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Dick comes home to Jason hovering in his living room, and it wouldn’t normally make his heart spike and scent sour but it’s a—combination of things. He’s tired, bone deep, wrung out like all that’s left is bone, heavy, unrelenting. Exhaustion is dragging at his limbs, and he’s been fighting all night; one and two—he’s tired, he can’t take anyone in a fight right now, and no one of Jason’s caliber.
Then—it’s Jason, heavy set and grown. He looms in the dim light, and it catches Dick’s attention before he can dismiss it, makes his nerves flare. Three.
His scent, which walking in just smells of the hints of sweetness omegas tend to have, and it makes his panic flare brighter than anything else before he can stop and think. To wonder at the lack of scent blockers. To wonder at Jason being in his apartment.
Patrol had been… bad. It’s on his mind. Four. Five.
Jason catches it and goes carefully, damningly still.
“Shit,” Dick says, letting some of his surprise through. He ignores the way his heart is beating double time and his memories are swirling through his head. Different places. Different scents—touches. He plays it off, he lets his lips slip into a crooked grin. He murmurs softly, “You scared me, Jay.”
Jason’s studying him, no helmet, no mask. Jesus, any other day and this would be an obvious boon of civility. Any other day. Dick tries to push his unease down, the sudden shame and relentless anxiety. “Dick,” Jason says carefully, still watching him.
Dick hums in question, raising an eyebrow. Jason doesn’t buy any of it. There’s no warning, just the cautious flittering of his sweet scent extending, a careful attempt to sooth—Dick flinches so hard he surprises himself. Fuck, fuck.
Jason reels it in immediately—Dick resists the urge to turn around and walk out, then considers the option seriously. Jason’s actually backed himself up, back to the opposite wall, Dick’s kitchen table and couch between them. Dick really doesn’t want the insight of whatever the fuck his scent is doing. Hell, he doesn’t want any insight; rapid heartbeat, sweating palms, panic. Phantoms circling insistently despite Dick battling to ignoring them.
Jason’s making himself small, shrinking himself down. Dick can barely make out his scent, just the echo of it hanging in the air, a steel level of displayed control.
“Sorry,” he mutters, and Jason doesn’t stop watching him.
“Should I leave?” he returns levelly, no judgment in his voice despite Dick searching for it. He glances away. Takes a step into the room, stops. Takes stock.
He whispers, “Yes,” before he can force himself to work through it.
Jason’s gone before he can second guess the decision. Dick adds it to the list of things he won’t be thinking about.
He’s pretty much convinced himself Jason won’t mention it. It’s been weeks, which helps him cement it. Jason is practically the king of ignoring their problems. He won’t mention, Dick’s nearly certain, and if he was going to, it would’ve already happened.
The next time Dick sees him: no helmet, no mask, scent blockers. He assesses Dick carefully and Dick assesses every single exit in order of closeness. Luckily, the rooftop’s completely open to Dick flinging himself off, unluckily—well. Annoyance flashes through him, seriously, Jason?
“Jason,” he says audibly, sending him a grin.
Jason doesn’t budge. “Hey,” he mutters. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and he continues his cautious slinking approach like neither of them should notice it. He eyes Dick, before finally merging the distance. He passes by just to drop himself on the roof’s edge, purposely lowering himself, putting his back to Dick—both things he hates to do, most of all for their archaic connotations.
Dick eyes the opposite rooftop with momentary longing. He turns partway—takes stock—turns the rest of it. He approaches with a sigh; he sits down next to Jason. It garners another careful side-eye Dick pretends not to notice, staring out at Gotham’s sunrise. The streets are tired, slow to move, Dick’s always found it kind of amusing how void of morning people Gothamites happen to be.
“Rough night?” Dick questions as if he’d sought out this rooftop encounter.
“A bit,” Jason murmurs. “Nothing too bad.” The silence stretches. Dick resists the urge to wrap his arms around himself, pull his knees into his chest. It’s cold.
He doesn’t. He doesn’t fill the silence either. Eventually, Jason breaks it. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, soft and sincere as Dick thinks his voice could ever get. “I shouldn’t’ve dropped in unannounced.”
Dick stops himself from pointing out the unannounced nature of this drop-in, just barely. “It’s fine,” he says easily, smiling slightly. “You know I don’t mind.” Now if he could just—
Jason cuts off his line of thought, “Dick. You don’t have to tell me but don’t pretend. I’m sorry.” He grumbles quietly, arms crossing, “Just let the apology stick, for fuck’s sake.”
It’s a much more familiar sound and Dick allows it to soothe him. He huffs, tilts sideways to knock into Jason’s side and he lets him without complaint. “Okay,” he murmurs quietly, after several moments. “Thanks.”
Jason relaxes, just slightly. Dick pretends not to notice despite his amusement. “‘S fine,” Jason says, a much more usual level of grumble to his voice. Dick holds back a laugh, lets the sweetness of his effort temper any of the usual teasing he’d be launching, and the silence stretches.
It stays for much longer this time, comfortable and soft. The sun rises slowly, until its starting to dim behind clouds, traffic jerking into vibrant motion. Dick should really find a bed to collapse into. “I really don’t mind you stopping in. Unannounced or y’know…”
“Announced?” Jason supplies, suddenly amused.
Dick scoffs. “Sure.” He considers the street directly below them, sighing. He murmurs more quietly, “At least you left.”
It’s the wrong thing to say, Dick realizes. Jason gets tense and angry immediately. “At least—” wrong wording, Dick reflects further. “Who isn’t? I’ll kill them.”
Dick sighs, exasperated. “Not everyone’s as observant as you.” Jason takes flattery about as well as someone dropping explosives at his feet—active—which Dick tends to forget. “Oh, give me a break. It isn’t usually that bad, Jay.”
Jason eyes him and Dick looks back, raises an eyebrow. Jason glances away again, expression bleeding slightly red. “Still,” he mutters. Dick huffs a slight laugh.
He reaches across the distance, ruffling up Jason’s hair. It isn’t something he gets the chance to do often anymore. Jason allows it grudgingly. Dick manages to get his white streak to stand nearly on end before Jason shoves him back. “Geddoff me, dickhead.”
He notably doesn’t fix his hair though, and Dick swallows another laugh, eyes crinkling as he looks back over Gotham. He’s still tired but it’s softer here, something he can touch.
“You can, though.” Jason breaks the silence again, “Tell me.”
It’s a clumsy offer, but then, sincerity’s never been well handled between them. It short-circuits Dick’s defense, just a bit. Just enough to slid right under. He doesn’t look away from the dying sunrise.
Gotham looks big from here, overlapping. They’re just the right height to catch its expanse without looming over it. Dick thinks, fleetingly, of a younger, clumsier Jason.
After a moment, he looks over to fix Jay’s hair. Flattening the spikes he’d caused with painstaking care. Jason doesn’t push him off this time, not even when Dick takes longer than reasonable fiddling with it.
Jason’s expression loses an edge but doesn’t soften. The bright blue-green of his eyes flicking between Dick and the city and staying on neither. “Thanks, Little Wing,” Dick tells him, times it so his gaze is on the street ahead, then withdraws.
Jason lets out a barely discernible breath. He’s watching Dick. Dick’s watching someone do a u-turn into oncoming traffic. Car horns sound but everyone makes it through unscathed. “That,” Dick pronounces, “Was nearly impressive.”
Jason turns, peering down too but he’s missed it. He scoffs anyway, like anything Dick’s caught Gotham doing is bound to be anything but. Loses the abrasiveness with a sigh. “I think you’re just easily impressed, Dickie.”
He says it quietly, like he sorry for it. And Dick decides that he likes that tone least. His lips twist but the rooftops open on all sides.
Dick stands from the ledge smoothly. He stretches his shoulders back as Jason’s gaze follows him viper-quick, tilting his head to track Dick. It reminds him of Tim in a way that’s slightly comical on Jason these days. Dick lets his hands swing lose, holds one out to Jason. “C’mon.”
It’s a graceful retreat. Jason’s going to sit there as long as Dick lets him, and there’s nothing productive in Dick falling asleep up here.
Jason snorts but takes the hand. He lets Dick haul him to his feet as he mutters, “Calling it, huh?”
Dick lips quirk up. “Maybe next time,” he offers. Dick’s counting, mostly, on next time being a long way out.
Jason rolls his eyes, like he can see straight through Dick. It’s a startling thought, that if he could, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “Whatever, Dick.” He eyes him shrewdly. “Y’know you can’t actually kick me out of a place you’re also trespassing on, right?”
Dick laughs, shakes his head a little. He considers the surrounding rooftops again before looking back. “I’m sure I could figure something out.” Jason crosses his arms, sends him a droll stare and Dick’s lips quirk. “Stay safe, Jay. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
Dick’s already flying. He misses Jason’s response, but he can imagine it. That, he’s less surprised to find, is reassuring too.