Chapter Text
You had an overall awesome day so far. The brunch with Jason’s brother had gone great! Then you and Jason visited a new bookshop on the way home. Now you were at your apartment once again, Jason was once again taking a nap with his head on your chest. It was blissful, amazing, whatever you wanted to call it. Except that Netflix had timed out ages ago, and you were board out of your mind!
You really didn’t want to wake Jason, he barely slept as it is. But the clock on the wall told you it had been over an hour of you just laying there, and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t take a nap. So gently, ever so gently, you tried to move Jason. You gave up after about 10 seconds. Honestly, you don’t know why you even attempted it. You huffed. Then there was a knock at the door.
“Jay!” You whisper urgently. Jason did not stir. It was rare for Jason to get a truly deep sleep, so you felt awful, but you need to answer the door. After poking and prodding enough, Jason had regained the needed amount of consciousness to let you slip off the couch, even after his great protest of mumbled whines.
You softly padded towards the door, you looked through the peephole to see a tall, dark haired man in a suit, sans the tie. You couldn’t see his face, as it was bent down towards his phone. You cracked open the door.
“Hello? Can I help you?” You question polite, but curt. The man looked up at you, taking in your sweatpants and Jason GothamU shirt.
“Hello ma’am, I’m here to see Jason.” The man’s deep, charming voice rumbled out. It sounded oddly familiar. However, a man in a suit, this deep into Gotham city, asking for your ex-crime lord boyfriend—well that had red flags all over it.
“I’m sorry I don’t know any Jason.” You reply with a tight smile, beginning to shut the door before a large hand kept it open.
“Ma’am, please. I know who-“ The man had begun to push into the apartment. So you did what any woman would do, grabbed your emergency pepper spray and got the man square in both eyes. As the man let out a shout, you yelled behind you to alert Jason. As if a police dog called to attack, Jason veered into view, as soon as he saw you clear the door frame he had his ‘emergency staying at your house’ gun trained to the man. Said man was wiping his eyes with one hand, other held out in show of peace.
“Bruce?!” Jason froze. Gun lowering just slightly before holding it back up.
“THAT Bruce?” You piped up in confusion. Jason ignored you in favor of stalking towards the blinded man.
“The hell are you doing ‘ere old man?” Jason waited with narrow eyes as Bruce tried to focus his remaining senses.
“Fuck, Jay I’m here to talk to you.” The older man grumbled.
“Yeah.” There was no humor in Jason’s laugh. You didn’t recognize the tone of voice on him. “‘Cause that always goes so great.”
“Jay- really. Just let me explain…please.” It looked like it had almost pained Bruce to say the last word, but Jason supposed it was progress from their last encounters. He bitterly wondered who had convinced Bruce to finally use manners instead of ordering everyone around. Jason lowered the gun, flicking on the safety, but didn’t dare put it away.
You hesitated for a moment but you grew weary of the growing tension in the silence, so after you heard the gun’s safety click on, you moved carefully towards Bruce. You place a gentle hand on his arm, practically jumping as his head, eyes red and shut, snap towards you. The way his entire body went ridged, how his fists automatically curled into fists.
“I’m gonna lead you to the kitchen now, okay?” You murmur, receiving a slight, barely there nod before gently guiding the giant man towards the kitchen. Jason watched, walked so silently that you had to look back because you didn’t know if he was coming with you. Jason’s eyes were trained on Bruce, on the way Bruces head tilted at little noises, the way his muscles under your hand slowly relaxed. What game was the Bat playing?
As you reach the kitchen you turn on the sink. Grabbing the back of Bruce’s hand and guiding it to the water, then stepping back as the man mapped the sink with his hands, then bent down to rinse his eyes in the water. Jason lingered in the doorway. In the back of his mind he realized that you were good at this. Experienced good. He felt a sense of guilt wash over him as he came to the conclusion that it was because of him. You helped him when he was hurt, including when a strand of fear gas had him running into your apartment, terrified, dangerous. Including when he had his first panic attack in your presence and you had gone through every breathing exercise you knew. Including a moment of quick thinking you remembered that temperature shocks could help and practically dumped your freezer’s entire contents onto him.
“There’s a clean towel on your left.” Your soft voice alerted, Bruce showed no acknowledgment, but you still left it there just as well. You looked up at Jason, who in turn kept his eyes firmly on Bruce. Both due to keep an eye on Bruce, and hide from your worried, curious, questioning gaze.
After a moment, Bruce felt around for the sink’s handles, turning off the stream, then reaching to feel around to his left for the towel. He dried his face and eyes carefully, then dried his hair roughly.
“Thank you.” Bruce said simply, folding the towel nicely over the edge of the sink. His voice was deep, like Jason’s. But unlike Jason’s his was flat. Jason’s voice was low, and yes sometimes intimidating, but it was also expressive, the older man’s held nothing but a tense sort of sadness lingering underneath it. “That pepper spray was very effective, perhaps you could give me the brand.” He gave you a terse smile, it was an attempt at small talk, a sort of peace offering.
“No brand, I make it myself.” You reply in a similar manner. The man’s face does something strange, it’s a reaction sure, but barely anything. “I think it’s more concentrated, plus it’s fun.” You shrug, reaching around the man to grab the used towel, walking it over to a small wicker basket, half-full with other dirtied dish rags.
“Hrm.” You didn’t have a chance to even attempt an interpretation of that before Jason straightens up and calls for Bruce’s attention.
“Why are you here, B.” His voice was hard, cold, but you could hear the slight sadness and even longing in his voice, see it in his tense shoulders and crossed arms.
“I told you, I’m here to talk.” Bruce responded defensively. No wonder they didn’t get along, they treated every conversation like a fight before it even started.
“Yeah no shit. About what?” Jason spat, rising to his full height. You could almost imagine them as two street dogs, hackles raised, nothing in sight to fight over except the other’s presence. You saw Bruce take a deep breath, could practically hear him willing his closed fists open.
“You,” Bruce hesitated, “…and her.” Jason’s grip on the gun tightened.
“Hell no, Bruce! You leave her out of this.” Jason practically growled.
“I don’t want to fight, Jason.” Bruce shifted himself ever so slightly into a more defensive position.
“So you show up unannounced and force yourself into—not even MY apartment—but my girlfriend’s FUCKING apartment.” Jason made that noise again, that laugh with no lack of amusement. You forced yourself not to shrink back at the sound. It sounded so…painful, so heartbreaking, like every scar that patterned Jason’s skin was being transformed back into its original wound.
“Jason-“
“No, what the hell are you really here for, Bruce? Huh? What there’s something you can’t dig up on her for her file?!” Jason was getting progressively louder. That’s when it happened. It was an unconscious thing, but you could see the pure agony in Jason’s eyes, anyway. Bruce had shifted again, strengthening his defensive stance, and putting himself between you and Jason. It was only instinct from the Bat, he saw a threat, saw a civilian, put himself between them.
To Jason it was like condemnation to hell. Not only did his own father register him as a threat, which well, Jason knew that was how Bruce felt, Jason felt the same way about Bruce. But there is a difference between knowing something to be true, and watching it happen. And as if that wasn’t torture enough on its own, somewhere in Bruce’s mind, Jason was a threat to you.
Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t register how he fell to the ground, only the way you had tried to rush to him only for Batman to stop you. Physically stop you from reaching Jason. He couldn’t breathe. A voice in his head told him to get up, told him to stop being a baby.
‘Stop being a baby.’ His father’s—Willis’s voice rang through his head. Jason looked up, tried to spot five things he could see, but he saw Bruce’s eyes and— he was face to face with the Bat. B wouldn’t chose him, he’d never choose him. And you were there, and a large arm blocked your path, and your tried to fight your way past but you couldn’t move—and there was a man—and he was on the floor—He was on the floor, he could feel tears fall down his cheeks—four things you can hear—His breathing—yelling. His dad—glass breaking—He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe and he was trapped under rubble, gasping for air in Ethiopia—and yelling—where was Bruce—Jason was yelling. Jason was yelling? How was he yelling, he couldn’t breathe—
“Jay,” Soft, kind, worried. He wanted to look, see who it was, what it was, was it an angle? Was he dead? Again? But he didn’t want to die—he didn’t want to die! He had you—and Damian, and Dick, and Barbra, and—and he and Bruce were fighting still—he didn’t want to die—he wanted his dad—He wanted you—He wanted—he wanted to breathe. He couldn’t breathe.
A soft hand on his arm, he flinched, wanted to lash out, get away. But he was so scared, and what if they just left him alone, what if he just held still enough—
“Jason, It’s me baby. Come on, come back to me baby. You can do it, deep breathes.” The hand on his arm slid down to grad his own hand, he realized vaguely he was shaking. He saw someone, pretty, he knew them but how? They were safe? They were safe, right? They wouldn’t hurt him, they were helping him… but Bruce had once helped him, Talia had, all of them had, and— They were gently guiding his hand to something warm, soft. They pressed their hand against the back of his, holding it on the warmth. His hand moved in a slow, rocking movement, up and down, up and down.
“Come on Lad, we’re right here, you’re safe.” Another voice, deeper, calmer. Another hand on his shoulder, larger, more calloused. “Breathe Jay-lad, we got you.”
It was hard, it was SO hard. But slowly, Jason managed to take a breath. Then another, it felt like forever to him, but it was less than two minutes before he could open his eyes and see you. Your brows were furrowed, and you were trying so hard to turn your worried frown into a smile for him. Then he tensed, again. The larger hand was Bruce. Bruce who held his usual stoic facade, but to Jason he could see all the little hairline fractured that showed Bruce’s… worry? Why would Bruce worry about him?
“It’s alright, Lad. I’m not here to fight, I swear. I… I’m here to try and… reaffirm our relationship.” Bruce chose his words carefully, a small frown tugging at his lips as he desperately searched for the right words. The words that wouldn’t send Jason spiraling, or scare him away. After a moment Jason uncurled from his hunched in form, clearing his throat. Bruce backed off after a considering moment, but you clutched his hand between yours, squeezing it intermittently, both to ground him and yourself.
“Tea?” You suggest, a tight smile pulled at your beautiful face, it only made Jason frown more. When had you become so worried, how could he fix it? You shouldn’t worry, about him, about yourself, about anything. You didn’t deserve the stress of his problems, of any problem besides what color to paint counters, or what brand of bread to choose. You were too good. You deserved normal, rich life, social polite friends, a caring loving husband, a huge house and whatever else you could ever dream of. Instead you were here, crouched on the floor of some shitty apartment, consoling your fucked up shitty boyfriend because he got into another fight with his dad.
“Jay?” B, that was B’s voice, Jason’s foggy mind supplied. He blinked and realized that you were gone, he panicked for a nanosecond before spotting you standing in front of the electric kettle. He swallowed down a sigh at the sight of you safe. He forced himself up, ignoring the hovering, worried hands of Bruce ready to steady him, should he need.
“Fuck ‘ff. ‘M fine” Jason almost sounded drunk with how slurred his words were.
“Jay…” Bruce started, Jason could feel the panic beginning to bubble over again— “I’m sorry.”
“….What?” Jason was sure he misheard. Sure Bruce had said please earlier, but apologizing— it might have been the Bat’s only real weakness—well besides his children, but Jason didn’t acknowledge that.
“I’m sorry.” Bruce repeated, slightly firmer, but still soft. “…I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t trust me with knowing you had a girlfriend, and I’m sorry for ‘barging in here’, and most of all I am sorry for scaring you. I know we… haven’t exactly seen eye to eye—“
“—You could say that again—” Jason grumbled, Bruce shot him a look that almost reminded Jason of when he’d pull something risky on patrol, back when he was robin.
“—And because of that, out relationship has suffered…and I’ve been talking with Dick and Alfred, and well… I am guilty of some of the blame.” Jason rolled his eyes, ‘some of the blame.’ Bruce ignored the action. “I sometimes forget that you are my son, under that helmet. I forget that I am supposed to support you in growth, not force it. I am… working on my communication and my…. ‘Control issues’ as Dick called them. I know that I am far from perfect, and I certainly do not condone your-methods.” A sigh. “But you are my son, and I miss you, Jason. I want to try, if you’ll let me.”
Jason was beyond stunned. ‘What the fuck’ kept repeating in his head. Had his pseudo father been replaced by an alien? Or a robot? Honestly, with his kind of work it wasn’t an entirely absurd idea. Jason studied Bruce for a long time, faintly in the back ground you were quietly making the tea, sounds of ceramic and metal clinking against each other.
“I…miss you too.” If anyone ever asked Jason, he would deny the words were ever said. But Bruce knew, and that was all that mattered. Bruce cleared his throat to dispel the tears he’d forced back.
“Alfred want’s you to come to dinner this weekend, he wishes to meet your girlfriend, and he misses you as well.” It was an offering, a tentative plea to accept. Jason obliged.
“I’ll ask.” He concluded, “for now, my amazing girlfriend has prepared tea… because she’s awesome, and amazing, and beautiful!” Jason emphasized his words as he began to head towards you. You laughed at his obvious flattery, but handed him his mug. You held one out towards Bruce who looked stunned.
“I-You’re inviting me to stay?” The usually eloquent man practically tripped over his own two feet trying to make sense of what you were doing.
“Not forever.” You laugh, “I assumed one sugar cube?” You once again make it know that you’re holding the mug out to Bruce who excepts it graciously.
“Yes, thank you.” He said softly, voice barely above a mumble. He looked down at the mug in his hands like it was the universe itself. Bruce and Jason were, albeit tentatively, making amends. And it seemed that Bruce was very thankful for Jason’s choice in woman, he cloud practically see you and Alfred chatting around the kitchen. Imagined You being invited to Steph, Cass, and Barbra’s ‘girls nights’
Call Bruce cliche but it warmed his heart that his son, his wonderful, yet wounded son had found someone for him. Bruce had seen the way you had helped Jason through the panic attack, he saw the way Jason looked at you when you weren’t looking, the way you were gentle yet strong when the occasion called for it. You had even managed to get Bruce with pepper spray-home made pepper spray that was much more concentrated than mainstream products. He would have to ask you for the recipe sometime.
“Uhh,” the slight wobble in your voice had Bruce and Jason on high alert instantaneously. “Don’t look now but there’s some guy with binoculars and a camera outside my window.”