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Bruce watched as Jason stormed into the Batcave, throwing his helmet on the floor with a loud clatter.
“What the hell was that, Bruce?” he shouted, striding right up to where Bruce sat on one of the medical cots. “Huh? Why the fuck did you do that?”
Bruce stared up at Jason, who practically had smoke coming out of his ears. A little thrill always ran through him when Jason was in the cave, no matter if it was to yell at him or not.
“No response?” Jason prodded, hands on his hips. “Typical.”
Bruce blinked. “Jason, I understand that you’re angry-”
“Damn right I am,” Jason snorted.
“-but I did what I thought was tactically best at the time.”
“Bullshit,” snapped Jason. “You jumped in front of a hit I was prepared to take, intruding on my fight in my territory.”
There was no way for Bruce to explain how he’d acted without thinking, how the sight of one of the goons raising a crowbar had filled him with acrid, bitter fear, so he just remained silent. His shoulder hurt something awful, considering the hit had landed directly on a row of stitches he’d only gotten a few days before.
Jason’s gaze sharpened at the lack of response. “Did you get hit in the head, old man? Where’s the lecture, the grunting? Come on, Bruce.” He snapped his fingers a few times for good measure, somehow making the action mocking.
“Sorry, Jaylad,” Bruce said without thinking, watching Jason grimace at the old nickname. “I moved on instinct. I shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
“You’re right, you shouldn't have,” Jason agreed. “And instincts? What the hell kind of excuse is that? After you’re up my ass all the time about thinking before doing literally anything in the world ?”
Bruce shrugged, before wincing, hand coming up to clap over the wound. Shit, that was a bad decision.
“Wait a fucking minute,” Jason said slowly. “Are you hurt?”
Bruce nodded. “Being hurt is usually the cause of blood, so I’d guess I am.”
“Now is not the time for your godawful humor,” Jason grit out. “And you’re bleeding? Just from a hit on your armor?”
“I was already injured there,” Bruce explained. “It opened up my stitches.”
“Jesus Christ, Bruce.” Jason abruptly turned away from him and to the medical cabinet. “This is what you fucking get for interfering, you know that? Get your fucking shirt off so I can see the wound.”
Bruce did as he was directed, awkwardly shimmying out of his undersuit’s top. The blood hadn’t really shown up on the dark fabric, but it made itself visible as he pulled the material away from his skin. Jason was by his side in an instant, applying pressure to the wound with a clean towel.
“What’d you even do to get a slice like this?” Jason asked, pushing harder.
“Lucky knife slash through the armor plates,” Bruce managed, voice a little strained. Jason looked up at his face, and Bruce stared back, wondering what he was looking for, what he saw in Bruce’s eyes.
Jason looked away eventually and they sat in silence for a little bit until Jason carefully moved the towel back to look at the state of his arm. “Okay, I think most of the bleeding has stopped,” he said, “and it looks like you popped all of your stitches somehow. Do I have to dig them out or was the degradable thread used?”
“Degradable,” Bruce answered, and Jason sighed in relief.
“Good, because that would have fucking sucked for the both of us.” Jason readied the needle and thread while Bruce held onto the towel, movements practiced and smooth.
“No painkillers,” Brice said when Jason moved to grab them, and aside from the raising of his eyebrows, Jason didn’t say anything.
Jason began stitching him up with ease, hands steady. Of course he’s got steady hands , Bruce thought, a little hysterically, he shoots guns.
Bruce watched Jason's face instead of the needle, drinking in every familiar feature, every new scar.
“You’re good at this,” he said, clearing his throat. Jason laughed humorlessly.
“I fucking should be. Had to do it to myself enough times.”
The idea of Jason alone in a safehouse or in the mountains somewhere stitching up his wounds made Bruce a little nauseous. He should have been there, or really, Jason shouldn’t have been.
“Thank you for stitching me up,” Bruce murmured, and Jason’s eyes flickered to his.
“Well, no one else is here to do it and this is your dominant arm, so.”
They both knew Bruce was basically ambidextrous at this point, but Bruce knew better than to call him out. Jason finished with an exhale, cutting the thread cleanly and wrapping a bandage around it. Bruce moved his arm around, thankful there wasn’t any weird tugging on any part of his skin. When he returned his attention back to Jason, he was washing his hands, plastic gloves already in the biohazard bin.
“I’m still pissed at you,” Jason warned, perhaps feeling Bruce’s eyes on him.
“As you should be,” Bruce agreed mildly. “I shouldn’t have jumped in front of the hit like that.”
Jason squinted at him, gaze heavy. “Who are you and what have you done with Bruce?” he asked, and Bruce rolled his eyes.
“Still me, Jaylad. I am capable of admitting when I’m wrong, you know.”
“Right, and Alfred has a full head of hair,” Jason shot back. Bruce did his best to hide his smile, but he knew it still peeked through a little bit.
“You staying?” he asked Jason, who stiffened. “You don’t have to. I just thought…”
“Shut up,” Jason barked, before continuing, quieter. “Fine. Just for tonight, got it? And I’m not staying for breakfast.”
“We’ll see about that,” Bruse said. Alfred would persuade him, he always did.
“Shut up,” Jason said again. “Now can you manage yourself from here or do I have to do anything else for your sorry ass while I’m at it?”
“I think I’ve got it,” Bruce replied. “Thanks again, chum.”
“Whatever.” Jason ducked his head. “I’m gonna shower.”
Bruce watched him go, chest swelling. Things with Jason weren’t great, obviously, but he lived for moments like these, moments where Jason grudgingly let him in, reluctantly opened up a little. The moments were few and far between, but Bruce cherished them all. It was tiring to fight with Jason all of the time, but god, he’d take it any day over not speaking to him.
“Stop staring at me, you creep,” Jason called without turning around. “Go change your clothes.”
“Fine, fine,” Bruce said, the smile he didn't bother to hide this time clear in his voice. “Love you, Jay.”
“Yeah, whatever, old man,” Jason returned, but his tone wasn’t outright hateful so Bruce would take it as a win.