Dick Grayson Trash

Nosebleed (New Kid Part 4)

-another EPIC request from @JRyszarda !!-

-Part 60!!-

Tim hadn't slept since Dick and Jay's kidnapping, he stayed up, outside their rooms, paranoid. He'd been watching Dick whenever Terry wasn't. Since Dick didn't move, and needed someone in the room with him, Tim hadn't gotten up to eat all day.

"Hey, I'm just going to go get my pencil case. I'll be right back. Try to stay put, please." Tim ruffled Dick's hair. He was babysitting Dick tonight, while Bruce was still out of town, and the others was on patrol. He was doing his homework in the boy's room to keep him company, while Dick rested in bed. 

Dick was still kind of traumatized from a few nights ago, when his babysitter kidnapped him, and he got beat up. Not only traumatized, put his leg had gotten messed up while healing, and he needed to keep the cast on longer. Dick had a few bruises forming on his chest and stomach, and his only functioning leg was weak-kneed.

"Don't leave?" Dick begged.

Tim tried to make Dick let go of his shirt. "I'll be right back. Twenty seconds. Can you count to twenty in English yet?" He asked, unsure of how far Alfred and Terry had gotten with tutoring. Dick shook his head. "Well, just count to ten, two times."

"Okay." He muttered, looking down at his hands, he started counting on his fingers.

Tim darted from the room, wanting to keep his promise on total. Inconsistencies had been freaking Dick out lately, and he cried whenever he was kept away from his new family. He needed them.

Dick made to about seven before he began to panic. What if Tim didn't comeback? What if he was kidnapped? How would he tell the others? Tim said they're all out with friends! Dick squirmed out of his blanket and tried to clamber out of bed. He had crutches, but they were kind of hard to use.

He got on his sore, bruised, knees and crawled to the wall. using his desk to pull himself up. He grabbed a crutch to help his weak knee, and hobbled, broken leg kicked up behind him, into the hallway. He hopped on his weak leg down towards the stairs, Tim's bedroom was in front of him, just three stairs down, five steps, three steps up, eight more feet, and he'd be there. It seemed like miles.

Dick tried to stumble down the first three stairs, tripping and dropping his crutch. He fell forwards, down the steps, his face smacked the hardwood floor. Instantly, he started crying, blood flowing down over his lips and chin like a waterfall. Second major nosebleed of the week.

"Dick? Dickie!" Tim flew down the hall and landed by his little brother. "What happened? What are you doing down here? Are you-" Dick looked up at him, dripping dark blood, which covered his face and hands, and had drizzled across the floor. 
Tim probably would've wanted to puke, if he'd eaten that day. He felt himself getting lightheaded, panicking. "Shh! Shh! It's okay!" Tim shushed the little boy. "Let's get you to the bathroom, and clean you up..." Half the sentence came out as he saw black. The last though he had being: fuck.

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Dick shook his brother. Did Tim trip too? He wasn't bleeding? Dick grabbed Tim's shoulder and shook him as hard as he could. 

"Get Up!" He felt himself getting very scared. From recent experience, either Tim had Tripped, been given bad hot chocolate, broken his leg, or.... Dick began crying tears, not just screaming. He tugged Tim's shirt. "GET UP! GET UP!" He shouted, it was such a little fall, it couldn't have hurt Tim badly! Images of his parents flashed through Dick's head. "TIMMY GET UP!" He pleaded.