane fury of before, so Jason risked entering the conversation. “I deserved it, Dick,” he said.

“No!” Dick said forcefully, and then shrugged. “I mean, yes, you did, but deserving it and getting it are different. It’s domestic violence and I should be in jail. If I was anyone else, I would be, you would have seen to it.” That was directed at Bruce.

Bruce looked a little stumped; because Dick was clearly right, but also the circumstances were so complicated, it was hard to lay blame, or decide what the right course of action was.

But hey, at least Jason wasn’t going to jail, and Bruce didn’t seem like he was going to pummel him into the floor any more, Jason was getting a little tired of getting beat up.

Bruce seemed to be pondering, maybe reassessing now his fury had cooled. Jason and PB remained quietly on the floor, waiting to see how the dice landed.

“What do you want to do, Dick?” Bruce asked finally. “Things can’t stay like this, do you want me to move you somewhere else?” Back home to the manor was left unsaid.

“No, I want to stay here with Jason. But I need more help, to control my anger.”

“Why, Dick? After what he did? I know you’ve grown close, but surely the truth of what happened changes things?” To give Bruce credit, at least he was trying to understand Dick’s reasoning and not just vetoing on principal.

“No, I can forgive him, I think. Because it was an accident, and because I love him,” Dick said, after a moment's thought.

Jason was momentarily overwhelmed by the double whammy of the possibility that Dick might forgive him, and that he would just casually confess to being in love with him. Jason was under no illusions that wasn’t what he meant. It was slightly mind boggling.

But along with the rush of relief, affection and euphoria that was still tinged with guilt, came a sudden feeling of intense trepidation.

“I know you do,” Bruce said awkwardly.

And for one blissful moment, Jason allowed himself to believe that he knew the truth and he actually meant that. But reality was never that kind.  And nor was Bruce.

“He will still be your brother even with some distance, it might be good for you both.” Bruce said, he was right of course, it would be good for Dick to have some space, to work on controlling his emotions and to figure out if his affection could actually survive the truth of what Jason had done.

“No, I don’t want distance, I love him. I want to be with him romantically,” Dick said as he looked up at Bruce, who in turn looked flummoxed.  “I want to have sex with him,” Dick clarified, just in case he hadn’t fully got his message across.

There was a moment of silence, as Bruce digested that. And Jason took the opportunity to lay down fully, his head resting on a partially shredded copy of Guns and Ammo. PB climbed onto his face and peered at him with concern. But Jason just shut his eyes and waited for death.

“What, are you talking about?” Bruce said, and if his voice had been cold fury before, now it was practically glacial.

“We’re in a relationship,” Dick pressed on, oblivious or uncaring of the imminent explosion.

“You are in a relationship. A sexual relationship?” From the sound of his voice, Jason suspected Bruce was a hair’s breadth away from apoplexy.

“Sort of. Well, it would be, but Jason's impotent.”

“Oh my fucking God ,” Jason said, now praying for death rather than just waiting for it. “Is there anyone you haven’t mentioned that too? The mailman? Ms Singh from number 29? Mr. Harris form the neighbourhood association, maybe?”

“I haven’t been to the NA since they bared PB for calling Mr Wells a fuckbiscket.” Dick shot back, hotly. “But Ms Singh suggested Saw Palmetto and cumin as possible natural remedies.”

“ Why , Dick?” Jason said, everything about today was too fucking much.

“Because you love curry, and I’m terrible at cooking it, and Ms Singh is lonely and is giving me lessons in exchange for hanging out with PB and me when you’re at physio,” Dick said, defensively.

Despite the situation, Jason was kind of touched by that.

There was a crunching noise and Bruce moved stiffly towards a chair and sat. “This is completely unacceptable,” he said, no longer with the same cold fury, but with a certain about of bewilderment.

“Well, tough,” Dick said. “I wasn’t asking your permission. And we can’t break up, what would happen to PB? We would have to share custody of him, and I don’t think it would be good for him.”

Bruce sat and stared at Dick, who had his arms crossed and a stubborn cast to his face.

It was just too damn much and Jason started to laugh. He laughed so long and hard, when the tears started flowing he could hardly tell the difference.