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It smelled bad again.
“Sorry,” Dick sighed. “I think I burned breakfast again.”
“Dude,” Jason sat on the couch, not moving, looking at him blankly. “Just make cereal.”
“I can do it,” He insisted, pulling out another pan to try and make another round of sausages and breakfast muffins. He’d seen Alfred do it a thousand times, and Jason always loved having them after a bad patrol. “Besides, it’s not like your lazy ass is getting up to make them.”
Jason just inclined his head at his broken leg. It wasn’t a clean break at all, but Dick had patched him up. It was clean now, splinted and stitched closed, and propped up on a pillow to prevent swelling.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dick waved him off. “You and your excuses, Little Wing.”
Jason made a squawking noise, like a particularly pissed off bird. “You made me make you smoothies last week because you got punched in the throat!”
That punch had hurt. It still hurts now, but more like it was inside his neck, in his vocal cords, like he spent too much time screaming. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, Dick had strained his throat once, years ago, from an argument with Bruce. Jason had laughed at him then too.
Dick just laughed, putting the new sausages on the pan. “Thank you, Jay, for making me smoothies that I know you spat in.”
In Jason’s defence, he had only spat in one, and that was because they were arguing right before going on patrol. They didn’t make up during patrol, but that’s alright because Jason let Dick patch him up and slept in his apartment, and that was as close as an accepted apology as Jason did. Dick was hovering over him too much and not trusting him to fight alone in Blud, Jason had been right about that, and Dick had admitted that when they met up during patrol.
The sausages smelled bad.
“Sorry, Little Wing,” Dick turned off another pan and put it in the sink, sausages and hot oil and all. “I think I burned them again. Or they’ve gone bad.”
“Cereal, Dickhead!” Jason called back. “Before I starve!”
Dick finally gave in, because he was hungry too and it looked like his sink was drowning in pans. How many times has he failed to make breakfast again? It doesn’t matter, what does matter is that he only has one bowl left not in the sink and Dick is going to have to eat cereal out of his big mug because Jason was absolutely going to complain if his cereal wasn’t in a proper bowl and…
And Dick was just staring at his open cupboard. He grabbed the bowl and mug.
“Fruit Loops or Frosted Flakes?” He asked his brother, climbing onto the counter to reach the cereal. He kept it at the back of the top shelf to discourage himself from being lazy in the mornings, but it didn’t always work because he kept climbing on the damn counter.
“Are they name brand or am I going to end up eating Fruit Rounds again?”
“I’ll give you the Frosted Flakes then,” Dick ignored the colorful Fruity Swirls box in favour of the box decorated with a tiger. Off-brand was for Wally whenever he visited, but it was increasingly infrequent nowadays, still, Dick kept the habit of buying a box for himself and a box for Wally every time he went shopping. He might need to go to the supermarket soon, the box was almost empty.
Then, he stopped and sniffed the milk.
“I think the milk went bad,” He called out to his brother, squinting at the milk trying to find the clumps. “It smells terrible.”
“When did you buy it?” Jason asked, head lolling back to rest against the couch pillow.
“Like, a few days ago?” Dick poured down the drain, even if he couldn’t see if it had actually spoiled. It just smelled so bad. “The morning before our last patrol.”
“Should check the expiry dates more carefully,” Jason teased him as he emerged from the kitchen, lounging on his couch.
Dick passed his little brother his cereal, putting the dry flakes on the table in front of him. “I swear I did.”
“Uh-huh,” Jason didn’t look at him, just staring off into space. “Sure.”
Dick shoveled some dry flakes into his own mouth, “Weren’t you just complaining about starving?”
“Tired now,” Jason murmured, not moving.
“Nah,” Dick denied, poking his brother’s thigh. “Stay awake, Jay, you can’t sleep.”
Jason didn’t reply to him, which is stupid because he shouldn’t be falling asleep, injured like he is.
“Wake up, Jay!” Dick shook his shoulder. “Rise and Shine!”
Jason blinked at him, “Weren’t you going to make breakfast?”
Breakfast? Right, breakfast.
Dick put his mug down next to the other bowls.
“I think I burned breakfast,” He said. “It smells horrible in here.”
“Open a window,” Jason told him, looking far too comfortable on the couch for someone with several broken bones. “Ventilate or some shit.”
“Good idea,” He went to open a window, then stopped. He had closed them for a reason, right?
Right, Jason had stopped shivering, and that’s not good with blood loss. He had to keep him warm.
“Do you want another blanket, Little Wing?” He asked, going for the closet. His little brother must be freezing.
“I want you to open a window,” Jason replied. “Maybe a door?”
Door? Why would he open a door?
There’s someone at the door, there’s knocking and he can hear someone asking him if he can hear them–
Does it smell that bad?
“I burned breakfast,” Dick said, realising that the smell must be coming from the kitchen to have permeated the entirety of his living room this way. So much for open-plan apartments. “Let me make you some sausages, Little Wing.”
“Dick?” That wasn’t Jason.
“In the kitchen!” He called back, pulling out a new pan. They were out of sausages, but he swore that he had just brought a new packet.
“Oh god.” Is that Bruce? “Dick!”
Dick came back around the corner, a pan in hand and a smile on his face. “B! You joining me and Jason for breakfast?”
He waited for a second, for Jason to correct his grammar, but he didn’t. Ugh, he always went so grumpy and gave them all the silent treatment whenever Bruce was around.
“Jay,” He turned to his brother, ignoring the strange noise that Bruce made, like he had been punched in the gut. Big bold batman must’ve been an idiot and walked into the corner of the counter again. “Do you want sausages?”
Jason just smiled at him, eyes empty and jaw unhinged, glassy and blue.
Dick hummed in thought, “Yeah I think they smell a bit off too, maybe I should make us some cereal.”
“Dick?” Bruce whispered. “Jason?”
Dick turned to his adoptive father with a smile, “Come on, B, you can have the Fruity Swirls while Jason and I have the Frosted Flakes.”
He left his Dad in the living room with Jason’s corpse to look through the cupboard.
He thinks he might be out of bowls again. Ugh, he needs to do the dishes, they were piled up in the sink and have been that way for days.
The apartment smelled bad.