Chapter Text
Dream-Ghost-Hallucination-Jason having him take a shower was an unexpected turn of events. Veering too close to realism for a deathbed vision, probably.
Dick manages to push through the sense memories associated with falling water, not thinking about it, not thinking about her–for long enough that eventually, he's clean. The water turns off. And he hasn't broken down.
Running on empty. If he was a car, all of the lights would probably be on right now. But Dick's metaphorical driver is too tired to notice.
Maybe that's why accidents seem to follow him.
He's doing pretty well up until he has to actually leave the bathroom, and.
Jason is there.
It feels like him. Different–stronger, angrier, clouded in something that feels green, but underneath, it's Jason.
If Dick could make his mouth move, Jason's name would come out feeling like hope.
Jason notices him, mismatched eyes falling on him automatically. That's another different thing about him–Dick's never imagined him with a cloudy green eye before, but there's always something new, he guesses.
"Dick," Jason says. His voice is older, rougher, but still similar enough. "Hey. You doin' okay?"
Dick feels. Dick can feel Jason's emotions, slightly uncertain, concerned, trying to stay calm. It's been... a while since he's really felt something this strong.
"You're... worried," Dick says. It comes out like a question.
"'Course I'm worried. I expect to find ya one way and end up comin' across a zombie where there should be–" he cuts himself off, but Dick can feel the flash of guilt-bitterness-longing. "The fuck happened to you, Dickwing?"
Dick reaches out. He doesn't plan to, it just... happens.
His hand is outstretched. Jason's energy, his warmth, is right there. Only years of practice have Dick asking, "Can I–" before just latching on to the emotions and pulling, holding back for Jason's sake, forcing control on himself.
Jason moves quickly, in front of Dick within a moment and grasping his hand. "I'm here, go ahead, it's okay. I've got you, Dick, take what you need, okay?"
Dick gently, gently pulls at the tangled knot of feelings in Jason's chest. He doesn't take anything good–doesn't want to be any more of a drain on Jason than he already is–but even the trickle of mild discomfort feels like a feast. Dick gets lost in it–in having something in his soul, in not being empty.
Jason's words filter through, eventually. Dick is being... held?
Oh. They're on the floor.
There's a large hand, warm, cupping his head, calluses catching on strands of Dick's hair. Another arm wrapped around his torso, pulling him close to rest his ear against a chest that thump-thumps rhythmically.
"I got you." Jason's voice is calm despite how nervous he's feeling. "You're safe. I got you."
Safe.
That feels... true. Not just in Jason's emotions, but in Dick's soul. Jason will keep him safe.
"I'm so hungry," Dick admits, voice rasping and crackling. "I–something's wrong with me, Jay. Something's wrong."
A quiet huff. "Yeah, I figured. We'll figure it out, 'kay? Jus'–just eat, for now."
Jason feels firm, both physically and in his emotions. Steady. Like no matter how much weight Dick leans onto him, he won't sway. He's gotten stronger, so much stronger. And at his core...Dick feels it. That part of Jason hasn't changed:
Care. Bravery. Stubbornness. Reaching out to Dick, offering without hesitation.
Dick wants to sink into that care, to rest on Jason, to rest.
But he can't forget. He needs to be careful, so careful. He's poison. He can't infect Jason too.
It feels like turning his own brain inside out and holding it there, but Dick doesn't grab and take. He allows himself a small stream of solidity, of determination.
Dick could certainly use some of that.
Sometime during this process, Jason pulls Dick fully off the floor onto his lap. A hand moves along his back, an arm holding him securely in place, and whispered words in his hair.
"Damn, I'm actually a little offended," Jason says, which is strange enough to catch Dick's attention. "You're not gonna kill me, Dickwing, christ. Fuck, do you think I'm glass or some shit? Dick, there are so many emotions I'm dealin' with right now, you'd be doin' me a favor lessenin' some of 'em."
Okay.
Okay, Dick trusts Jason.
But what if he hurts Jason, too?
"I–I shouldn't," Dick says hesitantly. It's hard to remember exactly why when Jason is right there, though.
That gets him a sigh and a hint of frustration. "Dick. I know how to shield. If it gets too much I'll just drop 'em, or shove you away or somethin'. You're like a pathetic wet kitten that got dumped on the street; for fuck's sake just eat, you goddamn moron."
Dick's pulled impossibly closer somehow, surrounded by warmth and safety. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad? If Jason says it's okay?
...Just a little more. Then he'll stop.
It's almost indescribable, to feed like this after almost months of halfhearted, ineffective feedings. He's safe. He's warm.
He falls asleep.