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Biting his bottom lip, Jason rocked forward in his seat and hunched over his paper. He had been working at this for a month now, and even though he was getting better, his stomach twisted when he looked at his rows of printing from today. It still looked like a kid did it: unsteady and wobbly letters that changed size and shape as they stumbled across the page.
He used to have a forceful scrawl that wasn’t exactly neat but carried authority, nonetheless. His handwriting had evolved over the years through rapid diatribes crammed into whatever time he had for the short-answer questions in English class and then with the brusque, pointed messages that served the exact purpose he needed them to as Red Hood. In the messy, violent transition between teenager and angry adult, it was one of the few things that felt like it fit.
And then he lost it completely when he turned into a kid. He hadn’t even noticed at first. That initial week was an avalanche of unpleasant changes, and it wasn’t until he sat down to scribble out a list for his big move back to the Manor that he realized he had lost this, too.
Getting the conditioning back was a bitch. His hand was tired from the practice he had already done, and he knew that he wasn’t going as fast as he could. Distractions wandered through his mind constantly and he couldn’t seem to sit for very long at the special Jason-sized desk that Bruce had brought into the study. Stupid kid-sized attention span.
Plus, he hadn’t slept well last night. Or the night before. His head was heavy, and there was an ache tugging behind his eyes. The silence of Bruce’s study made it too easy for images from last night to flicker into Jason’s mind.
With a huff, he pushed his chair back and stood up. Who cared; he could be done for the day if he wanted. And since Bruce was actually showing his face at WE for once, it meant Jason could head down to the cave without anyone hovering over him.
As he stood in front of the clock, though, he stopped. The light coming from the window hit the protective glass at a perfect angle, and Jason’s reflection was thrown right back at him in perfect clarity.
Fuck, were his cheeks chubbier now??
He knew he was gaining weight. He was eating everything he was supposed to, following his nutrition plan to a T even if his little kid palate would have been happy eating only popsicles and hot dogs. Leslie had been happy at his last appointment, and he had been too when he learned he had grown a whole half inch from his baseline. But he hadn’t thought about some of the other stuff that came with no longer being malnourished. And how the ‘average’ six-year-old looked.
And shit, the roundness in his face was totally obvious now that he was paying attention. And his hair had more life to it, too, shinier and curlier than he had ever seen it. It had grown a lot. He really should have paid more attention to Alfred’s subtle offers to cut it because the whole look made him appear even younger. Dark curls tickled the back of his neck and covered halfway down his ears. He didn’t remember messing with it, but he had obviously been pushing it out of his face because it was frizzy and extra wild at the front.
He brushed his fingers through the strands, nose wrinkling as he snagged the tangles. Then he let his hand drift lower, tracing across his baby smooth skin until he could poke at his cheek with one finger. It was squishy. Dammit.
Had he ever looked like this the first time he was a kid? There had been a couple stretches of stability back then. That first time Dad was locked up when Mom got on benefits, and he got school breakfasts and lunches. The month Mom had that waitress job, and she brought kitchen mistakes home every day. But he couldn’t remember if the whole ‘chubby cheeks’ issue was a thing, and there weren’t any pictures that survived from that era.
“Okay, I know you’re going to smack me, but that is really cute.”
The low, masculine voice sent a spike of panic through Jason, and his breath was already stuttering by the time he whipped around to see that it was just Dick hovering by the door.
Fuck. Jason always hated getting snuck up on, and his stupid little brain kicked into overdrive way too fast these days. Knee-jerk instincts had him backing up, shoulder bumping against the edge of the clock while his eyes widened.
Dick winced. “Sorry. Bad habit.” He stayed put, leaning against the doorframe as he patiently waited for Jason to get his act together.
It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Jason had been a twitchy kid; was currently a twitchy kid, and it was kind of fucked up that everyone in the family understood exactly why and knew how to handle it without making it a big deal.
And even that silent, competent support was often enough to annoy Jason.
“Fuck off,” he breathed. His voice wobbled and betrayed him.
Dick didn’t leave, which… was exactly what Jason wanted. He was so stupidly clingy now, eager to spend time with literally anyone and just as eager to brush off any sort of irritation that flitted through his mind. It never lasted long anyway.
When Jason’s shoulders and pulse slowly lowered, Dick ambled into the room. His lips quirked up at the sight of Jason’s little desk. Bruce had bought it a couple weeks ago and as lame as it was, Jason totally loved it. The desk and matching chair were one of the few sets of furniture in the Manor that was actually sized for him. He could push the chair in and out easily, his feet actually touched the floor when he sat at it, and the little pencil cup and shelf for his papers were within reach of his short arms. Best of all, it was in a place where Bruce usually was. They could be in the same room for a couple hours, each working on their own tasks while sharing space and… and Jason really liked that, okay?
But dammit, the whole setup looked even tinier with Dick looming over it.
“That looks totally boring,” he decided, skimming through Jason’s ‘homework’.
“It’s like any kind of training. Doesn't have to be fun.”
He shook his head. “Yeah, but it could be fun if you wanted it to. You could… write letters to people or something. Postcards, maybe?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Sure, I’ll just write a bunch of postcards from all the amazing places I’ve been lately. What part of the Manor do you want yours to be from, the kitchen or the living room?”
Shit, he didn’t mean for it to sound like that. Being back at the Manor had been… it’d been good, so far. And going out in public as a little kid was weird and stressful, enough of a hassle that it wasn’t worth it most of the time.
But his head was fuzzy and sleepy, and he couldn’t make sense of what Dick was saying. The guy seriously wanted to get mail from Jason?
“Whatever,” he settled on saying. “B’s not here right now.”
“I know. I wanted to see you.” With a shrug, Dick turned away from the desk and flopped down in the nearby armchair. “Makes sense you’re going stir crazy by now. What would you say to a night in Blud?”
Jason eyed his brother even more carefully. Dick had mentioned something like that back when everything had first happened. He said that Jason could come over whenever he needed a break from Bruce or a change of scenery. It wasn’t really clear if it was a real, actual offer or just something Dick had said to be nice, so Jason hadn’t mentioned anything since.
But the offer was clear now, and maybe a change of scenery would help Jason actually sleep.
“Okay, sure.” he agreed cautiously. “Let’s do it.”
Even if Dick hadn’t genuinely wanted to spend more time with Jason, witnessing Bruce’s reaction to the plan would have made the whole thing worth it.
“Don’t stay up too late. Children need nine to twelve hours of sleep a night and he doesn’t really sleep in anymore.”
“Sure, Bruce.”
“And Cass is covering Bludhaven tonight, so if anything comes up, just pass it onto her.”
“I know, B, I’m not going to leave him home alone. Give me some credit, okay?”
The badly concealed anxiety on Bruce’s face cleared into a sheepish smile. “Fair. Sorry. I just… worry.”
Dick grinned. “You don’t say.”
The corner of Bruce’s mouth lifted. It was nice to have moments like this, when the give-and-take of their decades-long partnership was completely in sync.
Then, as if he couldn’t physically hold himself back, Bruce said, “You should take the Land Rover. Your car doesn’t have enough room in the backseat.”
“Like Jason needs legroom,” Dick said with a smirk.
Bruce scowled. “The safety ratings—”
“Ohmigod, B, you gotta quit it with that. If you’re that worried about the crash test rating, you should let Dick take the Batmobile.” Jason wore a wide grin as he came into the hallway, dragging a duffle bag along with him. He looked better than he did earlier today, less tension in his shoulders and more light in his eyes. It was good that they were doing this. Dick shouldn’t have let it go this long before he made it happen.
“Fine,” Bruce capitulated, surprising Dick. “But the booster seat isn't an option.”
“Bru-uce!” Jason’s face twisted into a grimace as his voice climbed up in pitch, but Bruce didn’t budge.
Wisely, Dick stayed out of it. There was no way he was letting Jason know that he was just as much of a square on the whole child passenger safety thing. Instead, he grabbed the overnight bag from Jason and swung the strap onto his shoulder before his brother could protest.
“I’ll see you two tomorrow,” Bruce said. “For breakfast.”
“Lunch,” Dick countered easily. “Or maybe dinner instead. I’ll keep Alfred posted.”
Bruce opened his mouth, then paused and reconsidered. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything. You can call or—”
“B. We’ll be fine. You’re acting like we’re suiting up to handle an Arkham breakout. It’s just a sleepover.”
Jason whipped his head around. “Ugh, don’t call it that.”
Dick laughed, and after a beat Bruce cracked a smile.
“Alright. Have fun.” He ruffled Jason’s hair and then, after just a moment of hesitation, tugged the boy into a one-armed hug, dropping a kiss onto the top of Jason’s head.
“B!” A blush flooded Jason’s face, but he didn’t pull away.
It was friggen adorable, and it brought a smile onto Dick’s face that stayed for the whole drive back to his apartment and all the way through dinner.
“So, what do you wanna do for our sleepover?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his beer.
Jason scowled around the slice of pizza he was trying to bite. “Shut up.” His voice was muffled by the mouthful of cheese.
“What? That’s what we’re doing, right?”
“Dick, I swear, if you don’t— if you…” He growled, jaw clenched as his teeth finally managed to tear through the crust. The whole thing seemed a lot harder than it should have been.
Dick picked at the label on his beer bottle. “You okay?”
“I—” Jason’s eyes cut away for a second, and then he huffed in defeat. “I lost another tooth just before we left. I’m down two bottoms and the top one hasn’t grown in all the way yet.”
Blinking, Dick took a closer look at his brother’s mouth. Sure enough, the gap at the front was even more sizable than before. “I could, uh, cut it for you? The pizza?”
“I’d rather choke.”
He sighed. “Jay, I know it sucks but—”
“I fucking know, okay? I just— I…” Nostrils flaring, Jason glared at his food. His hands balled into fists and Dick saw a flicker of the older version of his brother peeking through.
It didn’t happen as much as Dick would have thought. This version of Jay smiled and laughed a lot easier, and he actually reached out for hugs. He didn’t have the Lazarus Pit swimming in his veins or the current of well-trained reflexes humming through his nerves. But he had all the memories and awareness of those years, and god, Dick would have lost it a long time ago if he was stuck in a body that couldn’t even eat pizza anymore.
“You could, like, bite it from the side,” he suggested.
Jason’s brow wrinkled. He studied the greasy, cooling slice. Then, tentatively, he picked it up again, angled it sideways towards his mouth, and bit off a small amount. The storm in his expression cleared, and he lifted his eyes to give Dick a small smile.
An honestly adorable smile that Dick wasn’t going to say anything about. Instead, he finished the last of his beer and then grabbed another piece for himself.
“I know what we should do tonight.”
Jason picked a string of cheese off his plate. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ve got the PS5 here for Damian and for Tim sometimes. We find the game that has the most car chases and explosions and graphic violence out of all of them and play as far into it as we can.”
It actually worked surprisingly well. Jason had never been all that serious of a gamer, so while his smaller hands fumbled the controller at the start, he quickly figured it out enough that he wasn’t frustrated by his limits. The constant barrage of blood spatter and foul language was probably the most ‘adult’ thing he had been able to do in a long time and as weird as that was, it probably wasn’t as weird as being mentally twenty-one and having to regrow your adult teeth all over again.
After a couple hours, they switched it up. Dick found a bag of microwave popcorn and was in the middle of scrolling through movies on Netflix when Jason came out of the bathroom, having changed into his pajamas.
The matching shirt and pants were a deep blue colour and made from a satiny material. Alfred’s influence was written all over it. As a kid, Dick had worn similar sets until he hit his teens and started drifting into flannel bottoms and ratty cotton t-shirts.
Not that he hated the slippery, cool material of those high-end pajamas. They showed he was loved and cared for and Alfred had picked them out for him, so it meant something. But at some point, his personal preferences had grown stronger, and he had started making more active choices over his wardrobe, so he had made the change. All of the boys who lived in the Manor had done the same, despite Alfred’s pinched expression every time he looked through their laundry baskets.
And now Jason was repeating the pattern all over again. Did this pseudo-kid version of him just not care as much about what clothes he wore? Or did he not know how to make his opinion known?
The silence between them was getting awkward. Jason curled his bare toes against the floor, hitched his shoulders, and then dropped his t-shirt and jeans from before into his duffle bag. Then, he got out a familiar oversized grey hoodie and pulled it over his head. It was the one that was Damian’s from a few years ago.
That was something that Dick could talk about. “C’mon, Jay, I bought you an amazing Nightwing hoodie and you’re wearing that boring thing instead?”
“You bought this one, too.”
He grinned and indulged in ruffling his brother’s hair. “You bet I did.”
Jason rolled his eyes but leaned into it. He was so easy these days, and Dick was ready to take full advantage. When they landed back on the sofa, he made a point of dragging Jason closer, encircling him with one arm while holding the popcorn bowl with the other.
The moment felt a little more than brotherly. Not full-on parental, thankfully, but… but Jason was really little. Tonight, Dick had carried his things, bought him food, cheered him up, and even given him clothing, in a roundabout way. That was a lot more caretaking than how things had originally been between them.
Sighing quietly, Jason leaned his head against Dick’s chest. “We’re still watching something R rated.”
“Sure, Little Wing.”
In the end, it didn’t matter what they chose. Jason’s breath slowed and his muscles slackened, and he was asleep by the first explosion.
Dick let the movie play for a while longer, but Jason was obviously out for the night, sleeping solidly even when he was picked up and carried to the bedroom. He looked even tinier laying in bed by himself. After tucking him in, Dick hovered by the door. He shouldn’t stay, right? Jason never seemed to do well when he was snuck up on, and catching sight of Dick in the middle of the night would be even worse. And he was twenty-one even though he really didn’t look like it right now. Dick needed to stop hovering.
He paused only long enough to grab his own pajamas before shutting off the light and leaving. Now, he had to make the sofa into something resembling a bed.
***
It was three a.m. when he woke up, instantly alert just like he had been trained to do. There was a noise, a muffled sound coming from down the hall: quiet hitching breaths punctuated by the occasional low keening moan that made Dick’s stomach lurch.
Rolling off the sofa, he padded to his bedroom. Light from the hallway spilled into the room as he opened the door. There was Jay: hunched in the middle of the bed with his arms wrapped tightly around his legs and tears spilling down his soft cheeks.
As soon as the door opened, he snapped his head towards it, pulling backwards as a whimper snuck out of him.
Dick’s stomach twisted yet again. It was that same instinctual reaction that had happened earlier at the Manor. An apology rose up but before he could voice it, Jason’s face crumpled into a grimace and his shoulders curled inward.
“Fuck,” he whispered. Then, “I’m okay, Dickie.”
No, he wasn’t, but at least he didn’t look terrified anymore. Softly, Dick walked towards the bed.
“What happened?”
Jason shuddered, using the cuff of his hoodie to swipe across his nose. “Nothing. Is’stupid. Had a nightmare.”
“Oh.” He looked spent, exhausted but still haunted by whatever had plagued his dreams. “Wait, it wasn’t because I let you watch all that stuff tonight, was it?”
Tiny fists clenched the blankets and Jason’s lips curled into a snarl. “Fuck you, Dick, you didn’t ‘let’ me do anything. I don’t need— I can still…” A shudder crawled over his shoulders. He slouched lower.
Dick winced. He let go of the weird ‘dad-ish’ instinct that had been triggered in him. “Right. Sorry. I, uh, I know we’ve all seen enough in-person stuff for a lifetime of nightmare fodder.”
He hoped Jason would pick up on the unsaid message behind those words: that his brother didn’t need to feel ashamed, that Dick was here to help, that it had nothing to do with Jason being a child, even though Dick had fumbled it at the start.
The heat drained out of Jason, and his head drooped into a tired nod. He shifted sideways a little, going through the motions of making room on the bed even though he didn’t actually need to.
Carefully, Dick sat down. The mattress dipped lower, tilting Jason towards him. But he didn’t make a move yet.
“Does it help if I’m here? Because I can leave if—”
“No! It, uh, it helps.” Jason’s eyes darted sideways. “I only get weird when I don’t know someone’s gonna be close.”
It wasn’t ‘weird’; it was a valid response given everything Jason had hinted at about his childhood with Willis. But tonight wasn’t the night for talking about that. Confident that he wasn’t going to make things worse, Dick shifted so he was facing the same way as Jason and then pulled his little-kid brother in for the most comforting, nightmare-crushing hug that he could manage.
Jason’s shoulders shook again, and a small damp patch soaked into Dick’s shirt.
“I hate that I can’t handle this better,” Jason’s voice warbled. “I get a fucking nightmare now and I can’t get my head back on straight. I’m messed up for hours and I… I can never get back asleep and… and I’m tired…”
There was silence. Dick drew in a breath to speak, but then Jason suddenly got a second wind.
“And it’s not about what you’d think. It’s never about the Pit or the warehouse or the J-joker.”
Gently, Dick pushed circles across his brother’s back. “No?”
“No. It’s like…” He sighed. “The longer I’m like this, the more things get flipped around. Like, I still remember being Hood and a grown up all that, but it feels like forever ago. And then all the stuff from when I was a little kid is like it just happened yesterday.”
And there was plenty in Jason’s childhood that could fuel nightmares. Just like there was stuff in Dick’s. They had that depressing experience in common.
Adding more fear into the night didn’t feel like the right thing to do, though, so Dick didn’t say anything more, trying instead to put everything into his embrace. The boneless softness was seeping back into his brother, just like earlier with the movie.
“You don’t try to do this on your own at the Manor, do you?” he asked.
The silence was telling.
Dick sighed. “Jay, I know all of this sucks and everything, but there’s no point in suffering through it by yourself. Not when there’s people there who want to help.”
A heavy huff was the only thing he got in response, but Dick was good at translating those.
“You know, I really put Bruce through the paces back when I first went to live with him. Poor guy must have been clueless the first time I knocked on his door in the middle of the night, but he’s all trained up now. Might as well take advantage.”
“I… did a couple times. Before.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jason shifted in Dick’s arms.
“But you haven’t done it since you moved back.”
He shrugged.
Dick considered his response. “Well, I bet Bruce would have wanted to help even when you were a giant-ass adult. And now that you’re all adorable and tiny and squishy—”
“Shut your face,” Jason grumbled, still buried in Dick’s chest.
“Just stating facts. I’m pretty sure that’s how Bruce sees all of us anyway, and I don’t know what it’ll take for him to change.”
Jason snorted. Then, finally, he rolled out of Dick’s embrace. His eyes were still red, but at least they were dry.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“Yeah. Anytime.” Sleep was tugging at Dick again, too, and there was still plenty of night left.
“Hey, why am I here?” Jason wondered. “I wasn’t planning to take over your bed tonight.”
“Didn’t want to keep you on the sofa. You could… you could roll off or something.”
He huffed out a sleepy scoff. “I’m going to do us both a favour and pretend you didn’t say that. And, seriously, I can fall asleep anywhere like this, and when I wake up I’m never sore even a little. It’s a friggen superpower. You could have stuck me in the bathtub and I would have been fine.”
Dick rolled his head sideways and laid a pointed eye on Jason. “Well, I still could.”
“Nuh uh. You brought me here; this is where I’m staying. But since I’m not an asshole, I’ll let you stay, too.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a big bed and like you said, I’m tiny now, so…” Jason shrugged. Then he rolled over again, crossing the halfway mark and taking far more than his fair share of bed real estate. “Night, Dickface.”
“Night, Jay.”