A/N: So I really suck at the whole ‘drabble’ thing… ahem.
Jason ran the whetstone down the blade of the knife a little harder than he’d intended, the rasp filling the room briefly.
“No shit Sherlock.” Jason drawled, and ran the stone down the blade again, gentler this time, he didn’t want to damage the knife.
The words were a warning, ground out deeper than Jason usually would. Combined with the gun still strapped to his hip and the knife being sharpened in his hand… well… Sensible people would back off at this point.
“As in its missing a fair chunk.” Dick continued, proving just how sensible a man who regularly threw himself off buildings could be, “I think you may want to get it replaced.”
“That’s nice Dickie.” Jason rolled the words, drenched in sarcasm, “Really, I love knowing what you think.”
“I know you do.” Dick answered brightly.
Jason rolled his eyes, and in doing so nearly missed Dick’s hands as they reached for his helmet on the table beside him. Nearly.
“I’ll just-“ Dick began and never finished.
It took half a breath for whetstone to be left on the table, and the knife raised an inch above Dick’s throat. Doing the first sensible thing he’d done all afternoon, Dick froze. All traces of amusement on his face, swept clean away.
“Put it back.” Jason said slowly, heart lodged in his throat and hating every second of this.
Dick placed the helmet carefully back on the table, moves obvious and brows already beginning to crinkle with suspicion. Taking a step back, Dick raised his hands placatingly and Jason turned stiffly away. He sat back down and picked up the whetstone again.
Something ached in his chest.
“So.” Dick’s voice was careful, talk-the-kidnappers-down careful, “Want to tell me what’s so important about that particular helmet?”
“No.” Jason said shortly, “I don’t.”
And he didn’t. Dick wouldn’t- he couldn’t-
No. Jason was not talking about it.
“Okay then.” Dick agreed finally, “I won’t ask.”
They lapsed into a silence and Jason’s fingers curled around the whetstone.
Good. Jason wasn’t going to tell. He wasn’t going to make a fool of himself. Not again. Not in front of Dick. It didn’t matter whatever they were doing together, they weren’t confessional buddies and Jason wasn’t going to-
“It’s the same helmet I wore when Kori, Roy and I were teamed up.” Jason said shortly, eyes down on the table, head angled away from Dick.
Laugh. Jason thought. Laugh and we can all move on.
Dick didn’t though. Didn’t say much of anything and Jason felt the seconds tick against him agonisingly slow.
“That’s-“ Dick started, and Jason’s brain supplied sad, “… sweet.”
A cut off laugh escaped Jason at that.
“Yeah, sweet.” He drawled, and tightened his grip around the knife.
Thankfully, Dick ignored that too.
“Keep it then, just wear another one out in the field.” Dick said, light-handed as if Jason hadn’t just proclaimed himself the world’s biggest sap, “We gotta keep your image in tact.”
Sometimes Jason forgot just how easy Dick was, just how easy it was to be around him. Clearing his throat a bit, Jason shuffled himself on the seat.
Dick’s hand was soft on his shoulder, lips brushing like the breeze against the top of his head.
“Good.” Dick said simply, and Jason could feel the smile he pressed into his hair.
Sometimes it was almost too easy being with Dick.
One day, Jason thought, something was going to give.