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DCU - Older!Damian/Colin - Damian does something stupid (again) ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
red_confession
When Damian comes to it’s to the familiar noises of a hospital. Of course, it’s not like the usual hospital noises filter into the special room that the Wayne’s have prepared in case of injury. If Damian had, perhaps, fallen ill then it would be more likely that the usual noises would filter in. As it is all Damian hears is the beeping of his heart monitor and the sounds of a hushed (in other words ‘shouting muffled by at least one wall of sound proofing’) conversation outside.
The sensation of pain (in his stomach, his chest, his upper left arm) is there but hazy and belatedly Damian realizes that the muscles in his face have relaxed. Not quite a smile, but almost there.
Morphine then, his old friend.
Damian attempts to sit up and finds, not really to his surprise, that he can’t. He attempts to move his hands and finds he can move one but the other is being held down.
Damian glances to his right (because it is his left arm that he can move and that just causes the pain in his bicep to flare and burn) and stares. His hand is being cradled between two hands, slightly smaller and paler than his, and a familiar head of orange hair is resting on top of Damian’s thighs (which Damian belatedly realizes he can’t feel, not in a bad way, just in a ‘oh, drugs’ way).
Cautiously, and feeling the pain and burn and ache the entire time, Damian rests a hand on top of Colin’s head.
Colin starts awake, throwing off Damian’s hand and causing him to shout out in pain. Reflexively, Colin is out of the chair and reaching for Damian. They both halt, Damian clutching at his arm (it’s bleeding through the gauze he can feel the damp through the bandage) and Colin halfway out of the chair, one arm bulging with muscles and veins.
“Jesus.” Colin swears, softly. Most people would have gone for a stronger word but when Colin uses the ‘lord’s name’ in vain you can hear how sacrilegious it sounds. It actually makes ‘jesus’ and ‘god’ seem like real swear words. Damian laughs, breathless and painful. Colin picks up the little remote strapped to Damian’s bed and presses the red button.
“Dick! Doctor Thompkins!”
Before Colin had finished calling for them Grayson and Doctor Thompkins were in the room. Before the doors swung shut Damian could spot his father in the hallway. Dr. Thompkins went about her business checking on Damian, replacing his bandages, taking his readings. Damian made sure to make the job as difficult as possible until Colin gave him an exasperated smile and Dr. Thompkins threatened to sedate him. Dick hovered in the background making unhelpful snarky statements and staring at Damian worriedly. Then Dr. Thompkins ushered Dick out of the room and left Damian alone to Colin.
“I’m tired.” Damian said, voice thin and reedy and sounding painful even to his own ears. The ceiling was fascinating, really, filled with tiny imperfections. “You think after all the sparring I’ve done with you I’d be able to face Bane.”
Colin held Damian’s hand between his own again and smiled again. The red lines on his face caused by sleeping on Damian’s leg and crumpled sheets have yet to fade away. “I don’t think it’s the same. Plus, he was out of control; he said he was really thankful to you. When Batman and I caught up to him.”
Damian grumbled something under his breath though he couldn’t remember what he’d said seconds later. Colin just kept smiling.
“Plus, I pull my punches.”
“…” Damian squeezed Colin’s had as hard as he could. IT was all he could do at the moment. “I’m going to take you apart when I feel better.” Damian yawned, the drugs that Dr. Thompkins had slipped into his IV starting to kick in. He was tired. “You’re sleeping on the couch too.”
“It’s more comfortable than this chair.” Colin stroked his fingers over Damian’s hand.
“Mmm.” Damian’s eyes slid shut, the colors of the room blurring. “And then we’re going to have sex. Lots and lots and lots of sex.”
red_confession When Damian comes to it’s to the familiar noises of a hospital. Of course, it’s not like the usual hospital noises filter into the special room that the Wayne’s have prepared in case of injury. If Damian had, perhaps, fallen ill then it would be more likely that the usual noises would filter in. As it is all Damian hears is the beeping of his heart monitor and the sounds of a hushed (in other words ‘shouting muffled by at least one wall of sound proofing’) conversation outside.
The sensation of pain (in his stomach, his chest, his upper left arm) is there but hazy and belatedly Damian realizes that the muscles in his face have relaxed. Not quite a smile, but almost there.
Morphine then, his old friend.
Damian attempts to sit up and finds, not really to his surprise, that he can’t. He attempts to move his hands and finds he can move one but the other is being held down.
Damian glances to his right (because it is his left arm that he can move and that just causes the pain in his bicep to flare and burn) and stares. His hand is being cradled between two hands, slightly smaller and paler than his, and a familiar head of orange hair is resting on top of Damian’s thighs (which Damian belatedly realizes he can’t feel, not in a bad way, just in a ‘oh, drugs’ way).
Cautiously, and feeling the pain and burn and ache the entire time, Damian rests a hand on top of Colin’s head.
Colin starts awake, throwing off Damian’s hand and causing him to shout out in pain. Reflexively, Colin is out of the chair and reaching for Damian. They both halt, Damian clutching at his arm (it’s bleeding through the gauze he can feel the damp through the bandage) and Colin halfway out of the chair, one arm bulging with muscles and veins.
“Jesus.” Colin swears, softly. Most people would have gone for a stronger word but when Colin uses the ‘lord’s name’ in vain you can hear how sacrilegious it sounds. It actually makes ‘jesus’ and ‘god’ seem like real swear words. Damian laughs, breathless and painful. Colin picks up the little remote strapped to Damian’s bed and presses the red button.
“Dick! Doctor Thompkins!”
Before Colin had finished calling for them Grayson and Doctor Thompkins were in the room. Before the doors swung shut Damian could spot his father in the hallway. Dr. Thompkins went about her business checking on Damian, replacing his bandages, taking his readings. Damian made sure to make the job as difficult as possible until Colin gave him an exasperated smile and Dr. Thompkins threatened to sedate him. Dick hovered in the background making unhelpful snarky statements and staring at Damian worriedly. Then Dr. Thompkins ushered Dick out of the room and left Damian alone to Colin.
“I’m tired.” Damian said, voice thin and reedy and sounding painful even to his own ears. The ceiling was fascinating, really, filled with tiny imperfections. “You think after all the sparring I’ve done with you I’d be able to face Bane.”
Colin held Damian’s hand between his own again and smiled again. The red lines on his face caused by sleeping on Damian’s leg and crumpled sheets have yet to fade away. “I don’t think it’s the same. Plus, he was out of control; he said he was really thankful to you. When Batman and I caught up to him.”
Damian grumbled something under his breath though he couldn’t remember what he’d said seconds later. Colin just kept smiling.
“Plus, I pull my punches.”
“…” Damian squeezed Colin’s had as hard as he could. IT was all he could do at the moment. “I’m going to take you apart when I feel better.” Damian yawned, the drugs that Dr. Thompkins had slipped into his IV starting to kick in. He was tired. “You’re sleeping on the couch too.”
“It’s more comfortable than this chair.” Colin stroked his fingers over Damian’s hand.
“Mmm.” Damian’s eyes slid shut, the colors of the room blurring. “And then we’re going to have sex. Lots and lots and lots of sex.”