Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Here’s the thing about being a vigilante or crime lord or whatever Jason was currently styling himself as: you encountered a lot of weird things on the job. Being murdered by a clown and then waking up in your coffin six months later, or having to pretend to be a samurai ghost to catch a petty thief, or your dad’s ex-girlfriend throwing you in a magic pit to fix your brain, or any number of other unusual events. Jason was no stranger to the wide variety of weird things the world could throw at him. This, though, this was on another level.

The night hadn’t started as anything unusual. The clouds had cleared for once, leaving the half moon shining dully over Gotham as Jason geared up for the night. He was on something close to speaking terms with Batman this month, which meant if he got seriously injured he could think very hard about going to the Cave for aid before stitching himself up in the privacy of a safehouse and if Nightwing saw him while he was in the city, he was unlikely to attack without Jason provoking him somehow. Picking fights with Dick was one of his specialties, but more and more often Jason felt like it just wasn’t worth the effort and the potential set-back on the tentative trust Batman was extending him with the offer of help in the Cave to do so. Jason was good at what he did, but Gotham was a death trap on her best days. The Cave was a contingency he never wanted to use, but definitely wanted to have.

The first hour or so had gone smoothly. Jason had tracked down the latest lead in his drug case, a twitchy man with lank, messy brown hair and impressively thick glasses named Theodore Cauldwell, though nearly everyone who had pointed Jason in his direction had referred to the man as Chip. Chip was compliant with most of Jason’s questioning, right up until a third party had joined the conversation. So to speak, at least - whoever the third person was, they kept their hood up and stuck to the shadows, staying silent as they pulled an odd-looking gun on Jason after he had asked Chip about the supplier. Jason had pulled out one of his own guns, but the mystery person shot before he could, sending a brilliant white laser straight at Jason’s chest. He couldn’t feel any pain from the hit, but he did feel himself being shoved backward by the force before completely blacking out.

He woke up slumped against a dumpster, no sign of Chip, the mystery person, or the building they had been talking in. Instead, Jason found himself outside on the ground with his clothes getting steadily wetter from the rain.

It hadn’t been raining earlier. The sky had been clear all day. 

Immediately, Jason sat upright, then winced and fell back against the dumpster, barely keeping himself from falling over entirely with the head rush. Whatever kind of teleportation ray that had been, it had some force to it. His chest ached where the beam had hit him, and his back ached where he had been leaning against the cold metal of the dumpster, almost like he had been thrown into it. He raised his face unsteadily toward the sky and lifted a shaking hand to activate his comms.

“Oracle,” he said, already dreading how the rest of the night was going to go, “this is Hood. I need… I need someone. Just… just help checking injuries. Not sure where I am - you’ll have to trace the helmet. Send whoever’s closest.” He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the dumpster. “Please.”

Silence followed his words, and Jason began to feel uneasy. Surely Barbara wouldn’t leave him alone. Yeah, he wasn’t on great terms with everyone else, but he said he needed help. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t abandon him, right? Not when he said out loud that he needed help.

Finally, a mechanized voice crackled in his ear. “I don’t know who you are or how you got on this frequency, but I can promise that you will regret it.”

“It’s Red Hood, Oracle, I-” His voice broke, and Jason swallowed hard to try and shove down the flare of panic at the thought of being left here. “If this is some kind of prank, I… Oracle, please, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious. I don’t know what happened and I don’t think I can get up on my own.”

“I don’t know any Red Hood,” Barbara said, and her voice sounded cold even through the filter. Then it softened, and she added, “But if you really are hurt, I can trace the call and get you an ambulance.”

“No!” Jason said quickly. “No, no, it’s me, it’s Jason, I- did Batman not update you that I’m allowed Cave access now? That was a couple months ago.”

“Now why would you say that?” Barbara’s voice took on a dangerously low tone.

“Say what, that I’m allowed in the Cave?”

“No. How dare you mention Jason. How dare you. If you’re trying to win sympathy, you made the wrong move.”

“I am Jason,” Jason repeated, irritation flaring up at the accusation. “I knew this was a mistake. Should’ve known. Sorry for bugging you, Barbie, I’ll let you go.” 

“Wait just a-” Barbara’s voice faded out as Jason removed his helmet and let it fall to the ground beside him. There were two options for an explanation of what was at play: either Bruce was a liar (likely), or there was some kind of magic or mind manipulation going on that had erased him from Barbara’s mind (potentially more likely). There was also a secret third option, but Jason was trying his best not to think about that one. He was and always had been a street-level fighter - he had gone on some Titans missions as Robin, sure, but even then he had been primarily focused on Gotham’s problems, Gotham’s villains. An alternate universe or some kind of time travel was very much not his realm of expertise.

Jason inhaled slowly, letting the cool night air fill his lungs as he tried to push aside that secret third option. Raindrops flecked his skin, and he had the vague thought that he should probably get out of the rain. The ache of his chest and back made that thought nigh impossible though - the idea of standing up hurt. But something about the air smelled weird, and Jason had not lived almost all of his twenty years in Gotham to not recognize a warning sign when he saw one. Sure, maybe this was just what petrichor was supposed to smell like without Gotham’s normal pollution, but chances were much higher that there was some kind of chemical attack involved, and Jason knew better than to get caught in those.

He fumbled for his helmet and froze when he heard movement nearby. Thick fabric, heavy and undeniably familiar, falling from the sky. Jason almost laughed with relief. Or maybe the sound caught in his throat was a sob - who could say for sure?

“Batman,” he said casually.

“Hnn.” Bruce said nothing helpful, as he was wont to do, as he circled around the dumpster and crouched down in front of Jason.

“Classic. You know, I don’t know why I keep expecting you to be useful. It’s like you live to disappoint me. Do just enough to give me hope and then-” Jason cut himself off as Bruce slowly reached toward his face. He flinched back, but Bruce only hesitated a moment before making contact, gently cupping the side of Jason’s face with one gloved hand. “What are you doing?”

“Jason,” Bruce said quietly, too quietly, Bruce-quietly, not Batman-quietly, his voice tinged with emotion.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I established that already,” Jason said. He wanted to pull away from Bruce’s touch, he really did, but some deeper part of him refused to move away from the contact. “Is Oracle compromised or something, she was acting like she didn’t know me, and are you? You’re freaking me out, Bruce.”

“Jason,” Bruce repeated, bringing his other hand up to the other side of Jason’s face, thumb tracing his cheek and jaw. “You’re real. You’re here.”

“Did you get hit with something? What is your problem-” Jason was cut off by Bruce pulling him into a tight hug. 

“You grew up,” Bruce said thickly, holding Jason tight even as he tried to wriggle out of Bruce’s grasp.

“Bruce,” Jason gasped, pain lancing through his ribs, “let go. Let go, Bruce, my ribs-”

“Right, right.” He loosened his grip and gently helped Jason lean back again, far too gently. “What happened to you? What’s this?” He reached for Jason’s hair, pausing when Jason flinched away again.

“You’re really going to make me repeat that now? Really?” Jason said flatly, resolutely pretending not to see the hurt on Bruce’s face. “Look, can you just take me back to the Cave and have A patch me up so I can head home?”

“What? Repeat- Jason, you’ve been dead for almost three years. I think I get some leeway for being confused.”

Three years. Why could nothing ever be simple? Jason leaned forward until his head was resting on Bruce’s shoulder and let out a pained groan as the movement sent another round of pain shooting through his chest.

Alternate universe. Fantastic.

Bruce’s hand went to the back of Jason’s neck, holding him steady against his shoulder. “Careful,” he murmured. “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

“I’m really not,” Jason said. “Can we prioritize fixing my ribs and then get into everything else?”

“Of course,” Bruce said, lightly squeezing before letting go to allow Jason better range of movement. “I left the car nearby.”

Normally Jason would be a lot more suspicious of Bruce helping him so easily, but Jason also normally wasn’t in this much pain. That was also something he’d normally be suspicious of, because what kind of dimensional ray gun blasted someone into another universe so hard it almost broke their ribs? But that was a problem for Future Jason. Present Jason wanted painkillers and a nap, and going along with Bruce’s oddly accommodating behavior meant he could get those things faster. He accepted Bruce’s help to get up, biting his tongue to prevent any pained sound from escaping him again, and hobbled along at the other man’s side as they neared the car. Bruce helped Jason in on the passenger side before rounding the car to take the wheel. He called Barbara as the engine purred to life.

“I found our caller from earlier,” Bruce said, his voice back to Batman gruffness. “I’m taking him back to the Cave.”

“You’re what?” Barbara replied, sounding almost alarmed through the vocal filter. “The imposter that was talking about Jason?”

“I’m not an imposter,” Jason snapped. “I am Jason. I’m not sure what’s going on, or if I’m your Jason, but I am Jason Todd.”

“Jason Todd died years ago.”

“Yep.”

“You’re not him.”

“Hate to disappoint, but I actually am. I’d say I have the scars to prove it, but, well, Lazarus pit kinda robbed me of that argument.”

Bruce inhaled sharply at that, though he remained perfectly still behind the wheel. Jason turned to look out the window and winced at the reminder that he was, in fact, very much injured.

“Like I said, though, I’m pretty sure I'm not your Jason,” he said, deliberately looking out the window. “I did die, like seven years ago, but-”

“It’s him,” Bruce said, entirely too confident for what Jason thought was a much less settled situation. “The scent isn’t quite right, but it’s there. It’s him.”

“The what now?” Jason couldn’t stop himself from looking back at Bruce with complete confusion. “What did you just say?”

Bruce was apparently still not feeling at all helpful, considering he ignored Jason’s question. “Please tell Nightwing to stop by at his earliest convenience.”

“You really don’t have to bring him into this,” Jason said under his breath.

“What? Why not? He’ll want to know you’re alive - heaven knows I got enough flack from him for not informing him of your death.”

“Well, first of all, I’m not your Jason, and second, what do you mean you didn’t tell him?”

“Why are you so convinced you aren’t?”

“Well, to start, you aren’t usually this nice or trusting. Barbara didn’t recognize my codename either, and it was a really clear night before I got hit with that laser gun thing. Oh, and you seem to be under the impression I’ve been dead for three years. If I were in the right place, you’d- well, I still haven’t really laid out the timeline, but you’d know I was dead less than that. And that it's been longer than three years.”

“...well, you two can hash that out, I'll make that call and then I expect to be able to sleep at some point tonight,” Barbara said, reminding Jason that she was still on the line.

“Of course,” Bruce said, and the line clicked off. He let silence linger for a moment, only filled by the sound of the Batmobile around them, before speaking again. “You think you're in an alternate dimension?”

“If your Jason was back, you'd know by now. Sorry to disappoint.” Jason slumped against the window again, inhaling with a sharp hiss as his chest winged again. “What is the point of a chest plate if it can't protect me from a laser?” he muttered.

Bruce took one hand off the wheel, bit the fingertips of his glove, and pulled it off. He set the glove in his lap before reaching his now bare hand toward Jason, who eyed it suspiciously.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“You're in pain,” Bruce said.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. I hadn't noticed.”

“I… even if you are correct, and you are from another universe, you're still my son. Or a version of him.” Bruce took a shaky breath, and Jason could see his hand was shaking a bit in the air. “Can… can I touch you?”

“...sure?” This universe was already setting off alarm bells in Jason’s head, why wouldn't Bruce be capable of asking about boundaries? Why not? Also, there was a distinct scent of leather and black pepper in the air - not the leather of the car seats or the batsuit or Jason's own jacket, but something else, something warmer and unfamiliar. He didn't have long to think about it before Bruce’s ungloved hand was resting on the back of his neck. He squeezed gently but firmly, and it was like a switch flipped in Jason’s body. His muscles went lax, and he slumped further into the window. The pain in his chest and back started to dull, still present but not nearly as bad as it had been. Bruce pulled away, putting both hands back on the wheel.

“Wha’ the fu'?” Jason mumbled, words slurring and panic starting to filter in as he realized he could barely move, limbs feeling heavy. “Wha-” Feeling slammed back into him and he jolted upright. He couldn't suppress the pained cry that escaped him as the pain in his torso shot back through him. Bruce looked at him with concern and open confusion as Jason's breath sped up.

“What was that?” he demanded. “What did you just do to me?”

“I… scruffed you?” Bruce said, confusion leaking into his voice. “To help with the pain?”

“You-you paralyzed me,” Jason stuttered. “Are you some kinda meta in this universe? What was that?”

“Calm down, Jay, you're going to make it worse,” Bruce said. The pepper scent was sharper now, more present. “I'm sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you. I just wanted to help.”

“By- by-”

“By limiting your pain receptors, mostly. It's a fairly complicated reflex, but that's the reason I was doing it.”

“That's not normal. I- that's never- what are you talking about?!”

“Jason, you need to calm down. Breathe. You're working yourself into a panic.”

Jason tried to do as instructed, pulling on breathing exercises taught to him by Bruce years earlier. He flexed his hand as well, just to prove that he could. He turned to glare at Bruce, who remained focused solely on the road, frustratingly enough. 

“Explain what that was right now,” Jason said darkly. “And don't even think about trying to pull it again.”

Bruce was silent for a moment in way that Jason knew meant he was gathering his thoughts. “Do you have cats in your world?” he finally asked.

“Yes?” Jason said, bewildered. “What does that have to do with-”

“When a kitten is young and its mother picks it up, what happens?”

“It goes limp, I think. What-”

“Yes. It goes limp so the mother can safely transport it. There are several species that exhibit this behavior, actually. Colloquially, it's known as scruffing.” His grip on the steering wheel shifted, and Jason realized that he recognized the road they were on. They were getting close to the Cave.

“Humans don't do that though,” he said. “Is that what you're getting at? Because last I checked, humans were not on that list.”

“You responded to it, didn't you?”

“That makes absolutely no sense. That's- that's not how people work.” Jason crossed his arms stubbornly, then uncrossed them with another pained hiss.

“Fascinating,” Bruce murmured. “That would indicate, in this case of inter-dimensional travel, that your body adapted to match our world. Very interesting…”

“Back up, we're still talking about the-the scruffing thing,” Jason said. “Even if that were how it worked, you let go and it still affected me. I'm pretty sure that's not how cats work.”

“It works a bit differently for people. There are a lot of theories about why and how it evolved, but it's generally agreed that it has something to do with promoting injury recovery. Which, considering how you keep reacting with every small movement, makes me think you would benefit from it.”

“Don't,” Jason warned.

“I won't,” Bruce promised, turning onto the road to the Cave entrance. “It wouldn't do much good with you this worked up anyway.”

“Elaborate.”

“You're an adult. If you don't feel safe, it's not going to take hold as well as it would for someone younger. You came out of it pretty fast - the sudden immobilization scared you, I'm guessing, and you haven't really calmed down since.”

“I'm calm,” Jason lied. “I'm plenty calm. Just-just don't do that again.”

“You don't like the lack of control, especially unexpectedly,” Bruce continued, clearly not believing him. “That, and apparently you lack this reflex in your original dimension, so you didn't know what to expect. Add in the stress of the surprise dimensional travel, and frankly I'm surprised it took at all.” He was quiet for a moment before adding, “Once we get a proper look at your injuries and get you set up for the night, I would like to try again. It's far more effective than most medications we have on hand right now, and it should help you sleep.”

“Let's see what you've got before we do that,” Jason said.

Bruce nodded; Jason figured that was probably the best response he could hope for. 

“So did you go overboard with the cologne or is that a new air freshener? Either way, you should probably reconsider,” Jason said.

“...neither? What are you talking about?”

“The… peppercorn and leather; it's a weird combo, and I don't know why you'd choose it.”

“Peppercorn… oh.” Bruce hummed slightly. “How much more information do you want tonight? This might be better left for the morning.”

“I really don't like the way you phrased that. Very unsettling. Just lay it on me.”

“Alright. There's no artificial scent in the car. It's just me.”

Jason snorted and immediately regretted it as his chest flared up again. “Right.”

But Bruce just offered his bare hand, palm up, to Jason. And sure enough, the scent of warm leather and black pepper got stronger when it was closer to Jason. There was another, more subtle and completely unidentifiable note that had Jason unconsciously leaning closer to Bruce's bare wrist.

“Wait,” he said, the car rolling to a stop as he spoke, “is this related to what you said earlier? About the… the scent being right? Why you're so convinced I'm really Jason?”

“Yes. You're clearly older and most likely presented, but the base is the same. I remember- it's been a long time, but I remember what my son smelled like.” There was a bittersweet quality to his voice, and he opened the car door before Jason could even think to ask more questions. Bruce circled around and opened Jason's door, holding out a hand. Jason ignored the offered help and tried to get out on his own, only to end up nearly falling over the second the door was closed.

“I'm going to change and wash up,” Bruce said, helping Jason onto a cot in the medbay. “Take off your jacket, your armor, whatever you can get off without hurting yourself further.”

He walked away, and Jason slowly began shedding pieces of his suit, starting with his jacket. He paused as he took off his gloves, and lifted a wrist to his nose. Sure enough, there was a distinct scent clinging to his skin, nothing like the gunpowder and smoke that usually lingered on him after patrol, and nothing like he would choose on purpose. It was like warm bread, fresh-cut rosemary, and that dusty undertone of ink and paper that he had always loved in the Manor library. It couldn't be a cologne - first, he didn't own any and secondly, even if he did, why would he wear that on patrol? And if he didn't put the scent there, who would have? The bizarre alternate dimension isekai laser gun that sent him here in the first place?

“This place is messed up,” he muttered, removing his other glove and tossing it on top of his jacket. He managed to wriggle out of his top and armor, doing his best to keep the pained hissing and swearing to a minimum. He had the shirt half-folded by the time Bruce returned, now wearing a loose tee that declared “Father Figure” in blocky text and gray sweatpants. Jason snorted.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked.

“What?” Bruce looked down at his shirt, then back at Jason. “Oh. Dick. He thought it was funny.” His gaze lingered on Jason’s chest, and Jason had half a mind to put his jacket back on, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“What are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” Bruce said, shaking his head slightly. “You just… the scars aren’t there.”

“The… scars?” Jason looked down at his own skin, somewhat red but mostly smooth and clean. “What scars?”

“From the Mad Hatter. From the… that was the first time I thought I was going to lose Jay,” Bruce said, his voice soft and unsteady. “Five .38 calibre shots, though two of them-”

“Two of them overlapped, they looked like one larger wound,” Jason said, his voice just as quiet, his hand unconsciously moving to cover the place the scar had been. “And three exit wounds on my back. I remember.” He swallowed hard, lowering his hand. “Lazarus pit. When I came back. I don’t… I don’t have any of Robin’s scars anymore.”

“You said as much earlier, but…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t look too bad. There’s definitely some bruising though.” He stepped a bit closer and carefully probed at Jason’s ribs, his fingertips light and deliberate. Jason bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. Bruce paused, his hand still hovering but no longer touching Jason. 

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Rib’s… rib’s probably bruised. I’m fine. Finish the exam or whatever,” Jason insisted despite the fact that the brief, barely-there pressure had felt like his torso was being drenched in fire. “Actually, why are you doing this? Where’s Alfred?”

A hurt look flashed across Bruce’s face before he moved to examine Jason’s back. “England, probably.”

“Probably? What’s he doing there?”

“He hasn’t worked for me in… a while.” Bruce moved over to a cabinet and began looking through it. “He missed his family, and I… I wasn’t in a good place. We had a falling out, and to my knowledge he’s been living quite happily with his daughter in London.”

“...oh.” Jason shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry for bringing it up.”

“You didn’t know,” Bruce said, shutting the cabinet and bringing a small pill bottle over to Jason. He opened it and handed the bottle to him. “Take two of these. Do you need water?”

“Nah.” Jason checked the label before shaking out two of the oblong pills. “Do you… is it just you here, then?” Bruce nodded, taking the bottle when Jason handed it to him and knocked back the pills. 

“Hopefully Dick will be here soon,” Bruce said, smoothly changing the topic as he put away the bottle. “Where do you want to stay tonight?”

“...how long have you been here alone?” Jason asked quietly.

Bruce didn’t reply, instead ducking out of the room and returning with a folded stack of clothing, which he offered to Jason. Jason recognized the sweater on top, a worn and faded red sweater very similar to one Bruce had worn a lot when Jason was a kid. The pants were generic black sweats.

“Get dressed,” Bruce said. “I’ll be back.” He left the room, footsteps retreating until Jason couldn’t hear him at all.

Jason carefully put on the sweater and changed into the sweatpants, cautious of his ribs the whole time. Bruce’s peppercorn & leather scent lingered on the fabric, leaving no doubt in Jason’s mind as to who the sweater had once belonged to.

Bruce returned shortly after Jason was dressed, and pulled over a chair to sit facing Jason.

“For the rest of the night,” he said, “I ask that you relax and trust me. The injuries themselves are not as bad as some I'm sure you’ve had before, but considering the factors at play with your apparent dimensional travel and the changes you've gone through to adapt to this world, I would like… I'm going to try to help you. It's a delicate situation, and I'm sure you're going to have a lot of questions, but please. I'm asking you to trust that I will do everything I can to keep you safe and healthy tonight, but I need you to stay calm and save your questions for the morning.”

“None of that was overly ominous at all,” Jason said. Another pained look flickered across Bruce's face, and the sharp peppercorn scent that Jason was starting to get used to abruptly turned more sour. “I… fine. Yeah. I don't know the rules here, you do, and breathing hurts, so yeah, do what you need to. You swear you'll answer my questions in the morning?”

“I will,” Bruce promised. “This isn't my first time dealing with interdimensional travel, I know what you'll need to know. Dick is almost here, though, and I've kept you up too long already.”

“Then it's a deal,” Jason said. “I assume we're heading upstairs?”

Bruce nodded. He picked up Jason's jacket and draped it over Jason’s shoulders before helping the younger man down from the bed. Jason winced at the movement, leaning on Bruce much more than he normally would have. Luckily, there was an elevator.

“Babs come around much?” Jason asked as the doors closed and the elevator box started to rise.

“It was built for me, actually,” Bruce said. “Barbara does come by occasionally, but not often enough to justify hiring contractors for this. When I broke my back and was wheelchair-bound for a while, though… I still lived upstairs, and I still had work to do down here. Jean-Paul needed more support than Barbara could provide remotely, and I've never done well upstairs when there's work to be done.”

“You're suspiciously articulate. Are you even Bruce?” Jason asked, half-joking.

“My counselor… may or may not have forced me to learn better communication skills.”

If Jason had a drink, he would've done a spit take. “You have a counselor?!”

“Had.”

“You, Bruce ‘the Batman’ Wayne, willingly saw a therapist? When?”

“It was definitely not willing,” Bruce said. “Court-ordered in order for me to keep my foster license, then Clark found one after those sessions were finished. She helped. They both did. It was… after…” He paused, trailing off, but Jason could guess based on the way the man's hand spasmed on his waist.

“...oh.” The elevator doors opened, and they walked in silence to a room Jason didn't recognize. It was relatively small for the manor, but could still probably fit Bruce's whole team from Jason’s dimension, including more fringe members like Kate. The edges of the room had hardwood-paneled walkways, while most of the room was about two feet lower and cushioned. Pillows lined the edges of the pit and were scattered haphazardly in the middle, along with several soft-looking blankets. Though it was faded, Jason recognized Bruce's leather and pepper scent, and a second, less familiar one that reminded him of oranges. 

Bruce helped lower Jason into the pit before sitting cross-legged on the wood floor.

“Weird bed,” Jason commented, absently petting the nearest blanket to him. It was just as soft as it looked, and when he picked it up, he caught more of the orangey scent. 

“It's for nesting,” Bruce said, leaning back against the wall. Like that explained anything. “Go ahead and get comfortable, Dick should be up any minute.”

Jason shuffled toward the back corner where most of the pillows were concentrated, dragging the blanket along with him. “You just gonna sit there and watch?”

“It's best to let you work this out on your own. I don't want to get in your way,” he said. “If you want me to help, though, I can help.”

Jason jerked his head toward the pit. “Come help, then. I just wanted to sleep. This seems good enough for that.”

“Alright.” Bruce got up and dropped into the pit, picking up another blanket and bringing it over to drape over Jason. He rearranged a few pillows in Jason’s corner while Jason carefully laid on his side, just watching him work. He was mostly content to watch until Bruce placed another pillow, this one green, and something about it just made Jason’s skin crawl.

“Not there,” he said before he could stop himself. “It can't go there.”

“Yeah?” Bruce had a smile, one of his pleased little eye twinkles that didn't touch his lips. “Where does it need to go?”

Jason frowned, surveying the area around him as best he could without moving. Why did he care? He had never cared about interior design before. He was a 20 year old crime lord-slash-vigilante, for heaven's sake! It felt important now, though. “Next to the blue one,” he decided. 

“Jason?”

Jason turned toward the door, where Dick stood looking shocked. Shocked was probably too mild a term, actually.

“Hey, Dickiebird,” Jason said. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Dick made a choked sound and dropped his bag, climbing into the pit and rushing to Jason. Jason barely managed to brace himself before Dick had him in a tight hug, a strangled whine coming from his throat. Jason started to tear up at the pressure, the sharp pain in his ribs, and the sheer uncomplicated affection from his older brother. Dick pulled back, though his hands didn't leave Jason. One cupped the side of his face while the other wrist dragged down Jason's arm.

“It's really you,” he breathed. “You're…”

“It's not,” Jason said quietly, unable to stop his own hand from wrapping around Dick's wrist, holding him in place where he held Jason's face. “Dimensional travel.” This close to Dick, he could recognize the blanket’s orange scent as his, now much stronger and very fresh. Jason could also smell vanilla on Dick's skin and something he wanted to say was petrichor. It was warm, like wrapping up in a blanket on a rainy day, and something about it just felt right to the same part of Jason that had freaked out about the pillow.

“Please,” Dick said, his voice wavering and uncertain, “please let me have this.”

“Be careful of his ribs, chum,” Bruce said, finally settling near Jason. “Jay, I'd like to scruff you again. It should help you sleep. You're safe here, we're both going to take care of you.”

“You're able to break it if you don't feel safe,” Dick said, picking up Jason’s jacket from where it had slipped off his shoulders. “But I promise you are. You are safe. We're not going to let anything touch you.” He sat cross-legged on Jason's other side, the jacket sitting over his shoulders like a cape.

“I said do what you have to,” Jason said, lowering back on his side and pulling a pillow closer.

Bruce's warm hand brushed through his hair a few times before resting on his neck. Jason tensed slightly, but Bruce massaged his upper neck for a moment before moving his hand down and gently squeezing. Jason was ready this time for the tension to leave his body, and slumped down on the pillow he had grabbed. The pain faded, locked behind a haze, and Jason watched through half-lidded eyes as Dick pulled the orange-scented blanket over him. Dick also trailed his wrist gently down Jason's face and along his jaw. The orange and petrichor stayed on him, mingling with Jason's own bread and rosemary. It smelled like home, like a holiday meal. Bruce did the same with his free hand, the other one staying where it rested on Jason's neck, his thumb idly tracing the line of Jason's upper trapezius.

“He’s looking pretty out of it,” Dick said quietly, his voice somewhat muted to Jason. “Do you want to explain any of what's going on, Bruce?” 

“Oracle got a distress call from him earlier tonight. He's from another dimension, one that lacks dynamics as far as I can tell, but he was hurt and, well…” Bruce trailed off for a moment.

“He's Jason,” Dick finished.

“He's Jason,” Bruce agreed. “Older and returned from the dead, but still Jason.” He moved his wrist from Jason’s face to run along his shoulder. “Something about the dimensional jump adapted him to our world, though, and luckily he's been responding well enough to what I've done so far. I was worried about him dropping into a stress heat on the drive here, between the injuries and the jump and the confusion. I'm not sure if we're in the clear for that yet, hence why I had Barbara call you.”

“A stress heat?” Even through Jason’s hazy filter, Dick sounded alarmed, and Jason could feel him press a hand to his forehead. “I did think it almost smelled like preheat in here. And he does feel a bit warm.”

“I was hoping that a safe scruffing and some sleep would help,” Bruce said. “I may have to give him a bite, though.”

“Safe scruffing? Do I even want to know the alternative?”

“He reacted poorly when I tried in the car. I hadn't realized that he was from a dynamicless world yet. The loss of control scared him, I think, and he came out almost immediately. The fact that he stayed down this time is reassuring.” Bruce shifted closer behind Jason. “You can get some sleep, Dick.”

“You gonna bite him?”

“Yes. I'll sleep when you wake up.”

“Alright.” Dick shifted down until he was laying face to face with Jason. “Oh, you're still awake, huh?”

Jason made a noncommittal noise that Dick smiled at.

“See you in the morning, then.” He pulled a blanket over himself and draped Jason’s jacket so the collar was near his nose. A sound not unlike a cat's purr began emitting from him, and Jason could feel vibrations through the cushions beneath them.

Behind him, Bruce leaned down, warm breath ghosting over Jason’s skin for a moment before he bit. Jason felt the pressure more than the sharpness of teeth, and his mind was flooded with a feeling of affection and safety. Bruce let go after a few seconds and lightly pressed a kiss to the spot.

“You're okay,” he whispered. “Sleep, Jason.”

Almost like he had been waiting for permission, Jason slipped into silent unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Jason awoke slowly, feeling hazy and warm but in a lot of pain. He was pressed against something warmer and vibrating, almost purring like some kind of oversized cat. He managed to blink open his eyes and found the cat in question was just Dick, who he was clinging to like a giant teddy bear. Dick was definitely awake, one hand lazily combing through Jason's hair. 

“Good morning,” Dick said, his voice quiet but a bit gravelly. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Jason groaned, rolling in so he was laying half on Dick's chest. The man just laughed at him.

“Yeah, no surprise there,” he said, still petting Jason's hair. Jason was loath to admit it, but it felt really nice, especially since it meant Dick's fresh citrus scent was close. Jason decided not to think too hard about that and instead wiggled as close to his brother as his protesting ribs would let him get. Dick started purring again, his free arm coming up to encircle Jason and lightly trace nonsensical patterns on his back. Despite the bruises, it felt good, and Jason found that he desperately did not want his brother to stop. He wasn't usually this clingy, but Jason felt sick and miserable and hurt everywhere. He could make an exception.

“B's getting something for breakfast,” Dick said, his chest still rumbling under Jason's cheek. “He should be back soon. Should I tell him to grab you some painkillers while he's up?” Jason nodded against Dick's shirt and, much to his dismay, Dick's hand left his back to grab his phone. Jason whined, a sound he wasn't entirely sure he had ever made before in his life, and Dick's purr stuttered as he laughed.

“You're really not doing well, huh?” he said, sending the text and setting his phone aside. “You must've been pretty severely touch-deprived even before coming here to be in this state.”

“What?” 

“You're in stress heat, Jason. Even with the pain management, you slipped from pre to full in your sleep.”

Jason squinted up at him, trying to figure out what any of those words were supposed to mean. “Heat? Like… like a fricken… like a dog? Isn't that the females?”

“No, no, not the same thing. I mean, it’s the same word, but it’s not the same term, if that makes sense. B was supposed to give the whole biology lecture once you were up, but I guess it falls to me.” He took a deep breath and returned to tracing patterns along Jason’s upper back. “A heat is usually part of a monthly cycle, and it's meant to encourage interpersonal bonding, especially with immediate family. This isn't a normal heat though, it's a stress heat because your body isn't coping well with the last twelve hours or so. Between the injuries and your sudden transition from no dynamic to omega, plus the normal stress of your vigilante lifestyle and your, again, evidently very severe touch-starvation, your body decided to put you in heat early to make sure we take care of you.”

“Screw you, I'm not touch-starved,” Jason grumbled. 

“Mmhmm, and that's why I woke up to you clinging to me like a limpet and purring,” Dick said with a note of amused fondness in his voice. “Anyway, Bruce noticed you were in preheat last night and tried to prevent this with the bite and the scruffing, but you clearly really need it. So here we are.”

“If this is supposed to be for bonding, why do I feel like crap?”

“A regular heat is for bonding. You are in crisis mode.” He massaged the back of Jason’s neck, almost right where Bruce had scruffed him the night before, and Jason melted under the touch. “You feel like crap because whatever drugs you took last night, the scruffing, and the bite have all worn off, and because your fever's a little higher than it should be.”

“Fever?”

“Yeah, heats always come with a low fever - makes your skin warmer, better for cuddles - but you're about a degree over average. Again, your body's in crisis mode. You're overdoing it basically as a cry for help. But lucky for you-” He dropped a kiss on the top of Jason's head. “-we're taking care of it. Hopefully you'll recover quickly, but even a slow recovery won't be more than a week or so. You’ll be okay.”

“This all sounds horribly inconvenient,” Jason muttered. “I'm fine.”

“You keep telling yourself that. Maybe when you stop smelling like desperation, I'll even believe you.”

“What does that even mean?!” Jason asked. Instead of answering, Dick grabbed Jason’s hand and brought it up to his nose. There was a strong, sweet undertone woven into the bread, rosemary, and books that hadn't been there the day before. It reminded him a little of honey, though that wasn't an entirely accurate description as it lacked the almost metallic undertone he associated with real honey.

“Your scent always changes a bit when you're in heat - or rut, if you're an alpha, but we can get into that later - but with how strong it is on you? You literally smell lonely, Jay. It's impossible to ignore.” Dick let go of Jason's wrist and returned to playing with his hair, his purr rumbling back to life under Jason. 

Jason was quiet for a minute before he said, “What are normal heat symptoms? How can I tell if something’s wrong?”

Dick hummed slightly before replying. “Low grade fever and change in scent, like I mentioned. Most omegas I know get really clingy and affectionate, but I think irritability is also pretty common. With stress heats specifically, I'm pretty sure it's common to feel tired or fatigued, and it's also not uncommon to go more or less nonverbal. Like I said earlier, your fever's a bit higher than average, but other than that I think you're okay.”

“Aside from the part where I still have bruised ribs.”

“Yeah, aside from that.” Dick frowned. “Bruce is taking forever. Do you want me to scruff you until he gets back? It probably won't last very long, given I'm not your parent, but it's better than nothing for the pain.”

“If he gets back before it wears off?”

“Then we'll wait it out. I told my boss I had a family emergency, so I've got nowhere to be.”

Jason considered it for a moment, then nodded. “Fine, go ahead.”

Dick’s hand drifted through Jason's hair one last time before settling on his neck and squeezing like Bruce had. Jason's muscles melted; he had already been laying on Dick, but he sank further. His hand went lax, loosening his grip on the back of Dick’s shirt. His eyelids fluttered, settling on half-closed. His head rested on Dick's pec, no longer trying to stay upright. It wasn’t his problem anymore; Dick would take care of it.

Dick went back to playing with Jason's hair, holding him somewhat upright and keeping pressure off his ribs with his other hand. “Thanks for trusting me,” he said softly, carding through Jason's curls. “I know it's gotta be hard to get stranded here and to have your body change on you and start doing all kinds of things you don't understand, but you're handling it really well. I know I teased you about smelling desperate, but you're really doing great. We're gonna help you feel better, and I'm glad you can trust us to do that.”

An unfamiliar sensation started in Jason’s chest, warm and buzzing. Dick grinned like he could feel it too.

“Good, you can purr when you're awake. I was worried. You're good, you're doing great. That vibration you feel, that's going to help you feel better. Keep it up if you can, okay?” He placed a kiss on Jason's forehead and settled back against the cushioned wall behind him, then started up his own purr. They matched up, perfectly in sync, and Jason’s eyes started to drift closed.

“How is he?” Bruce’s voice suddenly appeared from the far side of the room. Jason might have jumped if not for his extensive training and the fact that his muscles were all pretty much all made of limp spaghetti at the moment. 

“Pretty miserable, but I don’t think he’s in any danger,” Dick reported. “I explained everything and I even managed to get him purring. I see you come bearing gifts.”

“Didn’t want to be gone too long, so I ordered in,” Bruce explained. He passed something to Dick over Jason’s head. This unfortunately meant he stopped petting Jason's hair, but Bruce sat on Jason's other side and took over, calloused fingers deftly separating small knots in his curls.

“Mmh,” Jason said, which was supposed to be “morning” but didn’t quite make it that far.

“Morning, Jason,” Bruce said fondly. “I brought some acetaminophen for you, and I hope you like pancakes - my Jay used to, but I realized after placing the order you might not.”

“I like ‘em,” Jason said, his speech a bit slurred from the drowsy haze still over him. “Thanks.”

“Alright, come on,” Dick said, trying to carefully adjust him with his free hand. “Sit up, drink some water, eat your pancakes, take your drugs, and then you can go back to sleep.”

“Don’ wanna sleep,” Jason complained, though the yawn that ended that sentence did not help his case. Between Dick & Bruce's efforts, Jason was maneuvered to have his back against Dick's chest and a plastic to-go box full of pancakes sitting in his lap. The pancakes were drizzled with warm maple syrup that smelled absolutely heavenly. It took him a minute or so to regain control of his limbs enough to eat them, something that Bruce didn't hesitate to comment on.

“You're having a very strong response to being scruffed now that you're not scared,” he said, his own breakfast, an egg wrap, in one hand while the other rested idly on Jason's leg. “That's unusual for someone your age.”

“Is it? I wouldn’t know,” Jason said between bites of pancake.

“Dick hasn't stayed scruffed for more than a couple minutes since he was about seventeen. You're twenty. You stayed down for longer than that when Dick scruffed you, and he isn’t even your parent.” 

“Is it a bad thing?” Jason asked.

“Not necessarily,” Dick said. “I've always been fidgety, and no amount of pain has ever been able to stop me from moving around. I've also been trained to resist since I started working toward being Robin. I can break out of a scruff in under five seconds if I'm in danger. That's weirdly fast, I’ve had friends get very concerned about it. Staying down like you do could indicate that you're relatively young, which your dynamic is. You've barely had it a day.” He shrugged. “Or it’s not that dramatic; the other option is just that you feel safe with us and regard us as family, as people that will protect you. You're taking the opportunity to heal knowing that B and I will make sure you're safe.”

“Huh.” Jason took another bite of his pancakes to avoid answering more specifically. Dick ruffled his hair fondly, and Jason swatted half-heartedly at his hand. Dick saw straight through him - they could both feel Jason’s soft, buzzy purr at every bit of contact - but Jason still had an image to project.

“Any luck figuring out how to get me back home?” Jason asked after a few moments of silence.

“Not yet,” Bruce said. “But you know I'm not letting you go home until you're out of heat, right?”

“I could've guessed just based on what Dickie here told me,” Jason said.

“You're in bad enough shape that the return could kill you if it doesn't undo your omega status and you don't get help,” Bruce said. 

“Wait, seriously?”

Bruce nodded. “Based on how you're acting and how your bloodwork came out, I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did last night before slipping into heat.”

“Bloodwork?” Jason echoed. “Did you steal my blood while I was asleep?!” He frantically checked both arms; sure enough, there was a small band-aid in the crook of his left elbow that he hadn't noticed before.

Bruce ignored the question, instead asking, “Do you have anyone in your universe that would be able to stay with you for up to a week?”

Jason thought of his Bruce, who was cold and distant at the best times; of his Dick, who was only barely starting to forgive his villain era; of Cassandra and Tim, who both hated him, and Damian, who didn’t feel as strongly but was decidedly not the ideal companion for how awful Jason was feeling and also probably had school; Barbara, who probably hated him now but he barely spoke to; Stephanie, who he barely knew.

“No,” he admitted.

“I am following leads,” Bruce promised. “Once it's safe, we will find a way to get you home. For now, you just need to rest and trust me.”

“Sounds great,” Jason said, setting his now-empty pancake box to the side and stretching his arms above his head. He winced as the movement agitated his pained torso and settled back in his original position. “Did you really steal my blood while I was out?”

“Testing was necessary,” Bruce said. “You didn’t notice.”

“I take back everything I thought about you being actually well-adjusted here,” Jason muttered. “Turns out you’re just as much of a controlling freak in this universe as back home.”

“He’s always been like that,” Dick said sagely. “Now scootch, go cuddle him for a bit, I need to get up.”

“Dickieeeee,” Jason said, dragging out the name even as he slowly leaned forward, allowing Dick to get up and Bruce to shift closer and wrap an arm around Jason’s shoulders. “Why?”

“It’ll just be a bit. I’ll be back. Do you want anything while I’m gone?”

“Something to read,” Jason said. “Bed rest gets boring.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Dick agreed. “Anything in particular?”

“For all I know, all your literature is different from back home. Just grab something old and British, I’ll probably like it.”

“Nerd,” Dick teased, affectionately ruffling Jason’s hair again before pulling himself out of the pit, collecting his bag, and leaving the room. His absence left the room silent, and Jason let himself relax into Bruce’s hold, shifting over and turning just enough that he could lay on Bruce’s chest and hear his dad’s heartbeat. It almost felt like when he was Robin, half-asleep on Bruce’s lap while he worked on the batcomputer after patrol. It felt nostalgic in a way. When was the last time he’d gotten to just sit with Bruce? Definitely before his death, and Bruce had stopped feeling as safe a couple months before Jason’s death, sometime around the thing with the cult, probably. It had to have been close to eight years since the last time he got proper cuddles or even a real, no-strings-attached hug from Bruce. He was pretty sure Talia had held him while he was still more or less a zombie, but his memories of that time were hazy and slipped through his fingers like sand at the best of times. He couldn’t be certain of anything from those months.

“What’s wrong, Jay?” Bruce asked, brushing Jason’s hair back and carefully examining his face.

“Nothin’s wrong,” Jason said, though the thick lump in his throat betrayed that as a lie. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothin’ important.”

“You became distressed out of nowhere and you sound like you’re about to cry. What’s wrong?”

“How do you even know that?” Jason sounded plaintive even to himself. Bruce shifted his weight off his hand and brought it up to start rubbing his wrist over Jason’s skin again. Jason’s soft scent was quickly covered with sharp peppercorn.

“Dad powers,” he said. Jason glared skeptically at him until he said, “Instinct in addition to extensive training. Scent can communicate a lot of information even to people without training, but part of my training included learning to recognize subtle emotional changes beyond the main four pheromones that everyone responds to. You’re my son, you got sad, I want to fix it.”

Was Jason twenty or nine? Why did that make him want to cry even more? “Just thinking that… that it’s been a while since I got to…” He gestured vaguely between them and at the general area. “Bruce and I, we don’t… he’s not very touchy. Especially not with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said. “I’m glad I can help rectify that now.”

“You really are too nice to be Bruce,” Jason said, nuzzling further into Bruce’s chest.

“You’re warm,” Bruce said, carefully slipping a hand between himself and Jason and pressing it to Jason’s forehead. “Where did I put the thermometer?”

“I’m fine,” Jason said, brushing off the hand so he could get back to using Bruce as a pillow. “I’m supposed to be hot, that’s what Dick said.”

“That’s definitely not how I said that,” Dick said, finally reentering the room. He set his bag by the door, far more carefully than the night before, and walked around the edge before dropping in on Jason’s other side. “I said you had a worse fever than you should, and we should keep an eye on it.”

“You did not.”

“Did too. Here.” Dick held out the books that he had brought in under his arm. Jason took them, carefully turning them over to read the titles. The first was A Tale of Two Cities, very similar to the copy Jason had read as a kid in the manor with a worn red clothbound cover and the title in faded navy. The second had a bold blue cover with cartoony illustrations whose title read Presenting and Pack Roles: A Practical Guide to Growing Into Your New Dynamic.

“Dick,” Jason said flatly.

“Jason,” Dick said, mimicking his tone.

“What is this?”

“I had to suffer through it, Jay had to suffer through it, I think Babs read it to Cass, and now it’s your turn.” He grinned, something almost evil to the expression. “I mean, you’re clearly past presentation, but whatever health class you had in your dimension didn’t cover any of this, and that’s gonna be more detailed than the crash course I gave you earlier.”

“I’m going to kill you. I’ll actually do it this time,” Jason muttered, flipping through the book without really reading any of the words flying past. His face felt hot, and he was pretty sure if he had a mirror, even his ears would be red. “You are so dead to me, Richard.”

“We both know you don’t mean that.” Dick draped his legs over Jason’s and laid back, sinking into a particularly large pillow. “You wouldn’t kill me. Besides, now you don’t have to ask us any potentially awkward questions. Everyone wins.”

Jason opened his mouth to argue when the thought hit him that this Dick and Bruce didn’t know his history. They didn’t know what he had done when he returned to Gotham. They didn’t know about the bodies and the blood and every thing they held against him in his own universe. He didn’t regret it, most of it anyway, but he knew why his family was so cold toward him. He knew it was his own fault, and he knew he couldn’t stop, but for a moment he almost wanted to swear off killing forever if it meant he wouldn’t lose this Bruce & Dick.

“Jay. Jason. Hey, stringbean, you spaced out there,” Dick said, snapping a bit to get Jason’s attention. Jason shook his head slightly and refocused on him.

“Stringbean?” He looked at Dick with as flat an expression as he could manage. “What part of this-” he gestured to himself, all 6 foot nothing of dense muscle “-communicates ‘stringbean’ to you?”

“You were a shrimp when you were Robin, are you kidding? I’ve been calling you stringbean since we met.” His grin faded and he quickly added, “I mean, I called our Jay that.”

Jason felt oddly guilty about the look on Dick’s face, and sat up, wincing at his protesting torso but forging on through sheer determination. Without really thinking about it, he rubbed his wrist along Dick’s shoulders and neck, mimicking what Bruce had done to him earlier. “It’s fine, you’re fine, sorry I said anything, you’re good.”

“Don’t exert yourself too much,” Dick said, gently catching Jason’s wrist and offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he held it in place by his collarbone for a moment before letting Jason take it back. “That one’s my bad. I forgot you’re not him. Lay back down.”

“I’m fine,” Jason said, stubbornly staying upright despite the fact that the painkillers he had taken with breakfast were not doing their job very effectively.

“I can read to you, if you’d like,” Bruce offered, picking up A Tale of Two Cities from where Jason had dropped it. “But you’re hurting and it’s too early for more medication. Being scruffed would help, and more sleep wouldn’t hurt either.”

On the one hand, Jason prickled at the implication that he was obviously showing a weakness. On the other, he couldn’t argue with the fact that he was in pain, he was still tired, and despite learning how dangerous vulnerability of any kind was when he was eleven, he was starting to like being scruffed. It was nice to let go and slip out of his hypervigilance for a bit, and despite the hardened facade he usually defaulted to, it was also nice to be held like he was still small and precious.

“I suppose,” he said, already slowly shifting down to rest on the soft pillows and blankets around him. Bruce helped, his hands warm and steady until Jason was properly horizontal. Bruce picked up the book then, and Jason adjusted his position until he was lying with his head resting tentatively on Bruce’s thigh. Bruce brushed through his hair a few times, guiding Jason to rest more securely on his leg before scruffing him. Jason felt his purr start up again as Bruce’s hand returned to his hair and he flipped open the first page and began to read.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of

wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was

the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of

Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had

everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct

to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period

was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities

insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative

degree of comparison only…”

Dick settled in behind Jason, laying on his back with one leg folded up and leaning lightly against Jason’s back and one stretched out. Jason was vaguely aware that Dick was doing something on his phone, but his attention was focused solely on Bruce’s voice and his own purring. It felt weird if he let himself think about it at all, but as long as he just let himself drift, the rumbly vibrations were soothing. With Bruce's steady voice above him and Dick at his back and a feeling he remembered mostly from being twelve and tucked under Batman’s cape, Jason was willing to drift. Bruce barely managed to finish two chapters before Jason fell asleep. 

Awareness filtered back to him slowly, starting with the solid warmth at his back that indicated Dick had moved closer while he was asleep. Jason could hear his soft breathing, but the fact that he couldn't feel the exhales indicated that he and Dick were laying back to back. His head was no longer on Bruce's leg, and instead he could feel the silky smoothness of a pillowcase under his cheek. A blanket was draped over him that hadn't been there before, and he could hear a faint tapping sound that he would guess was a laptop keyboard.

He yawned, his jaw popping with the motion, and the keyboard sounds paused. There was a soft rustling sound like moving fabric, then the feeling of Bruce's hand on his forehead, and suddenly Jason was thirteen again, curled up on the couch in Bruce's study, sick and miserable but determined to not be alone. The fever had to have gotten worse, because the thought of Bruce caring about him like that again should not have had his eyes watering. It was probably a fever symptom.

“You're still too warm,” Bruce said quietly, brushing back sweaty bangs before checking Jason’s temperature again. “What happened to you there? What are you going back to?”

Jason tried to reply, but the sound that came out of his throat was barely a sound and definitely not recognizable words in any language Jason knew. He finally pried opened his eyes, turning his head just enough to look up at Bruce's concerned face.

“‘M fine,” he mumbled, trying to reassure Bruce despite how much he definitely did not feel fine. 

“Hi, Jase,” Bruce said, forcing a smile. His eyes were still concerned, and Jason felt a tightness in his chest. No one had called him Jase in years, and somehow fewer had been this worried about him. Bruce certainly hadn't. “Are you awake?”

Jason considered for a minute and turned back into his pillow. “No.”

Bruce chuckled softly. “Okay. Can I convince you to drink some water before you fall back asleep?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jason hummed compliantly. He tried to sit up, and it quickly turned into a shuffling mess as he and Bruce tried to get him upright without disturbing Dick. Once he was propped up, Bruce handed him a water bottle, then took it back before Jason could drink any.

“If you keep purring, you're going to choke,” Bruce explained. “I would prefer if you didn't do that.”

Jason hadn't realized he was purring, which did not bode well for his mental state, but he cut himself off regardless. “Happy?” he asked in a tone meant to be sarcastic but that really just came out tired.

“Yes.” Bruce handed him the water. “You don't have to be prickly about it, Jay. Nothing bad will happen if you let down your guard. That's what Dick and I are here for.”

“Dick's asleep,” Jason pointed out.

“That’s what I’m here for, then.” Bruce kissed his forehead and frowned. “You should take some ibuprofen, you’re definitely too warm.”

“You said I could go back to sleep,” Jason said with a pleading, child-like whine.

“I’ll let you sleep as soon as you’ve taken medication and eaten something, but you’re only getting worse and I can’t-” He shook his head slightly. “I don’t want to have to call Leslie,” he finished in a broken tone that Jason was sure meant that he was in far worse shape than he thought he was.

“Fine,” he muttered. Bruce helped him move to lean against the cushioned walls despite Jason’s protests, then got to his feet.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “Wake Dick if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a kid, and even when I was, I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself for ten minutes,” Jason protested.

“Jason.”

“...I’ll wake Dick up if I need him,” he muttered begrudgingly.

“Thank you.” Bruce hauled himself onto the walkway and swiftly left the room. The room was left silent except for Dick’s soft, even breathing. How was he still asleep after all the movement and talking? Lucky. Jason looked around, and his eyes caught on the book. The blue one. He still wanted to strangle Dick a little bit for bringing it, but at the same time, maybe it could be useful? It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, and a book for kids was going to be easier on his thoroughly fever-cooked brain than Dickens. It hurt to lean forward, but he managed to grab it and settle back against the cushioned wall.

Just reading the intro made him realize he had made a mistake. He wasn’t sure where or when specifically, but a mistake had definitely been made. Possibly as far back as becoming Robin, but at the very least getting up and hunting down Theodore Cauldwell the night before. What had that ray gun done to him? 

Checking the table of contents, he flipped to the section on omegas. That was what he was now, apparently, so it seemed like a good place to start. He got most of the way through the chapter before Bruce returned, dropping into the pit beside him.

“Crackers,” Bruce offered, holding the package toward him. Jason took a few from the stack, shifting the book to one hand so he could eat them. “Still planning your brother’s demise?”

“Little bit,” Jason said between bites of cracker. He leaned into Bruce’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t say this if he was awake, but he was right, it is useful information.” 

“Yeah?” Bruce offered the pills he had brought once Jason finished his second cracker.

“This universe is… I mean, it's normal to you, you live here, but this is all bizarre to me. It's weird. I dunno how to feel about it.” He took the medication and swallowed some more water, then grabbed another cracker. He was not immune to the allure of eating a whole sleeve of saltines in one go. “What are you?”

“What do you mean?”

Jason lifted the book slightly. “Which one are you?”

“Ah. Alpha. Dick and Cassandra are as well.”

“How ‘bout Tim and Damian?”

“Who?”

Jason gave him an incredulous look. “...your other kids? Robin after me and Robin after him? Damian’s your kid with Talia?”

“There hasn’t been a Robin after you,” Bruce said with a slight frown. “And Talia lost the baby.”

Jason inhaled sharply. “I'd follow up on that if I were you.”

“Talia wouldn't have lied to me. Not about that.”

“I think she was lied to as well. Don't remember, I never got the kid's whole story, but if he's out there, he's with the League.”

Bruce was quiet for a moment while Jason ate another cracker. “What did you say his name was?”

“Damian. I think he chose to keep both last names, so Damian al Ghul-Wayne. Kid's a pest, but he seems like a good Robin. He's thirteen.” Jason thought for a moment. “How old is Dick this year?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Dang, he's young.” He shook his head. “Dick's not supposed to be that close to me in age. He's ancient.”

“Hey,” Dick protested, and Jason jumped at the interjection despite the fact Dick was clearly still half-asleep. “Not ancient.”

“You were like nineteen when I met Bruce, you're old,” Jason said, wincing at the stab of pain that had lanced through him. “How long have you even been awake?” Dick hummed noncommittally. “Whatever. I think if you don't do anything, Damian should show up in a year or so. I dunno, my head feels like it's being pressure cooked, to be perfectly honest. Math is not my friend right now.”

“You can go back to sleep now,” Bruce said, checking Jason's forehead with his hand again. “I have some research to do, I believe. How are your ribs feeling?”

“Peachy.” Jason moved away from the wall and back toward Dick, who held up an arm for Jason to burrow under. “Not great, obviously, but medication’s doing its job. I’m okay” He curled into Dick, who was already practically asleep again and whose arm was now draped heavily over Jason’s shoulder. Jason rested his forehead against Dick’s collarbone, still awake but tired enough to let himself drift. 

“If you’re sure,” Bruce said. The keyboard sound started up again, Bruce probably trying to look for Damian, and the soft clicking steadily lulled Jason back into sleep’s comfortable embrace.