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Jason was standing in the Batcave, staring at the Bat-Computer's enormous monitor in irritation and disbelief. He was about to be dealing with Bruce because Bruce had a problem. And when Bruce had a problem, everyone had a problem.
The cave wasn’t somewhere he liked to visit, but Alfred had invited him, or more accurately, bribed him, to come back for some of his homemade cooking. Jason never could resist a request from Alfred, especially when he got some food out of it. And, Bruce was away on a League mission, and the other bat clan had been busy either picking up his slack or dealing with their own problems. Jason had all Alfred’s attention and food to himself.
They’d ended up in the cave because Alfred had convinced him to go down and pilfer some of Bruce’s gadgets: new versions to replace Jason’s out of date ones. Bruce had always told him he could, but he didn’t want to rely on Bruce’s tech- Batman’s tech. At least, not when Bruce knew about it. So when Alfred offered, he accepted. Alfred had even said Bruce had made something for Jason but hadn’t brought it to him because he knew Jason would reject it.
Alfred had led him to one of the caves' many display cases, to show said thing, when an alert popped up on the Bat-Computer. Because, of course, what had otherwise been a perfect day, had to be interrupted. And probably by Bruce. Requesting Alfred’s undivided attention. Of which he would give.
However, the screen was lit with a blinking Justice League logo, not the yellow bat that signaled a call from Bruce. Bruce had set up the symbols and had color-coded alerts to indicate why a call was being sent. This was the color of a minor emergency. The kind of call they got when Bruce was hurt, but not life-threateningly so.
Alfred abandoned the panel he’d previously been typing a code into, to go accept the video communication request. Superman’s face appeared on the screen, blue eyes bright and concerned. He looked a little worse for wear, but Jason only knew because his suit was battered. The only way you could tell Clark had been hurt.
“Agent A,” Clark said warmly, though his smile was strained and much dimmer than usual. His eyes flicked to Jason in the background, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise, before they flicked back to Alfred, like it hadn’t happened.
Alfred got right to the point, not because he disliked Clark, the opposite, in fact. Alfred was just concerned for Bruce, “Is Batman alright?”
Clark winced, slightly though. That usually meant that the situation was more exasperating than concerning, “He’s… okay. Uninjured, at least.”
Alfred gave Clark a look, so the man continued.
“We were fighting a magic-user. And you know how…,” Clark waved his hand back and forth, probably to indicate Bruce and all complicated bullshit, as well as to help himself find the right word. One always had to work in specifics when dealing with Bruce.
Clark found a word but spoke it like it wasn’t quite the right one, “ Protective... of me he gets when we do. I had already taken a lot of hits and was weakened, so when they tried to cast some sort of spell on me, Batman took the hit for me.”
Alfred and Clark sighed, both used to that specific feeling of exasperation you learned over time when you cared about Bruce Wayne. The exasperation of people who, frequently, witnessed Bruce doing stupid things: usually trying to be a martyr.
“What did this spell do, exactly?” Alfred inquired, emphasizing the last word. Superman was a confident superhero, exuded it. But he was prone to slipping into his stuttering, fumbling Clark Kent persona when having to talk about things that worried him, especially when it concerned Bruce.
Clark looked over to his right, and Zatanna’s melodic voice echoed through the cave. She didn’t come into the shot of the camera, and they couldn’t make out what she was saying. As soon as she finished speaking, Clark began describing it to them. Giving a short and to-the-point summary of what Zatanna had just told him.
“Zatanna said the effects were probably different on Batman because the spell was meant for a Kryptonian. But the gist of it is, it's kinda like a ‘no inhibitions’ slash truth spell. Zatanna couldn’t figure out the specifics, she was only able to garner the basic effect of it. And even then, we still aren’t entirely sure, though he’s… been more honest, a lot more honest,” Clark continued after a second, “She said it'll last around a week, maybe more, maybe less.”
“Zatanna said the effects were probably different on Batman because the spell was meant for a Kryptonian. But the gist of it is, it's kinda like a ‘no inhibitions’ slash truth spell. Zatanna couldn’t figure out the specifics, she was only able to garner the basic effect of it. And even then, we still aren’t entirely sure, though he’s… been more honest, a lot more honest,” Clark continued after a second, “She said it could last around a week, maybe more, maybe less.”
“Are you planning to monitor him at the Watchtower?”
“Actually, we wanted someone to pick him up, he needs to be monitored, but just to make sure he doesn’t wander off and do something stupid, “ Clark glanced to the side worriedly, “He’s… he doesn’t seem like… I don’t know how to explain,” he sighed, frustrated.
“You know I would do it, but B would kill me. The second he got better, he’d be on the warpath. Abandoning clean-up and mission debrief to take care of him. You know how he is.” Clark made air quotes around abandoning.
Alfred nodded in acknowledgment and glanced at Jason.
Jason knew what he was thinking, and was about to high-tail it out of the cave, but Alfred cleared his throat and Jason went to heel like an obedient dog. Dealing with Bruce was preferable to disappointing Alfred.
Alfred had clearance to the Watchtower, but only for emergencies. Only the core Justice League members knew Batman’s identity, so Alfred couldn’t go unless they were the only ones there. It was going to be Jason’s responsibility to fetch him. Shouldn’t be too difficult. Pick him up, drop him off, then run back to his apartment and let Alfred take care of him.
“Red Hood is going to pick him up,” Alfred stated as if that wasn’t completely breaking the norms of Jason and Bruce’s relationship. Like Jason wouldn’t rather go into hiding than have to exchange more than one word with Bruce. Like Jason just did this on the regular.
Clark didn’t react like it was a big deal, instead, he looked overjoyed that it would be Jason. Honestly, not surprising. Clark and Dick were close. If Bruce was pissing Dick off, he’d go vent to Clark. And Clark would tell Bruce. And then Bruce would talk to Dick. And everything would be peachy between them again. Like they wouldn’t be having another fight in two weeks, probably for the same reasons.
Maybe Clark thought he could do the same for Jason and Bruce. He’d be sorely disappointed. Jason isn’t Dick. And he didn’t need, or want, Clark telling Bruce to be nicer to him. Jason closed the line on his smiling face. Alfred looked displeased but didn’t call him out on it, so Jason acted like he didn’t see it.
“I’ll go prepare things for Master Bruce’s return,” Alfred said briskly but decided to grace Jason with a rare show of reassurance. He laid his hand on Jason’s shoulder just long enough for them to relax, then Alfred headed up the staircase to exit the cave.
Now, Jason sat on the edge of the Bat-Computer’s enormous desk, smoking a cigarette. Trying to stall for time and calm his nerves. He amused himself with the fact the lingering smell would bother Bruce later. The man had a surprisingly sensitive nose for someone who spent so much time in Gotham’s sewers. Or maybe that was the reason. Bruce did like to preach about cause and effect.
Jason decided, being as he had to pick Bruce up and drop him off, he deserved to drive the Batmobile. Alfred wasn’t here to say no, and the Batmobile recognized him and allowed him into the driver seat. And Bruce couldn’t complain, because what else would he pick Batman in. The Rolls-Royce?
The Batmobile was as fun to drive as he remembered. Though his experience was limited to the one time Bruce had been feeling generous and let Jason test drive it. It wouldn’t have been useful for his driving test. The Batmobile was a glorified tank, not something you’d drive down to the grocery store.
Jason sped through Gotham’s streets at breakneck speeds. Anything in the Batmobile’s way would be mowed down with ease so Jason avoided obstacles, as best he could. He couldn’t say the same if he spotted Joker anywhere the Batmobile could reach. He shook the thought off and focused on the road.
When Jason arrived at the teleporter, he parked the Batmobile in a dark alcove so no one tried to steal its tires. Only Jason was allowed to do that. He made his way over to the teleporter. He wasn't familiar with them, but he had a basic understanding of how to operate one.
Jason realized, all of a sudden, he was going to the Watchtower. He wondered if Clark had set up temporary clearance, or Bruce had given it to him when he’d set up the Watchtower teleporter. He knew the other members of the bat clan had clearance, even Steph. He stopped thinking about it, it didn’t matter either way.
He set the teleporter coordinates, stepped through the swirling, purple portal, and was in the Watchtower. The vertigo took only a moment to pass, but it was always a jarring experience: he didn’t think he’d ever get used to it. Being in one place, and suddenly being in an entirely different one, in the blink of an eye.
He’d never admit how cool he thought it was. The last time he’d gushed over something ‘scientific’, Tim had called him a nerd. Tim, the one most people assumed was the nerd. Tim, who was still kinda scared of him.
Jason let himself admire the Watchtower. Its clean, hospital-like look. White walls, white floors, white doors. A wonder the place stayed clean when banged up heroes were tracking blood and grime through the place. At least the cave was maintained by Alfred.
There was a long hallway that split in two, stretched out in front of him. Windows lined the walls. Endless space all around. Any other day, he might’ve wandered over to admire it, but he wanted to get this over with.
He headed toward the League council room. He’d only known about it because Bruce had sent the Watchtower schematics to the Batfamily group chat. He knew a lot about the Watchtower because of that group chat. More than the rest of the League would probably want him to know. Sometimes, he thought Bruce might’ve forgotten he was in the chat. But Bruce didn’t just forget things. Bruce probably knew the exact number of messages, and who’d contributed the most, and least, to that number.
When Jason walked through the doors, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Jason never initiated contact with Bruce. Never. Had certainly never gone to pick him up after a mission gone sideways. That was usually what Bruce did.
Despite his nonexistent expectations, he was still surprised when he spotted Bruce. He was sitting at the end of a long conference table, Batsuit replaced by sweats and a t-shirt. Bruce hadn’t been looking toward the door, and either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care that it had opened. Batman didn’t ignore those things: would have scolded any of the Batkids for doing it. Jason couldn’t focus on his annoyance at that hypocrisy; Bruce, after all, embodied ‘ do as I say, not as I do’. Jason’s attention was being dragged away from his thoughts. He hadn’t even acknowledged the other Leaguers in the room. Most who’d never met him, and probably only knew him as the outlaw Red Hood.
Bruce still hadn’t turned toward the door. He was staring out the window, not at the view of Earth in all its magnificent beauty, but at some unknown point that apparently deserved all his undivided attention. The view momentarily distracted Jason, but it didn’t take long to be drawn back to Bruce. His thousand-yard stare unlike any of his multitude of thinking stares, not his intense contemplative stare, not even his rare ‘I have an iron-tight grip on my emotions but you’re making them seep through and I’m going to glare at you until they stop’ stare. A stare he’d never seen before.
Clark drifted over to him, floating two inches off the ground. It was always funny to him that Clark hovered when he was hovering. He tended to hover a lot when Bruce was hurt.
“You see now why I was worried?” Clark asked, but he seemed to know he was right. Jason, after all, could barely tear his eyes away from that unfathomable look in Bruce’s eyes.
“How long has he been like that?” Jason asked, distantly, instinctively.
Clark was staring at Bruce too, seemingly lost in that stare with him, “He started about thirty minutes before I called. That's why I called.”
Jason finally took note of the other Leaguers in the room. Zatanna was absent, likely had more business to attend to. Magic users always seemed so busy. Wonder Woman was in the seat to Bruce’s right. She was looking at Bruce with open concern. The other present Leaguer’s, Flash and Green Lantern, looked vaguely uncomfortable. From Bruce being out of costume on the Watchtower, his vacant and indecipherable stare, or something he’d said that they hadn’t expected from the Dark Knight: Jason wasn’t sure. They knew Bruce better than most, but they were still surprised when they saw the extent of Bruce’s humanity under his hard exterior. Dick had once told him, ever the gossip, that Hal had admitted he sometimes forgot Batman was even human.
Jason wasn’t sure how to break Bruce, or himself, out of their stupor. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to interrupt Bruce’s stare. Apprehensive of what might happen if he did. Clark decided for him.
“Bruce,” he called out gently. Likely to not startle Bruce. Or maybe because it felt like the only way you could call out to someone with such a distant stare.
Bruce slowly, so very slowly, turned his head away from the unknown point he’d been staring at, his eyes following even slower. Jason wasn’t expecting Bruce’s face to do a complete 180, to brighten when he looked over towards them. Jason assumed it was because of Clark until Bruce called out.
“JASON!” Bruce yelled, a broad smile on his face. He shot up from his seat and started running at him.
Jason, startled, shifted into a defensive stance on pure instinct, but Bruce just barreled into him. Jason thought he was trying to knock him over, then arms were wrapping around him, and lifting him. Into a hug. A hug, from Bruce. Bruce had run over to him smiling and had lifted Jason into a hug. Jason, all 6 feet, 200+ pounds, Jason. His feet were even dangling. Actually dangling, as Bruce held him in a, somehow gentle, bear hug. Bruce ‘I only show affection through gestures so small you’re going to miss them so I don’t have to talk about my feelings’ Wayne. Bruce was hugging Jason. Jason’s thoughts ran in circles, unable to truly comprehend and accept what was happening.
Needless to say, Jason froze. And Bruce, who apparently didn’t think a hug was enough, started threading his fingers through Jason’s hair in a soft, soft caress. In doing so, he’d also coaxed Jason’s chin onto his shoulder, where it now rested. Jason was, paradoxically, uncomfortable and comfortable, all at the same time.
Absolutely dumbstruck, he opened his mouth to demand Bruce put him down, but all that tumbled out was an unhelpful, “ What the fuck.”
More a weak statement than a question, Bruce didn’t acknowledge it.
Over Bruce’s shoulder, Jason noticed Clark shift, now floating only one inch off the ground. The asshole was smiling, so he figured a pleading look would be wasted on him. Clark was always useless when it came to protecting Bruce and his ever-expanding bat clan from their own emotions. Even encouraged the bad habit. Stupid big blue boy scout.
Jason's senses cleared a little, enough to notice that Bruce was still stroking his hair, but he could also feel Bruce’s warm, calm breaths gusting against his neck, could feel a dimple against his ear as the man smiled. A smaller one now, instead of the broad smile he’d had when he’d attacked Jason. Unfortunately, these details didn’t warm his frozen body. And his feet were still dangling.
Jason could see the other Leaguers, faces now with a mix of discomfort and shock. Looking considerably more uncomfortable. Barry was fidgeting, more so than usual. Hal’s hands were folded on the table, the picture of false composure.
Diana looked like she wanted to shoo the others away, to give them privacy, but Bruce and Jason were blocking the doorway, and no one was going to interrupt this moment. He didn’t know if it was fear of Batman’s retaliation, or Red Hood’s.
Feet still dangling, Jason tried to speak again, but the unhelpful words once again fell from his numb lips, “What the fuck?”
It had come out sounding like a question this time, so Bruce acknowledged it, though only to grace Jason with the most contented, sigh of a word right against his ear, “ Jason.”
Jason felt faintly exhilarated and immediately crushed the feeling. A noise still escaped his throat. Bruce heard, and his right hand, which had previously been wrapped around Jason’s waist keeping him tight against his chest, began rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back, while still holding him just tight enough to not drop him, or let him move away.
Jason opened his mouth, carefully enunciating his words, to prevent unhelpful ones from tumbling out again, “Bruce, what are you doing?” his voice was too high-pitched, too unsteady. No foundation under his dangling feet.
Thankfully, no one mentioned it, even Bruce who simply responded, calm as the eye of a storm, “Hugging you.”
Jason’s feet had been dangling so long they were starting to fall asleep, and his arms were cramping from where they were crushed against Bruce’s chest.
Jason figured Bruce would listen if he thought he was hurting Jason. Even Jason in all his insecurity of how much Bruce cared about him, knew Bruce would never intentionally harm him. Fights to try and take him down included. Bruce always fought those defensively, instead of slamming his fist into Jason’s face like a common criminal’s.
“My arms are cramping.”
Bruce’s solution to the problem was to reposition Jason. Because why not. Why put Jason down, when he could just maneuver Jason to a more comfortable position in his arms. Jason was manhandled like a porcelain doll. Instead of his feet dangling, Bruce had wrapped them around his waist, his left arm wrapped under Jason’s upper thighs holding him aloft. He’d moved Jason’s arms to wrap over his shoulders and around his neck. Now, it was Bruce’s chin resting on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason’s cheek resting against the side of Bruce’s head. Now Bruce only had one hand to drive Jason crazy with gentle affection, so he chose to resume his soothing back caress.
Jason was processing all this at a snail's pace. He couldn’t spare the brainpower to be humiliated as the other Leaguers, who were still just sitting there staring at them in shock, watched Batman … nuzzle his shoulder. His processing speed dropped further.
Clark finally took pity on him, or maybe he was just worried Bruce would hold him there all day. Jason had forgotten he’d shown up to take Bruce ho– to the Manor. He was forgetting a lot of things right now. That he was living on a plane of existence, and reality was not collapsing in on itself.
Jason had thought Clark would convince Bruce to put him down, tell him Jason was crumbling under the weight of Bruce’s affection. Yet, all he did was call out Bruce’s name softly, same as earlier.
Bruce only hummed in acknowledgment, a soft breath gusting strong enough Jason could feel it through his shirt. Completely content, like he had no desire to let go. Jason spared the thought that at least his feet weren’t dangling anymore.
Clark gave up, hearing that sound, so Diana stepped up. Someone had to interrupt Bruce’s little spell, literally, and Jason’s tongue felt numb.
“Bruce, I think you’re making Jason uncomfortable,” she informed Bruce, not unkindly.
Jason felt every muscle in Bruce’s body tense. His relaxed stance went rigid, his hand froze mid-caress, and his chest moved with a sharp intake of breath.
Bruce pulled back only just enough to be able to look Jason in the eye, “Are you uncomfortable?’
Bruce’s eyes were full of emotion, far more emotion than he’d usually allow himself to express, especially in front of a crowd. When Bruce showed his emotions, it was only meant to be for the person he was expressing it to, never anyone else.
Despite popular belief, Bruce did express his emotions. Just never to this extent, not even close. This was more emotion than Jason had honestly thought Bruce capable of expressing. Never in a million years would Jason have thought he’d see Bruce like this.
Eyes swimming with an infinite ocean of sadness, hope like crudely constructed rafts, fear like circling sharks, and love like a sunrise coloring that endless stretch of blue golden.
Jason wanted to cry, he wanted to run and hide, he wanted to get away from this honest and open Bruce who for some incomprehensible reason wanted nothing more than to hold Jason close, who was content when doing so. He needed to get away from that intense, heart-wrenching look. He forced himself to answer.
“Yes.”
He regretted the words before they even left his mouth. While Jason was definitely uncomfortable, he didn’t really want Bruce to stop. Jason tried to crush the feeling, but his heart still clenched as Bruce’s hold on him loosened. Bruce lifted Jason away and lowered him to the floor.
Once on his feet, Jason took a step away. Trying to get some space to breathe, to get back full control of his mind and body. However, Bruce stepped with him, maintaining their intimate proximity. Jason stepped back again, and again Bruce followed.
Jason didn’t want to, he knew it’d hurt. Still, he looked up. Into Bruce's sincere gaze. More intense now than when all his passion was focused solely on the Mission, on serving justice. All for Jason.
Bruce was moving with Jason like an invisible noose was pulling him. Unable to be any further than a couple of inches from him. Bruce’s eyes hold him. Their intensity like a ball and chain around Jason’s heart. Jason stepped back again, and Bruce followed again, but this time his arm moved forward, slowly, like he wanted to grab Jason and pull him back into his embrace. Latch back onto him like a leech. Jason stepped back again, and this time Bruce didn’t follow.
Bruce’s arm hung in the air like a broken promise. A breach of Bruce’s nigh unattainable trust. An olive branch, limply hanging, from a dying tree that everyone had decided wasn’t worth tending to anymore.
Now it was Bruce’s turn to be frozen, staring at Jason’s feet. His usually carefully coiffed hair was curtaining his eyes, hiding that intense gaze. Jason could still see his thin lips, clenched, sealed like a vault. Like he was trying to keep words from coming out.
Jason could see past Bruce’s usually looming form, his head so low Jason stood taller than him. Clark and Diana looked like they were ready to bodily pull Bruce away from Jason. He didn’t know what they were expecting. The rest of the League were also out of their seats, concerned, but not the type to intervene. Barry’s fidgeting now looked more like vibrating, and Hal was hovering beside him like he was ready to fly them away from danger.
Bruce’s gaze was still downcast. Jason thought this was his opportunity to run away until a fist slammed into the doorframe next to Jason’s head so fast he flinched. Before he could even consider that Bruce was about to attack him, Bruce fell to his knees, breathing hard and loud.
Diana was the first to realize what was happening, and she called out to Bruce in distress, “Don’t resist the spell, you’ll only make it worse!”
Jason couldn’t understand why Bruce would start resisting the spell now of all times. Bruce was groaning in pain, and clutching his head hard enough Jason thought he might pull hair out. The gesture made Bruce slump further forward, now on hands and knees. Jason tried to move back on instinct, to get out of the way and give him more space, but Bruce’s hand shot out and grabbed his jeans-covered ankle.
“Don’t go! Please don’t go, I’m sorry, don’t go,” Bruce, on his hands and knees at Jason’s feet, was begging him.
Bruce kept apologizing while Jason forced himself to not slip into another thought cycle because Bruce was begging him on his hands and knees. To think past it and focus on what Bruce was saying, not doing. He tried to understand what the apologies were for. Hugging him? Scaring him? Asking him to stay?
Jason opened his mouth to rebuff him, but Bruce bowed lower and started clenching his head again, probably trying to resist the spell again. Resisting harder.
“I don’t- this isn’t- I’m pressuring you-” Bruce took a sharp breath, exhaled haltingly, struggling to breathe through pain or emotion, Jason couldn’t tell, “This is what I didn’t want to do, I’m pressuring you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Bruce drifted into more apologies and laid his face against Jason’s knee, now clinging to his ankle with both hands.
Jason panicked just a little, and almost pulled away, but Bruce’s mantra had changed, he was murmuring pleadingly into Jason’s knee, “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me again, I can’t- I can’t- I can’t- please don’t run away, don’t leave me, don’t leave me anymore.”
Jason... didn’t know how to feel about the situation, how to react. And it looked like no one else in the room did either. Even Clark and Diana were stupefied; Barry and Hal looked like they were mentally preparing for their demise. Like Jason and Bruce were a nuclear time bomb and they were in the blast radius.
Jason had never thought of his relationship with Bruce in terms of him running from him, leaving him. Bruce said it like he thought Jason was abandoning him when he avoided Bruce. That it hurt Bruce, that it wasn’t just… Jason didn’t know. He’d never really thought about how his actions affected Bruce in the long term. Now that Bruce had pointed it out, he reimagined himself in Bruce’s shoes, and it felt achingly familiar. Jason had been intentionally hurting Bruce, and Bruce had been unintentionally hurting Jason. Neither realizing what they were doing was having a real effect. Jason had been trying to hurt Bruce because he didn’t think he could. Bruce had been trying to protect Jason from the weight of his feelings, not understanding Jason needed it.
He realized all the ways he had hurt Bruce. How Jason had returned and demanded Bruce kill the Joker when Bruce had just found out Jason was alive a couple of days prior. How when Bruce reached out to Jason, he’d responded by running underground: away from Bruce and his guilt. How he’d probably made Bruce feel even more guilty because he’d chased Jason into hiding. How, when Jason had finally come back out of hiding and decided to be an outlaw vigilante, Bruce had tried to reconnect. Invited him to use his tech, to design him a new suit, to use the cave if he needed it, to stay in the Manor. An olive branch that Bruce must’ve used all of his courage to extend. And Jason had turned him down, told him he didn’t want to talk to him, didn’t want to see him, didn’t need him pretending to be his dad.
He’d stopped tending to that olive tree a long time ago. Was trying to let it die, all the while hoping it wouldn’t. Never comprehending it wouldn’t die until he cut it down himself. Now he was realizing he needed it as much as it needed him.
Jason knew where his anger with Bruce stemmed from, but that didn’t make it any easier. Didn’t help him navigate the maze of his complicated emotions, to where he’d end up having to navigate the maze of Bruce’s complicated emotions. Didn’t stop hurtful things from spilling from his mouth. Trying to make Bruce angry. Angry enough to argue, fight, anything. He wanted a reaction: a reaction Bruce always denied him. He’d never had as good a grip on his emotions as Bruce, was usually thankful of that fact.
Bruce would let him be, obey his wishes while neglecting his own. Caring in that Bruce way of his. Not disappointed, concerned. Not distrustful, overprotective. Not demanding, hoping. A hand outstretched, not to hold Jason back, just there for Jason to take if he ever wanted to.
Jason used to make himself misunderstand why. Lie to himself. Tell himself ‘ that’s right’, ‘ that's what I expected’, ‘ you don’t care’, ‘ you want to abandon me’. Trying so hard to convince himself that it was true. Even so, he always knew, in the back of his head, a voice he tried to ignore. Bruce was just trying to listen to him.
Trying not to pressure him.
Everything was suddenly so very clear.
Bruce was trying to resist a spell, despite the agony it was causing him, trying to force himself away from Jason, so he wouldn’t pressure him. This was another olive branch, not one Bruce had intended to extend, but one nonetheless. This time, Jason took it.
Jason laid his hand on Bruce’s heaving shoulder. Bruce looked up at him, eyes intense, but dimmed with resignation. Jason looked directly into those intense eyes, hoping his eyes were reflecting even a fraction of that intensity back at Bruce.
He spoke as gently as he could manage, as gently as Bruce had sighed his name, “I’m not going to run away, not anymore.”
Bruce’s eyes filled with hope, the rafts looking stronger, the sharks smaller. Bruce whispered like he was scared of frightening Jason, “You promise?”
Jason was holding Bruce’s heart in his hand. A glass so brittle, all it would take is a ‘no’ from Jason to shatter it.
Jason's replied shakily, just as quiet, “I promise.”
Bruce’s smile was slow and bright, his dimples peeking out at the corners. The hands on Jason’s ankle tightened, then let go. Jason reached out a hand to help him up. Once Bruce was up and steady on his feet, he yanked Jason into another gentle bear hug. And Jason’s feet were, once again, dangling.
Jason couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed. At least his arms weren’t crushed against Bruce’s chest, just wrapped around it. He felt… at peace. He’d thought that would be the end of Bruce’s surprises, but he always had to prove Jason wrong.
Bruce sighed contentedly, “I love you,” Bruce whispered against his ear, “So very much,” and pressed a kiss against Jason’s temple.
It was a conscious effort on Jason’s part to breathe. He didn’t know how to reply. If he opened his mouth, he was sure all he would be able to get out would be another ‘what the fuck’.
Jason eventually got control of his voice. Even if his voice was shaky, he got the words out, so he counted that as a win, “Let’s go home.”
Calling the Manor ‘home’ was a pretty big step for him to make, considering he wasn’t under a truth/no inhibitions spell, but he wanted to do at least a little more. Surprise Bruce like he’d been surprising Jason. He tacked on, a little awkwardly, “Dad.”
Where Bruce’s hand had been resting against his back, fingers clenched in Jason’s shirt. He leaned back from the hug and gave Jason a content smile, looking the picture of love and gratitude. Jason might never see that look again, nevertheless, he knew he’d cherish the memory of it for the rest of his life.
He heard someone gasp and glanced over Bruce’s shoulder to see who it had been. Clark and Diana were smiling at them fondly. Though Clark’s smile was bright as the sun where Diana’s was soft and warm. Clark had stopped hovering, feet firmly planted on the ground. The rest of the League looked a little emotional at Bruce and Jason’s display of family bonding. Barry had even stopped fidgeting. He figured it was Hal who had gasped, with how dumbstruck the man looked. Seeing them also reminded him of why he’d shown up in the first place. It was time for them to go home.
Bruce was wholly focused on hugging him again, but Jason’s tongue wasn’t numb. The words flowed easily.
“Are you planning on carrying me through the teleporter, or…” he let the question hang in the air, thinking Bruce would put him down, but Bruce started walking toward the teleporter. Jason’s chin resting on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce’s smile against his ear. His large hand gently stroking through Jason’s hair.
After this spell wore off, they’d need to have an extensive discussion. To sort through all this without Bruce under the influence of magic. And maybe they’d argue about it, push and pull at each other again. But Jason was going to hold onto Bruce. Wasn’t going to run away anymore, and he wouldn’t let Bruce let him run away. Bruce might be afraid of demanding things from his children, but Jason wouldn’t lie to himself about why anymore. Now he knew Bruce needed Jason to demand it of him, and Jason would. He’d demand answers, understanding, attention, and anything else Bruce wouldn’t give to him unless he knew, without a doubt, it was wanted. They were going to figure this out, eventually. And that was more than enough, more than he’d ever expected.
Jason was going home, hugged close to his father’s chest, happier than he’d felt in years. His feet dangling, once again, and he didn’t mind one bit.