That doesn't mean that I didn't need the rest as much as I hated it, or mean that someone didn't need their ass beat.
[He's been there the same, and worse in some situations. Dick doesn't know how many times he's been in an actual hospital, because his mentor always frowned on those, but there were times with the Titans he had to go in. It's always difficult to explain away all the damage done to his body to all the do gooders in a hospital that always wanted to report everything to people who probably should know, but really didn't need to. It got so complicated at times.
There was also the death. That doesn't mean that Dick's not concerned when there's only injuries. He's always been like that.
Feeling Bruce's hand on his face does a lot to alleviate the unsettled feeling in his gut. It's all a part of their job. It's an easy thing to say, and watching one another get hurt is one thing, but not being there immediately on the other side of it is more difficult. It would have felt better if Dick had been the one cleaning up some of these wounds, and putting Bruce to bed himself.
Moving his head slightly, he kisses the roughened palm and holds it there for a few seconds. The bed is big, and Bruce slides in gently on the side, careful not to nudge any bruised or broken ribs knowing how much those hurt when there's nothing to be done for them. He just needs to be close, to know for a while Bruce is alright, to feel his body heat, to smell his smell, to watch those eyes as they consider, frown and soften.]
How many days did he give you in confinement or is he not telling you? I might be able to lessen your sentence, but I don't think he'll let you out tomorrow. Some of these bruises will have to green up a little, and you'll have to gain a little more working in the arm. I might be able to spring you for a trip to the coffee shop in two days?
( it's best he didn't. patch him up, that is. bruce makes for a difficult patient as dick may or may not know.
the possible compromise of sorts has bruce giving a grunt of dissatisfaction, one dick is likely familiar with from his own mentor and while he doesn't pull away from the other man, it's clear he's a little frustrated with the option given to him. two days? he's been in here long enough as far as he's concerned. bruce hates to be doing nothing. it drives him... batty. up the wall, really. to think how much time is wasted and slips away from him while he lays here in bed when he's quite capable of still moving... it annoys him and he knows dick can see it all over his face.
a sigh on his lips, he gives a brief shake of his head. gazing off ahead. slowly licking over his lips. )
I can still walk.
( as if that might help his case any in being let out of here. )
[It doesn't matter if he did or didn't patch him up, it's the desire that's important. Dick is also a terrible patient and would rather take care of himself than have anyone else touch him, unless it's a wound in his back that has to be repaired, then he usually hands over the glue or at worst the stapler and lets someone have at it. The last time he was shot through the shoulder it cost him time at home, but no one was keeping him locked to a bed.
He leans over and kisses Bruce on the cheek, nosing against the bruising there. He knows that it's sore, but they tend to make themselves more sore whenever they have sex. Bruises are nothing in the grand world of Dick, Bruce, Nightwing or The Batman. Dick knows that Bruce can handle that everything that comes at him, even when he's worrying.
Rolling back out of bed, Dick grabs his bag and the cases in it, along with his laptop and spreads them all across the bed, closing the door and putting up a do not disturbed sign he brought with him. Let Alfred think he wants to come in on them now. The man may be some things, but dumb has never been one of them. Hand jobs do not require health or much movement on the part of the one receiving. ]
You can still walk, and I wouldn't make you sit in this bed. I'd go nuts. Now, walk if you want, if you start to pant over your rib, sit for a little bit and look at these cases with me. There are several murders and while they have a prospect, it doesn't sit right with me. It's far too easy and clean, and this doesn't feel like that. These women didn't have anything for a mugging, and they weren't all out at any one time or place. This guy confessed, but he seems bored, like he'd confess just to get out of doing the laundry.
( the way he eyes dick as the other man moves about after the kiss to his cheek... it's with slight suspicion, but. that's expected of bruce. especially when he doesn't wish to play the role of bedridden patient. he understands. he does. alfred is merely concerned about him and doesn't wish to see him push himself to the point of death. but he also doesn't care if he dies. granted, he's gotten a little better at not being as reckless nor impulsive as he can be when out on the field, but. still. there are moments. especially regarding his own limits.
so when dick goes and brings the files over, he's shifting there on the bed. slow. letting legs slip out from under the sheets and feet gently touch the floor. he rises. still slow. slight wince. begins to make his way across his room for a bar cart there. clearly, someone is in need of a drink and it's not water. )
Been busy, have you?
( in regards to what he's brought over for him, hand reaching out and taking the decanter in hand, pouring himself a shot of whiskey. )
[There's a smile in Dick's eyes as he watches Bruce and his suspicions, then the way he moves as he gets out of bed and shuffles over to the drinking cart. It was obviously the most logical place for Bruce to go after being forced to stay in bed. It would have certainly driven Dick to drink and he wouldn't have been nearly so civilized about it. There wouldn't have been a glass, merely a long sip from the bottle that would have burned his throat and warmed his stomach most perfectly.
Tapping the papers in front of him, Dick shrugs. It's nothing more than the usual. It's only one small bid, and he really doesn't have any proper leads on it, more of a gut feeling and that's why it's annoying. He brought it for Bruce to look at the evidence and see if his gut fettered out the same feeling. That was the only thing Dick missed about working with people. He trusted himself implicitly, but sometimes it never hurt to have two sets of eyes.
That's one thing this Bruce has yet to learn to enjoy. There are things that two people can do that make life and work easier. ]
I work nights, keep busy during the day. You know how it goes.
[A small wink and a slight laugh.]
Tell me about what you were working on before this. I promise not to steal the case. I'm merely interested.
( he does know how it goes. it's why being confined to his bed— to his bedroom is a punishment all in its own. alfred means well, he just... hates it. being cooped up like this. whether or not he'll voice it, dick coming over is a nice change from being in here brooding all on his own. )
You're interested in who did this to me.
( he says it matter of fact, gently setting the empty glass down to the bar cart. a glance over to dick, he holds up the decanter. a silent offer of pouring him something if he wants. )
A lot happened all at once. ( a pause. ) I may have fell through a skylight... of a very large building.
( and thus, the fall had been a little more bruising than he'd normally end up wearing throughout the night. )
[There's a heaping ounce or two of pity that Dick feels for Bruce and none of it because he's beaten and bruised. The feelings he musters there all mount up to normal human concern that he'd tell himself not to fret over so much if his mind and body would listen to him. The pity all surrounds this horrible fascination people have with making the infirm lay around all day.
Dick doesn't hide the interest in his eyes when Bruce mentions the truth about Dick's question, or the offer for something stronger than the water beside the bed. Getting up himself, he moves beside the drink cart and gets a glass so that Bruce can pour a second glass. ]
A skylight. Now that can hurt, even with any sort of slow fall technique enabled. Is that what broke the arm? You hit and roll?
[Usually when falling, it would be normal to hit and roll, distributing the pattern of impact from legs to the entire left side of the body. If the arm/shoulder didn't catch right, or from that height, he certainly could have dislocated things and bruised up quite a bit-- not to mention the entire act of taking out a skylight was never gentle on a human body.]
You might remember that those things are glass next time.
[he says with half a smile as he raises his glass to knock against Bruce's before taking a sip.]
( it's fine. he's had worse. haven't they all at some point?
the look he gives the other man is one that's both slow and playfully annoyed before he's giving a huff and knocking back the rest of his drink, dick's own glass having been taken care of and all. quiet. a moment with his thoughts. licking over his lips then, he sets the glass down and looks over to the man there. eyeing him. )
I didn't mean to worry you.
( the words come out soft. slow. genuine. because he has the feeling telling dick earlier what had happened regarding bedrest might have concerned his curiosity some, what with having an idea of how difficult it is to get him to stay put and thus, what could have happened to have him in such a state. )
[Worse. Yes, but that was before they knew one another, before all this. It makes a difference somehow. Maybe Dick didn't think it would, but it does. He's gotten better at telling himself not to try and worry so much, that he'll only screw it up like he always does but this time around he's trying to do it different, because everything about this is completely different.
They tread in a unique pattern that's all their own, and will be this way for some time to come, Dick assumes.
Still, there's a sigh. A heartbeat or two where Dick needs to take back his drink and forget that he really was genuinely worried. It's good to see that Bruce is up, and that it's a lot of Alfred that's keeping him confined. There's healing that needs to happen, but he doesn't have to be completely in a bed to do it.
Looking across the way, he nods his head and takes a step closer. Dick lifts his hand and runs it down Bruce's cheek, and then lets it rest on his chin for a beat before letting go.]
I know. I know you didn't. I didn't mean to actually worry, either. These things happen.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[He's been there the same, and worse in some situations. Dick doesn't know how many times he's been in an actual hospital, because his mentor always frowned on those, but there were times with the Titans he had to go in. It's always difficult to explain away all the damage done to his body to all the do gooders in a hospital that always wanted to report everything to people who probably should know, but really didn't need to. It got so complicated at times.
There was also the death. That doesn't mean that Dick's not concerned when there's only injuries. He's always been like that.
Feeling Bruce's hand on his face does a lot to alleviate the unsettled feeling in his gut. It's all a part of their job. It's an easy thing to say, and watching one another get hurt is one thing, but not being there immediately on the other side of it is more difficult. It would have felt better if Dick had been the one cleaning up some of these wounds, and putting Bruce to bed himself.
Moving his head slightly, he kisses the roughened palm and holds it there for a few seconds. The bed is big, and Bruce slides in gently on the side, careful not to nudge any bruised or broken ribs knowing how much those hurt when there's nothing to be done for them. He just needs to be close, to know for a while Bruce is alright, to feel his body heat, to smell his smell, to watch those eyes as they consider, frown and soften.]
How many days did he give you in confinement or is he not telling you? I might be able to lessen your sentence, but I don't think he'll let you out tomorrow. Some of these bruises will have to green up a little, and you'll have to gain a little more working in the arm. I might be able to spring you for a trip to the coffee shop in two days?
no subject
the possible compromise of sorts has bruce giving a grunt of dissatisfaction, one dick is likely familiar with from his own mentor and while he doesn't pull away from the other man, it's clear he's a little frustrated with the option given to him. two days? he's been in here long enough as far as he's concerned. bruce hates to be doing nothing. it drives him... batty. up the wall, really. to think how much time is wasted and slips away from him while he lays here in bed when he's quite capable of still moving... it annoys him and he knows dick can see it all over his face.
a sigh on his lips, he gives a brief shake of his head. gazing off ahead. slowly licking over his lips. )
I can still walk.
( as if that might help his case any in being let out of here. )
It's just an overreaction.
no subject
He leans over and kisses Bruce on the cheek, nosing against the bruising there. He knows that it's sore, but they tend to make themselves more sore whenever they have sex. Bruises are nothing in the grand world of Dick, Bruce, Nightwing or The Batman. Dick knows that Bruce can handle that everything that comes at him, even when he's worrying.
Rolling back out of bed, Dick grabs his bag and the cases in it, along with his laptop and spreads them all across the bed, closing the door and putting up a do not disturbed sign he brought with him. Let Alfred think he wants to come in on them now. The man may be some things, but dumb has never been one of them. Hand jobs do not require health or much movement on the part of the one receiving. ]
You can still walk, and I wouldn't make you sit in this bed. I'd go nuts. Now, walk if you want, if you start to pant over your rib, sit for a little bit and look at these cases with me. There are several murders and while they have a prospect, it doesn't sit right with me. It's far too easy and clean, and this doesn't feel like that. These women didn't have anything for a mugging, and they weren't all out at any one time or place. This guy confessed, but he seems bored, like he'd confess just to get out of doing the laundry.
no subject
so when dick goes and brings the files over, he's shifting there on the bed. slow. letting legs slip out from under the sheets and feet gently touch the floor. he rises. still slow. slight wince. begins to make his way across his room for a bar cart there. clearly, someone is in need of a drink and it's not water. )
Been busy, have you?
( in regards to what he's brought over for him, hand reaching out and taking the decanter in hand, pouring himself a shot of whiskey. )
no subject
Tapping the papers in front of him, Dick shrugs. It's nothing more than the usual. It's only one small bid, and he really doesn't have any proper leads on it, more of a gut feeling and that's why it's annoying. He brought it for Bruce to look at the evidence and see if his gut fettered out the same feeling. That was the only thing Dick missed about working with people. He trusted himself implicitly, but sometimes it never hurt to have two sets of eyes.
That's one thing this Bruce has yet to learn to enjoy. There are things that two people can do that make life and work easier. ]
I work nights, keep busy during the day. You know how it goes.
[A small wink and a slight laugh.]
Tell me about what you were working on before this. I promise not to steal the case. I'm merely interested.
no subject
You're interested in who did this to me.
( he says it matter of fact, gently setting the empty glass down to the bar cart. a glance over to dick, he holds up the decanter. a silent offer of pouring him something if he wants. )
A lot happened all at once. ( a pause. ) I may have fell through a skylight... of a very large building.
( and thus, the fall had been a little more bruising than he'd normally end up wearing throughout the night. )
no subject
Dick doesn't hide the interest in his eyes when Bruce mentions the truth about Dick's question, or the offer for something stronger than the water beside the bed. Getting up himself, he moves beside the drink cart and gets a glass so that Bruce can pour a second glass. ]
A skylight. Now that can hurt, even with any sort of slow fall technique enabled. Is that what broke the arm? You hit and roll?
[Usually when falling, it would be normal to hit and roll, distributing the pattern of impact from legs to the entire left side of the body. If the arm/shoulder didn't catch right, or from that height, he certainly could have dislocated things and bruised up quite a bit-- not to mention the entire act of taking out a skylight was never gentle on a human body.]
You might remember that those things are glass next time.
[he says with half a smile as he raises his glass to knock against Bruce's before taking a sip.]
no subject
the look he gives the other man is one that's both slow and playfully annoyed before he's giving a huff and knocking back the rest of his drink, dick's own glass having been taken care of and all. quiet. a moment with his thoughts. licking over his lips then, he sets the glass down and looks over to the man there. eyeing him. )
I didn't mean to worry you.
( the words come out soft. slow. genuine. because he has the feeling telling dick earlier what had happened regarding bedrest might have concerned his curiosity some, what with having an idea of how difficult it is to get him to stay put and thus, what could have happened to have him in such a state. )
no subject
They tread in a unique pattern that's all their own, and will be this way for some time to come, Dick assumes.
Still, there's a sigh. A heartbeat or two where Dick needs to take back his drink and forget that he really was genuinely worried. It's good to see that Bruce is up, and that it's a lot of Alfred that's keeping him confined. There's healing that needs to happen, but he doesn't have to be completely in a bed to do it.
Looking across the way, he nods his head and takes a step closer. Dick lifts his hand and runs it down Bruce's cheek, and then lets it rest on his chin for a beat before letting go.]
I know. I know you didn't. I didn't mean to actually worry, either. These things happen.