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red-jaebyrd · 10 months ago

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A New Bird in the Nest

Summary: What if Jason survived Ethiopia and Bruce adopted Tim early? Jason has many insecurities about the new addition to Wayne Manor and it doesn’t help that Bruce has been avoiding Jason since he came back from the hospital. The fear of being replaced and pushed out looms over Jason and it all starts when a kid named Tim Drake moves in. This fic was inspired by this beautiful piece of art by @ky-landfill

It had been almost three months since Ethiopia and Jason was still walking on eggshells around Bruce. Lately Bruce was all clipped tones and clenched jawed whenever Jason attempted to start a conversation with him. After a while Jason gave up trying to talk to Bruce altogether. With a heavy heart Jason came to the harsh realization that Bruce was obviously still mad at him about Ethiopia.

Bruce was always busy now that Jason was home from the hospital. And while Jason was no longer confined to a bed and could now get around with the help of crutches, Bruce was hardly home. When he was home, Bruce was either holed up in the Cave or his study at all hours. At mealtimes he was constantly hiding behind a newspaper or hyper-focused on a tablet to avoid talking to Jason. Whenever his eyes would wander and meet Jason’s, it was always met with worry lines and a furrowed brow. It got on Jason’s nerves. He didn’t want Bruce’s pity. He just wanted Bruce to talk to him without snapping.

The only time they had talked was in the car on the way to Jason’s PT or to various doctor’s appointments. The conversations always mainly focused on the progress and recovery of Jason’s leg and nothing else. Jason figured it was probably easier for Bruce to talk to him if he didn’t have to actually look at him.

Since Jason had come home from the hospital Bruce had restricted Jason’s access to the Cave. He had told Jason that he didn’t want him to be in the Cave using numerous excuses like the flooring was unstable and would interfere with his crutches. There were also no handrails or any feasible way to install them.

Bruce’s cutoff of Robin spoke volumes to Jason without Bruce ever having to say much to him.

Continue on A03

Dick was visiting at the Manor today. Jason always looked forward to Dick’s visits, but he would never admit that to his older brother. When Jason had arrived home from the hospital, Dick had temporarily moved back into the Manor to help with Jason’s care.

At first Jason resented the gesture, mostly because he thought Dick was doing it out of guilt, but after a while it didn’t matter why Dick decided to stay at the Manor, Jason liked having him around. Not to mention Dick was a great buffer between him and Bruce.

Last week Dick had moved back to his apartment in Bludhaven. It was time for Dick to go back to his city and as much as Jason didn’t want him to go, he knew Dick had responsibilities he needed to get back to. Jason missed hanging out with his older brother every day, but Dick had promised to stop by and visit at least every other weekend.

This weekend Dick came, and they were hanging out the kitchen munching on Alfred’s delicious chicken salad sandwiches when Dick surprised Jason with a question.

“Have you and Bruce talked at all about what happened in Ethiopia?” Dick broached, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“No,” Jason swallowed, putting his sandwich down and grabbing some chips. “We haven’t talked about that day. He doesn’t really talk to me anymore. Not that he ever talked a lot before, you know, but this is different. He snaps at me sometimes and stops mid-sentence. It’s like he wants to say something to me, but then he doesn’t.” Jason’s shoulders were inching toward his ears. “I think – I think he’s still mad at me.”

“He’s not mad at you,” Dick sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration and muttering a ‘Dammit Bruce’ under his breath. “Believe me. He’s – he’s just overwhelmed with what could have happened and he’s bad at communicating that fear to you.” Dick rubbed his hands together over his plate to discard the crumbs. He put his hand on Jason’s shoulder and squeezed. “You almost died, Jay and for him it wasn’t the first time he’d almost lost his kid to a rogue. He’s not upset with you. Give him time.”

Jason scowled at Dick. How much more time did Jason need to give Bruce? It had been at almost three months. Jason pushed his plate away from him and rubbed the crumbs from his hands onto his jeans. The sandwich now felt like stone in his stomach.

“He won’t let me back in the Cave. Do you think – do you think he’ll take Robin away?” Jason inquired, picking at his sandwich just to give his hands something to do.

“The truth?” Dick asked, leveling a look at Jason.

Jason nodded.

“He should. At least for –,“

“But I didn’t mean to –,“ Jason interrupted, his eyes wide at Dick’s answer.

Dick held up his hands in a placating manner “Let me finish. He should take it away at least for now. Maybe allowing a kid at 13 to fight dangerous criminals wasn’t the brightest idea on his part.”

“You did it at 9 years old,” Jason argued, clenching his fists at the table.

He couldn’t believe the hypocrite Dick was being when it came to Robin. He thought Dick would understand.

“Our situations were different,” Dick countered, raising his voice a little. “I didn’t give Bruce a choice in the matter. I was going to find my parents’ killer with or without his help. Robin was a way for me to be out there making a difference and seeking justice for my parents.”

“I don’t know why I even asked you,” Jason snapped, crossing his arms. “You never liked me being Robin in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dick retorted, his jaw clenching. Jason recoiled at the quick response. “Robin was mine. It was my mantle to hand over to a successor, not Bruce. I was replaced before I even got a say in the matter.”

Jason lips parted to say something but all he could do was glare at Dick. Dick had never let him forget that he had been replaced.

Dick got up from the table and placed his plate and glass in the sink.

Jason chanced a look at Dick who had his back turned to him with his arms braced at the sink edge. His shoulders tense. After a while Dick turned on the faucet and began to wash his dishes.

Now Dick was going to give him the silent treatment just like Bruce. Jason sighed and rubbed his forehead. He really did have a knack for messing things up and pissing people off. He couldn’t afford right now to have yet another person in his life not speaking to him; especially Dick. They just started getting to know each other again.

He never should’ve said anything to Dick about Robin.

“I never liked that he made you Robin, but…” Dick admitted, breaking the silence and turning off the water.

Here we go, Jason thought, bracing himself for Dick to lay into him.

“I quickly saw in you what Bruce did, that you were the right choice for the mantle,” Dick continued, his voice gentle and even. Jason blinked and looked up at Dick. The older man was now facing Jason drying his hands on a dishtowel. All signs of anger gone as the brightness returned to Dick’s eyes.

Jason gave him a small smile. Dick didn’t have to say that last part to him. Jason picked up his plate and limped to a drawer next to the sink for a Ziploc bag. He placed the reminder of his sandwich in it and hobbled to put it in the fridge. Dick took his plate, turned on the water, and began to wash it. Jason headed back to his chair at the table.

“Do –,” Jason hesitated, steeling himself for his next question. He padded his finger against a scratch on the wood. “-do you think he’ll replace me too?”

It was a question he hated asking out loud, especially to Dick, he didn’t even know why he asked it. Maybe he was hoping for some support, a counter argument in his favor, a lie, or a platitude. However, Jason knew deep down Dick wouldn’t sugar coat his words.

“Not unless he decides to adopt another kid,” Dick snorted, turning off the water and drying his hands. “And I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

“Thanks for the reassurance, Dick,” Jason retorted, rolling his eyes.

“Jay, I’m kidding,” Dick teased, throwing a dish towel at Jason. “He’s not adopting another kid, okay?”

Jason nodded. He wanted to believe Dick, but Dick had now planted a seed of doubt. Considering Bruce’s track record there was always the possibility of Robin being replaced looming over Jason.

Two weeks later Jason was blindsided by the introduction to Tim Drake. A boy he had met briefly at a gala that Jason had attended with Bruce last year. He remembered trying to make conversation with the kid, but the interaction was awkward. The kid hadn’t been very talkative. While he had an overly friendly smile and gave Jason his full attention, the kid only nodded and gave Jason one word answers. Jason wasn’t sure if the kid was just shy or stuck up. Jason had concluded that the kid likely didn’t want to be seen talking to a street rat from Park Row and was just humoring him.

Bruce informed Alfred and Jason that Tim’s stay was a temporary emergency foster placement until a relative could be contacted.

Jason could deal with having a stranger in his house for a week or two, it didn’t mean he had to like him or spend time with him.

For the next several days, Jason avoided the new kid at all costs except at meal times, which were unavoidable. Alfred and Bruce wouldn’t allow him to take meals up to his room. Bruce even stopped hiding behind newspapers and tablets at the table futilely trying to engage the kid in conversation. The kid hardly talked but answered questions when asked. Bruce still sometimes stayed in his study, but he now started opening the door again. It was something he hadn’t done since Jason had come home from the hospital.

The changes in the house were obvious, and it stung that the kid was getting Bruce’s undivided attention.

Whatever.

The kid had exceptional table manners, which was expected considering where he came from, but it still rubbed Jason the wrong way. What was this kid trying to prove anyway, that he was better than Jason? No shit, Sherlock, that much was obvious. But it didn’t matter, the kid was soon moving out of Jason’s house and in with relatives. Jason would soon be rid of him.

It didn’t help matters that Dick and the new kid got along perfectly. Dick came over to the Manor right away to meet the new kid. The kid was completely enamored with Dick soaking up the frequent hair tousles and side hugs that Dick had always reserved for Jason.

First, the kid had stolen Bruce’s attention away from Jason, now he was stealing all of the time Jason would normally have with Dick.

About a week and half into the new kid’s stay, Bruce dropped the bomb that plans had changed, and the kid would now be staying with them at the Manor permanently. The kid was soon moved from a bedroom in the guest wing to a bedroom in the family wing next to Jason.

Jason’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Bruce had actually done the very thing Dick had teased him about almost two weeks ago, ‘not unless he adopts another kid’. It was actually happening.

Jason was being replaced! It was only a matter of time before Jason was completely out of the picture and the new kid became the new Robin.

He phoned Dick right away yelling at him that Bruce was replacing him with this new kid.

“This is all your fault,” Jason barked on the phone, slowly pacing his room.

“What’s my fault?” Dick asked.

“’Not unless he adopts another kid’ bullshit. Well it’s happening, because you’re the one who said it out loud,” Jason argued, clenching his jaw in frustration. It was a weak argument, but it was all Jason had at the moment. He had to blame someone.

“Jay, you can’t speak something into existence,” Dick snorted.

“I – I know that, dumbass,” Jason growled, irritated that Dick wasn’t taking him seriously. “I just didn’t think he’d –.”

The lump in his throat cut off his words and made his breath hitch. This was all happening too fast for Jason. Bruce wasn’t supposed to get another kid this fast or at all. The kid was supposed to move in with relatives. Jason knew he wouldn’t be Robin forever, but he thought he’d have enough time to get used to not being Robin before Bruce went and replaced him.

“Jay, are you still there? Talk to me, bud,” Dick said, breaking the silence, all teasing gone from his voice. “Bruce isn’t replacing you, Little Wing. He’s simply giving a kid something he needs right now, a home and a family. Nothing more. Besides, Tim is harmless and a great kid. I hope you’re being nice to him.”

“Why does he need my home and my family?” Jason whined, sagging onto his bed. His leg throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

Jason knew he was being unreasonable. This kid had done nothing wrong except existing, yet Jason couldn’t bring himself to be nice because this kid was getting the one thing Jason had been wanting for the last two months – Bruce’s undivided attention; and now stealing the only thing he had left - his brother’s devotion.

“Because his family failed him, Jay,” Dick replied, his tone matter of fact yet gentle. “You know what that’s like. Just talk to him and try to get to know him. He’s a great kid.”

Jason couldn’t bring himself to start a conversation with the kid, not yet anyway, but he no longer glared at the kid at meals or slammed his door in the kid’s face. He’d nod whenever the kid said, ‘Good morning’ and no longer avoided the library when he saw the kid sitting in his favorite chair. He even kept his mouth shut when he saw the kid sitting in Bruce’s study just feet away from the Grandfather clock entrance to the Cave.

The more Jason paid quiet attention to the kid, the more he saw things that reminded him of his own upbringing with Willis and he didn’t like it. The kid knew how to stay out of the way. When he was not occupied elsewhere with Bruce or Alfred, the kid spent most of his time in his room. The kid never really ventured within the Manor by himself beyond the library or kitchen, even though he was given permission and encouraged to explore his surroundings.

At first, Jason actually liked it. It meant he didn’t have to run into the kid or spend any time with him. But soon Jason realized that the kid’s avoidance of everyone was a definite problem.

The kid was quiet and never brought any kind of attention to himself. He never complained about the food given to him, ever; and ate everything on his plate, even the gross under-seasoned brussel sprouts and cauliflower. Bruce didn’t even eat the brussel sprouts on his plate. Jason knew the kid hated them because he noticed the kid struggling to swallow every single one, but he never said anything to Alfred or Bruce. Bruce eventually told the kid that he didn’t have to eat anything he didn’t like, but it was like the kid didn’t hear him. The kid also never asked for seconds but would say yes when they were offered to him.

The weirdest thing of all, the kid never initiated any conversation with Bruce or Alfred unless they spoke to him first. The kid was literally the poster child for that saying, ‘children should be seen and not heard’.

He didn’t even speak up one particular evening when he started breaking out in hives at dinner.

Jason was the first one to notice something was wrong with the kid. It was only for a split second and the kid must have realized something wasn’t right either because he instantly put his head down. But it was too late, Jason had seen the red raised splotches on the kid’s neck and face. The kid was white-knuckling his cutlery, a piece of Alfred’s Pesto Penne was still dangling off his fork.

If Jason had the height and the strength, he would have kicked the kid under the table.

Say something, kid!

Jason wasn’t sure why he was getting so mad, but it was pissing him off that this kid was going through what looked like some sort of anaphylaxis episode and staying quiet. Jason still might not know how to talk to the kid, and maybe he was still a little angry at him for stealing Bruce and Dick, but he didn’t want him to die.

Could it be that the kid was genuinely afraid to disrespect adults that he’d put his health in danger and eat whatever was put in front of him?

Didn’t the kid know by now that Bruce wasn’t going to be mad at him for speaking up about an allergy? Hadn’t the kid spent enough time with Bruce to know that he’d never be shamed for something he couldn’t control.

“Bruce!” Jason yelled, finally getting the man’s attention. Bruce gave him a puzzled look. “Your new kid needs you.”

Just then the kid cleared his throat and made a weird and alarming wheezing sound. Bruce’s fork clattered on his plate the moment he laid eyes on the kid.

“Tim, are you okay?”

The kid’s eyes went wide. His eyes scanned frantically at Jason, Bruce and then Alfred, but he didn’t say a word.

“Tim, I need you to answer me, okay,” Bruce asked, keeping his voice low and calm. “Are you allergic to pine nuts?”

“No, I…I don’t know,” The kid swallowed, tears pooling in his eyes. “I’m…I’m allergic to almonds, but I’m…I’m okay.”

It was obvious to Jason and everyone else in the room that the kid was anything but okay.

“Alfred, get two epi-pens and call Leslie,” Bruce ordered, making his way to a chair closer to Tim to examine his face and neck.

“Right away, sir.”

“I’m okay,” The kid wheezed, moving his face away from Bruce. “Really, it’s f-fine.”

Jason couldn’t take it anymore. The kid was obviously not okay. Nothing about this was fine. The sooner he realized that the better.

“You’re not okay, you dummy! You don’t fuck around with food allergies!” Jason bellowed, banging his fists on the table to emphasize his point. “If you’re not feeling good because the food is making you sick, you fucking say something.”

“Jason,” Bruce warned, keeping his voice even while also leveling Jason with a glare.

He could see Bruce clenching his jaw as he went back to examining the kid. Jason ignored him. He didn’t care that he was making Bruce mad. Jason needed to finish telling the kid what he needed to hear.

“If you’re still hungry, ask for more food,” Jason continued, his voice getting louder. “If you don’t like the food, don’t eat it. Either way Bruce and Alfred won’t get mad!”

“Jason, you’re yelling,” Bruce stated, his voice low and gravely. “Lower your voice or you’ll need to leave the table.

Jason didn’t even know why he was yelling at the kid, but it felt good to get it out. A part of him was frustrated that the kid still didn’t see what he had here with Bruce – safety. Another part of him was irritated at himself for acting like a complete asshole hating this kid for no reason other than existing and taking up space. Realizing too late that this kid was just like him when he first came to live here, scared and mistrustful of adults.

Jason wasn’t done yet. There was one last thing Jason needed the kid to hear and understand about the way things worked with Bruce and Alfred. Something Dick actually told him when Jason first came to the Manor.

“No one here is going to make you do what you don’t want to do,” Jason emphasized, grabbing his crutch, and getting up from his chair. “But they won’t know what you want if you don’t fucking say something.”

He added that last bit.

“Jason, that is enough,” Bruce scolded, his voice loud enough to make the crying kid next to him jump and Jason flinch.

Before Bruce could tell him to go to his room, Jason was already making his way to out of the dining room.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” the kid sobbed, his breaths hitching, while Bruce continued to examine the hives on his face and neck. “I’m so sorry for making a scene. Please…please don’t be mad. I’ll…I’ll do better. I promise.”

The last sentence was said in a whisper, but Jason heard it loud and clear. It felt like a punch to the gut. He couldn’t get out of the dining room fast enough. If only his stupid leg would let him run. He made his way out of the dining room and into the hallway. He leaned against the wall taking deep breaths.

What kind of parents did this kid have that he was scared of adults and knew nothing about his own food allergies?

Jason saw the signs once he had started to pay more attention. The obvious signs of abuse. They were right there at every meal, every encounter, plain as day, but Jason was too preoccupied with his own paranoia of being replaced, and blinded by Tim’s rich kid status and upbringing to think that someone of his background was being mistreated by his own parents.

Jason was an asshole.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Alfred walked briskly passed him into the dining room with the two epi-pens for Tim. Jason proceeded to head for the stairs.

Jason made it as far as the bottom of the stairs. He sat down on the steps and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the banister. The familiar throbbing of a migraine radiated from his left temple to the back of his head. After a while he heard familiar footsteps approaching him. It was Bruce.

“How’s the kid?” Jason asked, squinting at the harsh light of the chandelier above him.

“The epi-pens helped. Alfred is monitoring him in one of the downstairs bedrooms,” Bruce answered, sitting down on the step next to Jason. “Leslie is on her way to check on him.”

“Good,” Jason replied, nodding his head. “That’s…that’s good.”

They sat there on the steps in companionable silence. Jason could feel a lecture coming from Bruce. The migraine made it hard for Jason to care. Right now, all the fight in him had left.

“You can’t yell at him like that again, Jay,” Bruce warned, breaking the silence. “He didn’t deserve that from you at all.”

“I know,” Jason groaned, leaning his head against the banister again. “And I didn’t mean to yell, but the k-,“ Jason stopped himself, the kid had a name and he should probably start using it. “Tim needed to hear it. I’m not sorry for what I said.”

“You need to be nicer to your brother, Jay,” Bruce sighed, his shoulders sagging in exhaustion. “We need to make him feel welcome here.

Brother.

Jason let the word wash over him. He hadn’t really allowed himself to think of Tim in that way even though it was obvious that he’d be staying at the Manor permanently. It was all too much for Jason to think about at the moment.

“Bruce,” Jason breathed, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. “I don’t want to talk about him right now. My head is killing me.”

He knew he needed to talk to Bruce about Tim, but he couldn’t do it tonight. Right now his throbbing head wouldn’t let him think straight.

“Okay get some rest,” Bruce suggested, brushing Jason’s bangs from his forehead. “We definitely need to have a conversation. We’ll do that in the morning when you’re up for it.”

The next morning Jason took his time making it to Bruce’s study.

He had most of the morning to think about what he was going to say to Tim and Bruce. Jason wasn’t sure if he’d actually have the guts to admit out loud certain thoughts that had been rummaging around in his brain the last few weeks. Especially the big one concerning Robin.

Would Bruce take Robin from him and give it to Tim?

Before Jason realized it, he was in front of Bruce’s study. The door was opened. Bruce had always told Jason to feel free to come inside if the door wasn’t closed. His door hadn’t been opened in the months before Tim came to the Manor. Jason peeked inside from the doorway.

Bruce looked deep in thought as he perused over various papers from different file folders stacked on his desk. Jason was starting to have second thoughts.

“Hey Jason, what can I do for you?” Bruce asked, not looking up from what he was reading.

It always weirded Jason out when Bruce knew it was him without even looking at him. It was likely the squeaking sound from his crutch that gave him away.

“You look busy,” Jason observed, giving Bruce an out and hoping that he’d take it. He turned to leave. “I’ll come back.”

“I’m not busy, have a seat,” Bruce acknowledged, motioning to the sofa. He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He closed the file folder he was reading, stood up from his desk chair, and stretched. He soon followed Jason to the sofa. “How’s your head, kiddo?”

“Better. I think I just needed to sleep it off,” Jason answered, sitting down and leaning his crutch against the arm of the sofa. Once he got a closer look at Bruce he could see dark circles under the man’s eyes. “Have you been here all night?” Jason gestured to Bruce’s desk.

“Pretty much. Though I did spend some of the night looking in on Tim,” Bruce sighed, sitting down on the sofa with Jason and rubbing his tired eyes.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s much better, just tired. He’s back in his room if you wanted to go see him later and talk.”

Jason nodded. It was Bruce’s way of telling Jason that he needed to apologize to Tim. He had planned on visiting Tim after this, though he’d understand if Tim wasn’t up for it considering the way Jason yelled at him last night.

“Anyway, I’m just trying to see if I had missed something in any of Tim’s records,” Bruce continued, leaning back on the sofa. “They’re all pretty vague and don’t go back that far. There aren’t any details about any known allergies or yearly well checks, no documentation about any allergy testing except the most recent one that revealed an allergy to almonds. His immunization record stops at 5 years old.”

“But his parents have money, right? If they live in this neighborhood,” Jason snapped, folding his arms. “How could they just not take him to the doctor?”

“You’d be surprised by the priorities some people have in this town,” Bruce criticized. “Sadly, their children are not on the top of that list.”

Jason shook his head. It didn’t make any sense to him. Tim’s parents had money. Maybe not as much money as Bruce, but they could afford to take Tim to the best doctors for yearly check-ups and specialists to help him with his allergies. Instead, they chose to prioritize their jobs and lifestyle instead of their kid.

“Is that the reason he’s living here with us now? Because his parents didn’t take good care of him?”

“Among other things, yes,” Bruce answered. “Tim’s home life wasn’t great. From what little he told me his parents left him home alone for extended amounts of time at a fairly young age. For his safety and wellbeing, it was necessary for him to be removed from his parents. He needed a home with stability and most of all a family. I felt that we could be all of that for him.”

Jason’s shoulders dropped hearing all of this from Bruce. Tim was a lonely and abused kid, just like Jason had been. Bruce opened his heart and his home again to a boy in need. It now all made sense why Bruce had been spending so much time with Tim. He wasn’t trying to replace Jason. He was trying to make Tim feel at home; just as Jason should have been doing instead of slamming doors in the poor kid’s face.

“I realize now that the timing of his arrival was awful, and I’m sorry,” Bruce continued, interrupting Jason’s thoughts. He placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder and squeezed it. “I know this type of major change was the last thing you needed while you are still recovering.”

Jason nodded. He leaned his head back on the pillows to process everything Bruce had just said. Bruce wasn’t wrong, the timing of Tim’s arrival did suck as it played on Jason’s already frayed emotions. But after last night it made it easier to understand Tim’s sudden placement with Bruce.

Bruce saw a kid in trouble and did what came naturally to him. He did the same for Jason four years ago, of course he would do the same thing for Tim. Jason rubbed his face harshly. He felt like an idiot for not making this connection much sooner. Bruce had reached out to be Tim’s family, just like he had done for Jason, because Tim needed a family. Bruce didn’t need another kid. It was all about helping a kid in need.

So, he’s not here to replace me.

“What? No, Jason, I would never do that– what made you think I would –,” Bruce stammered, his wide eyes searching Jason.

Oh shit.

Jason didn’t mean to say that out loud.

But before he could think of something else to say, all the thoughts that had been festering in his brain since Tim had arrived came pouring out of his mouth.

“– because you weren’t talking to me. I thought you were still pissed at me for running away. And when Tim came you were spending all your time with him that you used to spend with me,” Jason blurted out in quick succession. His vision started to blur with tears. He really didn’t want to cry, but the tears were already flowing down his cheeks. “and – and maybe I thought that you liked him better because – because he’s a good kid with perfect manners who never talked back or complained, and he’s not – not a mouthy screw up like me who messed everything up.”

Jason’s eyes widened as his brain caught up to the words that had just come out of his mouth. Every thought and fear that he had been dwelling on these past several weeks came out faster than he could contain them. There was no taking it back now.

“Jason, you’re not a screw up and you didn’t mess up anything.” Bruce affirmed, gently pulling Jason into a hug. Jason held on to Bruce like a lifeline, his tears continuing to fall. “Son, you didn’t mess up anything.”

Jason shook his head, but who was he kidding. He made a pretty big fucking mistake that almost got him and Bruce killed. How is Bruce not furious with him?

“It’s true that choices were made by both of us, good and bad and things took a serious turn, and – and for a second I thought I’d lost you,” Bruce sniffed, breaking the embrace to look at Jason. “But I didn’t. You survived and I’m so grateful every single day that you are here with me.

Bruce moved his hands to cup Jason’s face. He gently wiped away the tears from Jason’s cheeks with his thumbs. Jason kept trying to calm his breaths but they were still hitching with every sob. Why couldn’t Bruce have said all this to him sooner?

“I’m so thankful I get to watch you grow and see the person you will become,” Bruce continued, embracing Jason again and rubbing soothing circles on Jason’s back. “I’m so proud that you’re my son, and I love you just the way you are so please, don’t think for one second that I would ever want to replace you with someone else.”

There was still something that Jason needed to know from Bruce. A question he needed answered because he was tired of the subject being avoided and ignored. He was ready to take responsibly for his actions. He just needed Bruce to be straight-forward with him.

“Are you still mad at me?” Jason stammered, his bottom lip trembling. “About Ethiopia? It’s my fault –,”

“Oh, Jay, lad, no,” Bruce interrupted, his shoulders sinking. He hugged Jason tighter resting his cheek on the top of Jason’s curls. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I made you think that I was ever mad at you.”

Jason straightened in surprise at the words ‘I’m sorry’ coming from Bruce. Not that Bruce wasn’t capable of apologizing, but did Jason deserve it? It felt misplaced. He was the one that ran away and got himself in trouble. He was the one that nearly got himself killed and needed rescuing.

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” Bruce continued, interrupting Jason’s thoughts. “I blame the people who hurt and betrayed you. I’m mad at myself for not giving you the answers you needed at the time that you were seeking them. I feel responsible for making you think that you had to go halfway across the world in search of those answers. I’m angry that the one person who should have cherished you for the gift that you are betrayed you to a madman.

“I allowed my anger toward them to fester and instead of talking about what had happened in Ethiopia with you, I internalized it. I’m sorry, Jason,” Bruce apologized. “I am so sorry for pushing you away at a crucial time when you needed me; that will never happen again. Understood.”

“Understood.”

Jason blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He wasn’t expecting Bruce to say all of that to him, but it was a relief to hear that Bruce’s anger wasn’t because of him. It felt like an invisible weight had been lifted from Jason’s shoulders. Bruce wasn’t mad at him, and he didn’t blame Jason for what had happened in Ethiopia.

“I’m so grateful that you’re alive and here with me,” Bruce repeated, pulling Jason in for another hug.

They still hadn’t discussed Robin, but right now Jason felt that Robin could wait.

“I love you so much, Jason.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

Later that afternoon Jason headed to Tim’s room. Jason still wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Tim. The kid was likely scared of him now from all the yelling that had happened last night. He couldn’t blame the kid if he now hated him. Jason kind of deserved whatever attitude the kid gave him.

Jason took a deep breath before knocking on Tim’s door.

“Who is it,” a faint voice answered from inside the room.

“It’s Jason. Can I come in?”

“Yes,” Tim answered almost immediately.

Jason wondered if Tim had ever said no to anyone. He felt it was best to give this kid a way out just in case he’d rather be alone.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel up for visitors,” Jason added, still not opening the door. “I can come back whenever you’re up for it.”

“I’m okay, you can come in.”

Jason opened the door and hoped the smile on his face looked genuine and didn’t scare Tim. It appeared that just him being in the room was enough to have the kid sitting up, hiding behind his knees and blankets.

“You’re not going to yell at me again, are you?” Tim asked, hugging his knees.

“No, Tim,” Jason laughed, making his way closer to Tim’s bed. “Not unless you give me a reason too.”

Tim’s eyes went wide.

“That was a joke,” Jason interjected quickly, before Tim burst into tears. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s try this again, how are you feeling?”

“Better, just tired. I’m not itching anymore, so that’s a relief. This one hit me harder than the almond reaction.”

Bruce had told Jason that it was only a few weeks ago that Tim had experienced anaphylaxis while home alone. This incident had prompted Tim’s removal from his parents and placed with Bruce.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Jason said, shifting his weight off his bad leg. It started throbbing in its standing prone position. “Allergic reactions suck.”

Just then the pain in his leg radiated from his hip to his knee. Jason couldn’t hide the hiss of pain that escaped between his clenched teeth. He looked up to see Tim looking at the long scar on his face and then his leg. Jason hated it when people stared.

“I think you need to sit down. You look like you’re in pain,” Tim suggested, gesturing to the armchair next to his bed. “This chair is really comfortable. I like sitting in it while I’m reading.”

“Thanks,” Jason breathed, trying to ignore the throbbing in his leg while making his way over to the chair. He noticed a familiar copy of ‘The Lightning Thief’ on Tim’s nightstand and picked it up.

“Bruce bought me the entire series. I just started it when I came here,” Tim explained. “I really like the story. I wasn’t allowed to read it before – before I came here.”

“Let me guess, your parents think gods and goddesses are evil?” Jason smirked.

“No, mother said ‘fantasy books are frivolous nonsense and not becoming of a future businessman.’”

Jason scowled. He was deeply insulted that the adults in Tim’s life had disparaged Jason’s first favorite genre of books. How dare they. It appeared that Jason had some work to do.

“I can recommend other fantasy books if you like the genre,” Jason offered, setting the book back on the nightstand. “When you’re feeling better we can go to the library. I’ll show you the fantasy section. It’s huge.”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that,” Tim shrugged. “I know you don’t like me.”

Hearing Tim say it like that, so matter of fact and accepting, wiped the smile off Jason’s face. It sucked to know that he had left such a horrible impression on Tim and that Tim was giving him a way out. It was a pre-emptive strike to avoid the disappointment of rejection.

Jason was all too familiar with this tactic – he used to do it all the time to Bruce and Dick when he first came to live at the Manor.

He wondered how many times Tim had been hurt by the people closest to him to easily brush off simple offers and attention from others. It didn’t help that Jason’s actions over the past few weeks solidified Tim’s assumption that Jason really didn’t want to spend time with him.

Jason needed to fix this fast.

“I know I don’t have to show you the library, but I want to,” Jason cleared his throat, stretching his sore leg. “We can make up for lost time, okay?”

Tim nodded.

“Is there anything you want to ask me?” Jason offered, sitting back in the chair. Tim wasn’t lying, this chair was comfortable.

Jason’s brain was screaming at him for daring to open himself up like this to Tim, a kid he hardly even knew. But deep down in his heart, Jason knew this was the right thing to do. It was a fair exchange. He couldn’t expect Tim to open up to him, if he didn’t budge himself.

“Um,” Tim hesitated, wringing his hands and looking anywhere but at Jason. He took a deep breath and returned his gaze to Jason. “What happened to your leg and –,“ Tim gestured to the left side of his own face which was the same place as Jason’s noticeably long scar.

Jason took a deep breath to steel himself. He knew this was going to be a question Tim would ask. He was hoping he wouldn’t ask this question right out of the gate, but he did open himself up to be asked any question. Jason wasn’t stupid enough to give Tim details but since this kid was his new ‘little brother’ Jason should probably be somewhat honest with him.

“It’s a long story, but the short version is I went and did something I shouldn’t have, and this happened,” Jason explained, gesturing to his face and his leg. “Can I ask you a question?”

Jason wasn’t sure the kid was going to answer his question once he heard it, but he had to give it a shot.

“Sure, what do you want to know?”

“I want to know why you didn’t say anything to anyone at dinner when you were having a serious allergic reaction?” Jason asked, maintaining eye contact and using his best Robin voice.

Tim stayed quiet and Jason realized that maybe he had pushed too far with his first question. Part of him definitely wanted to give Tim an out, but the other part of him felt it was important for Tim to answer the question. Jason strongly believed that Tim needed to know from him that Tim would never be shamed or scolded by Bruce for speaking up when something was wrong.

“Mother says,” Tim swallowed, fisting his blankets and then hugging his knees again. “That making a scene at the dinner table in front of guests is rude; under no circumstances should I bring any kind of attention to myself.”

Jason had to take a few deep breaths to calm his rage and quiet a few choice words he wanted to voice out loud about these absurd rules and Tim’s parents.

“Tim, you were going into anaphylactic shock,” Jason explained, keeping his voice level like he does when talking to victims as Robin. “Saying something is always okay. Especially if you are in danger, or you just don’t feel good. You wouldn’t have been making a scene. Bruce doesn’t care about decorum all that much just as long as you don’t say ‘fuck’.”

The last sentence made Tim giggle. It was nice to know he could make the kid laugh.

“You’re safe here, Tim. I know firsthand that concept will take some getting used to but believe me. This place is safe. Bruce and Alfred like having you here and so do I,” Jason confessed. “It’s true. I know I didn’t show it in the beginning, and I’m very sorry about that. So, if you want, we can start over.”

Jason held his breath, pleading internally that Tim would forgive him for how Jason had treated him. He truly wanted to start over with Tim. Jason was looking forward to having a little brother.

“I’d like that”, Tim smiled. It was a smile that reached his eyes and brought out the dimples in his cheeks. “I just have one more question.” Tim hesitated, biting his lip. “It’s sort of a favor. It’s no big deal. You can say no if –,“

“Tim, I’m not going to say no unless you want me to move furniture,” Jason joked, trying to make Tim laugh. “What do you need?”

Tim looked longingly at the book sitting on his nightstand and then back at Jason.

“Can you read a bit of the book to me?” Tim begged. “I’m still dizzy from last night and every time I try to read, I get a headache.”

Jason blew out a breath and smiled. This request he had no problem saying yes to. He was just glad Tim didn’t ask him to leave.

“Of course,” Jason accepted, taking the book and thumbing to the page that had the bookmark. “How are you liking this book so far?

“I like it. I already liked Greek mythology, but this makes me like it even more. I don’t trust Luke,” Tim voiced off handedly. He looked at Jason nervously like he was waiting to be shut down for his opinion. “I know I probably should, but I don’t. I don’t care how much he’s helping Percy. There’s something not right about him.”

“I’m liking you more and more, Timmy,” Jason praised, giving him an easy smile. Tim definitely had a future in this family with those deduction skills. “Maintain that energy and sit tight. We’re gonna be here a while.”

Jason and Tim hung out more and more dividing their time together in the library, playing video games in the den, or hanging out in the kitchen baking cookies with Alfred. Jason helped Tim slowly come out of his shell around Bruce and Alfred. A red-faced Tim eventually confessed to Alfred that he hated fish, couldn’t tolerate the texture of carrots or brussel sprouts but loved broccoli, chicken, steak and pasta.

Having Tim around became the very thing Jason had needed all along. Hanging out with Tim kept him more active, which in turn helped the mobility in Jason’s leg. Even his physical therapist was impressed with the progress Jason had made over the past couple of weeks.

Jason liked being a little brother, but he liked being a big brother even more.

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dandelion-blues · 26 days ago

Text

Fiat Lux

For my best friend, @ilikesand

For my best friend, in which I never would have understood the gravity of the misunderstood without you. Would have never had Octavian become one of my favorite characters. I hope you like it!

Also, on Ao3

Summary (PJO One-Shot):

Octavian knew the signs. He knew the gods were displeased, and still, everyone wanted to disregard the rules. So Octavian was done with sacrificing stuffed animals - the gods would no longer answer to such inconsequential sacrifices.

Apollo takes notice of his dear descendant and grants him a true vision and a choice upon Octavian's sacrifice. Well, it's not like Octavian would take the alternative of sitting back and doing nothing, regardless of what others think. He's already used to people not liking him, and bullying him for things he can't control, so he might as well play the villain if it means saving the world - if it means saving his siblings, siblings who probably don't even remember him.

Octavian

The air was biting, cold and rigid. Octavian didn’t particularly mind though — no, what he minded was the festering storm and rolling thunder clouds on the horizon. As Augur, it was his duty to divine the message the gods have sent him. The glares and spits he got as he headed up to Jupitar’s temple from his fellow comrades notwithstanding.

Thunder boomed as he entered the temple and Octavian hurried along to the altar. He didn't think about the last time Jupiter was in such a mood. The quakes of power searing through his temples as visions of lightning strikes burned villages and people to dust. No, Octavian instead thought of the boisterous laughter of his siblings as a storm boomed around them. Of the times when it was as if the storm was playing along to their childish claps with a loud quake of thunder following them.

Ah, it seems he's getting a bit too sentimental. No matter, Octavian has long since buried his heart under his duty to uphold the order and pride of Camp Jupitar. Much like his hands are stained red in the freshly dead animals offered to the gods, so too will the camp be if they don't appease the gods. Really, what did Praetor Reyna think when she sought to go to the old lands? They are forbidden for a reason.

The gods are angry. And Octavian is done playing with useless stuffed animals. He warned the senate that the old ways were there for a reason — that messing with tradition is treacherous, and yet, the council's soft palate won out. But if they won't get things done and rightfully appease the gods — Octavian will do it himself!

Thus, with a careful and quick slice, blood spilled from a young calf. The red seeped on the altar, as the animal thudded down, its heart beating its last. Octavian breathed in deeply and thanked the calf for its sacrifice on his exhale, for the spirits held in respiration — of the life taken and given. Octavian knew the gods would do much worse if they didn't get their dues.

Just as the patience began to seep away from him as the moments ticked away, the blood starting to dry, Octavian's received a vision with a searing clarity. The Earth claimed thousands of lives in her womb — the screaming and gasping as they were buried alive. The Greeks fighting the Romans in a bloody war as Terra Mater laughed.

Octavian gasped for breath, heaving and trying to calm his pounding heart.

“So, my descendant has finally decided to stop sacrificing useless pillow pets ?!” A silky voice whispered.

But even quiet the voice held power, as the once cold room became almost sweltering hot.

Octavian instantly knelt to the ground, knowing intimately who this was — his ancestor, the source of his bloodline — Apollo.

“My lord,” Octavian spoke reverently and respectfully, staring at the marble tile. Nothing more or less unless given permission.

Octavian heard the footsteps heading toward him, the steps like a tap-tap to a somber dance. The legacy didn't dare look up, even as he saw the golden sandals of the god before him.

The god knelt down a bit, reaching hand up gently but forcefully and grabbed Octavian's chin, making him stare right in the burning gaze of the god. The legacy couldn't formulate words in his mind for how beautiful and terrifying those golden eyes were. Much later all Octavian could think was that he was staring right into the might of the sun, and the god protected him from burning from such a sight.

“Yes, you will do, my favored descendant.” The god whispered in Octavian's ear, the words coiling around his mind like a snake.

And then the god whispered to his descendant a plan of power and glory, and a burning fiery aftermath or of the righteous storm that will save the world from destruction. That should the storm save the world; the son of Jupiter will pay the price of sacrifice. But should Octavian intervene and influence the path of fate… of the scorn and distrust should Octavian survive it. The legacy didn't dare utter a word about how it would hardly be different then things are now and how any price was worth it as long as he stays alive, but somehow, he felt the god knew what he was thinking. The power of the gods uneclipsed and true.

The god’s eyes impossibly softened, looking more akin to the burning embers of dusk than the blazing glory of day, “Yes, my descendant, the one who shines brightly with my gift. You have shown resolve and cunning even as others look down upon and mock you. You are the one who knew that Mors was chained and forced Mars to acknowledge it, even if others began to look at you callously. You knew that you could not spare troops to help the quest to free Death, lest Camp Jupiter would fall. Even if you had to be seen as evil in the process.”

“So, I ask of you, my dear Octavian, are you willing to do what needs to be done?” Apollo asks, his voice stern yet kind.

Octavian looks into his ancestor's eyes, those beautiful balls of flame, and says, “Yes, my lord.”

“Then rise my Pontifex Maximus.” The god commands, and Octavian does.

Even if nothing changes outwardly with the title. There is no crown or laurel Octavian now wears, he feels as if a great force is weighing him down, but still he rises.

Like always, Octavian will do what needs to be done, even if others hate and belittle him afterwards. Still, if it saves the world, if it saves his brother, then what does Octavian care that people will think him evil.

“You will save us all,” The god claims, and then the air swelters, the god burning brightly making the legacy close his eyes from the sheer light.

Then, the air grows cold as the god dreams his presence fit elsewhere, and a faint smell of laurels permeates in the temple. The sacrifice accepted and disappeared from view, even the stains of blood vaporizing before the legacy’s eyes.

All that's left is a paper floating down in the air. Octavian catches it, smudging the still wet blood from his offering on the paper. Both ends of the paper are charcoaled black and only one line can be read: to storm or fire the earth must fall.

Octavian straightens up and smiles grimly. He is the bridge between men and the gods, the Pontifex Maximus, and now has control of the Roman army. It's rather ironic that he now outranks all those that called him too weak and feminine to even wield a sword, but no matter, he knows his duty to camp and to the gods unlike them, who would rather sit by and watch the world burn. Ironic isn’t it, how the Morai twist and weave their tapestry?

Octavian may never be a good man, but he is at least a loyal one, and he will be damned to Hades if he didn’t do all he could to protect what little he has. He upheld the god's standards, even if others have faltered. He left his siblings to their father’s whims, because Lord Jupiter demanded it. Wanted them to prove themselves worthy of the king’s power and authority. Then, his big sister was mauled to the brink of death when she was twelve, and his little brother became more wolf than boy as Lady Juno demanded her prize.

But just this once, Octavian is able to uphold not just the god’s demands, but his personal one’s as well — one’s that he had to abandon so his brother grew up strong and capable. But now, with the future knowledge that Lord Apollo has granted him, Octavian won’t let the world fall to his storm if it’s the last thing he does. He will not damn his little brother to an early death, and so Octavian will brave the agony of burning alive — knowing his brother will be the one to survive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fire was the hearth and the home, safety and warmth, but it was also destruction and searing pain. Why did his kin, the son of Apollo, or anyone else for that matter not tell him he was attached to the onager — to the unstable bomb of Imperial Gold that he devised to kill Mater Terra? Octavian knew he was to be burned alive to enact Lord Apollo’s vision to save the world — to save his little brother. But Octavian didn’t know it would be like this. Didn’t know that he was to be treated like an evil monster that needed to be burned alive.

Octavian knew he acted like a madman in his plans — that no one really liked him prior to his ascension to power. But did no one, not one of his comrades that knew him for years, try and understand why?

Octavian would like to say that it didn’t hurt — that his heart was long dead to the sting of betrayal — but like an innocent “witch” set to be burned at the stake, he was unprepared for how much fire would burn.

But guess it doesn’t matter anymore. With his ancestor’s help things were put in the correct motion, and now he was hurtled through the sky.

The air whipped around him like razors, and two screams joined him.

Octavian saw a vision, like he was no longer in his body of a boy flying on a bronze dragon and the evil Earth Goddess hurtling up in the sky. He watched like the phantom he was about to become as a brilliant fire erupted in the sky — pure golden white, brighter than Apollo’s might — and everyone one down below became blinded from the light.

‘Fiat Lux,’ Octavian thought, let there be light.

But, even as the vision of the blinding light came to him, and Octavian knew he was about to face his imminent death, all he could focus on was finding his siblings in the crowd.

There! He saw them for not even a second, but it was enough for Octavian to accept his demise. They were alive!

Still, that didn’t prepare the legacy for how much his death would hurt.

The might of the inferno charcoaled his flesh and ignited his veins in its all-consuming heat. The screams that ripped out of his throat were soon gone as his voice box crumbled to ash. The ringing in his ears like a blaring siren, but left to the silence of death, just as his eyes melted and empty sockets only saw darkness.

Thump-Thump

The agony of living in a body that should have already been a corpse.

Thump

Why was he still alive? He just wanted this to be over.

…Thump

Octavian for once felt absolutely nothing. It was a kind of numbness that felt wrong, as if he was on the verge of Chaos, of the void of nothingness in which all life sprung from.

…

At last, he can rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The scarred soul was taken up and examined like it was a partially interesting thing. Two pitch black eyes stared at the essence of the boy’s soul, looking down upon it from his long black beak.

“Yes, yes, you who have suffered and preserved.” The being spoke to himself, “Of the one who always kept learning, even as the wisdom of what was to come was horrid. Your ancestor has a kindness in his heart that leads to tragedy, but even then, he knew that yours was too much. Of a legacy that would be wrongly scorned, and a family that would be left aching at your seeming betrayal.”

“Well, Apollo was already to be punished he knew,” The being cackled, a trilling sound as his black and white feathers ruffled, and he examined a vial in his dark humanoid hand, “So why not have his son have two cures prepared.”

The being smiled with their beak, and the ashes of the dead was given the Asclepius’ cure for death. Nerves, organs, bones, muscles, ligaments, and flesh all brought back. The once horrifically burned and scarred flesh is now as soft as a newborn’s.

“Why hello,” the being spoke to newly opened golden eyes — eyes marked by divinity, “My little magician.”

“Who are you?” The now revived Octavian spoke, his words tumbling and unfamiliar as if this was his first time speaking.

“Why, my friend. I am Thoth.” The Egyptian God of the Moon, Magic, Writing, Learning, and Wisdom spoke.

“Why-” Octavian spoke softly, not able to bring words to his tumulus thoughts, of the memories of pain that were no longer felt as his heart beat strongly in his chest.

“-am I alive?” The god finished the legacy. “Well let’s just say Apollo had a bit of foresight, and didn’t want to lose his favorite descendant.”

The god stroked his neck feathers with his humanoid hand, “Your gods are quite possessive after all. And of course, how could I not help when he came to me speaking of a legacy of two pantheons. You are quite the commodity, practically nonexistent, so how could I resist?”

Octavian’s mind was whirling, but that’s when it clicked. No wonder he didn’t recognize the god’s name. The legacy remembered when he was very little and knew nothing of his father’s place in Camp Jupiter, when his mother was still alive and present in his life. When she brought her family to the movie’s she started in — of an ancient civilization that worshiped gods with animal heads and human bodies. A film about the Egyptian Gods that his father was none too thrilled to see, calling them ridiculous. Of the repercussions that followed as his parents started yelling and fighting and soon a little girl boy with blonde hair and electric blue eyes was born, who was not his father’s daughter son — and, thus, is Octavian’s half sister brother.

Turns out the youngest sibling born of adultery having the same electric blue eyes as the eldest sibling — a searing blue like a strike from the heavens — was too much for Father to stand.

Then, the rest is history. Father took Octavian away from his starlet mother, and his half siblings, and introduced him to camp Jupiter and all the gods they worship — and started training him for his future duty as Augur. Of the harsh words and punishments should Octavian not excel at what he was taught. Of the sparse news outlets that Octavian snuck out to watch — of his mother’s falling fame, and his older sister running away. Of the visions that started to eat away at him — of screams and suffering.

Then, the son of Jupitar came to camp — with all too familiar electric blue eyes, and Octavian knew, he knew that this boy that was more wolf pup than boy (because he was raised by Lupa, even given a new name by the Wolf Goddess than by their human mother) was his little brother. That those harsh words his father called his mother now made sense as Octavian looked into those familiar eyes, the echoes of childhood and innocence long gone. Understanding that their Father called Beryl whore for a reason, as she fell into the God King’s lust not just once but twice when she was a married woman. But the second time, Juno wouldn’t abide her husband’s transgressions and took the child as her champion — to mold him into a perfect soldier. Never having the chance to just be an innocent child, but to be a slave forced into servitude.

Octavian could do nothing but stay away as the wolf boy was turned into a perfect solider, as Jason was isolated from having a family or friends of his own! As his skin was branded at 3 years old!

But, of course, even if Jason, his little brother, was allowed to live — even if only for his potential to bring Juno glory, Thalia would not be spared, even if Juno seemed to turn a blind eye. The slight of Jupiter cheating not once but twice, was too much. And so, when Octavian was an angry ten-year-old, Thalia was just twelve, and Jason was six — his big sister was dead. And all Octavian had to show for it was the tears streaming down his face as he dreamt of his big sister being ripped apart by hellhound. No vision years later of her surviving erased the pain, knowing that he could do nothing by watching as her blood and bones became bark and sap.

“Are you alright, little magician?” Thoth spoke softly.

Octavian blinked, tasting a bit of salt on his tongue. He wiped at his face and oh, he was crying. He laughed a bit, the sound bitter and hoarse. His siblings probably didn’t even remember who he was, he was hardly in their lives after all, so what right does he have to cry over them?!

“Yes, I’m fine.” Octavian lied, his eyes red and stuffy.

The god thankfully didn’t call him out on his lie, “Well, in that case, I think it’s time I start to teach you about your other heritage. Of the pharaoh in which you and your father descended from.”

Octavian inclined his head, only a numb echo of surprise panting in his skull. He wanted to avoid his intrusive thoughts, so focusing on some hopefully strenuous tasks instead of recounting his broken family was very much welcomed.

“Well, you see, as a descendant of a pharaoh, and the deal Apollo made, you are now my host…” Thoth went on to explain Octavian’s heritage and his expectation as a host to Thoth.

Octavian took it all in clinically. Truthfully, it felt like a traded one cage for another, but at least this time Octavian’s wings weren’t clipped. In fact, he now had an avatar form that had wings, generously gifted to him from his new connection to Thoth — not that it helped with Octavian’s fear of flying when he remembered his death.

The god, his god, was surprisingly human in caring about and helping Octavian overcome this fear, but the legacy knew gods — they didn’t just help out of the kindness of their hearts. That’s just not how they work, it’s hardly even how humans work either. Octavian would know — he’s analyzed people’s behaviors constantly over the years to make sure he reacted appropriately — as people all too often liked to answer with their fists when he didn’t react the right way.

Really, Octavian did not understand why people ask how you are if they don’t actually want to know?!

That’s why Octavian liked the gods — they were true to themselves, to their essence. And Thoth, Octavian, was starting to learn was somehow a lot like him. He liked to read and learn everything he could. He was blunt and honest… and his family life was a mess.

Octavian really shouldn’t be relating in such a way to a god, but as Thoth's host he found himself learning more and more about the god. He found himself soaring through the skies and learning about the constellations with vigor, and laughing at the god’s misconceptions to modern technologies. He threw himself at his host duties, though he did avoid the other avatars that tried to contact him like the plague. And he found himself trying to forget of the siblings that thought him dead, trying to live a new life without any human interaction. Of course, like a prophecy, you can’t avoid the inevitable forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wind that tousled around Octavian felt like freedom, and he spread out his white ibis wings, soaring through the sky, while the light of Apollo gently warmed his skin. Octavian felt free, flying above the world — everything down below a spec to his eyes, and no one could reach him as he soared high above in the sky.

Well, Octavian should have known not to think in absolutes. No normal person could reach him, but well it’s not as if he was prepared for someone to literally crash into him as he flew in the cloudless sky.

One second Octavian was simply flying through the air, and the next he was hurtling towards the ground — someone screaming at him as they knocked him out of the sky.

Octavian’s heart thudded in his chest, panic beginning to take hold on in his veins, but then everything seemed to stop — the air seemed to solidify around him, and a silence took hold around the area. There was no wind, no nothing. Nothing but the labored breath of two individuals.

“Sorry, for flying into you. I didn’t expect there to be anyone else in the sky,” a voice, an all too familiar voice, spoke.

Octavian would never, could never forget that voice, even if the River Lethe took his memories, took everything that made him Octavian — his soul would recognize that voice. His little brother: Jason Grace.

Octavian spoke up trying to keep his voice from wavering as faced his little brother — facing those pure blue eyes, “It’s no problem. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up here either.”

Then, his little brother smiled, pure and bright, and laughed, “Yeah, my boyfriend is never going to let me live this down. He said I needed to watch where I was flying, and I told him that there was literally nothing in the sky. Guess I was wrong.”

Boyfriend?! What, Jason is a baby — he’s only 16 why does he have a boyfriend?!

“Oh, sounds like your boyfriend cares a lot about you,” he better anyways, or Octavian will make sure that the body is never found.

Jason’s entire face lit up, an enormous grin on his lips and his eyes went fond as he spoke, “Yeah, Percy’s the best boyfriend I could ever ask for.”

“Perseus Jackson is your boyfriend?!” Octavian couldn’t help but shriek.

Jason's face instantly closed off, his body tensing, and he asked his tone growing harsher, “Who are you, and how do you know my boyfriend?”

“Anyone who knows a lick of the Greco-Roman Pantheon knows of Percy Jackson,” Octavian spoke, his voice wavering as Jason still glared at him with those blue eyes.

“That doesn’t answer my first question.” Jason said, his voice holding little emotion — the air seeming to tighten its hold around Octavian.

“It’s time,” Thoth’s voice echoes in Octavian’s head.

Octavian shutters, but he sighs in defeat. He knew that he couldn’t avoid this forever, but he thought, he thought he would have to to prepare for their reunion.

“Very well, but can we first land?” Octavian speaks up, and sees that Jason remains unwavering, and so he vows, “I swear on the River Styx that I mean you no harm and will tell you who I am once we land.”

An echoing boom instantly is heard, and Jason’s hold on the air snaps. The two fall through the air, and Octavian instinctively flaps his wings, but Jason is still falling.

“Jason!” Octavian yells and speeds off to his little brother as he hurtles through the sky.

Octavian catches his little brother before he goes splat, and Octavian yells, his voice worried, “Why did you not use your powers?!”

Jason breathed in deeply, his voice a bit panicked, “I was trying, but I couldn’t focus!”

Octavian sighed in relief, as he could feel his little brother once again command the air, and separated from him, “I’m glad that you’re alright.”

Jason gives Octavian an indiscernible look, and nods his head, “Yeah, let’s just land, alright.”

Octavian agrees, and soon enough the two land in some park, the autumn tree leaves falling gently around the two.

“So you wanted to know who I was,” Octavian spoke up, calling off his avatar form, the beginning of recognition and shock beginning to seep into his little brother’s form, “Well, I’m Octavian Grace …” Neither of his parents deserved to be parents, but at least with his mother’s last name he shared it with his siblings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Brother!” Jason cried, instantly slamming into the older’s body, wrapping him in a hug.

Octavian instinctively hugged back, his shock delaying his reaction — Jason knew, knew that they were brothers.

“How?” Octavian could only ask, still startled as Jason held him tightly crying on his shoulder. And oh how much Jason has grown to be able to reach his shoulder — he used to barely reach Octavian’s middle.

Jason looked up at Octavian, tears streaming down his face, and sobbed “T-thalia r-remebered y-you, and s-spoke at your f-funera-al.” Jason held onto Octavian tighter, as if he was going to drop dead any minute, “And then A-apollo t-told e-everyone h-how you s-saved us. How you s-sacrificed y-yourself.”

Octavian had no words, no words to describe the complete and utter shock he was in, so all he could do was gape and say, “What?”

Then, Jason gasped, “Thalia.” He grabbed Octavian’s hand, “You need to see her.”

Octavian felt completely overwhelmed, but at the same time he felt a smidgen of hope swell in his chest as Jason led him away. He was going to see his big sister again.

Apparently, Thalia and Jason must have been having a picnic, because there she was on a blanket surrounded by sandwiches and fruits laid out before her. Octavian ignored the other person — the aforementioned boyfriend that was sitting there as well.

She still looked so young, baby fat still clearly on her face, despite the fact that she’s 21, almost 22. She’s eternally 15, never able to grow up, to mature because she’s sworn an oath to Lady Diana.

“Who’s-,” Thalia muttered as she turned to look at Octavian being dragged by Jason, but then her eyes went wide with recognition.

Her eyes were alight, like lightning striking through a storm, as she hurtled herself at Octavian.

“Tavi!” She called out trapping Octavian in a tight embrace.

Octavian held his sister closely, the nickname making him reminisce when his big sister thought Octavian was an old man's name, and he needed a name fit for being her little brother. A time before his father took him away from her.

“You’re alive!” Thalia cried, relief awash in her face. “I never thought I’d see you again Tavi.”

“I’m here.” Octavian murmured and looked over to meet Jason’s eyes, and beckoned him over.

Jason didn’t hesitate and was embraced by his two older siblings, his face held in the crook of Octavian’s neck, as the middle sibling bent down to hold the two.

Everything felt right and whole again. His family was alive and well!

Of course, Octavian had to eventually address the elephant in the room.

“So…” Octavian began awkwardly as his siblings pulled back a bit, but never far away enough to not hold onto him — the memories of his death still too fresh, “Perseus Jackson, my little brother’s boyfriend?”

Jason's face went bright red, and he averted his eyes to look at Percy.

Percy hesitantly approached the trio of siblings, standing nearer Jason, and eloquently greeted, “Hello.”

Thalia's face palmed, and spoke, “This is little brother 2.0, also known as our future brother-in-law.”

Percy and Jason both sputtered but didn’t exactly refute her statement.

Octavian just simply observed, a small smirk growing on his face, “Well, nice to meet you brother-in-law.” It feels good to tease his younger brother, after sixteen years, and finally Octavian is free to just interact with him — to finally place his family before duty.

Percy’s face went as red as a tomato, but he smiled and held Jason’s hand tight in his.

“Stop teasing us,” Jason whined, pouting a little bit like a sad puppy.

Percy nodded his head, giving a look that reminded Octavian of a seal pup. These two.

“It’s only our right to tease little brothers,” Thalia smirked, “Tavi got a lot of catching up to do, after all.”

“Indeed.” Octavian agreed.

The two teens whined no’s, but their huge smiles gave them away.

Octavian thought, ‘This must be Elysium.’

It wasn’t perfect, too many distrusted the hero people lauded him to be when he returned to see Camp, and those that shifted their stances gave Octavian whiplash. But Octavian never did what he did for glory or claimed to be a hero — he did it for them, not the world after all. Still, Octavian will take this little piece of Elysium that he’s been granted with his siblings, and make sure every breath they take will never be their last.

Notes:

Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed my reading and the journey!

Through learning and re-reading about Octavian, he really is hated upon too much. Really, I view him as someone who doesn't like when other breaks the rules, as he views the rules are rigid, that they are there for a reason and meant to be upheld. Rick also describes everyone who meets him as instantly distrusting and not liking him, even as going as far as to say how is more effeminate traits are unappealing. Octavian was really just done dirty.

Anyways, Octavian's just a lil guy, who's also insanely tall, and as per my friend's head cannon, and is half-siblings with Thalia and Jason Grace. I honestly really love this, and my friend is such a good writer. I can't wait to read their Octavian fic!

First - Previous - Next PJO One-shot

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diwtara · 1 year ago

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Expect from an angsty story im never going to write

“Just- maybe, say something you guys think you have in common?” Dick tried continuing to mediate.

Bruce continued to glare at Jason, teeth grinding. “We both know Gotham needs better.”

Jason didn’t flinch, glaring right back. “This is pointless.”

“Hey, hang on –“ Dick cried out as Jason turned to storm out.

“Jason.” Bruce growled.

Surprisingly Jason turned back to them, marching back to loom threateningly.

“Something I think we have in common? I think we both wish I was back in my grave.”

“Jason-“ Dick reached a hand out, eyes wide in shock.

“I think,” Jason took another heavy step forward, “you wish I would disappear so you could mourn the little boy that died in peace.”

The two stared each other down with Dick caught between them.

When it was clear Bruce wasn’t going to respond Jason huffed a breath and made to leave once more.

“Well, sucks to suck. Im going to keep haunting you until you find a way to get rid of me permanently.”

“Bruce.” Dick turned to him, silently pleading for Bruce to say something, to call Jason back. For him to do something.

“I’ve got work to do.” And pulling up his cowl, Bruce left too.

#jason todd #red hood #batman #bruce wayne #bruce has complicated feelings on this #he doesnt want him /dead #but sometimes wishes jason hadnt come back to gotham #feels guilty about that though #jason needs a hug #and therapy #tw suicidal thoughts #he doesnt want to die #but lifes been sucking

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massiveladycat · 7 months ago

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leo shouldve learned how to cope with his trauma and his need for validation instead of rick slapping a girlfriend on him and calling it a day. in this essay i will-

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plethorawrites · 1 month ago

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Jason Todd x Empath Reader (Because I love this idea)

Jason had barely made it through the door of the apartment before he collapsed onto the couch, his feet hanging off the end of it as he buried his face in a throw pillow with a tired groan.

You looked up from the pot you were stirring in the kitchen, glancing over at him. "Long day?" He just groaned again into the pillow. "Did you want to take a nap before we eat dinner?"

Sometimes, when he was extremely tired, he would take a power nap before you ate, just to avoid falling asleep during the meal. You never minded much, since you knew he had a hard job and it wore him out.

All he did was raise a hand, waving it dismissively. Was that a yes or a no? You weren't quite sure, but probably thought he was refusing the offer, as he often did, since he felt guilty for coming home and falling asleep immediately instead of spending time with you.

Despite his best efforts, he slipped into a state of slumber quite quickly, even though he tried to fight it off, telling himself he would only rest his eyes for a moment before getting up to give you a kiss like he always did.

A few moments later, when dinner was nearly ready, you heard the sound of something getting kicked and peered over towards where he was resting. "Jay?"

No response.

Turning the burner down, you walked over to the couch where he was sleeping, not well, at that. He was thrashing, the way he often did, one of his legs hanging off the couch, occasionally kicking the coffee table when his body jumped.

"Jay," you repeated, a bit firmer, shaking him awake.

He bolted straight up, breathing heavily. His hand gripped the pillow until it was white while he looked around, trying to recognize his surroundings.

His gaze eventually landed on you and his breathing slowed. "Baby?"

You knelt by the couch, taking his hand in yours. "You okay?" You asked gently, as to not elicit any strong emotions from him by accident.

Jason hesitated to answer, not wanting to lie to you but hating to admit the truth as well. "I- I guess," he muttered, his grip on your hand tightening. He scrubbed his face with his spare hand, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "I'm sorry for falling asleep," he apologized, leaning forward to place a small kiss on your lips.

You frowned slightly, resting your forehead against his. "It's fine," you assured him. "Are you hungry?"

Yes.

He was absolutely starving.

And as an added bonus, he wouldn't have to talk about his feelings or dreams for a while.

Jason nodded, loosening his grip on your hand ever so slightly before standing up, draping his hand around your waist and following you into the kitchen.

He knew you liked to know about how he was feeling; you constantly asked and he appreciated that you would take the time to let him try to vocalize feelings he used to ignore or invalidate. But he also knew that if he let you, you would use your powers on him every chance you could to help him sleep or bring him peace of mind, at your own expense.

Jason couldn't let you do that. So, he would rarely, if ever take advantage of your gifts. Instead, he would talk your ear off when he, very rarely, felt emotional enough to talk. And he would show you how he felt as often as possible.

After dinner, he laid down in bed beside you, pulling you close to him, like normal, resting his hand on your back and burying his face in your hair, kissing the top of your head. He never felt safer than when he was holding you and could feel you holding him back, with your arm wrapped around his waist and your head resting on his chest, listening to his heart beat through his shirt.

Unfortunately, his subconscious got scary when he was asleep and the normal comfort he felt disappeared when he began to dream, feeling like you were slipping away from him.

In his dreams, you left him. In his dreams, he died over and over and no one stood at his grave. In his dreams, he lost everything, everyone.

Jason woke up to you shaking him again, practically shouting his name to try to get him to open his eyes. He had broken out in a cold sweat, tossing and turning until all the pillows had fallen off the bed and he'd basically stolen the entire blanket from you.

"I'm sorry," were the first words out of his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." He was out of breath, panting as he buried his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry. Please don't leave."

You dragged his hands away from his face, taking his chin in between your fingers and forcing him to look at you. "Jay, talk to me," you pleaded quietly, laying your head on his shoulder as he caught his breath. "Just tell me what you saw."

He exhaled, his fingers curling around the sheets. "You left me," he said, staring down at the bed. "I died again and you di- you moved on. You didn't even visit my grave."

Your heart broke.

"You know I'd never do that," you insisted with conviction. "Never."

If he died, you wouldn't move on. You couldn't. You wouldn't just visit his grave, you'd probably live at it. No piece of your heart wanted to even think about loving someone else. Ever.

Jason swallowed harshly. "I know," he whispered, trying to believe you. "I just...my subconscious doesn't."

You squeezed his shoulder, running your hand back and forth, trying to ease some of the tension in his neck. "Please let me make it better," you begged.

"No," Jason replied without hesitation.

He wouldn't let himself rely on your powers. He loved you. Not for your ability to lull him to sleep, but because you were his partner, the person he wanted to see every morning and every night, who brought a smile to his face and made him feel safe just by existing.

"Jason—"

"I said no!" He exclaimed. "I'm not using you. I'm not going to sleep while you stay up to let me."

You paused, seeing him tense even more. He hadn't meant to snap and you both knew it.

"You're not using me," you stated calmly. "And I can sleep anytime. Please just let me help you rest. Just for a few hours."

You were desperate for him to sleep. He looked exhausted, miserable, even. It hurt you almost as much to see him deny himself what could help as it did for him to constantly refuse your offer.

His jaw set and you could see him thinking it though.

"Please," you repeated in a soft whisper.

He finally caved. Nodding he sighed heavily, laying down. "No more than three or four hours."

That's all he really needed to function, anyway.

You nodded, laying down with him, seamlessly falling into his strong arms, wrapping your arms and legs around him like a koala, clinging to him for your own comfort as much as his.

The tension slowly dissipated from his body as he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping your body tightly as he buried his face in your neck, taking a deep breath and trying not to feel guilty.

A few seconds passed and he suddenly felt his anger, his sadness, his pain, all subsided until all he felt was peace and calm. Not to mention love. A lot of love. To a nearly unfathomable point.

Within seconds he was falling asleep in your arms, humming and mumbling incoherently while nuzzling your neck as you stroke his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails.

Three or four he said. You agreed.

You still stayed up all night, only allowing yourself to fall asleep once the sun rose and he got eight full hours of sleep for the first time since the last time he let you use your powers on him.

He'd be annoyed, you knew and he wanted to complain, tell you not to sacrifice your sleep for his but when he woke up, you were already asleep, still clinging to him. So, he let his arms tighten around you again, laying there, letting you sleep, like you let him.

A relationship was give and take, he knew. He felt terrible for taking too much, so he would give you this. For as long as he could. Even if his arms were numb.

#x reader #headcanon #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd angst #jason todd needs a hug #jason todd x you #jason todd imagines #plethorawrites

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emo-batboy · 1 year ago

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A Wild Battinson (Social Media AU)

Part 45 (Masterlist)

(Part 46)

@bruciemilf it’s been months bestie but it’s tradition

If you follow me on my main, you know I haven’t actually been gone. I’ve just been on a few side quests. I’m also being fought over by two companies rn so that’s fun (and completely stressful, please I’m just a 22yo teenage girl) but we’re BACK for a limited time! Idk I’ve got like at least five parts in my drafts so let’s see what happens.

TOODLES

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dxckgrxsonx · 9 months ago

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Soft sleepy affectionate Jason Todd is good for the soul:

Just standing in the kitchen, half asleep in the early morning, sunlight catching the curve of your mouth on a yawn and a warm, thick pair of arms circling your waist from behind, a forehead pressed into your back.

There’s hardly any sound, the tick of a clock in the background, a soft little exhale into the back of your shirt. Fingers warm and sly sneaking up under your pyjamas in search of skin. Palms splayed over your tummy, a content mumble echoing in the space between sleep and awake; caught in a dream.

Leaning forwards into the counters edge to make a cup of something warm and sweet and being tugged back into place with a tired growl, no real choice other than settling into place and letting Jason hold you close, swaying slightly with how drowsy he is. A quiet, whining grumble of your name when you move again.

Hopping up on the kitchen counter and tugging him in close between your parted knees, his head tucking into the warm space where your shoulder meets your neck. Your fingers sweeping through his tangled hair, down his neck, across his shoulders. Feet locked at the ankle around his hips, not willing to let him pull out of reach.

Sliding back into bed with a warm drink and Jason clinging at your side, legs tangling together when he nudges yours apart with a knee. Playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and listening to him drop back off into sleep, a gentle, quiet slur of “I love you” the last coherent thing you get out of his mouth for the next few hours.

Just…Jason being soft and a little needy and feeling safe enough to trust you to lead whilst he slots into that tired space where you’re only half aware of what’s happening outside your partner being close and warm.

#drunk and emotional and thinking of him always #he loves you okay and wants you close #just two hundred pounds of sarcasm and spite seeking you out because he wants a hug #I need him so so bad #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd #ella writes

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voiddaisy · 11 months ago

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jason todd being a book nerd in canon is so funny to me. like mf is a violent vigilante but chows down some pride & prejudice on his off time. he is such a silly goose (homicidal maniac)

#dcu #dc comics #jason todd #red hood #batman #bat family #jason todd is so silly #he is also psycho #it’s okay he died and came back to life #he has a reason to be psycho #i love jason todd #he needs a hug #maybe not a hug #he needs therapy #imagine him being the grammar police with tim in their dms #tim would be so annoyed #but jason definitely thinks it’s funny

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kenobers · 5 months ago

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tremble & shake | jason todd x sionis!reader

but first free palestine !! Jason doesn't show up for your hook-up. You don't think much of it until he comes barreling through his window in a distressed state. He's desperately in need of your comfort and you don't have a clue why, but you can't stand to see Jason Todd hurting. tw: angst, hurt/comfort, could be read as a panic attack, mental breakdown, slightly dubious attempts to initiate sex, non-sexual intimacy, uhh fear, self deprecating thoughts (i swear, one day i'll write something where neither you nor jason have anything bad to say about yourselves). jason todd needs a hug, reader was previously not very good with emotions. or empathy. fem!reader. a/n: happy batman day! here's jason crying <3 this comes after magic hands & is this love?

Slam.

You jolt awake from your sleep, immediately reaching for a blunt object. Blinking hard, you squint at the door. Jason's door.

That's right, you're in Jason's apartment for one of your regularly scheduled hook-ups. He hadn't shown up, his phone abandoned on his bedside table. You figured he must've had to patrol tonight and forgot to give you a heads up. However, it's been pouring rain all night, so you decided to stay. You must've fallen asleep waiting for him.

"Jason?-"

No sooner does the man's name leave your lips than he practically tackles you on the bed. He's still in his costume, the red bat on his chest heaving heavily. His red mouthpiece hides the bottom half of his face as he looks down at you from behind the white of his domino mask. He's absolutely drenched. Cold clings to him and sends a shiver down your spine.

You furrow your brow. Something's wrong.

"I thought you weren't patrolling tonight," you whisper. He says nothing.

Pursing your lips, you ran your hands along his bare forearms. He's shaking. He'd gone out without his jacket. Jason's tough, almost inhumanely so, but if he'd gone out without his jacket in this rain...he must've been in a hurry.

"Did something happen?" Your eyes search his unbroken skin for injuries. Still, he says nothing and the empty whites of his mask are starting to freak you out.

You push his wet hood back and comb your fingers through his soaked hair until they find the buckle of his mask. You undo it and pull the mask from his face, peeling the domino along with it. His expression underneath is just as blank, like his mind is somewhere else.

Before you can say anything, he's kissing you hard. Almost violently. A shaky hand grips your shoulder with a ferocity Jason hasn't previously had with you, even when you've really gone at it.

"Hey," you say between harsh, wet kisses. "Jason, stop."

As if he doesn't hear you, Jason moves to your neck. The hand on your shoulder drops to your hip.

"Jason."

It starts to paw underneath your satin hem.

"Jay!"

The fear in your voice makes his head snap up. He stares at you with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights. You shake your head, "I don't want this. I don't think you want this."

He moves off of you, staring at his lap.

You sit up slowly, mirroring his position on his knees. Panic chews at your insides as you try to assess him. He needs help, needs comfort, maybe. You have no experience with comfort, no clue what to do. You can't do this, you're not the person he needs, this-

This isn't about you. The man that has been at your every beck and call for the past several months looks like he's fighting for his Goddamn life. You don't hate the possibility of making a fool of yourself as much as you hate the sight of seeing Jason Todd in pain.

Somewhere, in the very back of your mind, there's a vague memory of a hand cupping your cheek, wiping away your tears. You copy it, reaching out to him hesitantly, terrified of making things worse.

Your fingertips brush his cheek with an almost non-existent touch, just heavy enough to wipe away the remnants of rain. He leans into your touch and you take this as permission to hold his face in your trembling hands.

His own hands find your hips again, drawing you between his thighs as his head comes to rest in the crook of your shoulder.

"'just wanna feel you," he mumbles against your skin, making your shoulder vibrate.

"I'm not gonna fuck you like this," you card your other hand through his damp hair. "You're going to wake up and realize it wasn't what you needed."

He says nothing, but clutches you as close as he possibly can. You tense as he presses against you. His armor digs into you uncomfortably, the buckle of his holster poking at your thigh. Water from his soggy clothes seeps through your satin nightgown. The hand on his face begins to cramp at this bent angle.

You've never seen him like this. Neither of you ever really come to one another for comfort, sans the time he brought you pads. Or the other time he calmed you down from a fight with your father. Or came to your rescue when your friends got you greened out on some fucked up weed. Okay, so you come to him for comfort, but he is...much more reclusive about his emotions. Complaining to you, sure. He often pulls to your sessions pissed and fucks you until he felt better. Sometimes he's so hungry for your body that he doesn't speak, except to check in with you. This was neither of these things. But this would mark the first real emotional emergency of whatever this relationship is. This was sad, desperate. Fearful.

"Please," he breathes in a broken voice. You...relax.

Without thinking about it, you hug him. You run your hand between his shoulder blades, supporting the back of his head. You cradle him like he might break. The same way he holds you when he sleeps.

"Nothing's gonna hurt you. I'm not gonna let 'em," the memory in the back of your head says.

"It's okay," you soothe, pressing your lips to his wet curls, feeling them tickle your cheek. "I'm not gonna let anything hurt you. Nothing's gonna touch you here, Jaybird."

There's a slight shake of his head as he clings to fistfuls of your dress. Your stomach clenches at the thought of whatever was bad enough to puncture his mind like this. You pull back just enough to look at him. Only the bottom half of his face was visible. His lips quivered, silently forming "no" over and over again.

You momentarily retracted your hand from his back to rest your palm to his cheek.

"Baby, I don't know where your brain is telling you or what it's telling you is happening, but I swear to you, you're safe with me in your apartment. Nothing is coming for us, I won't let anything happen."

His breath shutters and he buries his face completely into your shoulder. You squeeze your arms around him, rocking the giant man back and forth. He defeatedly sags against you with a single sob. Your heart drops even further at the sound. You shush him gently, resting your chin on his head.

"It's okay, you're okay. You're here with me. I've got you, baby. I've got you."

The next however many minutes go on like this. You cradle him, praying he doesn't shatter in your lap. You coo any sweets words you can think of until the tension in his muscles eases at your touch. His weight grows heavier in your embrace. For a moment, you think he fell asleep.

"Jay?" You call out softly. He lifts his head and rests it against your forehead. His gaze is still lost in space, but at least they look exhausted. That's better than nothing.

His skin burns against icy hot yours. Sweat starts to replace the rain. He needs to sleep, but he needs to properly warm up first.

You frown, "Jay, you should take a shower. You'll catch a cold."

He tightens his grip on you, not eager to let you go. You tuck your hand under his jaw, "I'll come with you."

This is a good enough promise to sway him. He nods, reluctantly pulling away from you. You slip off the bed, then shyly grab his hand. He intertwines his fingers with your own and follows you into the bathroom. It hits you that this is the first time you've held hands. Under better circumstances, it would feel nice.

You eye him up and down, taking in the damage under the bright bathroom fluorescents. His cheeks are flushed and newly decorated with tear streaks, but otherwise, he really doesn't look hurt. Just incredibly lost. Like he's not quite sure where he is. Green irises burn holes in you, golden flecks incinerating your skin, as if he's trying to figure out if you're real. The gaze is so intense, you have to look away for a minute. You conveniently make note of how funny of his scuffed up black boots look compared to your pedicured toes, bare against the checkered tiles.

He needs to get out of his wet clothes.

Sliding your hands under the shoulders of his sleeveless hoodie, you ask, "Can I undress you?"

He blinks. You hold your breath, praying you didn't just trigger something else. Then, wordlessly, he nods. You let out the breath as inconspicuous as you can and make quick work of the damp hoodie. His shirt follows. All scars, bruises and beauty marks look present and accounted for. Nothing new in the inventory.

It's when you tug his gloves off that you finally locate any kind of laceration. Pebble-like imprints litter his palms; he must've been clutching something concrete like a stress ball for hours. He hadn't bothered with his usual red wrist wraps either, another sign he'd left in a hurry.

You don't pry, however. Instead, you kiss his reddened palms. Then, as your father taught you to do, you turn his still trembling hands over in your steady ones and kiss each knuckle gently. Unlike his forehead, his skin here is frozen until warmed by your loving lips.

Something about this interaction seems to ground the man a little more. You kneel to untie a beat-up boot, reminiscing about how your father used to let you take his loafers off for him when you were little. However, you've only managed to undo the other knot when Jason stops you.

"I can get the rest."

You're thrilled to hear him speak and nearly pop a kiss on his lips like it's a gold star before thinking better of it. You leave him to it, redirecting your focus on turning the shower on and picking out two fresh towels.

When at last he's naked, you make to shed your own minimal clothing. However, Jason stops you yet again, with time with an unsure hand on your bicep. He takes a moment to simply examine you once more in the good lighting, this time letting his eyes wander from your face. A hint of adoration crosses his drained features as his gaze combs your body, lingering on the curves and swells highlighted in baby pink.

Jason's index hooks around the thin strap of your slip. His thumb skims along the satin material before caressing your collarbone. It's a classic Jason move, but now it feels more akin to the way a child might grip a blanket.

"...Can I?" It's the shyest you've ever heard him speak. You nod and he brushes either strap off your shoulders, watching as the item pools at your feet. You give him a moment to admire the matching pink thong underneath before it joins the fabric puddle on the floor.

The shower is quiet, save for the dulcet sound of the running faucet. Jason winces when the hot water stings his frigid skin, however you can physically see the tension in his muscles melt away. His shoulders are much more relaxed beneath your washcloth, the rise and fall of his chest is becoming less stagnant. You take turns washing each other, like it's some kind of game. You touch him tenderly, still gauging for any kind of pain. He touches you with an intent that doesn't meet his drained eyes, still just gauging you.

When the silence is broken after who knows how long, it's by Jason.

"I don't deserve you."

His voice cracks like a 15-year-old.

"Don't talk like that," you chastise. He doesn't elaborate as his hand continues to rub body scrub along your back. You turn to him, both of your hands finding his face and holding it in place, the way he loves to do to you. "Don't talk like that."

You don't know what else to say. Neither of you are wordsmiths. You're afraid if you try to keep him talking, he'll just be self-effacing. You don't think you could handle hearing him talk about himself that way, not with him being as stubborn as he is. So you press a soft kiss to his lips. It isn't long, it doesn't invite more, but when you pull away, there's more green in his eyes. He envelopes you into his chest and holds you there. You return the embrace without hesitation, arms sliding around his waist while water taps the tops of your heads. You think you could stay like this forever; wrapped in each other's arms under the sanctuary of warm water, as the sound of his heart beat lulls you somewhere far away from the world outside the fogged up glass.

You do stay like that until the shower runs treacherously cold. Until one of you has to shut the faucet off, until the other is swathing each of you in fluffy wine colored towels. It's just a series of tasks you wordlessly complete so you can earn the reward of collapsing into bed, just dry enough to avoid waking up to a still damp pillow. You're both too tired to be bothered with pajamas. You aren't sure you're so wiped. Maybe you're just desperate to hold your lover again. He seems to feel the same way as he wastes no time reaching for your waist once the comforter is pulled up.

He slides down to kiss your shoulder and appreciate the warm scent of your body scrub. Much to your surprise, his head stays there. Even more to your surprise, you find it's because his eyes have fluttered shut. Jason never beats you to sleep, even at his most tired. But the relaxed weight of his body on your tells you he's winning this round.

You stroke the nape of his neck, grazing your fingernails through the tapered patch of hair. You'd been so focused on everything else that hadn't even noticed he'd gotten the haircut you'd asked him to. The request had been a joke really, something snarky to remark when he'd said something too nice about your appearance. It looked good, even from this angle. He must've just gotten it today. He must've gotten it for you.

Not everything's about you.

You try to push the thought out of your head as you admire the way Jason's cheek is smushed against your chest. If you lingered on it, you'd just started ragging on yourself, making it even more about. Earlier tonight had been the first time may be ever that someone with the last name Sionis had dared to consider something might not be about them. But what, did you want a cookie or something? A key to the city for your basic empathy?

Jason's earth rattling snore yanks you from your tailspin. You giggle quietly, no wonder he waits to fall asleep second. Your fingers resume wandering their course through his hair and a tremor runs down his back. He lets out a satisfied snort, his red lips parting. With a deep breath, he nuzzles into you. His usually hardened face is the softest you've ever seen it. Even the scars seem to fade. It's the complete opposite of the stony picture you woke up to. Despite the circumstances, you wouldn't trade the world for the sight before you.

You smile drowsily, ready to follow his lead and doze off when your phone vibrates rudely on the bed stand. You swear mentally, first at yourself for jerking so suddenly, then at whoever the fuck just had to send you a notification right this very second. A string of potential threats crosses your mind as you clumsily reach for the phone, gritting your teeth at the awkward way you bend your arm. It isn't easy to reach when a 225 pound man is slumbering (thankfully) unperturbed on top of you.

It takes you a few seconds to recall how to read as you glare blearily at the too bright screen. Your eyebrows knit when a message from an unknown number at last comes into view.

'Is he okay?'

You inwardly rescind your threats. It doesn't take a genius detective to deduce the identity of the sender.

'He's okay. He's sleeping now.'

The reply is instant.

'That's good. Moderate case of fear toxin, it should wear off all together by the morning.'

Ah, that will do it. You frown at Jason. A sick feeling creeps in at the thought of how terrified he must've been. That's why he seemed so unsure of you; you weren't the only thing he was seeing. Your poor baby.

When you glance back at your phone, there's another text.

'Are you okay?'

You blink.

'Yes, thank you. We're all fine here.'

There is one more response before you shut off the phone.

'I'll check in in the morning. I'm glad he's with you. Get some sleep.'

You're glad he's with you too. You're glad he came to find you. You're glad he wanted your comfort.

You're glad you would do anything for this stupid boy.

Jason sighs into your now dry skin. For just this moment, he knows nothing but peace. You'll fight off anything else.

Finally, you succumb to your exhaustion, knowing better than to disobey the Bat. The last thought you have is how warm Jason is wrapped safely in your arms before dreams of his shit eating grin take over.

#jason todd needs a hug #and who am i to deny him #i'll write something happy soon i promise #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd angst #jason todd #red hood #sionis!reader #jason todd x sionis!reader #kenobers poetics #also yes you keep body scrub in jason's shower

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sascha-reads · 5 days ago

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He even died his hair to be the perfect Robin for Batman 😭. Just give this poor boy a hug. My heart can't take it any longer

#batman #batman 366 #bruce and jason #bruce wayne #dc robin #robin!jason #jason #jason todd #jason needs a hug

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strayswolf · 7 months ago

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Jason slowly falling into a flashback gave this issue so much life and a greater purpose. They’re once again acknowledging harm Jason suffered at the hands of the Joker, and how he continues to deal with the mental scars left behind, an aspect that isn’t addressed enough in comics and is so appreciated here.

Also, the artistic decision to have Dick’s word bubble, “He’s taken too much from this family. We can’t let him take any more.” inlaid over introspective Jason was perfection.

Batman: Wayne Family Adventures, Season Three, Ep. 119, We’re Not Gonna Take It

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red-jaebyrd · 2 years ago

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Company For The Lonely

Summary: Dick could kick his own ass for not remembering what this particular day did to Jason every year.

Notes: This fic started off as a small ficlet in response to this art prompt "Lonely" by doc-anders.

I figured today was the perfect day to reblog this old fic of mine.

It was late and all Dick wanted to do right now was sleep. It had been a particularly busy week patrolling at night and even busier days at work. Every muscle in his body was screaming for rest and a reprieve. He was headed to his bedroom when he thought he heard a faint knock on his door.

He paused in the hallway to listen for another knock. Faintly, there was a second round of rapping on his door accompanied by shuffling feet. Dick racked his brain trying to figure out who would be showing up at his apartment this late at night. Looking into the peephole Dick was caught off guard at who he saw standing at his door. It was Jason. He quickly opened the door.

“Jase! You’re in the Blud. You didn’t call.”

“Yeah, I was in the neighborhood and figured I’d return your Walkman…” Jason mumbled.

“You’re here at 1am to return the Walkman you stole ten years ago…” Dick joked, but his smile faded as he took in the state of Jason standing in front of him. Jason wasn’t looking at him. There were bags under his eye and they were slowly filling with tears. “Jay, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing…it’s just…” Jason choked out. “…I’m just,”

And before Dick knew it, Jason launched himself at Dick wrapping both arms around him in a hug. “Can I stay here for a while?”

Dick quickly snapped out of his stupor and returned the hug. “You know you can.”

It was the hug from Jay that had startled Dick the most. The sudden embrace and request was more jarring than actually seeing Jason standing outside his apartment at one in the morning. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence to have Jason at his place at this hour, though he usually came through the window, dressed in his uniform, and coming from patrol. Not showing up at his door with a backpack and wearing civvies.

He could feel a measure of tension release from Jason as his grip got tighter. Something had deeply shaken his brother and it was starting to scare Dick. Hugs weren’t something Jason easily gave out to anyone. Jason was more likely to gift him the most expensive pair of Nikes rather than give Dick a hug. Dick knew this first hand.

To say Jay wasn’t big on hugs wasn’t an exaggeration, but he made an exception for Dick. He typically avoided most physical contact but would at rare times seek out Dick for an awkward one armed hug. Dick respected his space, but sometimes it was hard to refrain from putting his arm around his little brother to fulfil his need for physical touch. Jason never shrugged off the arm, though at times Dick could feel a slight tension in his shoulders and took that as his cue to let go.

When Jay had been younger he would seek out hugs from Dick and even Bruce, but once he had come back from The Pit, something in him had changed. The need for touch had vanished and Dick had missed the hugs from his little brother. Still there were times that if Dick asked for a hug, Jason would oblige.

Tonight was different. Jason held on to Dick like a lifeline. Clasping onto him as if he would fall apart if he let go. Something must be horribly wrong for Jason to be so needing of contact and company.

“Jase…Jay talk to me, please?” Dick implored, rubbing soothing circles on Jason’s back.

Jason shook his head. “It’s…its stupid. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s not stupid. Tell me.”

Jason broke the embrace not answering the question. His eyes were wet and red rimmed. “Not right now, but I’ll tell you later.”

Dick nodded his head, “Okay.” He stepped aside gesturing Jason into the apartment.

Dick wasn’t so sure Jason would tell him what was wrong, but he didn’t want to press the issue, or come on too strong. Jason was known for holding all his crap inside until he burst. The casualties of his anger were always the criminals he encountered on patrol. While Jason encouraged his brothers to tell him their shit so they could get it out, Jason never burdened them with his troubles.

“Okay, Little Wing. I’ll get some fresh sheets and you can have the bed.”

“No, Dick I’ll take the couch,” Jason sniffed, using his sleeve to wipe his eyes. “The couch is fine.”

“Decision is made. You’re getting the bed, I’m getting the couch. C’mon.” Dick took Jason’s backpack from his arm and walked to his bedroom.

Once he got Jason settled with fresh sheets on his bed, he grabbed a blanket and his pillow and made his way to the living room. Something kept niggling at the back of his brain. Something he was forgetting kept itching, forcing him to remember. Dick walked over to the peg board in his kitchen and glanced at the calendar. He looked at the date and blanched…April 27th.

Shit!

It was April 27th.

The day everything had changed for Jason.

The day that his brother had been tortured and horrifically taken from him and Bruce.

A day that Jason shouldn’t have to remember, yet he knew Jason remembered every detail of that day in the warehouse. From the impact of every hit of the crowbar to the smell of the Joker’s breath on his face taunting his death.

No wonder Jason showed up at his apartment in his current state. It all made sense now. He didn’t want to be alone, not on this day. Dick could kick his own ass for not remembering what this particular day did to Jason every year. He should have known to look out for the date, but instead he allowed himself to get bogged down with work and cases leaving Jason to fend for himself.

Shit.

Every year around this time he and Jason made plans to get away from the city. They’d take the Range Rover from Bruce’s garage and drive to the country to go camping and just hang out away from the chaos and trauma of that terrible day.

Each year Jason revealed to Dick a new detail about the day he had died. It had been unnerving for Dick to hear at first, but he knew that Jason had needed the opportunity to purge the ugliness from his mind. Allowing that darkness to fester inside his little brother wasn’t an option, not when Dick could be that secure presence and nonjudgmental ear Jason had needed to heal.

Dick never knew what exact words of comfort Jason had wanted to hear during all those times he had divulged a new fact about the warehouse. If he were honest with himself, there were no words to tell Jason to have made him feel better. Instead Dick had done what he felt was the right thing to do. He had kept his mouth shut giving Jason his full attention as he listened to Jason talk without interruption. Dick had desperately tried to school his features but never really succeeded as silent tears were shed with every word from Jason’s mouth. Once Jason had also started crying, story time was over and it was Dick’s turn to pick up the broken pieces with a hug. These camping trips had been the only time Jason’s true vulnerability had shown up.

It had been the first one of these trips that Jason had opened up to him that on this particular day he had hated being alone. Dick had always thought of Jason as a solitary creature and he had been right. However, when it had come to the anniversary of his death, Jason hated being by himself.

He had been alone when the Joker had beaten him up in that warehouse.

He had been alone waiting for Bruce to find him.

He had been alone when the bomb had finally gone off and killed him.

Dick needed to do something now and fast. He patted softly to the bedroom and knocked lightly.

“Jase…I know you’re awake.”

Dick opened the door and sat on the bed.

“I…I know what day it is. I’m sorry I didn’t plan our weekend better. We can still sneak over to the Manor and take the Rover to the mountains. Or we can hang out here, watch movies, and order take out. It’s your choice.”

Jason sat up slowly and turned around to face Dick. He looked so tired and lost, but relieved that Dick had finally figured it out. The sadness in his brother’s eyes was still there and it hurt Dick’s heart. He gently placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder. Jason wrapped his arms around him for another hug.

“I’m so sorry Jay, I screwed up.”

“Not your fault,” Jason said, breaking the embrace. “We’ve all been pretty busy. You look like shit too by the way.”

“Thanks,” Dick laughed.

Jason shifted the blankets off of him and swung his legs off the bed. “I’ll go with you to get the Rover. Maybe we can raid the kitchen while we’re there.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

There was still one more question Dick had to ask Jason.

“Did you happen to bring my Walkman?”

“Dude, I lost that thing like 10 years ago. It’s long gone.”

“Just as well,” Dick shrugged. “I lost your iPod.”

Jason laughed and threw a pillow at him.

#jason todd #dick grayson #death day fic #protective dick grayson #jason needs a hug #good bro dick grayson #batfamily feels #batbros #death day anniversary #hurt/comfort #batman #batfic #my fics #dick and jason being the brothers I want to read

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