A/N: So, this evening sucked, I was angsting doing homework in the guest bedroom, then my younger sister comes in, and next thing you know this fic is born. Instead of me doing homework. Which is typical now.

Everything from 'And then Jason did something Dick did not expect,' to '"You're not exactly helping your situation here," Jason commented,' is 100% life experience, including the dialogue. (My sister is so Jason at heart.) The rest I took a bit of creative liberty with to fit it with the fandom.

Please enjoy the brofluff :)

Edit 11-10-16: Just realized this is my 50th story on Fanfiction. Yay! :D Also the very first story written 100% on my new laptop. Double yay!

Dick…wasn't sure why he was upset. It's not like this hadn't happened before. He and Bruce argued all the time; escalated to new heights, pushed new limits, on a practically monthly basis.

It wasn't anything new. It wasn't anything to be concerned about.

It certainly wasn't something to be crying about.

Any other day, after things between him and Bruce went south, Dick would have hightailed it back to his apartment where he and Bruce would pout and brood respectively for the next week (month) or so in their own space. Then everything would fall back to some semblance of normalcy as one of them would conveniently "forget," and they would continue with their lives pretending it had never happened; at least until the next disagreement.

Unfortunately, this method of escape was impossible since the stab wound in his abdomen had him strictly confined to the Manor by order of Alfred until his "blood platelet count had time to catch up to the consequences of his reckless behavior," or some such.

Maybe it was some strange combination of the utterly trapped feeling squeezing his heart and the pain medication dragging through his system, or something. (Not emotional pain. Nope. No guilt here….)

(Pft. Yeah, right.)

But whatever the cause was, it didn't change the fact that Dick—a fully grown adult with more emotional stability than someone twice his age, who could withstand torture without a single drop of moisture in his eyes—was crying.

Hormones were supposed to end with puberty. Guess Dick was just special.

Life really sucked sometimes.

Now, crouched at his desk in the corner of his room, Dick had long ago given up on stemming those traitorous drops, typing furiously on his laptop over a case he'd been attempting to crack over in Blüdhaven until family business had called him back to Gotham. And then came the subsequent drug bust, and the stab wound, and the argument, and…

Moving on. (Wasn't that supposed to be his specialty? Not dwelling on the past, ignoring the pain, carrying on with his life?)

Needless to say, his plans to take down the latest serial killer in Blüdhaven had been brought to a grinding halt. Not that he'd had any progress in the first place…

Frustrated, Dick smashed the 'DELETE' key, eradicating the last three hours' work to be left with a stupidly blank white page. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, wincing as the movement pulled the stitches in his torso—decided he didn't care—glaring at the wall in front of him.

Maybe if he wasn't confined to his room (of his own accord, but still) this wouldn't be so freaking hard.

Alfred would never let him blow off steam in the training area in his current condition. Even if Dick did manage to get downstairs without the all-knowing butler coming down on his head, there was still the issue of Bruce being down there.

And there was no way Dick was going near that man until he actually had the option to walk away from this whole mess.

It didn't help that it was only the three of them currently in the Manor. (Just like old times, right?) Damian was at school, Tim couldn't be torn from the Titans, Jason was who knows where…

In short, there was nothing in this ridiculously large, extravagant house to distract him from his misery.

As a matter of fact, Dick was just debating the merits of chucking his laptop at the wall to see if that would quell the rage and helplessness slowly churning in his stomach when the door burst open.

"'Sup, Goldie?"

Dick blinked in surprise at the figure of his successor slouching against his doorframe, looking for all the world like a normal college student with those relaxed features, dressed simply in faded jeans and a red T-shirt.

Dick…couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his little brother out of Kevlar.

"Jay?" he managed. "What are you doing here?"

Green-tinged blue eyes rolled. "How's that for gratitude? I helped drag your fat butt back to the Cave before you bled to death last night, idiot."

Dick blinked again. Self-consciously scrubbed at the tear tracks he knew were etched down his cheeks. "I believe I was unconscious at that point."

"You were," Jason allowed. Wandered farther into the room, leaning over to stare at the empty document on Dick's laptop. "I see you've been productive."

"You have an interesting definition of productive."

Jason shrugged. "What can I say? I'm an interesting guy."

Dick smirked. "Keep telling yourself that."

There was a short silence, both watching the thin black line blink on an off on the screen.

And then Jason did something Dick did not expect: Draped himself over Dick's back, wrapping his arms loosely around Dick's shoulders in a…what could only be described as a…a…

"What are you doing?" Dick blurted before he could stop himself. Internally winced at his poor response to his brother actually showing affection—

"Strangling you," Jason replied nonchalantly.

Dick snorted, wrapping his hands over Jason's arms and tightening their hold around his neck. "I can see that."

"You're not exactly helping your situation here," Jason commented.

At that, Dick barked a laugh—almost a sob. "I know."

They remained there a moment, saying nothing; Dick, for once, unwilling to break the silence.

"You know Bruce is just being Bruce, right?" Jason said eventually, uncharacteristically soft. "The jerk just can't admit that he doesn't know the secret to everything in the universe. He'll get over it."

And as abruptly as he'd flopped over Dick, Jason stood straight, brushing himself off. "Well, heard Alfred's making a fresh batch of cookies, and the princeling will be home in a few minutes. Little demon always takes more than his fair share."

"Of course," Dick said, slightly in a daze. "You do that."

It wasn't until Jason's hand rested on the doorknob, cracking the door back open, did Dick fully process what had just happened. "Er...Jay?"

Jason glanced back.

Dick smiled; the first one he'd truly meant in weeks. "Thanks."

A small smirk quirked the corners of the younger's lips. "For what?" Jason slipped out the doorway and disappeared.

Still smiling, Dick turned back to his laptop. He stood corrected. Life did have its moments, even if it was only once in awhile.