#sick alfred

[morganbritton132]

17 year old, CEO Tim Drake canceling a press conference and then putting out a statement like, “Sorry for canceling last min, Alfred said that he was going to run my laptop through the dishwasher if I didn’t clean my room. I think he’d do it :/. Also, wasn’t really in the mood. Cya -Tim.”

[snaileer]

I’m a Size Medium, Thanks.

Danny is irritated. No actually he is beyond irritated. He is annoyed, he is frustrated, he is…. He’s really fricking irritated and can’t be bothered to remember any more of Jazz’s SAT words.

He continues his glare out the window as he searches for his straw with his mouth.

He just- where is it- thinks it’s a stupid fricking-stupid ass milkshake-he shouldn’t have to basically-gah! Danny snaps his head down to find his suddenly missing straw, only to successfully poke it directly into his eye.

“Ow! Fricken-“ He groans, throwing his head back, and putting his hands to his face, “Mother-tucker, Holy Taming of A Shrew!” He pounds his free hand not cradling his eye on the table, trying not to make more of a scene. Of course, this utterly fails because it immediately tips over his milkshake glass with a clatter as it spills onto his pants, making him jump up with enough force to knock the table over and drop the milkshake glass the rest of the way to the floor.

Danny stares at it with blurry vision and a watery eye. He sighs, “At least-“

The glass shatters.

Danny sighs again, deeper. “Of course.”

He looks up at the restaurant around him. Noticing the many, many people staring at him.

Wonderful.

Danny grimaces, “Sorry, I so didn’t mean for that to happen, uh-“ Danny reaches to straighten the table, fumbling for a second before it stands upright, he steps away from it, “If there’s any way I can help or.. like fix it. I can pay for the cup..” a server comes over to him, “if you want..?”

The server’s dead eyes don’t waver as they silently place a wet floor sign over the spilled milkshake.

“Thanks.”

“Uh huh.”

The server walks away, leaving Danny to sigh all on his own. He leans over to grab his backpack from the booth, checking it over for milkshake before slinging it on his back, thankfully clean.

He makes it one step forward before he feels the floor go out from under him. Ah gravity. His greatest enemy. This is karma for all those times he’s ignored it, isn’t it?

The wind is knocked out of him when his back slams to the floor, cushioned by the dulcet sounds of his bag crunching against broken glass.

He looks up at the wet floor sign.

The man on the yellow plastic mocks him.

Danny sighs.

He curses his stupid luck.

He curses this stupid city.

Then he curses himself because he knows any of this stupid city’s curses end up affecting him anyways.

Danny gets to his feet, ignoring the feeling of milkshake on his hands and his… everywhere.

He trudges out of the diner without looking back. At least he’d already paid for it.

He grimaces at the milkshake handprint on the door, trying to wipe it away with his shirt and only succeeding in making it worse.

Danny catches the eyes of the server inside, staring at him, eyes progressively more annoyed.

Danny puts his hands up in surrender and backs away.

Directly into a person. Only his milkshake covered self prevents him from being hit with anything more than the man’s scathing glare.

He puts his hands back up and moves away to dodge everybody else on the sidewalk. Along with the occasional ghost. Visible only to him of course.

By the time he has managed to escape the sidewalks into an alley, he is certain there is a trail of slightly sticky businessmen behind him.

Danny crouches to swing his backpack down in front of him and take stock. Okay, he could put his sweatshirt on over it… but it would also get ruined… damn it.

Danny looks around, checking every inch of the alley for cameras and then backing himself into a corner just to be safe. The flicker of intangibility is barely noticeable except for the wet squelch of milkshake remnants dropping to the alley floor. Lovely.

And of course, the flash of every single Gotham ghost in the area becoming visible and almost tangible for a split second. Also… lovely. There’s a couple startled shouts on the street.

Maybe an alleyway was not the best place for that.

Danny slides his sweatshirt on over his shirt to at least pretend like he was covering a mess and then shimmies out of the alley while trying to make as little contact with ghosts as possible.

He’s almost completely certain he looks crazy as all get out if the stare he gets from a passerby means anything.

Of course… now he’s left glaring across the street again.

He can feel the Infini-Map burning a hole in his backpack. It said this was the next place a natural portal would open and get him back home.

It just didn’t say… when that portal would open.

But of course, it’ll be right in the middle of somebody’s store. Usually not an issue. Except again, this stupid city’s curses are attracted to his energy, so of course the store couldn’t be literally ANYTHING ELSE!

Danny glares at the stupid fricking sign and the stupid predictable pun and the stupid neon hand in the front window waving at him.

‘The Claire Witch Project: psychic, medium, and Claire-voyant’

Danny is on day three of simultaneously avoiding the entire building while remaining close enough he can be there when the portal forms.

He is dirty, tired, and running out of money. In short, Danny is starting to lose hope on this endeavor.

The worst part?

He has the perfect solution.

There’s a pathetic little piece of printer paper taped to the inside of the window.

‘Help wanted’

When he’d first gotten here, Danny had followed the infini-map all the way to this horrific city, seen the sign, and turned a quick 180. He’d rather die again thanks.

He’d smacked into two billboards just coming into the city, and there was literally no stars, why would he want to stay here till the portal opened when he could just find another?

Except.. Danny’s eye twitches dangerously as he thinks back on it- except there wasn’t another portal. This was it. For the foreseeable future, he either caught this portal or was stranded for whoever knows how much longer.

Danny sighs again and dreads his continued existence. He looks both ways on the street, takes a step forward, nearly gets run over, steps back, and turns for the nearest crosswalk.

Fine. He could follow rules if it meant increasing his chances of leaving.

He tries to hold in the sigh this time, he really does, he swears.

Not the one before he opens the shop door though, that sigh deserved freedom from his trials. It joins the myriad of whispy translucent shades lingering in the store. Because of course there was just enough spiritual energy in here for them to be visible to him.

“Hey there!” A girl in loose fitting colorful clothing appears from behind a corner, “I’m Claire! How can I help your life journey today?” He can see the way her bulky crystal hair accessories sway with her movements. What was he getting into here again?

Danny tries to ignore the incense shoving itself up his nose as he speaks, “Hey, I was…” He was really doing this huh? “Hoping that the help wanted position is still available?”

The girl looks him over as she moves to the back of the checkout counter. The clear observation makes him nervous, and he takes his hands out of his pockets to try and look marginally more… candidate-able.

“You have experience?”

“Sure d-“ He wants to throw up in his own mouth, ancients this is so cringe, just let him die, “Sure do!” He says through choked back vomit and false cheer, “I’m a…” -barf- “I’m a medium.”

“Oh don’t worry about that, you don’t need a uniform, I don’t need your size silly!”

Danny blinks. What? Also. What?

“Wait-I’m hired?”

Claire pauses from getting something from under the counter, “Didn’t I already say that?”

“Uh…” Danny’s eyes dart around the shop, “No?”

“Oh well, you are, you have the right vibes, don’t worry,” she slides a few papers onto the glass counter, and Danny is abruptly, horrifically reminded he has no legal documents to speak of here. He thinks. He hasn’t actually checked.

Crap.

“Of course, most of my clients pay in cash, so I’ll pay you in cash too just to make it easier, and any crystal sales I’ll just add to it. Sound good?”

“Sure?” Oh no, is this gonna be Danny’s first real job? “But I don’t know anything about crystals. I have a goth friend but she’s not into that stuff.”

Claire waves his comment away, “Oh no worries, I can leave a packet.”

Danny nods, “Thank- wait, sorry. Leave?”

Claire laughs, pulling out a bag from behind her counter, “Yes I leave for a trip in two days. Family things you know,”

Danny feels like his brain is being scrambled, “Oh, what, what happened? Is everything okay?”

Claire looks at him, blinking wide, “What? Why would anything have happened?”

“Because… you said, you were leaving for-“

“Just don’t want to get caught in a bad position, you know how it is.”

Some of the shades stir in the air, their misty movements twitching with agitation enough to draw his eye for a second.

“Right. Well I’m glad I came when I did then,” Danny says, because he still doesn’t want to be rude.

Claire smiles at him.

Danny pats his hands against his sides awkwardly, trying not to look up at the movement of the shades intertwined with incense smoke at the ceiling.

There’s a little jingle behind him, which he belatedly realizes is the door when Claire moves to greet them before he can even turn around.

“Ms. Jives! Wonderful to see you! How’s the goldfish?”

Ms. Jives turns out to be a slightly older woman, maybe early seventies with a cane but she looks good. The coffee brown hair is almost certainly a dye job but it frames her wrinkled face well.

“Oh Jim is lovely dear, much better this way, I bought him a new plant just the other day, he just loves it.”

“Good, here for your reading right?”

“I am! But you can finish up with your customer first if you need,” Ms. Jives says. Claire waves her concern away.

“No need, this is Danny, I just hired him, he has a similar mystical connection.”

“Oh that’s lovely,” Ms. Jives says as she passes by him, “Would you like to come with dear? Claire is going to do a reading for me.”

Danny grimaces, “Sure.”

In the end, by the time Ms. Jives makes it slowly to the back room, Danny is trying to think of where he’s gonna sleep tonight. He mostly zones out when Claire dims the lights and starts talking nonsense.

All he heard was “something something card, something something magician something reversed something something balance something something chihuahua.”

Ok, maybe he wasn’t listening. But he was trying to focus on not staring at the movement of the shades, and the incense was mega strong and Claire had some weird ass music playing. He’s almost certain she’s faking everything. Down to the atrociously bright bead earrings.

Danny sags when she finishes, all too happy to leave the weird little curtain covered room.

He stands in the front awkwardly while Ms. Jives pays, twiddling with the various crystals and trying to figure which ones are actually y’know.. mystical or whatever.

Answer? Surprisingly most of them. That he could tell, at least, but it’s not like he actually knows how to sense that out on purpose. He’s pretty sure a couple of the heart shaped rose quartzes are complete duds but what does he care.

He’s thoroughly bored by the time Claire calls him back over. Apparently to tell him that he’ll do a reading tomorrow.

“Tomorrow?!” Danny blurts, “Don’t you want to like- I don’t know, make sure I can- or like.. I don’t know, but tomorrow?”

Claire just smiles at him, “I believe you can handle it, trust me.”

‘Trust you? Lady, I just met you and you’ve been nothing but crazy the whole time!’ Danny wants to say, instead, he keeps his mouth shut and nods with what he’s sure is fear in his eyes.

Then she’s pressing something into his hands and when he looks down it’s a key. A key. There’s no way-

“So be here 9am sharp, Danny! You can open up and I’ll come in later!” Claire starts pushing him towards the door, “And Mr. Wayne should be waiting for you when you get here!”

Danny turns around to catch himself in the doorframe, “Mr who will be what now!? Wait, Ms. Claire, Ma’am- why-!” He stops to lower his volume and ask politely, “Why am I doing this? You don’t even know me,” Danny says, one leg still in the store.

Claire smiles, “Because the universe told me to silly! See you tomorrow! Here’s my number!” Then she slaps a sticky note to his chest with enough finality that Danny takes a step back. The door closes with a click and ring of the bell inside.

Danny stares at the door with his eye twitching for at least a minute.

What the hell did ‘the universe told me to’ even mean, you kook!?

Danny sighs and looks down at the sticky note, quickly inputting the number in his phone before something happens to it.

He’s barely hit save when he finally steps away from the shop front and…. is immediately drenched to the bone.

Because apparently it’d been pouring rain and he simply hadn’t noticed from under the awning.

He watches as blue ink slides off the sticky note in little sad face streaks.

Danny sighs.

[ky-landfill]

[welcometogrouchland]

♫ I do what I want/Crying in the bleachers and I said it was fun/I don't need anything from anyone ♫

(ID in Alt) you guys ever think about your own posts and get upset?? Anyway Damian Wayne I love you I'm so sorry your life is like that

[nosyrobin]

Imagine! al ghul-Wayne Twins

(Sick!reader)

You had to come home sick, dismissed early from a class you didn’t have with Damian. Leaving Damian confused back at Gotham academy, confused on where his other half is at. He’s looking at the clock, every knock on the door makes him perk his head up quick. Determined to see if it’s you, but it’s not. He growls under his breath until a teacher had told him that you are certainly home sick.

That’s when hell broke loose, to him of course. The 10 year old Al ghul-Wayne should’ve known you weren’t feeling well! He’s one of the children’s of the world’s greatest detective. He’s beating himself up mentally, he’s imagining you on a death bed. Coughing, whining, and crying in pain.

Meanwhile, Alfred is taking good care of you. Making you chicken noodle soup. Having you take over the counter medicine. You are enjoying just staying home and lying down. You soon go to a different room other than the room you share with Damian. Alfred suggested you separate from the shared room so you don’t get Damian sick as well.

Damian comes in with a worried expression other than a usual stoic one. “Pennyworth! I demand my sibling to have the best herbal tea as I go to them!” He says as he rushes up the stairs, going to the “shared” room you two have. Imagine the expression he had, seeing you not there. He turns around, about to scream where you are. His heart racing, but Alfred puts a hand on the young boy’s shoulder.

Putting a finger to his lip, and accompanying that by pointing to a room. Damian immediately understood, ready to rush in there. But Alfred quickly puts a doctor mask over the boy’s face. Damian huffs, his eyes narrowed. He swats the butler’s hands away and immediately goes to the room you are in. As he enters in, his eyes soften seeing you sleeping peacefully. Though your snores are a little raggedy from the stuffed up nose. He pulled a chair over and sat down on it.

Watching you, making sure you are perfectly fine.

[delzeetoons]

happy pride month to the gayest old men alive. love wins 💥💥

[moider-time]

Y'know what I want? I want sick Bruce Wayne.

I want a Bruce that babies his kids when they're sick. He goes all out. 6'4 muscle-bound Jason Todd is getting tucked into bed with a kiss on the forehead to check his temperature and whines if Bruce forgets.

As good as his memory is, Bruce can't exactly remember what Thomas and Martha used to do when he was sick. They had a routine but the intricacies of it constantly escape him. As little as that may be, it does pang every now and again that he's forgetting them, forgetting how they loved him. He doesn't want that for any of his kids.

So he babies them, treats them like the little kids he knows they aren't and rarely if ever got to be. He deals with any vomit, tears or just general irritation that comes with being sick. It gets to point where when the kids are sick and Bruce isn't home, they can barely function.

Dick: THIS IS IT- THIS IS THE END

Wally: dude you just have a cold?

Dick: JUST A- JUST A COLD?!? WALLY, ARE YOU INSANE?? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO MANAGE WITHOUT MY HOT CHOCOLATE AND HOME MADE BUNNY MARSHMALLOWS??!?

Wally: ok one, bunny marshmallows? adorable. and two, i've seen you walk off a fractured collarbone, two bruised ribs and a twisted ankle???

Dick: ....yeah but the marshmallows

Wally:

But Bruce? Oh when Bruce is sick, he powers through. But when he's so sick he considers himself a liability, he curls up in a small, dark room like a pregnant cat. It's practically instinct for him – when he's compromised like that, he needs to be in a place that he's knows is safe.

Very Sick Bruce also goes into Mama Bear Mode. He wants his kids in his sight at all times or he's practically inconsolable. If they're not with him, then they might be in danger, anything could happen – how can he protect them if they're not there? Just anxiety out of the wazoo.

I can see him trying to drag his 7 kids into one room so he can keep an eye on his babies.

Damian: baba we cannot all possibly fit-

Cass: -we will

Damian:

Damian: who's going first?

The kids do make things more comfortable. Fluffing his pillows, getting him tea and making sure he has his stuffies. Bruce appreciates it but he just says that all he needs are his kids. That always has them sobbing.

(happy holidays to my cold twin @bruciemilf i was inspired by our mutual sickness lol)

[pinkflipphonez]

kill ivan vol. 2 electric boogaloo

and an extra scene redraw:

[mikeluciraphgabe]

Batfam sick days

Dick had gotten the Spanish flu at like 12 and almost died. It was definitely an experience that no one involved wants to think about ever again. 0/10, no stars, would not recommend

Jason had the bubonic plague at 13ish - gave it to Dick - and both had genuinely almost died. Like the doctors had to pull Bruce aside and was like ‘maybe we should…” and everything before Bruce growled and willed them to be better

Tim once got sick and with a sickness that never existed before he got it - no one knows HOW he got it (not even himself) and spread it out to the rest of the kids on purpose by accident

(Like irl, if one kid is sick, ALL kids are sick. “If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me, you hippo fucker.”)

Cass doesn’t get sick for other than a rare runny nose/cough if you count allergies - though, she did have chickenpox once. She had to have the sitcom ‘oven mitt’ jail

Steph gets sick once a year, same month, same week, same day, all the way done to the second, like clock work. She WILL be dramatic as fuck about it even though it’s just a common cold

Damian gets sick every now and then because he wasn’t around the amount of people with the league than he is now with elementary/middle so he has new germs etc

Duke gets sick rarely and when he does, it’s BAD. Like hospitals and shit bad. Only because his temp gets to the 100s, not because he’s dramatic enough to have one of the PLAGUES (side eyes Dick and Jason)

Bruce gets sick on purpose. He needs to make sure his immune system is constantly up to date. He even has it marked on a calendar a month in advance “sorry - will be sick”

Alfred doesn’t get sick. He’s not human. His a weird ancient god that soul bonded with Martha and Thomas and now watches over the bats because they are an extension of his bonds

+

Martha doesn’t get sick - but only because she says no to the virus and walks away

Thomas will basically kneel over randomly and become sick because Martha said no

[zours025]

I've been neglecting tumblr sorrgy!!! Drawings from past few weeks

[royaltea000]

Al the kinda guy to nut in his pants after a threat

[skylersprompts]

DC x DP Prompt *34*

Last night's patrol had been rough. Killer Croc got the jump on Tim, who won, but not without injuries. His son had a twisted ankle, bruised ribs and a wound on his back that needed stitches.

All of this meant that Bruce needed to find an excuse for Danny, who would be very confused why his brother was so hurt, when he was supposed to be sleeping at night.

Bruce stood up and made his way to Tim's room to make sure that the boy was still sleeping. To Bruce's surprise he not only found Tim, but also Danny in the bed. Both boys were deeply asleep. Danny's hand clasped Tim's wrist, his fingertips rested on the pulse point of his brother.

Unsure what that exactly meant, Bruce left. He would need to watch the development of this closely, to find out what was going on. If something was going on.

.

.

.

Dick got doused in fear gas. Danny sneaked into his room at night. His fingers are against the pulse of his oldest brother. Bruce closed the door, a light smile on his lips.

.

Stephanie got hurt in a fight against Freeze and stayed at the manor. Danny sat slumped on the floor of her room. His fingers securely against her wrist.

.

Damian got into a fight with Ivy and was still recovering from her pollen. Dick was sleeping and cuddling with his youngest brother. But someone else had cuddled close to the youngest bird. Danny was holding Damian's wrist close to his own chest.

.

Bruce was laying in bed with a broken arm after a run in with Bane. He wasn't surprised to hear his door open, or the smaller body that was crawling under his blanket. Danny's cold finger pressed against his wrist, until they found his pulse. The boy relaxed with a shuddering exhale. He pretended a little longer to be asleep, but before he could do anything else sleep pulled him under.

.

Duke ran into the Riddler. While he did solve the puzzle, he couldn't escape uninjured. He cracked a few ribs and wasn't able to hide his limp. When Duke was going to bed, Danny followed him to his room and slept beside the daytime vigilante.

.

Cass had a tough fight tonight. The court of owls was active again and while she was a skilled fighter, even she wasn't able to stay uninjured with too many enemies at once. She had a black eye and her wrist had a sprain. When Danny tried to sneak into her room, she looked at him and held her uninjured wrist in his direction. They both snuggled into her bed.

.

Alfred had an accident, while doing housework. He fell a few steps down the stairs with a laundry basket in hand. Luckily he only twisted his ankle. But when the old man woke up in the early hours of the morning, he found a black haired boy sleeping in a sitting position beside his bed. His fingers tightly around his wrist.

.

Jason had been shot. And while he tries to argue about being able to drive himself to his safe house, Alfred's disapproving gaze was enough to let him falter. But he stayed in the med Bay. When Bruce came to check on his second eldest, he found a smaller blackhead wrapped around him, his fingers pressed to the pulse point on his neck.

[bruciemilf]

do u think anyone in the batfam smokes/vapes? LOL honestly i say let them have a lil treat every now and then… they deserve it

Battinson tried smoking exactly once to have something in common with Jim and couldn’t stop wheezing for two hours

[brucie-baby]

something i find interesting about bruce and alfred is that when they do solidly label their relationship, it's always in regards to what the other is to them, not what they are to the other.

alfred will refer to bruce as his son but not himself as bruce's father. bruce will refer to alfred as his father but not himself as alfred's son.

i think this is where their complicated father-son/employee-employer relationship really shows. there's this line between family and colleagues that they've crossed a million times but as long as they pretend not to see the line, then the line hasn't been crossed. they don't have to consider the effect they have on each other. they don't have to face the possible rejection of the other viewing it differently. they don't have to talk about it.

considering the circumstances of bruce's biological father and alfred's biological child, i think it makes sense that they hold on so tightly to leaving it unacknowledged. the issue arises when you consider that not talking about it means never actually drawing the line. neither of them knows when to hold back and when to step forward. it's like they're constantly in this limbo state between shaking hands with your boss and holding your father's hand. the line is blurred. the line is blindingly bright. the line doesn't exist. the line is a circle drawn around them, keeping them together and the rest of the world out. they make me feel so unwell.

[violent138]

Thinking about how bittersweet it must've been for Alfred to watch Bruce age. On the one hand, he's relieved and happy his kid got to build a family and survive despite everything. And on the other, he gets an insight into what Thomas would've looked like, see the Manor return to the kind of warmth and noise it once had.

[superbat-lmao]

Jason Todd Fic (De-aged?)

(INCOMPLETE/UNFINISHED)

Of all the kinds of magic, Jason Todd hates death magic the most.

So when the call comes through about Grave Affair, he tells Oracle where she can shove it.

“Hood, if there was anyone else available I’d have called them. Believe me, you’re beyond my last choice for this.”

And he’s standing on a rooftop, firing rubber bullets at a guy wielding a magic scythe. He’s ranting about final words, last confessions, things Jason never had.

He’s trying not to think of dirt and starched sleeves and silk linings.

When he’s finally close enough, Jason disarms the guy, but not without the blade touching him.

There’s a thud behind him but he’s already got the wannabe reaper in cuffs by the time he turns around.

And is met with his 15 year old self, wearing an outfit he knows. An outfit that never made it back to his closet.

The boy’s in shock, momentarily disoriented and Jason’s lucky the kid isn’t running, but Oracle is in his ear, awaiting confirmation of something Jason doesn’t think he can say out loud.

He takes off the helmet, holsters his guns, and crouches as low as he can. The kid is squinting at him but he isn’t running.

“You’ve been displaced in time.” He jerks a thumb at the knock off grave digger behind him. “The scythe cut me and brought you here. I’m you, but older.”

The kid squints harder, if that’s possible. Jason uses a couple of the old bat-signs, and doesn’t remove his domino.

“Prove it.”

God, every time he’d tried to seem intimidating, that’s how he’d sounded?

Jason tilts his head and thinks a moment. His old scars are gone, it can’t be anything Jason would willingly volunteer, but even now he doesn’t want to say those things out loud.

“We never told Bruce about Catherine’s last dealer.” The kid stopped squinting. “Or, or about. Well, we never told anyone about Tommy.” The kid flinched. It was a name neither of them had spoken since he died.

“Are we going back to the manor?” Jason shrugged at him. He didn’t want to, but this wasn’t about what he wanted anymore. He wanted to take the kid back to his safe house and burn those clothes. He wanted to cut out his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at him. He wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Depends. Let me call in the calvary to come pick this guy up and you can decide. It’s the manor, or my safe house.”

He put the helmet on to be met with silence, either Babs was finally at a loss for words or had muted his channel. He sent his location and the pick-up signal. There was no confirmation and Jason decided he had hit his limit on dealing with bats before physically disconnecting himself from the comms network.

“If I pick the manor, how upset will they be?”

And wasn’t that just a crowbar to the gut?

“Not in the way you’re thinking, but a lot. I’ll be honest, it’s going to be worse than when [insert]. I know what you think they’re upset about and for them, it was years ago. But you going back will be like a bomb going off for them. I’ll take you, but you’ve gotta know it’ll probably overwhelm you.”

“And the safe house?”

“I’ll take the couch. And make you wear a different set of clothes because just looking at you hurts. But um, you can ask questions or don’t. Eat, read, ignore me. It’ll be a breather until the manor, or until the spell ends and you go back.”

“Go back?”

Jason wanted to throw up.

“To Ethiopia.”

——

True to his word, Jason burned those clothes the second they were in his safe house.

The kid, because he wasn’t willing to think of him as himself, had locked himself in Jason’s bedroom with a couple paperback copies of things he said he hadn’t read yet. Jason was making a sort of pasta bake in the oven and cleaning his guns on the coffee table.

His gear, except for the helmet, was stashed away properly, but he hadn’t turned the comms back on. He was sure that Oracle had been alerting all of the bats to the presence of his 15 year old self and watching live feeds of the interrogation to see what spell was cast, or how the scythe worked, but Jason was trying to avoid thinking about it.

Because if it was him, if he was 15 instead of 23 and in an apartment with an adult man claiming to be himself but built like Bruce, he’d fucking lock himself in and refuse to come out. Sure, he wouldn’t want to see the bats, all the people he remembers letting down by running away and at the peak of their fighting where Jason had believed none of them actually cared about him, but that doesn’t mean he’d really want to be alone with the veritable stranger of himself either.

He has his phone shut off, his comms are physically disabled, and this particular safe house is one he hasn’t had the chance to use yet since it’s a sort of last resort. It’s kept in a spot with few to no cameras and hasn’t been around long. Jason makes a point of keeping one safe house as a last resort, so that if he really does fuck up beyond what the bats can tolerate, there will be one place they can’t immediately find him.

He’ll have to burn this one soon, but it gives them a couple hours, if not about two days.

He’s trying not to remember the fight, the hasty decision to leave, being told there wasn’t enough room in the helicopter. God, he doesn’t even know at what point the kid was taken from, but Ethiopia hadn’t surprised him. He must not have made it into the warehouse yet.

When the oven goes off, Jason is trying hard not to picture cigarette smoke and eyes in the dark.

He makes two plates, sets one on the counter and the other on the coffee table, and goes to knock on the door to the bedroom.

When the younger Jason emerges, he looks wary, but not frightened. There’s also a calculating look in his eye that Jason knows others assume he got from Bruce, but was present while he was on the streets.

“Do you mind if I eat out here?”

“Knock yourself out.”

They’re almost finished eating when the boy finally speaks up.

“I’ve got questions for you.”

“Sure, but I have one for you too. Only one, so you pick what you wanna do first. Ask or answer.”

“Ask.”

“Go ahead.”

“The guy that brought me here, what does the magic entail?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure. He was doing his little speech while we were fighting, something about meeting yourself and seeking absolution I think. It sounded like a chance to ask yourself questions or have a conversation with a different version of yourself but I don’t exactly know why. I also don’t know how long it lasts. I got the call about him pretty late and walked in without a full picture. One of the other bats is probably looking more into it right now and we’ll get an update at some point.”

“Other bats?”

Jason doesn’t envy Talia for having to explain to him Bruce’s knack for acquiring orphans.

“Remember when Bruce first took us in and we couldn’t understand what he wanted from us? Well, it’s morphed into a bit of a habit of picking up orphans. It isn’t just Dick, Alfred and us anymore. There’s a couple others and all the explanations are kinda long, so I’ll wait till the end to really get into that if it’s alright. In terms of how many are important for you to keep track of and you might come across at the manor, at least six, excluding the three you know.”

“Why aren’t you living at the manor? Why do you have a safe house?”

“A couple years from how old you are now, Bruce and I have a fight. We’re still kind of working on it, but it’s easier for me to have my own place than have to deal with all the riff raff. The manor isn’t as quiet as it used to be, and it’s too many variables.”

God, he’s really trying to be vague here instead of having to tell the kid he’s right and his Dad doesn’t love him. That his Dad doesn’t save him and that he’ll try to kill him. Jason doesn’t know if he can look his younger self in the eye and tell him everything he’s done. But he remembers being overwhelmed by too many people, too many emotions to try and navigate in conversations. It’s still something he struggles with, not that he’s told anyone about it.

“What was the fight about?”

“Since we don’t know how much of this you’ll remember when you get sent back, I don’t really want to get into specifics, in case we create some sort of paradox. Once we know for sure I’ll give you more details but basically, appropriate levels of consequence alongside a heavy dose of blame for shit Bruce fucked up.”

“What about Dick and Alfred?”

“What about them?”

“What do they think? Do they agree with you or Bruce?”

“They’re a little more complicated. Alfred loves us, has made sure we know it, but abstains from voicing his true opinions on it. I think he disagrees with us, but doesn’t want to push. Dick is vocal about disagreeing with us, but doesn’t think Bruce is completely in the clear either. He’s harder to predict in conversation and his goals are less obvious than Alfred’s.”

“What’s your question for me?”

“What’s the last thing you remember before coming here?”

“Bruce getting in a helicopter and telling me to stay put.”

“Alright.”

“That’s it?”

“All the useful information will come from this time, not yours. I just wanted to make sure I knew what part of the day you’d already been through.”

His younger self appears to think this over.

It’s almost a relief talking to him. Jason’s goals have always been pretty straight forward. Stay fed, stay warm, protect himself against adults, and stay alert. There are no mind games, or unspoken rules, or demands, or debts for his actions. As an adult, there is nothing he would want from a kid and as a kid, he’s found probably the only adult he’ll believe doesn’t want anything from him.

“Can you tell me about the other bats?”

“Sure, but I’m starting on dishes and you’re filling tupperware while I’m talking.”

So Jason explains Tim and Damian and Cass and Steph and Duke and Babs. He’s careful to avoid his own history and how he met them, only really stating how they each got taken in. How they met Bruce. His younger self doesn’t seem to mind the vague information, it’s been a long day and Jason doesn’t have much to hide from him except the obvious, his death and resurrection. So by the time the kitchen is clean, there’s little left to say except a brief rundown of what’s stocked where, what parts of the apartment have traps set, and what weapons are allowed to be kept in the bedroom.

He tells the kid he’ll be doing a short patrol tonight. They have a code for “all clear” that predates the bats, so they’ll stick to it. And he gives the kid a burner in case his training isn’t enough. He shows him how to contact himself, and if it’s really bad, the emergency beacon.

Nightwing is the one who finds him, but he isn’t stupid enough to recognize the others are likely on hand but just out of reach so that when he runs, they minimize his head start.

“Oracle says you shut off your phone, comms, tracker, and is locating your safe house as we speak.”

“And you’re telling me because?”

“Because we need to bring him to the cave. Because he won’t cooperate with any of us. Because we don’t want either of you to be alone and you damn well scared the hell out of all of us by disappearing like that.”

“You guys figure out the scythe and how long before he’s sent back?”

“Lantern figured it out. About 7 more days, from what we can tell.”

“How long until B’s planet side again?”

“About 3 days.”

There’s math somewhere in that sentence that Jason can’t calculate. A problem he doesn’t have the answer for. He refuses to acknowledge what’s about to happen, because if he does, he’ll step off the roof without his grapple.

“Tell the calvary to stop hiding and meet us here. I need everyone to agree to ground rules.”

Cass is the most proficient at B’s trick of appearing from the shadows, but the rest of the bats are a fair hand at it too. And suddenly, everyone who had been out of town slightly over a day ago, was congregated on a single roof. If Jason couldn’t solve the problem of seven days and Bruce Wayne, he’s not sure he really has a chance with so many more variables thrown in. Especially with the least predictable ones.

“We will meet you all at the cave tomorrow, in the morning. You are not crowding my safe house.”

There is some shuffling, but no objections.

“I have told him all of your names. He does not know more than how each of you loosely came to meet B. He does not know my vigilante name, the new kids vigilante names, except Oracle, or how I met any of you. Or when.”

The shuffling has stopped. It’s just the dark, silence, Jason, and everyone he’s spent what amounts to his current life avoiding.

“He is 15 and for him, Batman just got on a helicopter in Ethiopia.”

If there’s silence now, Jason can’t hear it over the rushing in his ears.

“For as long as he is in this timeline, I will remain close enough to get him out of any situation you put him in.”

He’s focusing on a spot in the middle distance. Jason is afraid he might black out.

“He will know that we are lying to him soon, although I can’t guess how quick he’ll catch on. When he asks about it, about our - death.”

It takes almost a full minute for Jason to keep speaking.

“You will direct him to me.”

Jason sweeps his unfocused eyes over a mismatched group of vigilantes in the dark. They are rigid and unflinching. Jason wants more than anything in the world to be somewhere, anywhere else.

“You will not leave him and B alone in the same room together.”

This time, his eyes are focused and he meets each of their gazes.

He looks to Cass last, and at her nod, Jason steps off the roof and swings away.

——

Jason gives himself ground rules the next morning.

“You can ask questions. You might not always get an answer.”

“If someone will not give you an answer, come find me.”

“If you want out, of anything, you press the button I gave you.”

“I will remain in the same building as you at all times. If you need space from me, say so. If you want me in the next room, signal. I will stay as close or as far as you prefer.”

“There are things that the others will know that you have not shared. I cannot undo that, and I am sorry. However, both things that I told you as proof of myself are, to my knowledge, things they remain unaware of.”

“I will respect whatever decision you make in what you choose to share with them.”

“I will not, under any circumstances, allow you and B to be alone in the same room.”

The final rule gets him a raised eyebrow, one that he stares unflinchingly at.

“Why not?”

“I do not trust his emotional regulation when it comes to you. He is still safe, still Bruce or Batman or B. But he has made far too many mistakes for me to allow him to make decisions regarding you. I believe him to be, emotionally compromised.”

There is still skepticism in his own face. The face of a child that will never become an adult. Not the way he should have.

“And you won’t tell me why?”

“Not until we know for sure about eh paradox thing. And we both know there are some things neither of us are ever gonna want to talk about - for me, this is one of them. So, for now, no.”

The kid seems to accept this and they pack a small bag of Jason’s gear and books. They’re on his motorcycle in less than half an hour and are pulling up to the cave entrance in less than two hours.

There is no welcome party. Just the cave, and Alfred.

There is no glass case.

When Jason cuts the engine on the bike, he feels pins and needles down his spine.

He takes his gear out of his bag and moves towards the lockers to store it. He can’t watch this. Can’t watch his younger self approach Alfred. He tries not to hear what they say to each other. He fails.

Jason doesn’t have to imagine what he would have said to Alfred when he was 15, if he had gotten home. The conversation is eerily similar to his own nightmares.

“Hey Alfie.”

“Master Jason, it has been a long time since I have seen you, although I suspect the reverse is not quite true for you.”

He hears a huffed laugh behind him and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry I ran away.”

Jason knows he must have steeled himself to the words, to say them now or risk not saying them at all.

“Master Ja-“

“And I know that I shouldn’t have done it. And that he, I said that it’s been years since you’ve probably thought about it, since I ran away, so maybe you’ve already gotten the apology but for me it was yesterday. And I don’t know how I’m going to go home and tell you that I’m sorry, and I know I will never get to skip chores for the rest of my life but Alfie I just need to know that you don’t hate me too.”

Jason remembers being 15 and thinking that Bruce didn’t trust him anymore, thinking that he killed a man, and that Dick was never really his older brother and that he just wanted a parent. Someone normal who could love him normally without it being twisted up into expectations and disappointment. He remembers the polite distance that he thought Alfred was using every time he called him Master Jason, and how it had felt like a barrier to one of the only adults he was almost convinced loved him. How he all but threw it back in the man’s face by running away to another continent to chase down a woman who sold him out.

Jason doesn’t know what Alfred’s face looks like. Doesn’t want to know.

Because he knows the tension in his own voice, the way it spells out tears. Knows that his younger self if already crying even if he can’t hear it at this distance. Cannot allow himself to picture what Alfred must look like.

“Oh Jason, my boy.”

And there is a soft sound behind him, a rustle of fabric and a hiccup pressed into a shirt.

He’s sure Alfred has bundled him up and carried him over to one of the cots, or chairs, or even the training mats. He doesn’t turn around. He wasn’t meant to hear this.

Because Alfred is murmuring nonsense into his hair. And holding him while he cries. And Jason forces himself to walk upstairs to the kitchen, to sit at the counter and wait.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed by the time he calls Babs.

“Oracle.”

“Jason, what do you want?”

“I need an alert set up. One that will go straight to my phone the second B is planet side. One that tells me when he is within 100 yards of the manor, even if he comes by Kryptonian.”

There’s a silence on the line. Either the bats were broadcasting to her through an open comm during his little speech the night before, or Dick filled her in. Either way, they both know she knows his last rule.

“Alright.”

“Thank you.”

Jason drifts for a while. At least until he hears footsteps closing the familiar distance between the cave and the kitchen.

Jason gives them both a small nod when the come in, and the younger Jason takes a seat right next to him, without a buffer, but they don’t speak much as Alfred starts his prep work on lunch.

It’s obvious the kid has a question when his shoulders start to tense.

“What’s your question?”

“What room am I staying in?”

Jason glances over to Alfred, and he looks about as calm as to be expected. He’d never expected to see Alfred cry, but he feels a dulled shock at the sight of his reddened eyes.

“You are welcome to your old room, or I can prepare a guest room for you.”

“Why wouldn’t you be using our room?”

“That fight I mentioned? Well, I was - hurt a while after. It was easier for me to stay on the first floor than to take the stairs. I’m not here as often anymore, so I mostly stick to the guest room if I am. You can take our room if you want it.”

There’s a small part of him that wants to pray that Alfred made the room look less like a shrine, or a time capsule, because the kid knows several years have passed for Jason and if he walks into the same room he remembers from earlier “that day” Jason isn’t sure how he’ll face those questions right now.

“I had some time to prepare it this morning, it might be close to what you remember and I took the liberty of stocking it with your old clothes that fit you now.”

“Thanks Alfie.”

After a while, the kid glances at him and Jason supposes he’s got a fair guess as to where he wants to go. He clears his throat.

“We’ll be in the library until lunch. And um, thank you.”

He doesn’t want to read the look on Alfred’s face. He doesn’t want to be in this kitchen. In this building. The look on Alfred’s face is kinder than he deserves.

“Of course, Master Jason. Do enjoy yourselves.”

They aren’t ambushed on the way to the library, but they aren’t alone when they enter.

The kid stiffens beside him and shoots a glance at Jason’s left hand. Counts the taps, and then relaxes.

Jason knows Cass also probably counted the taps, and might be able to figure out what they mean, but they’ve never talked about it.

“Hello, Cass.”

“Hello, Jasons.”

There’s a snort from the kid and Jason is grateful that she staged their meeting like this. Of everyone else in the manor, Cass is the one who hates seeing anyone, including Jason, in pain. She’s the only one aside from Alfred who seems to understand when he needs to leave and lets him.

“Want me to read in here or go put books in your room?”

The kid eyes Cass for a moment, and then Jason.

“You can take the books. But if you want to read too I won’t stop you.”

Jason takes that for what it is, that the kid will be alright for a few minutes, but doesn’t want more than 20 by himself.

Dick is waiting for him outside the door to his old bedroom.

“You didn’t say the rest of us couldn’t see him alone, just Bruce.”

Jason’s mouth is dry. He pushes the door open and is off kilter. It looks like when he was 15. It looks like he never went to high school. It looks just enough like his old room and yet everything that had made it his, was gone.

“It’s up to him. Bruce is the only one I won’t allow to be alone with him. It doesn’t have to be me in the room if the kid doesn’t want, but they won’t be alone.”

“You think he’ll hurt him?”

That startles Jason, badly enough that he laughs. It’s a broken sound, scratches all the edges of his throat and teeth as it leaves his mouth. Dick tenses behind him.

“You don’t want to know what I think.”

“Jason, I don’t know how to fix this.”

Jason sets the books down on his old desk and turns. He doesn’t want this conversation. He doesn’t want to keep talking to these people. He’s sick of the echoes of his old life, the one he can’t return to. He can’t sew himself back into belonging, he doesn’t have enough of the fabric of himself to try.

“You don’t have to try.”

Dick makes a sound like he’s been punched.

“Of course I do -“ Jason cuts him off.

“We weren’t brothers, Dick. You made that clear, not just to me, but to him. I don’t know what you’re trying to do now, but you don’t have to. I’m not asking you to. It’s not your job to try and clean up B’s mistakes. You’re running yourself into the ground trying to play clean up crew for him. Just stop.”

“I’m trying to fix my own mistakes Jason, not his. I shouldn’t have treated you like you weren’t my brother. I want you to be my brother now. But I don’t know how. I don’t know what you want, but I want to try. It’s the only regret I can’t live with.”

Dick looks close to tears. Scratch that, Jason can see them, running silently down his face. His breath just isn’t hitching and he can’t seem to decide if Jason will be more or less upset if he keeps up the eye contact, but he continues to stand outside Jason’s childhood bedroom. Waiting. Asking for permission. Asking to be let in.

“Is this your dry run of the speech you’re gonna give the kid?”

“This is the first time you’ve been in one place long enough for me to get the words out. You’ve bolted long before I had worked up the nerve to say it to you before.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then tell me how to prove it to you.”

Jason thinks it over. He thinks about himself, about a kid sitting on a roof and squinting at him, asking for proof. He’d known how to convince his 15 year old self. He’s not sure how to convince himself now. He wishes the dull ache in his chest would go away. That he could stop wanting people, stop remembering the familiarity they used to share, even if it wasn’t always happy.

It never stopped him, even when it should have. He would still run jobs for Willis, or get a fix for Catherine. He still tried to save Shelia. He wasn’t sure if he could survive it again. He didn’t last time.

But the part of him that he couldn’t avoid thinking about anymore, the part of him standing in his favorite room on the planet, just down the hall, felt like it was clawing through his ribcage. The part of him that would always be 15 and desperate to have an older brother, to have a family, someone who could just make the world go away for a minute. Not another fucked up parental figure, but someone else. That part of him was trying to escape himself and curl up inside the person who wouldn’t even cross the threshold of his door without permission.

“Ask me again in two weeks.”

“What?”

“Once the kid is gone, give me a week. If you’re serious.”

“I am. In two weeks, what then?”

Maybe more of his composure had cracked than he was willing to admit. Because the look he was giving Dick made the man crumple.

“I don’t know, but. I’d be willing to try.”

“Can I - please, Jason I won’t. Right now I just. Please come here. Just for a minute, please Jay.”

And maybe in two weeks Jason would be able to let him in, maybe he wouldn’t have to wait outside the door. But he knows the week he’s in for. It’s going to be long, and worse than any torture Jason’s been through so far. He isn’t sure he’ll be able to get through it.

To look a 15 year old in the eyes and send him to his death.

Jason fucking hates death magic.

So he takes a step forward, and another and another until the door is shut behind him. Until Dick has a death grip around his waist and forces Jason’s arms over his shoulders. His face is jammed right into his chest and Jason rests his own against Dick’s shoulder.

“I am so glad you’re alive, little wing.”

Jason allows himself five minutes. To memorize the sensation in a way that he wouldn’t be able to forget. Sometimes, when he would try to think back and picture Catherine, he would wish he had been able to memorize the hugs she gave him more clearly.

When he steps back, Dick’s hands spasm beneath him for a minute before seeming to remember himself and let go. He doesn’t try to wipe at his eyes and the smile he tries to give Jason is shaky. Jason doesn’t know what his face looks like. He’s not surprised when Dick’s hands brush tears from the undersides of his eyes.

He doesn’t think he can say anything else. And Dick seems to understand, because he gently turns them both in the direction of the library and walks with him until Jason’s steps are more sure.

When he turns to go in, Jason knows he’s damming himself. Because the glance he risks behind him, not quite turning back, but not not tuning back, is met with a smile he’s never seen before. One that makes his chest seize painfully because it’s full of something Jason can’t believe is still in him. That hasn’t been drowned out by the relentless wave that Jason has struggled to keep his head above. The one thing he hadn’t parted with even in his final moments.

Hope.

——

From the looks of it, the kid’s conversation with Cass had gone better than his own with Dick. He looks weary, and still a bit on edge, but he hasn’t been crying, nothings broken, no one’s yelling, and Cass has a small smile that is usually reserved for Steph on her face.

Whatever Cass can read in his own posture doesn’t seem to alter her stance, but the kid looks slightly more alarmed when he meets his eyes.

He taps his leg four times and gets a look of utter disbelief, but the subject is dropped before it’s even picked up.

“What’re you reading?”

“The Brothers Karamazov.”

Huh. Jason’s not sure what to say to that. Not without spoiling more than a book.

“Let me know if it’s any good.”

That gets him a laugh. Small, but there. And yeah, he wouldn’t believe he hadn’t read it either.

Cass looks like she’s said all she wanted to, so he sets up shop, cracks open something at random, and settles in. She briefly squeezes his shoulder, and then is gone.

It’s maybe 20 minutes before Jason hears the pages of a book not in his own hands stop turning.

“Are you sure about the four?”

One meant danger. Two meant stay alert. Three meant “safe enough.”

Four meant safe.

They’ve never used four taps for anyone. If Jason had to hazard a guess, the only person that would come close is Alfred, but he’d hadn’t shared the street code with the Bats back then, so it wouldn’t have meant anything to them.

“Yeah, Dickface wanted a quick chat. I’m not sure when he’ll try and drop by to talk to you, but I’d guess before lunch. Once he settles down a bit.”

“Cass said she’s new to learning English, that she doesn’t have much practice speaking yet. Said she reads posture better than words.”

“She gives the old man a run for his money in combat. Of all of us, she’s the best at hand to hand.”

“You didn’t try and school your posture when you came in.”

“Figured out pretty early on it’s not really worth it. And with multiple people in a room, trying to sort out all the contradictions can give her a headache. She’s never used it against us in a way we didn’t deserve, so I don’t hold it against her.”

“What did Dick want?”

“My fight with B is a bit bigger than I really wanted to concern you with. Dick wanted to talk to me before speaking with you so that I don’t complicate what he has to say to you with what he has to say to me.”

“Can we please figure out quicker whether or not there will be some sort of paradox once I’m sent back? Because I’ve been pretty good at rolling with your vague fucking answers, but I’m reaching my limit for bullshit.”

“Noted. After lunch I’ll try and get in touch with Lantern and see what the full deal is.”

“Do you want to be in here when Dick comes to talk to me?”

“Not about me kid. It’s up to you.”

“You didn’t stick around for Alfred.”

Jason doesn’t have anything to say to that. The kid’s right, it was the only break he was willing to give himself.

“You’ve done alright with him and Cass so far. Do you want me in here when Dick drops by?”

“I don’t know.”

It should surprise him more that this version of himself is giving him such direct answers. But then again, after reorienting, he supposes that out of everyone, Jason really had only trusted himself. He knew the lengths he would go to to protect himself, to stay alive. And if the kid knows he uses guns now, then maybe it really has settled in that nothing has changed except the knowledge of how far he’d really be willing to go.

“God, what is it with all of them and talking?”

Jason laughs a little at the frustration. It’s one he shares.

“One and I’ll get you out. Two and I’ll stay but Dick will leave. Three and we’ll both stay. Four and I’ll leave.”

He gets a brief nod, and then they’re both absorbed in their books for at least an hour.

He notices Dick in the doorway a full 15 seconds before the kid does. Neither startles, but he can see the kid roll his eyes from behind his book.

When he seems to catch himself with what he’s doing. He tenses.

Dick looks different from when he was 18. To Jason he’d seemed like an adult, but it’s obvious to him now that he’s a far cry from the adult he is now. He’s steadier, less volatile. Less teenage angst, more adult grief.

“Hey, Dick.”

There’s a small smile on Dick’s face and Jason tries to tell himself to focus on his book. He doesn’t succeed.

“Hey, Jason. I wanted to come and see you before lunch. It’s going to be pretty hectic and you’ll probably meet most of the new kids. But, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you at 15, and from what Jason tells me of the day you came from, I figured we should talk just between us.”

“I - you’re off world right now. Um, I left a note for B and Alfred but yeah. I kinda ran away. And, I don’t know if it’s different now because Jason said B adopted like a million people, but I did try and call you before I realized you were off world. I left a voice mail and. And maybe we’re not really brothers right now. But, I’m still sorry. I don’t know how I said it in the future, or when you got back, but -“

Jason doesn’t know what his own face is doing. But he can’t look at the kid. All he sees is Dick, who had already cried himself out earlier, get a fresh sheen of tears in his eyes.

It would have been kinder for Jason to shoot him.

The younger Jason risks a glance at Dick and then shoots Jason a look with far more panic in it than he feels equipped to handle. Jason taps three times.

Dick sucks in a long breath, trying to recenter himself under the scrutiny.

“It’s alright, little wing, I know I wasn’t a very good brother when you came to the manor. I couldn’t set aside my problems with Bruce and it wasn’t fair to you. I promise you none of that was your fault, or about you at all. You don’t have to apologize.”

There’s a look on younger Jason’s face that he’s trying and failing to school away. Of all the traits of Bruce he’s been told to have, Dick was the only one of them that ever properly managed that blank and unreadable look. Jason has always been too expressive.

It’s longing and a whole lot of distrust.

“B thinks I killed Garzonas, Dick.”

Dick does take a step forward then. Jason seems to realize that the couch he’s sitting on really is big enough for two, because he scoots over just a bit.

“B says a lot of things he regrets, little wing. I know for a fact that you didn’t kill him, that B’s wrong and it wasn’t fair of him to accuse you of that.”

“You know now maybe, but you’re not really my Dick Grayson.”

Dick takes another step forward and Jason stays perfectly still.

“Maybe not right now, but you’re still my little wing, no matter how old you are.” He shoots a wry glance at Jason. “Or how many of you there are.”

“What did you say before? Eighteen year old you?”

It’s an effort for Dick and Jason not to look at each other. To not give it away.

“By the time I got back planet side, things were different. We never really talked about it much, but I ripped B a new one when I learned what he’d said to you. It’s one of the bigger fights we’ve had actually. But I don’t think that’s really what you mean.”

“I should have told you that it wasn’t your fault. That when I was your age I wanted nothing more than to kill the man who took away my parents. That watching him walk around was an injustice I couldn’t stomach. That B had to physically restrain me and I had lectures about it for weeks before he let me anywhere near the case. I was so angry with him, with Zucco, and a part of me is still the kid that wanted him dead. That not every death is always a sad one, even if we’re not responsible for it. And I’m sorry he made you feel like he didn’t trust you because of it. You are my brother and I love you so much and it wasn’t your fault.”

Dick takes his final step towards the small couch and Jason throws himself at his brother. The brother he always wanted and could never seem to have.

“He just fell Dick, I swear I didn’t push him. And I’m glad he’s dead, he killed her and I just, I can’t believe B didn’t believe me. That he doesn’t trust me. I’m sorry I ran away, I’m sorry he fell. He said I’m not his son.”

Dick was wrapped around the younger Jason who had finally given in to the brother he’d always wanted.

Jason wonders if it would have been that easy if Dick hadn’t been in space. If he’d been able to crash at his apartment and talk this out with him before running off to Ethiopia.

But they hadn’t really been on the best terms anyways back then. Even leaving him a voicemail had felt like pushing the boundary of what Jason was allowed to ask for. At 15 he had only learned to mostly accept Alfred, and sometimes B. Dick was more of a distant idea than a real person, a tangible relationship.

When Jason tuned back into the conversation, eyes were being dried and there was a faint look sent his way. But no taps, so they were in the clear.

*I sometimes write drafts of fics in the notes section of my phone but a lot of them never get finished or are incomplete.

I’m not sure I’ll ever come back to/finish this but people are welcome to add/rewrite or do whatever with this.