is this how bleeding out works? no but this is fanfic and i like it so fuck you

EDIT: OBVS TW BLOOD

Catwoman was doing her thing, running away from her latest crime, when she saw a spot of blue in an alleyway. She smirked to herself, instantly knowing that it was the plucky former protege of Batman Nightwing. Deciding she had some time to spare and could use a positive conversation with the hero, she found a way down to the alley. Then she noticed something that made her heart sink. He was crumpled over, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. She debated what to do. Maybe he was just taking a break and spilt something suspiciously blood coloured on himself. That was extremely unlikely. She decided to ask him if everything was alright and if it wasn't then she'd have to help. Sure she was a criminal and Batman and her were currently on rocky ground, but she didn't fancy letting the poor kid bleed out whilst unable to get help. His eyes were squeezed shut as his gloves soaked up more and more blood. He happened to open one of his eyes a tad when he felt he was no longer alone and his face lit up when he saw it was Catwoman. "I would give you a hug but I'm bleeding," he greeted. She smiled empathetically and got closer, kneeling beside the hero. 

"You can give me one later," she responded. Nightwing nodded with a smirk. He looked out of it which must be due to the amount of blood flowing out of him. "Show me where it hurts baby bird." He nodded and moved his arm out of the way. There was a long almost worryingly deep gash on his stomach. 

"It's just a small scratch. Gimme a minute and I'll get goin," he reasoned. Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

"Did you call Batman?" He shook his head. "Why not?"

"We're not doing so hot. He frickin started it!" She shushed him gently. If he used all his energy on yelling about his problems with his ex-mentor, they would be in a much worse situation. In her head, Catwoman began debating on where to get him. She didn't want to ask where his apartment was since he looked like he didn't completely know where he was now. Luckily, her apartment was very close so she could just hide him out there before finding a way to contact his team to get him in the care Batman wouldn't flip his lid about. "How about I help you? My apartment is just up there." She pointed at the window on the top floor of the building Nightwing was leaning on. He followed her eye line and looked up. 

"Awesome. I can only stop by for a minute though. I promised the-the team I'd stay there tonight." Catwoman nodded, deciding to play along with the idea he wasn't going to eventually pass out in her apartment since he'd been bleeding out for God knows how long. Taking the stairs wouldn't really work since she'd be showing everyone that happened to be going about their night that she was pulling Nightwing up the stairs to her room whilst he was slowly bleeding out and she was in full Catwoman garb. "Think you can pull some Nightwing magic and get up there?" His smirk grew with a nod.  

"Yep," he answered, popping the p.

This was proven to be a lie when halfway up he got very dizzy and almost fell off the side of the building. Luckily Catwoman was close beside him at the time and was able to catch him before he actually fell. She dragged him inside her apartment through the window. He tumbled inside with a loud thump and a groan, making her gasp sympathetically. "Sorry," she said, regretting being so forceful. 

"It's fiinnee," he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. It certainly wasn't fine but Catwoman decided not to point that out. She hauled him off the floor and helped him to the couch. Upon finding a first aid kit, she shivered at the sight of blood that had gotten on her hands. Even if she hadn't caused the gash that would kill him without some sort of medical attention, it didn't feel right to have the red substance on her gloves. "How's life? Ivy and Harley still a thing? I ship it," Nightwing rambled as he fell back on the couch. She chuckled to herself and returned to his side to give him some much-needed help. 

"Since when was shipping villains something you did?" she asked, removing the hand he'd instinctively put over the wound. 

"Always. Do it with heroes too. Totally called it with Walls and Arty," he said. Catwoman rolled her eyes at the nicknames he gave his friends and pulled out something to disinfect the cut. He hissed in pain and hid his face in the crook of his arm. "I know Dickie but I have to do it. We don't want this getting infected."

"It never does," he argued.

"Believe it or not Bruce does tell me things. You've had rotten luck with your cuts recently." He rolled his eyes. 

"You haven't talked to him in a month," he pointed out. He was right, she hadn't. Bruce and her had a fight last month about his stubbornness. She changed so much for him yet he was so unwilling to change for her. There was no "I'll take tonight off" even when Dick and Tim both insisted they had Gotham covered. There was just no effort on his part. She had to get out of there for a while. God knows how that made the boys feel. They'd grown closer as her relationship with Bruce grew. Running out on them wasn't the best thing she's ever done but it had to be done. She almost laughed at herself. Sounds like something Bruce would say. "You're still wrong," she responded.

He noted she sounded a little disheartened. Entirely forgetting that the other was doing her hardest to close up the ghastly cut, he put his hands on her face and squished her cheeks together so she'd look at him. "You n Bruce. I ship it. Soo he'll-he'll change. Changed when I was Rob, changed when I'm Night-Nightwing," he rambled. Selina put her hands on his wrists and gently tugged them away. It wasn't hard since he was much weaker than usual. Although she knew he meant well by having a little heart to heart, there was currently blood leaking onto her couch and he was looking increasingly worse for wear. "I know, now lay back down." Dick shrugged and did as he was told, making her sigh in relief. "How did you even get something this big?"

"Machete. Who uses a machete? Samari swords, now they're cool. I should get one! Let's go get one!" He sat up again, almost dizzying himself by how fast he got up, but she pushed him back down. 

"How long have you been bleeding out?"

"Not asterous long but not disastrous long," he replied. She frowned. He was acting like a child. Then she snapped her fingers. He was acting like a child! After demanding he lay back down, she went to a draw and fished out one of the phones she'd stolen. It worked fine enough. "Dick stop poking it!"

"I think I can feel my ribs!" he exclaimed. There was a look of grotesque fascination on his face as he poked at the wound. It sent shivers of disgust down his spine but he didn't mind. Selina did however and quickly got back by his side to slap his hand away. "Watch something on this for me, okay? You can put one of your memes on or something." He gladly took the phone and busied himself looking for videos.

Luckily, Selina managed to stitch him up by the time the battery ran out on it. Dick put it aside as he no longer saw the entertainment in it and looked down at Selina's handiwork. "I like the colour," he stated, referring to the thread. He was sweating as if he'd just ran a marathon and his breathing wasn't unlike that of a runner finishing a race. Selina put the back of her hand on the stitched-up cut. A little warm. Maybe too warm. She then put the back of her hand on Dick's forehead. He was heating up. His pale cheeks had become flushed but she couldn't pinpoint when. "Do you have a way to contact your team?" He nodded and pulled out a communicator, poking a few buttons on it before it whirred to life. The dial tone went on for a bit before a girl answered. "Nightwing where are you? You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago," she greeted. Selina could hear the apprehension in her voice and she could understand why. He wasn't one to be late. "It's fine M'gann. I'm hangin with Cat-mum. Wanna talk?" He shoved the communicator in Selina's hand and turned onto his side, presumably trying to get comfortable enough to take a nap. She sighed and greeted M'gann on the phone. "Sorry darling but he's a little out of it at the moment. Found the poor thing bleeding out tonight," she explained.

"Oh gosh is he alright? You know I told him to be careful. He never listens. I oughtta- Robin he's - it's not-hey-"

"Nightwing?" a panicked Robin inquired.

"Selina I'm afraid." She glanced to the side, now noticing Dick had drifted off to sleep. She pushed a few curls out of the way of his eyes then took to running her hands through his hair and untangling some of the knots she found. "Nightwing's out cold. I suggest you come here. He's in no condition to come to you."

"Where are you?"

"My apartment. Bring some blood with you, I don't know how long he's been bleeding. Antibiotics too, he's running a fever." There was an affirmative grunt before the call ended. "Bye to you too." Her attention returned to the hero curled in a ball on her couch. At least she knew he was getting proper help. Though, she wished she could've had an upbeat conversation with him. He always knew how to cheer her up.

Not long had passed before there was a knock on her window. She raised an eyebrow and looked over to find it was a green girl. Selina shrugged and presumed it was one of Nightwing's teammates. She opened the window and let her climb through. A ship lowered behind her with its hatch open and ready to let her back on. "How is he?" she asked nervously. 

"Feverish but I've seen him worse." She looked over to the couch where the hero was sprawled out. He panted in his sleep, unaware there was someone new in the apartment. "Best not to wake him," Selina cautioned. The green girl nodded and called for Superboy. The clone slipped in through the window and was directed towards Nightwing. He collected the hero in his arms, earning a series of hisses and gasps of pain. "Sorry," he said quietly. 

"Thanks for looking after him Catwoman. I dread to think what would happen if you didn't," the girl thanked, helping the other get out the window without jostling Nightwing too much.

"Of course. He's practically my-" Selina stopped herself with a smile. Better not admit that. "He's a good kid," she said instead. Then she was left alone in her flat. "He better pay for a new couch," she muttered, noticing the large splotch of red.

A few weeks later Nightwing and Catwoman's paths crossed. He grinned at her and took her in a tight hug. "How've you been? Haven't seen you since I was attacked," he greeted. She gladly accepted the hug, holding him close. 

"I'm alright. How are you? You didn't look like your fabulous self when you left," she answered. He chuckled and they parted. She couldn't help but notice a new scar on his face and frown at it. "Turns out I was getting sick anyway and sitting in a dirty alley with a dirty wound didn't help. I was out of commission for a week. Can you imagine that? Me out of commission for that long? Nearly went insane." Catwoman shook her head with a laugh. 

"I don't doubt it."

"So I was just on my way to bust some serious criminal ass, fancy tagging along?" Even though his eyes were masked, she could tell they were looking at her with hope. Not being one to disappoint, Catwoman nodded. "It'll keep me out of trouble for a night." Nightwing's grin got bigger.

"Great! It's always nice to natter when I'm doing serious stuff. I can never get a word in edgewise with Bats," he said sarcastically.

"Tell me about it," she replied, equally as sarcastic. "You owe me money for my couch by the way. There's a massive splotch of blood on it."

"Something to remember me by." She tutted, folding her arms as a mother would. "M'gann said I called you Cat-mum and I can see it now," he taunted.

"You best believe I'm your Cat-mum and as your Cat-mum, I don't want the reminder of you being blood on my couch." He rolled his eyes and waved his hands dismissively. 

"Fine fine, I'll buy you a new one. Now let's go!"

I feel so uncreative my head is one big blah since i finished that essay and i still got coursework to do which requires enough creativity to make it sound like i dont want to off myself whenever someone mentions flemming 

gods give me strength