Nightmares
Who: Dick Grayson, Bill Costigan, Mal Cobb
What: Little Dick is having nightmares. Bill can't handle kids. Guess who he calls?
Where: Dick's cabin.
When: Monday night, on either side of this thread.
Warnings: Possibly allusions to past badness for Mal and Costigan, but probably not much else.
[Threads to follow in two parts: Thread 1 will be Dick ( Read more... )
What: Little Dick is having nightmares. Bill can't handle kids. Guess who he calls?
Where: Dick's cabin.
When: Monday night, on either side of this thread.
Warnings: Possibly allusions to past badness for Mal and Costigan, but probably not much else.
[Threads to follow in two parts: Thread 1 will be Dick ( Read more... )
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He didn't really wait for Dick to reply, though he gave him a reassuring nod before standing and moving out toward the main section of the penthouse. He took in a deep breath as he strode over, pausing before reaching up to undo the two locks on the door. Costigan waited another second before opening the door a crack, oblivious to the fact that Dick had not stayed put.
"Thanks for coming, but I think he's okay now," he said to Mal before any sort of greeting. The former undercover leaned on the door, barely leaving much space between he and the door frame. Now that the panic was gone, he realized what a bad idea it had been, calling her.
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He lay there quietly for maybe a minute - still sniffing a little and rubbing a hand over his face to wipe some of the tears off, trying to get comfortable without getting too comfortable so he wouldn't fall asleep before Costigan came back - before pushing himself up and sort of cautiously following Bill out of the room. He was still sort of shaken, and he didn't want to be alone right now, even if he wasn't following instructions. Not that that had ever really stopped him before.
He stopped a slight distant from the inmate and considered asking who was out in the hall, but wasn't sure he wanted to actually announce he was out of bed, so kept quiet. But he was still breathing a little shakily, so it was really only a matter of time before a residual sob gave him away.
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At his words, she tried not to look disappointed. "Oh. Well ... all right. I'm glad you were able to get him settled, then." An awkward pause. "Shall I-" Leave? Stay? Her gaze dropped to the floor. "I should probably let you-"
From somewhere behind Costigan was a faint childish sniffle or sob. At the sound, Mal's head snapped straight up, maternal instincts taking over before reason or logic could get her out of the way.
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He cautiously glanced up at Mal, looking at her curiously for a moment before looking back at the floor, letting out another quiet half sob without meaning to.
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"It's all right," she said softly. And then she glanced at Costigan, suddenly realising that she might be overstepping.
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After a pause and a short glance to ensure Mal was entering, he added, "Why don't you take Mal into the kitchen and we can make some midnight pancakes or something?"
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He took a few small steps towards Mal before cautiously reaching out to take her hand so he could show her where the kitchen was, managing an incredibly shaky smile. "It's over here."
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She smiled as Dick reached for her hand, and she took his little hand in hers. "Can you show me where everything is? It's a very nice kitchen, but very different from mine."
Her plan, as was usually the case with children, especially anxious ones, was to give him things to do that would distract him, but also reassure him. Confirm that everything was all right. Even if it wasn't.
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Still, he dutifully started looking through the cabinets for the proper ingredients and equipment for making pancakes. He had a vague idea of what that entailed, but he was eight and not particularly skilled in the kitchen, so really he had basically no idea of what he was doing. He noticed Costigan sort of keeping out of the way and immediately felt some lingering anxiety, although he wasn't sure if that was something left over from the nightmares or something actually present for the two adults as well.
In an attempt to alleviate that general anxiety - or maybe just his own - he looked over at Mal curiously as he pulled out a frying pan from one of the cabinets. "Do you know how to make pancakes?"
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"I do indeed." She took the frying pan from him and set it on the stove. "Let me see-it looks like everything we need, and, oh, what have we here? Chocolate chips. How do chocolate chip pancakes sound?"
She was aware of Costigan watching her, and it occurred to her that she was probably making a little more effort than usual to be upbeat and pleasant. As if to underscore that no one had anything to fear now.
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He idly wondered if Dick was pulling out unnecessary ingredients and tools because he actually thought they might be useful or if the kid was just trying to lighten the mood. Realizing he looked a bit like he was brooding, the inmate forced a smile that appeared sincere. "You ever made pancakes before, kid?"
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He looked up at Costigan's question, the smile reassuring him and getting him to open up a little more. "A couple times," he said. "Never by myself though." He hesitated before elaborating, because it was weird sometimes when he would get upset talking about something and when he wouldn't. "My... mom would make them sometimes on weekends and stuff, if we had time. And, you know, ingredients and stuff." He ran a hand sort of nervously over his face, trying to focus on that and not the night they'd been killed. It wasn't too hard right now, but it was still lingering in the back of his mind.
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She set to work mixing up the batter and turned on the stove to heat up the frying pan, letting the boys-as she found herself thinking of them, somewhat to her surprise-talk. She glanced over at Costigan again and for the first time noticed the marks on his arms, and looked away quickly.
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