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Spending his morning sitting in front of a washing machine was not how Bruce thought his day would start out. His back definitely doesn’t appreciate it, painful on most days but even worse when he’s pushed back against the wall of the utilities room. There’s little space for him alone between the wall and the washing machine, his legs already bent at the knees, the soles of his feet pressed against the bottom of the appliance. What makes it even more crammed, however, is that Jason’s curled into his chest, his own feet pressed against the machine.
A small whine comes from Jason and Bruce is quick to soothe him, running his hand through the front of his hair, the other rubbing circles on his back. “I told you, Jaylad, it’s going to take some time.” This only earns Bruce another whine from his son.
At breakfast, Jason had managed to spill Bruce’s coffee over his beloved stuffed animal — a green alligator that Bruce had picked up shortly after Jason had opened up to him about his regression. Whereas Bruce was concerned about Jason potentially having scorching coffee on himself, Jason was more worried about his gator.
To say Jason was upset would be making the understatement of the year. It’d taken Bruce a full ten minutes to calm him down and stop his tears, which nearly started again when Bruce wouldn’t let Jason be the one to carry his toy to the utility room or put him in the washing machine (the liquid had cooled by then, but he knew Jason wouldn’t be able to resist squishing the toy to his chest, which would result in a coffee stained pyjama shirt, and only more tears).
It was no surprise to Bruce when Jason insisted on waiting for the wash to finish (which is why Bruce had set it to the fastest yet still efficient setting possible), but Bruce wishes there was more room for the two of them.
“He’ll be fine,” Bruce promises, seeing Jason begin to nervously chew on the skin of his thumb. Bruce checks his pocket and counts this as his first win of the day: he’d popped Jason’s pacifier in his dressing gown earlier. He offers it to Jason and sighs in relief when Jason accepts it. “There we go,” Bruce whispers, and can’t help but press a kiss to the crown of Jason’s head.
Jason brings a closed fist to his face and rubs his eye, a small sniffle coming from him, also.
“Still tired?” Bruce asks, though he knows that really, Jason’s exhausted himself from all the panic and crying he’s done in these last thirty minutes.
Surprisingly, Jason admits his tiredness with a nod of his head. He presses his cheek to Bruce’s chest, hand reaching up so he can play with the hair at the nape of Bruce’s neck.
It’s then that Bruce has an idea. “Jason,” this has Jason looking up at him, eyelids already half drooping, green pacifier still perched between his lips, “would you be okay if Tim came down for a moment?”
Where there’s often complaints and protests when other’s are involved — a regressed Jason is not a sharing Jason, today there’s simply nod of the head, and an arm snaking around Bruce’s waist.
“Good boy,” Bruce praises, wrapping an arm around Jason’s waist. He uses his other hand to dig back into his pocket and this time pulls out his phone. He sends Tim a quick text before discarding his phone on the floor next to them.
Tim’s down within seconds. Unlike his brother and father, he’s dressed for the day, hair styled and presentable whereas Jason’s is unruly, and Bruce’s is in need of a wash. “Hey Jason,” he greets them with, kneeling down next to them. “Tough morning, hey?”
Jason, shy all of a sudden, pushes his face into Bruce’s chest completely. It’s not surprising; he’s still getting used to letting the others see him when he’s little. But Bruce thinks he’s doing an excellent job.
Tim turns his attention to Bruce. “This one’s mostly charged,” he says, and hands Bruce what he’d requested over text: one of the many tablets of the manor. “Do you want me to get a charger just in case?”
Bruce denies the request with a shake of his head. “I’m hoping he’ll sleep for a bit anyway,” he admits quietly, knowing Jason will have protests if he hears him. “The charge should last much longer than needed. Thanks, Tim.”
Now, here’s the hard part.
“Jason, we’re going to go to the lounge,” Bruce has barely finished his sentence before Jason’s whining, grabbing fistfuls of Bruce’s dressing gown, “it’s all right, we’re gonna set up my phone and the tablet so you can keep an eye on Gator.”
Jason’s voice is so quiet that it’s barely audible. “But he’ll be lonely.”
Tim beats Bruce in replying. “That’s why I brought him a friend.” Tim opens his bag to pull out a stuffed animal of his own — a fluffy black cat that was the only thing Tim brought with him (other than some clothes) when he’d first moved into the manor. He shakes his head when he sees Bruce about to protest.
Jason moves his head so he can see the toy. Slowly, he reaches his hand out towards it.
“Her name is Sylvie,” Tim says, smiling as Jason begins to pet the stuffed animal. His touch is as gentle as if she’s a real cat. “She’s very good at looking out and looking after others.”
“What do you say?” Bruce asks. “Shall we head to the lounge and let Sylvie watch over Gator? We’ll be able to see him on the phone, too.”
“Okay…” Jason trails off, focus still on Sylvie and the softness of her fur.
Bruce’s back all but cheers when he’s finally up from the floor, his hips not far behind in their own celebration. Jason’s pressed to his side, head tucked just under Bruce’s chin. He still yet to stop petting Sylvie.
“I’ve got others that can watch over Gator,” Tim says. “Would you like to hold onto Sylvie for today?”
Jason nods his head. “Please,” he replies, only for the word to cause his pacifier to fall out.
Tim, instinctively, catches it long before it can hit the floor. He offers it to Jason, and with red cheeks, Jason moves forward to let Tim put it back in.
Bruce rubs Jason’s back, proud of him for toeing the line of his comfort zone. “Thank you, Tim,” he says, on behalf of Jason, too. “Will you be home for dinner later?”
“I’ll probably be back by lunchtime,” Tim says. “There’s just a few things I need to pick up, oh — and I should probably head to the library…” He trails off for a moment, thinking to himself. “Maybe a little bit after lunchtime, actually.”
“I’ll have Alfred keep some food aside for you,” Bruce says. He knows Tim well enough to know he’ll forego eating in order to be productive.
Tim nods his head in gratitude. As for Sylvie, he passes her to Jason, watching as she’s held against his chest. “I’ll see you later, Jason,” he says, placing a hand on his arm.
Jason uses one of Sylvie’s arms to wave to Tim, eyes fixated on her.
The couch is much comfier than the utility room. Bruce sits with his legs outstretched, Jason laying between them. Sometimes Bruce can’t get Jason to sit still for a mere moment when he’s regressed. Others, like today, he’s unbelievably clingy. Bruce doesn’t pretend not to love it.
Jason’s been asleep for an hour now. Curled into Bruce as best he can, he’s got Slyvie tucked to his chest, pacifier slowly bobbing between his lips. He’s - and by extension Bruce - covered in a large, fluffy black blanket, the same colour as Sylvie’s fur, actually.
“It shouldn’t be long until he’s all dry,” Alfred announces from the doorway, making Bruce jump by his sudden appearance. “I’ve moved the tablet to sit in front of the dryer, along with Master Timothy’s fox, though I don’t know if it’ll bring much peace of mind given that you can’t see into the machine itself.”
Bruce glances over at his phone (which he’d long forgotten about), and sees the dryer and Tim’s orange and white fox in view. “Thanks, Alfred.”
It’s not long before Bruce himself is feeling tired. He checks on Jason, finding him still sound asleep, not an etch of sadness on his face or a sign of waking up to be seen. Bruce fluffs up the cushion behind his head as best he can with one hand — his other arm was taken captive alongside Sylvie by Jason long ago, and makes himself comfortable.
It’s not long before his eyes are falling shut, the warmth from Jason and the rhythmic sounds of the dryer pushing him towards slumber. Bruce’s last thought is that if Dick we’re here right now, he’d probably spin this into some sort of metaphor or poetry.
Jason’s asleep with a stand-in for one of his most beloved items in the world tucked into his arms, whereas Bruce is asleep with one of his most beloved people in his.