Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason wakes up with a throbbing headache, a shattered helmet, and the terrifying, cold voice of his fath- of Batman in his ear.

“Hood? Hood. Do you copy.”

He bites down a groan and lifts an aching arm to tap what's left of his comms, surprised they still work. “Go for Hood.”

He can hear a breath of ‘fucking finally’ from someone, but can't pinpoint the voice before Batman speaks up again. “What's your status?”

Jason blinks, trying to take stock of his surroundings as fast as he can. He knows what he was doing just before this, and tries to piece together the story quickly before he can annoy the Big Bat anymore than he already has. It didn't matter how hard Jason was working to earn their trust back, Bruce would never care for him again. He didn't have the luxury of taking his time, of crying out that he didn't know because his head was hurting and his vision was spotting. He wasn't able to do that, not anymore.

“I'm stuck,” he manages, looking down at his body pinned under rubble. That explained the soreness.

“Are you injured?”

“Uh…” Jason tries to see, he really does, but beyond a concussion and maybe some sprained limbs he can't feel anything broken or torn, can't see any blood pooling from beneath the concrete and rebar. He certainly can't feel any injury. Not yet at least.

“Hood!” Batman barks, Jason jumps and wow okay, he takes it back, he's injured somewhere because the pain that shoots through him is almost enough to make him scream. Almost. “Are. You. Injured.”

Not in any way that matters. He wants to say, but he bites his tongue. “Just some sprains and bruises,” he manages. “I'll need an extraction, though, I'm properly stuck.”

There's a sudden scuffle on the other end of the comms. “It'll have to wait.” Is all he hears before the resounding click! of a comm shutting off echoes in Jason's head. 

He tries not to let it get to him, he really tries, but it's so hard. He's been doing everything he can to earn forgiveness, to earn camaraderie, and alliance. He'll never get their trust back, he doubts he ever had their love, but it hurts when the Bats dismiss everything he's even trying to do. He hasn't killed anyone for over a year, he's been clean, and good, and nice. He's taken the vitriol and the scoldings, taken the fall for Red and Robin, hadn't argued back to the lectures about ‘safety’ and ‘teamwork’ even when his actions resulted in a better outcome. He had done so much, had tried so fucking hard, but he knew from experience he would never mean anything to the Bats again. Yes, all of them, because the rest of them followed Bruce's orders like lost little ducklings, even Nightwing, for however much he had separated his identity from Batman, still held too much of the same conditions and far too much care for the others to ever side with Jason.

He sighed. Enough wallowing in his own pity, he needed to try and get himself out of here. Batman and his little cauldron would probably forget he was even fighting with them after this battle, would probably be happy to just get rid of Jason once and for all. A part of him just wanted to lay there, see how long it would take for them to notice, for them to care.

He wasn't sure if he would survive the truth, though, because at the end of the day, no matter how hard he tried to stop, Jason still loved them. Still loved Bruce like his own father, still loved Dick, Cass, Tim, and Damian like his own siblings, still loved Alfred, Steph, and Babs like his own family. If they decided to just leave him here, pinned underneath a building with adrenaline fading from his veins and making it very clear he had more than a sprained wrist or two to worry about-

“Um, H-Hood to Bats,” how long has it been? The air was stiff and dusty, reminding him far too much of a haunted place six feet below solid dirt. 

“Come in, Hood.” Nightwing, Dick, his big brother. Jason felt relief sag his shoulders.

“How long ‘till extraction?” He tries for casual. “Gettin’ kinda bored here.”

The line clicks with a new voice. “Perhaps, if you had not rushed into a collapsing building without back-up like the simpleton you are, Hood, you would-” 

Damian's words are cut off with a hollow thud, followed by a pained yelp. 

“Robin!” Nightwing shouts. “Hood, sit tight, we'll get to you when we can.”

And just like that, Jason is alone again. 

It made sense. Batman had been paired with Red Robin, while Nightwing was with Robin. Both the upgrade and the demon brat were far more valuable than Jason ever was. Were far more worthy of the love they possessed than he ever could be.

Right. He was on his own. He kept fucking forgetting that for some reason. Maybe it was the dots swimming in his vision, he wasn't sure. Either way, he needed to…

…what was he doing again?

He took stock of his surroundings. Had he done that yet? It was dark, light only coming in from gaps in the rubble, illuminating dust particles floating in the air. He was firmly pinned beneath immovable concrete, and now that adrenaline had faded he could feel cold metal digging painfully against his hip. It was sharp, pointy, and Jason would definitely need a tetanus shot after this.

A slab of concrete was slowly crushing his chest, pinning one arm to his side- sort of. His right shoulder was dislocated and pinned, glass slicing into his back. Jason shifted slightly and again, bit back a scream at the white hot pain that ripped through his abdomen. 

Inhale, exhale, hold for four, out for six. He thought, but breathing was hard with the throbbing reminder of the concrete on his chest. He gave himself a few more moments before lowering his free hand to try and feel what was hurting him.

He gently brushed gloved fingers over the left side of his stomach, and searing agony rolled through his veins like molten lava. 

“ Fuck,” he whimpered, too quiet for the comms to pick up on. His hand left the rebar spearing through his abdomen, leather coming back shiny with blood as he tapped off his side of the comms. He tested out his legs, tensing the muscles in his left-

“ Shit!” Jason hissed, the action of his gasp sending pain rocketing through him again. He took slow breaths, not deep ones, and he's not sure how long he lay there, alone, in the dark, whimpers cutting into his wheezes. He was so fucking pathetic. 

He couldn't move to check, but his left leg was definitely pinned. His shin was throbbing and his calf was wet, what was presumably blood was pooling underneath it. Gently, he tested out his right leg, surely he could use that leverage-

Jason blinked his eyes open again, unaware that he had closed them. His throat was raw like he had been screaming, and he felt tears drying on the sides of his face. Had he, had he passed out?

There was a checkerboard of injuries on him now. His right shoulder was dislocated, the left side of his torso had rebar stabbed through it, he was pretty sure the snapped femur is what knocked him out for a moment, and his left shin was torn up. 

Oh, the throbbing from his head originated from the left side, too, so that was cool.

“Checkmate,” he murmured, and a quick click! on the comms told him he had activated them again at some point. 

“Hood!” Red Robin's voice was stern. “You scared us, where'd you go?”

Scared them? Why? What did he do? Did he break another rule again? He didn't mean to-

Calm. He had to be calm. If Batman heard him try to apologize again he may get rid of him for good.

“J… Just vibin'” he said, eyes trying to focus on the gaps of light streaming down. “M’ bored.”

And Tim, ever the smart one, clocked his tone immediately. “Hood? Are you oka-”

And just like last time, a cry of pain shot through the static as Red Robin was hit. 

“Red Robin!” Batman snapped, and Jason was so relieved he hadn't complained over the comms, hadn't made himself more of a nuisance than he already was. “This is why I say no chatter over comms.” Bruce's voice was gentle in his scolding, like it would never be to Jason again. Selfishly he filed that tone away in his head. It would make it easier if he could pretend that voice was for him again, that he was still loved and cared for while he stitched himself up in his safe house.

“J- Hood-”  

“Shouldn't have engaged.” Oh, that… that hurt. He hadn't realized he broke another rule. “He's taking a break, he should know better.”

Right, shit, he completely forgot. God he was so pathetic. Was he so starved for any kind of positive interaction he had willingly put his little brothers in danger? Dear lord, no wonder dad hated him. He'd hate himself too if he had the energy. Right now, though, the world is getting a little fuzzy. It was weird and floaty, he should… be scared, right? But dad had said he was on a break, did that mean he was supposed to feel like this?

He's not sure how much time passed, but chatter continues over the comms, and Jason lets the voices wash over him. He likes this, being able to listen to them. He won't join in. His tongue feels heavy and tears choke his throat for one, but he also knows they won't like it. They always get quiet when he's around. It's easier on comms, when they forget he's there and can enjoy each other's presence. 

They've always been happier without him.

“Alright, Hood,” it takes Jason a moment to pinpoint who is talking, but affection blooms both before and after he locates the voice. “Can you tell us where you are while we start heading back?” He hears the demon brat scoff, something along the lines of ‘Todd being lazy while they do all the work.’ but there's something wrong in Dick's question. Jason tries to pinpoint it through the growing waves of pain.

“O didn't say?” 

There's a pause- or maybe he blacks out again -before Babs’ voice crackles over the comms. 

“I… like I said, I can't get a pin on your current location.”

Oh, that was easy. “What does it say?”

“It says you're still in the building that collapsed, Hood. If you just look around and tell me what you see I'll be able to-”

“No, it's right.”

Another pause, and Jason tries not to let the pain deafen him to the next response.

“...What?”

Shit, was he not clear enough? Dick was being really patient with him, he needed to try again.

“I'm still-” he coughed, iron sprinkling his tongue and agony ripping through his chest. “I'm still-” he gasped. “-under the building.”

“Hood,” Dick's voice is tight with… fear? Why? What happened to Damian? To Tim? Is Bruce hurt? Did someone get to Babs?

“Hood, that was a three story building.”  

Right, answers first, questions later.

“Hm.”

“You've been under there for two hours!?”

Oh, that was… that was a long time, right?

“I think so.” 

There was cursing, a scramble, some shouting, and Oracle's voice came back clear. “Hood, what are your injuries.”

Oh, could he say them now? He wasn't sure if he had already. He knew he was injured, knew that he knew what those injuries were, but… 

What were they again?

“Um… m'head hurts,” he said. “I think m'shoulder hurts too, can't feel it.” Well, he could, but ‘it's tingly and numb but not really’ took too many words and his tongue was growing thicker by the second. 

“Okay, anything else?” 

Jason blinked, stars swimming in his vision as he looked at the yellow light peaking through the gaps of the pocket he was in.

“Yer voice s'nice.”

“Thank you,” Babs soothed. “Is it hurting anywhere else but your head and shoulder?”

Jason hummed in conformation, nodding to no one. “Can you tell me where?”

“Yeah,” a pause. Oh, right.

“S'ry,” he murmured. “Fergot t'talk.”

“That's okay,” something tight was leaking into Babs’ voice. Fear? It sounded like fear, what was she so scared of? “Can you talk to me about where it hurts?”

Jason blinked. Was… was he allowed to? He didn't want to bother anyone…

A strange noise came from Dick's side of the comms, almost like a sob shaking as he ran. “Yes, yes little wing, you can tell us, please tell us,”

Dick was sad. He was sad… because of Jason? That wasn't good. He didn't like making his siblings sad. It made him feel sad, and it made Bruce mad at him. 

He was tired of Bruce getting mad at him.

“D'wr'y,” he slurred. “Jus’ got a pipe thr'm'side,” there was another one… two more. “Uh… think m'leg 's br'k'n, th’ oth'r ‘s hurt too.”

A sharp gasp from someone new, and Jason tilts his head so he can cough without blood coating the back of his throat.

“Okay, okay that-” Babs stutters. “That really helps, thank you, Hood.”

Thank you? That was good, right? That meant he did good?

“Yes, yes little wing. You did good, so, so good.”

Well, if Dick said it, it must be true. He hadn't told Jason that… ever. It was nice, being good.

Someone sobbed, someone hissed, and Jason was tired.

“M'gonna go to t'sleep now,” he said.

“Hood! No! Don't- stay awake!” Batman. Bruce. Dad was talking, yelling at him. He was doing something wrong again. Like he always did.

His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes again. He didn't mean to keep disappointing him, he really didn't, but Jason could never do anything right, could he?

“M'sr'y, dad,” he croaked. “M'sr'y.”

“It's ok,” Red Robin? “You did nothing wrong Hood, just, just keep your eyes open for us, ok?” Why was Tim here? He was hurt, should he be back at the manor? Was Jason hurting him again too? He had done that earlier, right? When he tried asking for help-

“Hood!” he forced his eyes open (when had he closed them?) at the anger in his dad's voice. “Hoo- Jason, stay awake!”

Tears spilled from his eyes. He barely registered the sound of footsteps coming into earshot. He didn't hear his name being called, didn't hear the rubble around him being moved. His heart hurt, hurt so bad at how much of an inconvenience he was being. He'd really done it now. The Bats would never want to work with him again. He'd hurt Tim, distracted Damian, disobeyed Bruce, scared Babs, and made Dick sad. He was so bad. So disappointing no matter how hard he tried. 

He was tired of trying.

He was so tired.

Light spilled into his fading vision, and gentle hands grasped his shoulder and removed what was left of his helmet. White eyes stared at him, and he barely managed an apology before he finally, finally, let himself sleep.

Chapter Text

“S'ry,” Jason's voice crackles over the audio recording. “Fergot t'talk.”

Tim sits there by the tablet, staring daggers into the screen as the file continues. 

“That's okay,” fear was leaking into Babs’ voice, because slurred words and stumbling apologies were something none of them had ever heard from Hood. “Can you talk to me about where it hurts?”

And that was when the real gut puncher hit, because Jason's voice, rough and broken, crackles through. “Oh… c-can I? Don't ya… m'I ‘llowed now?”

And there it was. ‘Am I allowed now?’ At some point Jason had tried to tell them, or had thought about telling them, and decided against it. If Tim could just find that moment, isolate and analyze it, he could prevent this kind of situation from ever happening again.

His big brother would never again stay pinned under three stories of rubble because he was afraid of being an inconvenience.

He rewinds the recording ready to listen to it for the fifth time (it had taken two for him to process what he was hearing, one more for him to realize what Jason was saying, and another one for Tim to force himself to acknowledge how avoidable this mess could have been if this family just fucking talked-) when a hand lay gently on his shoulder.

He looked up, silver eyes meeting blue. Blue, not teal because Jason was laying on a cot in the medical wing of the BatCave and not awake and up and annoying Tim like he should be.

Dick looked at him, understanding painting his gaze as his eye flickered to the tablet and back to Tim's face. “Find anything?”

Tim pulled out his earbuds, scowling down at the technology that wouldn't tell him how to fix this.

“I… why didn't he say anything?” his voice was quieter than he meant it to be. Dick took a seat next to him on the couch, face pinched. 

“I… I don't think he realized how bad it was-”

“Bull shit.” He hissed. “He was in there for two hours, Dick. He did an injury check within minutes.” His vision blurred and his nose stung with the tears welling up in his eyes. “He… he knew exactly what was happening and he- he just-”

He set his jaw, and Dick squeezed his shoulder in a silent ask for permission. Tim just set the tablet off to the side and let his oldest brother pull him into a tight hug. 

“Why does he think we don't care about him?”

Dick stiffened underneath Tim, but his hands stayed gentle as they petted his hair. “I don't know, baby bird,” he murmured. 

“Deserved.”

They don't startle, but it's a near thing as they turn to look at Cass. She's dressed in comfy clothes like the rest of them are, coming to sit on the other side of Tim, moving the tablet to her lap. Neither interrupt her, letting her gather her thoughts on her own. 

“He is lonely,” she says softly. “And thinks he deserves it.”

Guiltily, annoyance spikes through Tim at that. “Deserves it?” He asks incredulously, pulling away from Dick even as the older keeps a hand on his arm. “For what? His Pit madness? We've told him it doesn't fucking matter what he said and did then- hell, worse people get a better hand in life and still complain!”

“Jason is good,” Cass says, ever the voice of reason even when Tim knows he's being unreasonable. “He is hurting. He cares. He hurt you and is upset that he did, so he thinks our forgiveness was given too easily.”

“And,” Dick pipes up. “That Bruce hasn't given it at all.”

And Tim knows. He knows this, they all do- except for Bruce, maybe, but that's a different can of worms all together. He knows this is how Jason thinks, how he views himself, how he thinks he should be treated, like he hasn't done far more good to outweigh the bad. Like he doesn't consistently reward his gang members for getting customers into rehab. Like he doesn't fund shelters for victims of abuse, for the homeless, for the jobless. Like he wasn't the one to save Tim from meeting a familiar fate at the hands of the Joker. Like he wasn't the one who protected, raised, and brought Damian to them.

Like he wasn't every bit the hero he was.

Tim tips his head back, staring at the ceiling, cursing his inability to dig his hands into Jason's mind and ruin the parts of him that tell him he should do things like apologize for getting blood on them while he's actively bleeding out. 

“I hate it.” He says instead, because that's all he can do, all any of them can do.

Cass leans into him, and Dick squeezes his arm gently. “I know, baby bird,” he says. “We all do.”

---

Damian sits by his big brother, his first brother, his guardian, and feels the oily bile of failure seep into his bones. Truly, he is inept when it comes to medical care, something that must be remedied post haste if he is to prevent his foolish brothers and sister from further acts of sacrifice.

How long ‘till extraction? Todd's voice echoes in his head. Gettin’ kinda bored here.

And Damian foolishly wrote it off as misguided jealousy in the heat of battle. His former guard was not one to distract others unless necessary. For Todd to have decided to ‘pipe up’ at that time should have been all Damian needed to know something was wrong. For Drake to have noticed before he did… it was unacceptable. 

So he sits vigil by his former guard's side. He will wait here, in the calming light of the Cave for Todd to wake. He will then call the rest of the ‘peanut gallery’ (as Todd so affectionately named them) down to partake in the required hugs and scoldings, and then he will take it upon himself to rectify a mistake he should have seen from the start. 

His guard had seen himself expendable. This was inexcusable. 

---

Dick is there when Jason blearily unsticks his eyelids and lets his pupils adjust to the light of the medbay. He lets out a soft whine that breaks Dick's heart, and he snatches his little brother's hand in his and gently squeezes. 

“Mornin', Jay,” his voice is soft, aware of the bandages around the other's head. 

Jason tilts his head in the direction of Dick's voice and lets out a muffled, questioning hum. From experience, Dick knows he's fighting to stay awake and to keep the room from spinning.

“...ick? S'at you?”

Dick gives another comforting squeeze to the hand in his and leans in. “Yeah Jay, it's me, you're in the medbay right now, got pretty banged up but we put you back together just fine.”

It was decidedly not fine. Pulling his brother's limp body from the rubble had neatly sent Dick spiraling out of control until he felt a pulse. Leslie and her crew worked on Jason for hours, removing the pipe, setting the broken femur, and repairing what damage they could. Everything else would be up to Jason to fight off and heal from. Dick hated it, but there was nothing else for anyone to do but sit around and wait. 

This was a step up, though, having Jason in the med bay where their equipment could watch over him. Dick let Jason fall back into a much needed slumber and tried to avoid his tears falling onto his little brother's hand. 

Jason had only ever slurred his words when he was in debilitating pain and on the verge of passing out. Hearing them now…

Tears blurred his vision and he blinked them away rapidly as he raced across the rooftops. Jason was under a building. His little brother, his miracle brother had been suffering for two hours and none of them knew . 

Batman was as tense as he was, just ahead of him as adrenaline pumped through both their veins. Babs was desperately trying to get a rundown of Hood's injuries, but it had been two fucking hours and adrenaline had faded and the shock and blood loss was setting in. 

Fear spurred Dick's legs faster, and he sobbed as the conversation trickled back in. 

“Okay, okay that-” Babs stutters. “That really helps, thank you, Hood.”

Jason's aching voice came through, tired and pleading, “Good…? I… did good?”

It sounded like he wasn't aware he was even talking. 

He probably isn't. Dick realized, hiccuping as he turned his mic on again.

“Yes, yes little wing. You did good, so, so good.” 

“Oh… if you say so… th'n its true… n'ver told me that… b'fore…” Dick's heart squeezed. He thought biting his tongue was what Jason had wanted. He always shied away when someone complimented or praised him but-

“‘S'nice… bein’ good…”

Dick sobbed, over the comms Damian hissed, and Dick knew he had made another mistake with his little brother. 

It wasn't that Jason didn't like the praise, rather he had no idea what to do when he was praised. For someone Dick cherished to feel that out of place?

Unacceptable.

Because he was. Jason was good, so good, too good for the life he had been given, and he kept being good. People called Dick the good one, the golden child, the role model, but…

If he had gone through half the things Jason had, he's not sure he would be so put together. 

He wasn't trying to compare their trauma. People handled the exact same situations differently for all kinds of reasons, but that didn't change the fact that Jason held himself to unreasonable standards. That he thought of himself beneath them on some level.

That he truly believed they didn't love him, that they would die for him.

That a part of Dick did die with him.

“We love you, Jason,” he murmured. Whether Jason could hear him or not didn't matter. Dick would say it again and again because obviously he hadn't been clear before and that was a horrific mistake on his part. 

“It's ok if you don't believe us right away,” because it was, because Jason took time to understand that people wouldn't hurt him, because he had been hurt by so many before. “We'll wait for you, and keep telling you even after you believe it.”

---

When Jason wakes up the first thing he registers is how badly his entire body hurts. His eyelids feel like lead, the side of his head throbs just on the edge of becoming a headache. He's propped up at an angle to prevent his mind from putting him back in his grave (that had gotten an interesting reaction the first time he woke up in the BatCave, panicking and clawing at invisible dirt), and his limbs ache something fierce. Despite all of that, though, he’s warm. It’s his favorite kind of warm, the kind that seeps into cold bones and heals aches and pains with embarrassingly fuzzy heat. 

His entire body hurts, but the warmth is soothing like hot chocolate in freezing hands.

The light around him is warm too, and the pillows and blankets propping him up keep him pliant. He's not sure he's ever been this comfy in his life. 

It's nice.

He makes a sound. He must have, because the bodies are shifting around him now and Tim raises his head, taking some of the warmth with him.

“Jason? You awake?” Silver-blue eyes squint blearily at him, and Jason can only slow blink in response. 

Slowly more and more shifting happens around him. The Bats are light sleepers on a good day. And considering Jason's idiocy got him injured they've probably been higher strung than normal. Damian sits up from his place by Jason's ribs, Dick yawns from where he had Jason's legs in his lap, and Cass melts out of the shadows from who the fuck knows where. 

Jason is… confused. From where he's sitting he can see that Tim has his arm in a sling and Damian has a healing nick on the side of his head. That means Jason had been out for at least a few hours. Nothing else but his siblings worried gazes laying on him alert him to anything else amiss. 

“Wh’... hhhapp'n?” Okay, wow, talking was not this hard before. Luckily the bats are detectives and can easily decipher Jason's am-I-drunk-or-did-I-just-almost-die speak.

His siblings looked at each other, as if trying to figure out what to say when Damian piped up.

“Todd,” his stern little voice has Jason sliding his eyes awkwardly towards him. “It has come to our attention that, for some inconceivable reason, you deign it necessary to keep pertinent information to yourself.”

Uh… okay, baby bat speak for: ‘why the fuck did you hide your injuries.’ Which, shit, if Jason was remembering everything correctly it definitely looked that way. 

“Didn’... meanta,” he slurred. “Didn’ ev'n kn'w I was hurt ah’ f'rst.” God, why was it so hard to fucking talk?

Dick sat up beside Damian, propping himself up on his hands as he leaned back without shifting his lap. “You've been on pain meds, little wing, the last dose is still working through your system.”

Teal eyes glared at deep blue, but Dick held his ground with a shake of his head. “You broke your femur and you had a pipe through your abdomen. You needed surgery and even after that you were screaming.”

…yeah, that was fair. Sure Jason didn't like being on meds if he could help it, but if it made handling him easier for those he loved, he could stand being drugged a couple times here or there. 

Cass tapped his shoulder and Jason let his head roll to the side to come face to face with a glass of water. 

“Drink?”

Jason nodded and gratefully took large gulps, the cold liquid soothing his throat. When he was done Damian was still glaring at him, something more behind his eyes. 

“Why… why do you think you're expendable, Todd?”

Damian's voice had been softer than he'd ever heard it before, and Jason found himself staring at the demon brat for longer than he should have before he managed to pull himself together enough for an answer. 

“I… I don't?”

“Tch,” Damian crossed his arms and looked away sharply. “Obviously you do,” he snapped. “Why else would you not alert us until after we demand to know your status? This was not how the League trained you, mother would be very disappointed.”

Well, that was a whole can of worms Jason didn't want to get into just yet, but the first part of that statement seemed reasonable. “I tr'd,” he said. “Bu’ then you go’ hurt, then Tim did, then…” he tried to think about the events between Tim's injury and Dick checking in. 

“Mmm” he tried. “Mmaybe… I p'ssed out?”

Again, Damian clicked his tongue, but this time Dick nudged the youngest gently. “I think what Damian is trying to say is…” and Dick swept his eyes over the others in the room before settling on Jason. 

“You sounded like you thought we would just leave you under a three story building. Why?”

Again, Jason's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 

“Wouldn't you-?”

“NO!!!”

Jason flinched- they all did -as Tim, who was now standing, had swung around and slammed his hands on the desk beside the bed. His chest was heaving and his shoulders were tight by his ears. His face was angled downwards, but they could all see his lips pulled back into a snarl.

“...Tim-” Jason croaked, because what? What was the source of that ire? 

Tim raised his head and Jason was stricken with the utter grief on his little brother's face. 

“Jason, you are not replaceable, you are not a mistake or the ‘bad Robin’ or, or whatever else you fucking said because no.”   Tim's fists were clenched by his side as if physically holding back the tears welling in his eyes. “I… please, you have to understand that, you have to, Jason, please I was never your replacement.”

No, Jason couldn't help but think. You were just the upgrade.

Cass tapped his shoulder then, and sleepily Jason turned towards her. Her eyes were soft and sad (for him? But how? Why?)

And then she smiled, sweetly, gently-

“Love you.”

… oh.

And- and Jason wasn't dumb, not really. He wasn't as smart as Tim or as charismatic as Dick, as observant as Cass or as cunning as Damian, but he wasn't dull. He just… had moments where his brain didn't work. 

Right now being one of them.

Because, because Cass would know exactly what she meant by that. And as Jason let his stunned gaze drag over his siblings, Damian blushed and looked away (yes), Dick smiled at him, tilting his head sweetly (always), and Tim glared at him, eyes never leaving him, face stern and defiant (of course).

Dick took the opportunity to scoot back, detangling their legs but moving forward so Jason stayed that sleepy, wonderful warm.

“We always have, Jay,” his voice was thick with emotion as he carded his fingers through Jason's hair. “We never stopped.”

“It can be hard to believe sometimes, I- I know that,” Tim said, face softer as he returned to the bed. “But we do, Jason. We all do.”

“Love you,” Cass said again, tucking her head into the crook of Jason's good shoulder, and Jason felt tears pricking at his own eyes again, throat closing as they threatened to spill over. 

“You are not expendable.” Damian sneered. “I refuse to have such low quality by my side. You are worthy of standing jot only with me, but beside me.”

“You're my Robin, you always have and you always will be.” Tim murmured, crawling back into the bed (they were in Bruce's room and wow, he really had been blind if he hadn't even noticed that-) and Jason wheezed quietly, trying to exhale around the emotions swelling in his chest, painful and wonderful and suffocating. 

“Sleep little wing,” Dick said softly, still carding his fingers through black and white hair. “We'll be right here waiting for you. Take as long as you need.”

Jason's eyes slipped closed, warm, safe, hurting, and finally, actually, truly loved. It took him far too long to realize it, and it would take even longer for the idea to solidify, for him to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, to actually believe it now that he'd seen it.

They'd wait for him, even if it took forever.

Yeah… Jason loved them too.