Graysonismysexuality requested Nightwing!Dick and the s2 team, I don't really write them a lot because of my absolute hatred for Lagoon Boy but i love them aside from him

kinda went nowhere with this but heyho

Dick was in Mount Justice overseeing the team's training. He'd been really pleased with their drive since usually, they were a little slower in the morning. Being the leader of the group felt weird. A good weird but weird nonetheless. There was always pressure on your chest and weight on your shoulders but you were awarded that special sense of pride when they excelled at something you knew they struggled with or pulled off a mission against the odds. He wouldn't change it for the world. Bart had pulled him aside as soon as he got there, asking for help on how to get stronger since he'd struggled to pick up a notably bulky civilian and he'd been glad to help out. Spotting the speedster had taken up all his attention since he was easily the weakest on the team but was determined to start bench pressing hence why he didn't think to remind Cassie that her kettlebells were on the other side of the gym when she picked one up. 

"Shit!" someone yelled. He barely had time to react before something hard hit him in the left side of the head and pain riveted through him. His vision whited out and he felt himself fall but he didn't remember hitting the floor. "I'm so sorry!" Oh. Cassie yelled. He let out a low groan as he curled up on his side, trying to breathe through the immense waves of pain as he realised he'd just been hit in the head with a kettlebell. A fucking kettlebell. His stomach churned at the thought. Hopefully, it had lost some momentum by the time it got to him or he was in for a hell of a recovery. He had too much to do to sustain a severe injury.

"Why were you playing frisbee with the weights?" Bart snapped, jumping up from where he'd been lying down to kneel beside the hero. He didn't dare touch him though and looked around for someone more experienced to come running over. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw both Tim and Barbara heading their way. 

"I thought they were my weights! It was so light and my grip slipped!"

"You could've broken his skull!"

"Hey guys, a person with a definite concussion is on the floor. Don't yell," Tim reminded them. He knelt by Dick's head and patted his face to get the hero to open his eyes. Dick didn't remember closing them but he wasn't particularly happy to open them again. The lights were far too bright in the gym in the first place but now they were like little suns shining directly in his eyes. "Someone turn down the lights please." He didn't see who turned them off but he had a suspicion it was Bart given the gust of wind that followed after the demand. With the lights dimmed, he let his eyes open further to the point he could now see things without his lashes obscuring his vision. Tim smiled softly at him but concern pulled at his features. 

"S'up," he greeted. He could tell there was something wrong with his voice. There was a slight slur there that wasn't usual.

"Can you follow my finger for me?" Dick hummed in confirmation and followed the finger. He made a quiet note to tell Tim he was going a little too fast later. Right now it was taking all his energy to concentrate on the digit as it travelled across his vision. "Alright, what do you think you have?" To anyone else, the question was stupid because how were they supposed to know? Hurt people are usually too busy being hurt to assess their own injuries but he was a hero that had to work through anything to stay alive and he'd had a long history of head trauma. Judging by nausea, the headache already coming to settle in for the foreseeable future, the pulsing pain and how it took five whole minutes to come to that conclusion judging by the time on the clock since he last glanced at it, the prognosis was definitely a bad concussion. Fuck. He tried to think on the bright side since he'd had a severe concussion before that absolutely rocked his shit. The kettlebell had to have been one of the lightest ones on the set.

"Concussion." His words were definitely slurred. "Grade 2."

"Bordering on Grade 3, you tapped out for a moment there," Barbara said from somewhere above him. 

"His pupils look normal," Tim pointed out. "He hasn't thrown up and he's not confused."

"I want it checked out anyway. I'm worried about the slurred speech." Yeah, she was right to be worried he supposed. "Let's get you up, big guy. We should get you to Alfred."

"We've got a medbay here," M'gann reminded her. She wrung her hands together worriedly and Dick just knew she was going to be all over him when he was recovering. He'd probably get told off for breathing too intensely or exerting himself too much because he drank from a bigger-than-normal mug. 

"I'd prefer Alfred," Barbara replied, Tim nodding along. 

"Possessive," Dick teased although his slurring S's ruined the attempt at being lighthearted. Instead, it just brought attention to the potential danger he was in. 

"You're rather lucky Master Richard," Alfred began once he was done with his examination. "You've got a grade 2 concussion but you're displaying some symptoms of grade 3. It's nothing that concerns me though. I've determined at least three weeks off should give you enough time to heal. You can't risk another blow to the head." Dick felt anything but lucky at that moment. His head hurt so much and he knew there would be hell after because Cassie was going to blame herself for getting him benched for a while. She was the worst when she felt guilty about something. She'd follow him around like a lost puppy and be desperate to do something to make up for it yet would never be happy with forgiveness, insisting there had to be more she could do. "I would have liked to offer you my service but alas I'm visiting family in England for the majority of your bed rest."

"I'll be fine on my own," Dick replied. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to formulate the simple sentence he could already feel the annoyance building. He'd be snappy if he wasn't careful. He'd worked so hard to manage his anger in a productive or at least less destructive way but he slipped up, especially when he got frustrated. He was only human after all. 

"I wouldn't suggest it, sir," Alfred told him which basically meant 'don't you dare be on your own' in butler speak. "Perhaps your team could care for you. I'd like to be sure that if things do worsen and I have made a mistake in my diagnosis that you're at least around others who can provide medical help."

"You do have a room there," Tim commented. "Plus I'm already staying there for most of the month anyway."

"I would offer my place but it's not mine to offer," Barbara told him with an apologetic smile. He understood. Her dad probably wouldn't want him around the house as much as Commissioner Gordon did like him. That and he'd have to come up with something that sounded less fake than a kettlebell whacking him in the head. "I could stop over as and when?"

"I'd rather not," he answered although not unkindly. He'd already be in a place he couldn't properly relax and he'd be around too many people as it is. Sudden visits from his best friend weren't really going to help. She understood thankfully. "Could take over though? Between Gotham?"

"Blud or the team?"

"Blud. M'gann got the team." She nodded, likely already thinking of the optimum route she could take to properly cover both cities. He didn't mind if she wasn't able to do a lot but he knew how villains were. They were like unsupervised kids that did bad things as soon as the teacher wasn't looking. "This is gonna suck."

Cass, as suspected, crowded him the moment he entered Mount Justice with a diagnosis and duffle bag in hand. He didn't have time to tell her it was fine before she'd snatched his bag and put it on his room on his behalf. 

"She's going to be like that the entire time, isn't she?" he muttered.

"Considering she insisted I wasn't breathing correctly after she broke my nose for like a month, yes," Jaime replied although he tried to sound sympathetic. The older groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose when another stabbing pain attacked him. The lights in the mountain were far too bright to overcompensate for the lack of natural light which usually didn't bother him but now it was all he could concentrate on. "How're you holding up?"

"About as well as someone can when they've got a grade 2 concussion from a kettlebell," he answered, smiling slightly. 

"Still a smartass when you're concussed," Connor commented. 

"And you love me for it," he taunted as the clone rolled his eyes. "Since I'm here, I may as well go over your mission plan for the week with M'gann."

"You're on bed rest. Your scary butler insisted."

"C'mon Con, you've seen me pull off more with three stab wounds on top of a concussion! I can handle mission planning."

"I feel like I should warn you that they're taking the order very seriously," Tim said. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"This," Connor announced before grabbing him and throwing him over his shoulder. He blamed the ease of the manoeuvre and his lack of defence on the concussion. He lightly punched the clone's back trying to get down which was ever so slightly embarrassing to do when his young teammates were watching with poorly hidden laughter. "Let's get you to bed."

"Dude, I'm 20, I can be trusted to get myself to bed."

"Not really."

"Get off! You have to listen to me because I'm older!"

"Nope. My driver's licence says I'm 23, making me older and the boss of you."

"I'm the one who forged your papers! I'm still older!" He let out an exasperated sigh but was determined to get out of Connor's hold. "Guys, c'mon, help your leader out."

"Sorry but Alfred is a lot scarier than you," Tim replied. He gasped dramatically.

"Sibling betrayal!" he accused. "If none of you helps me, I'm benching you."

"No, he won't."

"Yes, I will," he pouted. 

Connor dropped him onto the bed unceremoniously as Cassie finished putting his things away. He made a mental note to tell her never to do that again but right now he was far too tired. He groaned and shoved his head into his pillow.

"Is he alright?" the young hero asked, eyeing her mentor. 

"Yes. He's just sulking."

"I'm a hero, I don't sulk. I brood," he snapped back although the bite was muffled by the pillow.

"Brooding looks a lot like sulking," Connor teased. "Cassie, you're in charge of making sure he doesn't leave this room until tonight for dinner."

"I can be trusted to stay in one place," Dick huffed.

"No, you can't. Don't let him leave this room." She nodded eagerly, ready for her mission before joining the hero on the bed.

"I'll let you lead the next team mission if you let me leave," Dick offered.

"No thanks."

"Thought so but it was worth a try."

Dick really did try to relax. Cassie sort of helped by getting on with some school work at his desk, keeping noise to a minimum but not freaking him out by being completely silent. He tried to sleep but only managed about twenty minutes or so until a headache woke him back up. He tried going over mission plans in his head but he needed to physically see them since the concussion made it hard to think without visual input. Unfortunately, concussion also meant no screen time until at least the end of the first week of bedrest and he was being held captive in his bedroom. Dick was awful at bedrest. His brain wasn't made for it. His body wasn't meant to remain in one place for so long. He needed to do something. Quietly, he got up and headed to the door but Cassie stopped him by standing in front of it.

"Nuh uh, you're not supposed to leave this room. Back to bed," she ordered. It was kinda comical to see his younger teammate order him around but he wasn't in the mood to laugh at it. He wanted out. He couldn't spend any more time inside this stupid boring room.

"I was just gonna get some water."

"You're not supposed to leave."

"Please Cassie, it's just a glass of water," he insisted, using his best puppy dog eyes. They always worked on Batman so logically they could work on other people. She chewed her bottom lip apprehensively then brightened when she got an idea.

"I'll get you the water and you stay here." That'll do.

"Alright. Thanks," he replied. 

"No problem. I'll be right back." He watched her leave and waited about three minutes before sneaking over to the door and popping his head out. She should be in the kitchen by this time so he could make it to his office by the time she saw he was missing and then lock himself inside. He nodded to himself and fought through the migraine blurring his vision as he stepped out into the hallway, heading to the office. 

To be fair, he made it at least halfway before he was spotted by Jaime. He put a finger to his mouth to signal to be quiet but the teen just laughed at him.

"M'gann, he got out!"

"You're my least favourite, I hope you know that," Dick got out before he began his full sprint. He didn't make it that far before the ground underneath him was suddenly gone and he was floating in the air. He looked around to find a very unimpressed martian staring at him with a smug Jaime by her side. "I'm an adult, I'm allowed to work," he whined. 

"Not when you're on bedrest."

"I can't spend my whole day in there! It's boring and I can't sleep but I can't plan for missions and my head hurts."

"How is going to work any better for the last three?" Jamie asked.

"I'd get distracted from them at least."

"Why don't I give you a concussion-safe activity? Jamie, can you ask Bart if we can borrow his markers?"

"Oh my God, I'm not colouring like a child."

He did indeed colour like a child. He will also not admit that it was really fun.