that_goldenboy | (no subject)

Who: Jim Kirk and Dick Grayson
When: After Dick punched him in cold blood in Spain.
What: The wayward son comes home. Finally.

Jim had held out for about nine days before calling, and he didn't even call Bruce or Dick. Well, he knew that Dick wouldn't take his calls but Bruce probably would but he was kind of afraid that if he talked to Bruce, something would get said that would make him angry and then he'd change his mind again.

So he called Alfred. Put up with the small lecture the butler had for him for worrying them and when he asked Alfred to either book him a ticket or wire him the money to do it himself, what was left of the lecture dried up. And Alfred was there to pick him up, letting Jim hug him and promising that if Jim ever pulled this again, he was going to follow him and drag him back himself and don't even think of complaining to Master Bruce, he would support that course of action and they both know it.

"You didn't tell them though, right?" Jim asked, following Alfred back to the car.

"No sir, I did not but I wouldn't be surprised if Master Dick punches you again."

Jim laughed a little bit at that, even though the shiner Dick gave him the last time hadn't exactly healed yet. It didn't look as bad as it did a week ago. It wouldn't even be a matched set if Dick punched him again, so punching him again would just have to be skipped. He didn't really say much else, even after they got back to the manor and Alfred brought his one, tiny bag upstairs for him. It was still kind of early in Dick terms, there was a good chance he'd be asleep for another hour so Jim headed for the kitchen, to get coffee and wait for him.

Threaded | Flat

Dick had really kind of expected that to be it, because Bruce hadn't told him he'd given Jim a phone or even said if he'd talked to him at all, and he hadn't asked. Honestly, he was already trying to distance himself from all of it, because if he acted like everything was fine, he would eventually start feeling like things were normal again and everything was okay, even if it really, really wasn't.

So, he'd gone about life as usual, which meant that he had gotten in super late the night before and had basically been dead to the world since four in the morning. And plus side, he'd been tired enough that if he had nightmares, he couldn't remember them, and so he came back to consciousness fairly easily and after a few minutes of sitting around trying to acclimate to being awake again, he dragged himself out of bed, pulled on a sweatshirt and headed downstairs, trying to mentally prepare himself for pretending to be a normal, perfectly happy human being for the rest of the day.

Which kind of got shot to hell when he found Jim sitting in the kitchen, still with a pretty badly bruised eye, like nothing had ever happened. And Dick... really didn't know how to react to that. He couldn't tell if he was happy about him being back or if he wanted him to get the hell out and go back to Spain instead of acting like he actually gave a damn about them, and he really didn't want to actually figure it out.

So instead of doing or saying anything, he just stood stock still and stared at him. And maybe was considering turning right around and heading back upstairs.