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So, Jason was willing to admit that this one might’ve been a mistake.
‘Tilt him. Hold his head. Pass the carton.’
Okay, yeah, definitely a mistake.
He’d been grocery shopping - grocery shopping of all things - when he’d noticed them. A group in the parking lot just large enough to cause him a lick of concern when he was armored so why the fuck he’d decided to engage dressed in civvies with only minimal weapons he wasn’t sure. Okay, that was a lie. He was sure. There’d been a woman and she’d been screaming-
His chest burned and black spots scattered his thoughts. The pressure was building and tightening and he yanked uselessly against the restraints, feeling them dig into open cuts. His throat was pulsing, full of something heavy, something dragging him down and down and-
He gasped and spluttered and choked. The chair legs hit the floor and he fought for air, gulping in as much as he could and struggling to reorient himself.
‘Who are you?’
He didn’t answer. He just let his head hang, relishing being allowed to look down. It soothed the ache in his throat.
‘Why were you carrying weapons?’
There was a snarky response to that somewhere, something about it being Gotham, but he couldn’t think for long enough to grasp it. He gritted his teeth.
When he’d stepped in to help he’d been well aware that he was gonna gain a few bruises, maybe a broken nose. He hadn’t expected to be dragged to an abandoned warehouse, tied to a chair, and fucking-
‘Again. Tilt his head.’
Snatches of conversation told him that the men were in over their heads. Caught up in some sort of human trafficking operation run by a big boss that they’d probably never met. They were scared. Scared enough to think that a man dressed in sweats holding a bag of rice and a pineapple could be a threat worth-
His heart pounded and his brain faltered. Something throbbed at the back of his skull, streaking down his neck and making his muscles twitch. He pulled at the restraints, letting them cut him further, feeling the blood drip into his palms and down his fingers-
The world tilted and then everything was ringing. The air burned as it whistled down his throat. Every inhale tugged and pulled, stretching his skin.
‘What are you doing here?’
Jason definitely shouldn’t have engaged out of armor. Still, twenty-twenty hindsight was worthless and there was that whole no regrets thing-
Jason had a few regrets. This was one of them. He should’ve brought a gun or a panic button or a couple of fucking bats.
‘Who are you?’
‘Fuck you,’ he rasped, breathing heavy.
He’d told them who he was a couple of rounds ago. Granted, the dead son of Gotham’s Bruce Wayne probably wasn’t the most believable answer. It wasn’t the one they were looking for either. Not that it mattered. They’d find out exactly who he was when he returned as Hood and put a bullet in every single one of their fucking skulls.
‘Again.’
A hand twisted in his hair, snapping his head back and tilting the chair. He managed a furious snarl before the towel came down over his face.
It didn’t escape him that he was running out of options, that he might not be alive to return as Hood, that it wasn’t like him to rely on a rescue but-
His thoughts blurred and fuck that was too fast and- and- His chest spasmed and- He was going to die here. The way that his body raced, blood pumping, heart pounding, while his thoughts drifted away confirmed that well enough. He was fading, drowning, dying at the hands of… Who?
Where was he? What happened?
He could hear someone gasping as the world righted itself. Someone was talking to him but he couldn’t make out the words. His brain felt sluggish and his head lolled backward. He couldn’t force it forward despite the discomfort, his muscles ached and everything felt syrupy.
‘-are you? I think he might be out of it, Carlisle.’
He was trembling. His whole body anticipating another round. It got worse with every inhale, the fear building steadily with each gasp as if the next one would be taken away from him.
‘He’s going into shock. Useless to me. Probably not lying.’
This was… not good. Change was never good - although, he was aware that he probably wasn’t gonna last another round of waterboarding - and useless was even worse.
He fought through the haziness clouding his mind and tried to think. He needed a plan, he couldn’t rely on dumb luck, he needed to- he wheezed and spluttered, and the world swayed.
‘Slit his throat and put him with the others.’
Okay, this was less not good and more overtly bad. He forced his eyes open, ignoring the waves of nausea that washed over him as the world spun.
Warehouse. Abandoned. Ten men. Two in charge. Brown hair was Johanna. Blonde was Carlisle. He could- He could- He could hardly breathe. Fuck. His head pulsed and his eyes burned.
Something pressed against his throat, sharp and- His heart jolted, eyes snapping wide open. Slit his throat, his brain echoed, with the others. No one was coming to help him. No one was coming. His brain stumbled over thoughts and he forced his mouth to form words.
‘Ransom me,’ he slurred, thoughts gaining coherence with every adrenaline-fuelled gasp, ‘wasn’t lying before. Call Wayne. He’ll pay you.’
Hopefully. At the very least someone would come. There were criminals to apprehend after all. Still, annoyance twinged in his chest because Bruce was supposed to be a last resort but-
He stamped down on it. There was a knife at his throat. You didn’t get much more last resort than that.
The hand holding the knife hesitated before moving away and Jason focussed on the blurry figure approaching him, the young blonde man, Carlisle. He looked thoughtful - more intelligent than Jason was expecting, perhaps higher up in the operation than he’d thought too - and when he spoke his voice was musing,
‘I admire your ingenuity, very resourceful,’ fingertips dug into his chin, tilting his head side to side, surveying him, ‘anyone ever tell you that you’re pretty? All that bravado doesn’t suit a face like yours.’
Jason snarled instinctively and pulled at his restraints. It was so casual. So flippant. So easily degrading that his cheeks heated with embarrassment.
‘Ah, ah, ah,’ he chastised, voice light, ‘you’ve got the wrong idea. Pretty is a good thing. Pretty is useful.’
A wave of dizziness washed over him as images, nightmarish memories, flashed behind his eyes and reality fluttered. He wanted to swear and growl and move his head, open his mouth and bite the hand, hard and-
He just sat there as a thumb brushed over his lower lip. His heart was pounding and vomit burned the back of his throat. He couldn’t hear much over the sound of his blood surging between his ears and his eyes burned, stretched wide, blinking up at the man like keeping him in his vision gave him more control.
He took a deep breath and everything stuttered into focus. He realized that the hand had moved back to his chin, that the man was staring at something to the left, that he felt woozy and bewildered because he could’ve sworn the man was staring at him and Jason hadn’t even registered a shift and-
He’d just panicked, he realized with startling clarity. He’d actually panicked.
He fought to steady his heart rate as he followed the man’s - Carlisle’s he corrected, relishing the way that his thoughts were clearing now that the oxygen was finally returning to his brain - gaze to-
His brain faltered.
‘Call him that again,’ the voice was low and dangerous and it sounded wrong to Jason’s ears, ‘and I’ll break both of your hands.’
Carlisle smiled, cold and cruel. His lips parted and his hand left Jason’s jaw-
And that was what Nightwing had been waiting for. The escrima whipped forward, flying out with exact purpose and smacking into the hand with the sound of shattering bone.
There was a cry, a shout and then the room erupted into movement. There were weapons drawn, people yelling, and-
‘Remember what I said. Both.’
The words were hard and sneering and Jason shivered involuntarily. He watched, uneasy and breathless, as Nightwing’s fist made a nose spurt blood, and as his escrima came down on an outstretched arm with a sickening snap.
His captors were saying things, insults and provoking comments, and Jason felt Nightwing’s silence like a sheet of ice slicing through him. His hits were sharp and painful and cruel.
Jason tugged at the restraints. He didn’t understand this and he needed to help.
He couldn’t get out. Unsurprising really. Nothing had changed since before.
He tensed and gulped and watched, dumbstruck, as Nightwing disarmed and injured with enough force to actually damage. It was impressive really, one man taking out ten. Or it would’ve been. If Jason wasn’t staring as a man hit the concrete, teeth missing, eyes hazy, blood dribbling from a wound to the back of his head.
Sure, the guy deserved it - Jason flinched as a gun fired, painful and deafening, and he blinked in surprise when Nightwing grabbed it, flipped it, and whipped it across a man’s face so hard that he crumpled to the ground - but he felt uneasy watching Nightwing deliver this kind of justice.
It wasn’t- It didn’t- Jason couldn’t discern his expression under the mask. With his eyes covered he was impassive but Jason knew Nightwing, he knew Dick, he knew- He did know him, right?
Dick’s foot made contact with a torso, his fist with a jaw, and his elbow with a mouth that gushed blood. Jason felt breathless. Like he was falling. He fought to convince himself that he hadn’t seen the ghost of a satisfied smirk flit across Nightwing’s face. He hadn’t.
‘How did this happen?’ it was a demand, from behind him, and then fingers were at his wrists, tugging the restraints away from gooey cuts, trying to undo them, ‘you’re in civvies. What were you thinking? What if we hadn’t been investigating? What if-’
‘Breathe,’ Jason interrupted, overwhelmingly grateful for the distraction. Tim exaggerated an inhale before giving up on his wrists momentarily to take a knife to the tape on his ankles.
‘Jason, you could’ve-’
‘I didn’t have a choice,’ he swayed in his seat, lightheaded, ‘they were hurting someone. I didn’t go out looking for trouble. I’m not a fucking idiot.’
Jason sighed in relief as his feet came free and Tim returned to his wrists. The kid’s hands were shaking and every accidental brush against his raw skin hurt. He gritted his teeth and didn’t say anything because Nightwing was- Jason swallowed. Who wouldn’t be trembling when their older brother was acting like that?
The last guy standing, Carlisle, yelled out and Tim startled. The sharpness of the pain made Jason’s eyes water.
Tim swallowed audibly.
‘B’s off-world. I told N not to engage until I got here unless it was absolutely necessary,’ Tim sounded breathless, ‘think he engaged pretty much immediately though. What happened? Is he alright? Are you? I haven’t seen him like this since-’
‘Robin, breathe.’
His wrists were really fucking sore and he needed Tim to stop panicking because he needed the little pangs of pain to stop so that he could focus on-
There was a thud as a body hit the ground face first. Honestly, the guy didn’t even look too bad, a couple of bruises, nothing terrible. Jason couldn’t reach to aim a proper kick at his cheekbone but it didn’t stop him from trying. Carlisle just opened his eyes, lips twitching, amused-
Nightwing crouched beside him. He twisted a hand in his hair and yanked his face upward.
‘What?’ Carlisle sneered, bitter and mocking.
And, not to agree with a gang leader but… Jason sort of agreed. It was over. Done. Nothing left to do but call the GCPD. He willed the guy to keep his fucking mouth shut, to let this be the end, to let Jason relax for the first time in the last few hours. But when did he ever get what he asked for?
Nightwing tilted his head in contemplation, lips curling, hand loosening to let the guy go and then-
‘It was a compliment, really.’
There was a moment of pause and Jason felt Tim’s hands move faster, more clumsily. His heart pounded and he opened his mouth, managing a quiet, ‘Nightwing,’ before Dick’s hand slammed down and Carlisle’s face bounced against the floor.
The blood was immediate, painting the concrete and splattering Jason’s shoelaces and Jason yelled out in surprise.
Dick yanked him back up, pausing only to get a better grip of his hair before smacking him back down. Again. And again. And-
The restraints came loose and Jason surged forward only for the world to flutter. It took a moment to right itself. Colors and shapes blurred as he swallowed down vomit and pushed up onto unsteady feet. Tim was shouting at Dick, rushing to his side, hand coming to grip his arm, to stop him.
Dick whirled round and the kid jerked backward.
A full-body flinch.
Involuntary and immediately regrettable.
Jason saw Tim’s lips thin and twist guiltily while Dick froze. The domino did nothing to hide the way his face fractured.
Tim swallowed.
‘We should go. The GCPD can handle the rest. I think everyone needs, uh- medical attention.’
The kid’s hands stuttered awkwardly at his sides, clenching and unclenching like he didn’t know whether to move or apologize. Jason might’ve felt for him (really, he might’ve) if thinking didn’t feel like catching water in a fishing net. There were no words coming to mind, no snippy remarks on the tip of his tongue, nothing but stomach-turning unease.
Dick clenched his jaw, inhaling and letting the air whistle through his teeth. And then he twisted on his heel, foot squeaking on the floor, and walked away. Over the bodies, around the blood, and out of the door at the back without so much as a glance at either of them.
Jason’s jaw fell slack. Dick didn’t walk away. Not when someone was injured. Not when- Not when-
A hand gripped his arm and he startled, breathing just a fraction too fast.
‘Lean on me.’
Tim helped him towards the exit. Half of his mind whited out in sheer panic. What had he done wrong? Why did Dick walk away? Was he going to be forced back to the Manor? He’d expected it but- but maybe not. And that should’ve been a relief but instead, it panged painfully in his chest.
The other half - the rational half that understood that Dick didn’t hate him - was angry. It was filtering information, running through the fight over and over, and coming to conclusions that made him quietly seethe. Because why else would his older brother have such a visceral reaction to hearing that kind of threat?
They stepped outside, cold air making him shiver, and he looked up, eyes landing on Dick leaning stiffly against the car door. Jason took a breath to steel himself, ignoring the throbbing in his muscles, before pulling away from Tim, stumbling and swaying and-
‘At least let me help you into the car.’
Jason scoffed. It took more effort than he was willing to admit to sound nonchalant.
‘This has been great and all, Replacement, but I think I’ll skip the coddling.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘My bike is in a lot around the corner and if you think I’m leaving it there to go to the Manor with you then you don’t know me at all.’
‘Fine then. Get yourself killed. See if I care.’
Jason opened his mouth-
‘Get in.’
-Jason’s mouth snapped shut. His knees felt weak and something traitorously hopeful bubbled in his chest. He swallowed weakly.
‘I have things to-’
‘Get in the fucking car, Jason.’
Dick looked at him then, jaw tight, body rigid, white lenses flashing up to meet his eyes. Jason assumed he was going for intimidating. He… It worked. Jason stuttered a nod.
He’d seen Dick angry. It wasn’t even an uncommon occurrence with how often he was in the same room as Bruce. But this was different. Distress was pouring off Dick in waves and it kindled a fury inside of Jason that he hadn’t known existed. Who hurt him? Who fucking hurt him? Who the fuck hurt his older brother?
He let Tim maneuver him into the car and squeezed his eyes against an onslaught of dizziness. Distantly, he heard the car start, felt it move, swayed, and swallowed vomit at the sudden smooth motion.
Dick took corners too fast and jerked over hills and Jason swallowed the sour taste in his mouth. He was gonna throw up. His stomach twisted, his throat tightened, his tongue felt heavy. No. He wasn’t. He couldn’t. He swallowed again.
Distraction. Distraction was… good.
He could say something, he could say a thousand things, but something squirmed inside of him at the thought of being even slightly mean to a man that had just taken out ten men to protect him. To a man that looked seconds away from cracking directly down the middle. To a man that had to walk away not because he hated Jason but because-
Jason swallowed. That realization was a bit too much to deal with while his head throbbed and his body trembled. So he just sealed his lips, dug his nails into his palms, and clenched his eyelids
Tim didn’t reach the same conclusion.
‘Pull over.’
They swerved something that Jason couldn’t see and his stomach flipped.
‘Dick, I get it. You’re going through something. But you’re gonna get us killed and I’m not going out in a car accident so please pull-’
‘Will you shut up,’ Dick snapped before his voice morphed into something more tired, ‘look, I’m sorry. It’s just, I’m fine and we’re almost back so, just be quiet. Please.’
There was a second of silence and when Tim broke it his voice was soft.
‘Dick, it’s okay. No one died. Jay’s fine-’ Jason resisted the urge to protest that ‘-and you didn’t-’
‘I said shush,’ Dick cut him off, voice hard.
The rest of the drive was silent, awkward in a way that Dick would never usually allow. Jason’s wet clothing was starting to dry, chilling his skin and making him shiver.
By the time that they rolled into the Cave, he was near vibrating and he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. The thought of getting up, of standing on his feet and moving made his stomach roll.
So he didn’t. He sat and waited for the world around him to stop whirling. He didn’t have to leave the car but he did have to breathe and that basic function depleted all of his energy.
The door opened, cold air pressing against his skin, and then soft hands were moving him. Jason exhaled in relief, leaning into the hold, stumbling when his feet touched the ground, letting himself be held up.
‘You’re okay,’ Dick murmured, setting him down on one of the cots, ‘you’re gonna be fine.’
A hand came to untangle his fingers from where they were clutching at his chest and the ache in his joints told him that they’d been twisted there for too long.
‘-don’t know how long he was there, Alf. But he needs to be monitored for dry drowning and-’
The voices drifted away from him, overwhelmed by the loud pattering of his heart. He was tired. He ached. He hurt. Every inhale felt like tugging at taut strings.
‘These are pretty deep too.’
He hissed as something brushed his wrists. There was movement and muttering that Jason couldn’t discern and then he was lying back on the cot, head cushioned by something soft and stifling. The pressure made his skull pound.
‘S’alright, Alf,’ he managed, ‘just dizzy.’
The words came out breathless and gasping and he gritted his teeth against waves of nausea, trying to push back against the blackness washing over his thoughts.
‘This is going to hurt, Master Jason, but they need to be cleaned.’
Gentle hands were holding his own and he wasn’t quite sure who they belonged to just that the grip was firm, exposing his wrists. He swallowed.
‘Okay.’
The pain was immediate, burning and throbbing. He- How- He needed to breathe? His heart pounded, jumping against his ribs, and something pulsed behind his eyes. Searing, hot pain scattered his thoughts and sent everything, his entire mind, careening into darkness.
And then.
Blackness. Ringing. White spots. Flashing bright lights.
He opened his eyes, wincing as involuntary tears dribbled down his cheeks. It quickly morphed into a grimace when he caught everyone’s facial expressions. Tim looked too pale and too tense. Dick looked like it physically hurt to hold his hands still. Even Alfred looked grim. Distantly, he wondered if he’d screamed.
‘Well,’ he exhaled loudly, ‘I think I preferred the waterboarding.’
The joke didn’t land but it didn’t matter. Every wipe of a cloth against the sensitive skin of his inner wrist made it impossible to think let alone care.
‘You nearly done, Alf?’ He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth, ‘cus I’m gonna throw up.’
‘Here.’
A bowl was thrust in front of his face, and he rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to snark something about hyperbole and being sarcastic-
There was a particularly sharp swipe of pain and he retched, sensation pulling at his too-tight chest. Okay, so maybe the kid was right to give him a-
He retched again, pain making his eyes water.
He carried on like that, heaving painfully only to bring nothing up because he hadn’t eaten because he’d been shopping for fucking groceries, until Alfred started bandaging.
Then he swallowed and nodded at Tim to take the bowl away before croaking a quiet thank you. There was a hand drifting through his hair, warm and soothing, and he leaned into it, eyelids fluttering.
‘You with us?’ Tim asked, sitting cross-legged beside the bed.
Jason nodded and the world tilted, fading at the edges. Okay, no more nodding.
‘Good,’ there was something focussed in his voice, ‘coughing? Feeling an urge to cough? Anything?’
Jason answered in the negative and let his eyes slip shut as Tim asked various other questions that he forced himself to take seriously, to not brush off, to not ignore in favor of melting into the warm weight beside him. It was nice actually. To drift a little and know that he wasn’t gonna wake up to infected cuts and aching limbs. Slowly, the pain faded into the background, soothed by the hand rubbing gentle circles into his arm.
‘Jaybird,’ he cracked his eyes open, ‘you’re almost done but you’ve gotta stay for two days of monitoring,’ a pause and then, ‘try to leave and I will follow you.’
The words were a promise and Jason opened his eyes fully, taking a moment to flex his fingers and scan over the bandages. Dick shifted and-
‘Where are you going?’ He didn't protest. And he definitely didn’t mourn the loss of warmth as Dick stood up.
A smile played at the corners of his lips, eyes glinting with amusement.
‘I wanna change and shower now that I know you’re okay and, believe it or not, I actually do need sleep to function.’
He seemed normal, more stable, and less angry. The relief that seeped into the room was palpable. Almost overwhelming.
‘I guess I owe you both an apology,’ his face split into a sheepish smile and Jason wanted to clutch at it, to make sure that he never again looked as blank as he had in that warehouse, ‘I kinda lost it in there. It took me by surprise is all. I was just worried and seeing Jason like that when I hadn’t expected it,’ he took a breath, ‘I’m sorry that I scared you both.’
Even from where he stood, half-distracted by the files he was flicking through, Jason could see Tim visibly relax.
‘It’s okay. I get it. I was scared too.’
‘Yeah,’ Jason yawned, ‘as entertaining as it was to see you lose it, let's not make it a common occurrence. I actually enjoy being the disappointment in the family.’
‘Thanks, I live to entertain.’
Tim groaned and Dick walked away, a genuine smile lighting his eyes.
‘You’re an asshole. I can’t believe I was ever worried about you,’ Jason called after him.
‘You can’t blame me for your bad decisions,’ Dick sing-songed, with a flourish of his hand and a wink over his shoulder.
Tim scoffed quietly. ‘He really does live up to his namesake.’
‘Boys,’ a warning tone and then something softer, ‘I’m going to need you to sit up for a moment.’
Jason clicked his tongue and pushed up, muscles protesting.
‘Pretty sure you’re trying to kill me, Alfie.’
‘No more so than usual, Master Jason.’
It was at least an hour before he was left alone long enough to wander. Alfred had disappeared to prepare something to eat and Jason had abandoned the Cave to pad up the stairs and across the soft carpet of the Manor.
He’d followed the warm yellow lights to the hall, listening to Alfred stir tea as he walked by the kitchen and catching the chatter of late-night television drifting from the family room as he headed to the stairs.
He was bored and his thoughts felt stuffy in the way that only distraction could fix. He had a room here, a bed, a thousand rooms that were empty if his own felt uncomfortable, but he wasn’t tired. He felt on high alert, oddly calm, and very put together for someone who had nearly drowned only a couple of hours ago.
There was no reason he had to be annoying, no reason he had to bother, just boredom and the guise of needing clothing that wasn’t drenched in sweat and dust and a little bit of blood. He could easily steal something from Bruce. The man wasn’t even here. And yet-
He knocked on the door - because he had manners - before opening it without waiting for a reply.
‘I’m staying here tonight, Alf,’ Dick called, voice light, ‘you don’t have to lecture me.’
‘Not quite,’ Jason replied as the door swung fully open and-
Dick was slumped on the floor at the side of his bed, his elbows on his knees and his head hung between them. His chest was heaving and he was still half in the Nightwing suit; blue and black bottoms, bare feet, and a white cotton t-shirt.
It was a far cry from the shower and sleep he’d excused himself for over an hour ago. It was a far cry from what Jason was expecting considering the perfectly level tone he’d answered the door with. There’d been no reason to expect that-
A choking sound. A strangled sob. A painfully sharp swallow.
Jason felt blindsided. He took a hesitant step forward.
‘Dickie?’ his voice came out small and tentative and he took another step.
There was no reply, just a horrible, wounded sound that tugged at Jason’s chest.
‘Dick?’ he tried again, crouching down and swallowing the lump in his throat.
Dick’s fingers twitched and his hand moved to rub tiredly at his eyes. He took a shaky breath, forehead resting on his clenched fist, body shuddering,
‘What do you want?’
Jason wondered how many times he’d done this. How many times he’d put everyone at ease before locking himself away to cry.
‘Alf is making a snack,’ his voice came out soft and almost nervous, ‘he- uh- Do you want some?’
Jason felt out of his depth. There was something about seeing his big brother cry that made dread curl in his stomach. It was like everything was folding in on itself because something had to be wrong, there had to be danger, Dick was crying.
Dick snorted wetly but it morphed into something awful, strangled sounds escaping his throat and tears dripping onto his knees. A hand reached out, twisting in Jason’s sweater and gripping tight.
‘No. No- I- Just leave, please,’ he said gently.
Jason’s thoughts warred because yes, leaving sounded like a great idea and no, he needed to stop the crying. He needed to-
Dick gasped and it sounded tortured.
‘Go, please,’ his voice cracked, pitch rising to something frantic, ‘please. Just leave. Please- ’
Jason’s throat felt tight and panic bloomed in his chest. He didn’t know what to do.
‘How about-’ Jason’s voice was hoarse, ‘-you talk to me, yeah?’
He carefully didn’t mention the death grip Dick had on his sweater. He honestly didn’t think he’d be able to leave without breaking the man’s fingers.
Dick laughed, strangled and cracked and devoid of humor.
‘Oh, Jason,’ he gave a snide smile and an imperious sound escaped his throat, ‘I think I’d rather die.’
A spark of annoyance flared in Jason’s chest. He didn’t need the snark. He didn’t need the theatrics. He knew he wasn’t good at this but he was trying and Dick was-
Dick was glaring at him with wet eyelashes, tear-streaked cheeks, and a hand twisted in his sweater so tightly that his muscles were trembling. Jason inhaled to calm himself.
‘Fine. Suffer in silence.’
It came out harsher than he meant it to but he couldn’t force Dick to talk. So he just collapsed into the space beside him, a dull throb behind his eyes and a not-small amount of regret that he’d decided against borrowing Bruce’s clothes.
The silence was awkward and uncomfortable and Dick’s hitched breathing made Jason’s heart race. His mind whirred through things to say but his lips didn’t part. He could reassure and recycle words that Dick used to comfort him, but it felt… strange. Half-hearted. Like he didn’t mean it.
He wanted, needed, to stop the crying - if only because it made his heart palpitate and pressure gather behind his eyes - but the stunned part of him kept his lips sealed. It forced him to listen to the cries, to feel the hand twisting further into his sweater until his own hands started to tremble.
‘Seeing them hurt you,’ Dick murmured after his sobs had quieted, ‘hearing them threaten you. That word. I was just so angry. And I can’t be that. God, I could’ve killed them and- I don’t enjoy hurting people. I don’t. This life won’t take that from me-’ he paused to take a deep breath, ‘but it also won’t take my family. I’m not Bruce. I can’t-’ he gulped painfully.
Jason stared, eyes round, chest tight. There was something about being called family that made his heart feel soft. There were a lot of people that Dick would die to save and he knew that being included in that list didn’t make him special. But he’d- he- he could’ve killed them and Jason wasn’t sure how long that list of people was.
‘Oh,’ he said lamely when it became clear that Dick wasn’t going to continue.
If there was anything more coherent he could say to reply then his brain couldn’t find the words and his lips wouldn’t form them.
Dick inhaled and when he spoke his voice was surprisingly, gut-wrenchingly, steady.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Dick turned, eyes surveying him, ‘are you okay? Did Alfred say you could leave the Cave?’
Jason swallowed, identifying the words for the deflection that they were and letting it happen anyway.
‘I feel like shit. Alfred told me to deal with it.’
His breathing stuttered and his heart surged, the moment suddenly felt like water between his fingers. Dick was changing the subject and Jason was letting him because he couldn’t deal with-
‘I’m sorry,’ he blurted out uselessly.
Dick blinked.
‘Why are you apologizing?’
‘I’m just-’ Jason sighed, exasperated, ‘I’m sorry Bruce forced you into all that rich people shit and let them call you pretty even though you were a kid,’ his face twisted and his hands clenched because that didn’t feel insincere. He meant that.
‘I’m sorry you’re clearly still struggling with it. I- uh- I’m sorry I got myself into a situation I couldn’t get out of. Uh- twice? Yeah, I’m sorry I died? I’m- Stop laughing. I’m trying to be supportive.’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Dick snorted, voice watery, ‘honestly though, I think being called pretty is the least of my problems. I didn’t even think I cared until-’ he broke off, smile morphing into a grimace.
‘Until it was someone else,’ Jason’s voice was soft but his entire body had gone rigid. Stupid fucking bats and their stupid fucking selflessness.
‘Yeah. I guess,’ his hand fell from Jason’s sweater, moving to rub at his eyes weakly.
He took a breath and met Jason’s eyes with a sad smile.
‘Thank you.’
Jason looked down, picking at his hands.
‘Yeah, well, not like I had a choice. Thought you were gonna put holes in my sweater.’
Dick chuckled, arm brushing his as he settled back. It wasn’t a hug. But somehow it felt the same. Light and open and warm.
‘What did you come in here for anyway?’ Dick tilted his head back to look at him, a small smile on his face. It was still a deflection. But it was a little more genuine and Jason could deal with that. He wasn’t trying to be anyone’s therapist.
‘I told you. Alfred is making food,’ Jason shrugged, ‘And I wanna borrow that blanket hoodie you have.’
Dick’s eyes hardened. ‘No way, Jason. Get your own.’
‘Even if I had my own it wouldn’t be here.’
‘Get two.’
‘Dick,’ Jason didn’t whine, ‘my clothes are covered in blood and I’m cold.’
‘That doesn’t sound nice. It also doesn’t sound like my problem.’
‘You’re an asshole, you know that?’
‘Also,’ Dick ignored him, ‘if you knock before entering a room you’re supposed to wait for a response.’
‘Like you do?’
‘I’m older.’
‘Master Jason,’ a voice drifted up the stairs, ‘did you find out whether-’
‘Dick doesn’t want anything,’ he yelled back.
‘Yes I do, Alfred!’
‘You said-’
‘I don’t care what I said.’
‘I hate you. I actually hate you.’
‘Did everyone hear that? Jason says he loves me.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘He’s smiling! Timmy, get your camera.’
‘Seriously, I’m gonna shoot you in the face.’
A soft pause.
‘Love you too, little wing.’
A weak scoff.
’Yeah… whatever, dickhead.’