When Dick called, asking for help, you weren’t expecting it to be about Jason. Or that he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. Or that he’d need a place to crash for a couple of days— which, of course, ended up being your apartment.

The knock on your door came quickly, followed by the sound of two voices bickering. When you opened it, you saw Jason being dragged inside by Dick, his face barely visible behind his swollen features.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Jason spat, glaring at you with one good eye. His other was nearly shut, his lip split and leaking blood. His arm hung awkwardly in a sling, and his steps were uneven like he was favoring a limp, too.

Dick ignored him, practically shoving Jason onto your couch as he launched into a rapid-fire explanation. “Just keep an eye on him for a few days, alright? I promise it won’t be too bad. His suit’s locked up, so he can’t get to it. Don’t let him run off, ‘kay?”

He tossed a wad of cash onto your table—way more than what Jason’s care would require and then hugged you quickly, before rushing back out the door like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

You stared at the money for a second, then at Jason, who was seething on the couch.

It wasn’t that you wouldn’t take care of him. You were friends, after all. But things were… complicated. You and Jason had almost been something more once. You’d kissed, spent an evening tangled up in each other’s bodies, then he’d pulled away with some lame excuse and ghosted you after. No explanation, no closure. Just silence.

Now, here he was, bruised and broken, needing your help for three days.

For three long days.