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He wakes up to silence.
Jason blinks as he takes in his surroundings, trying not to move - an old habit from when he was in Talia's compound for those few years, from his childhood on the streets. There's a weight on his arm, two weights. One light and pressed into his side, the other heavier, cutting off circulation on his wrist.
The room is still dim, the candles still burning. He glanced at cable box - blank. The power was still out.
He spins his head around, remembering what they were doing before he'd dozed off. Watching a movie on the laptop. Something about French cats, and they could sing?
The computer screen was off, and the battery light indicated the machine was dead.
There was a flash from outside, then a quick rumble of thunder. The storm was still raging, with no signs of letting up. On instinct, he glanced down, towards the smaller bundle in his arms.
Damian was undisturbed by the noise, a far cry from earlier that night, when the storm had just started and Dick was still planning on going on patrol. Curled up in Jason's arms like he owned the space, sleeping peacefully, and blissfully unaware of the world around him.
He glanced behind his son, at Dick, who was in a similar state as Jason, flopped on his side, arm protectively across the five-year-old between them. It hadn't taken much to convince him to cancel his patrol - just a few silent tears and one heavily trembling bottom lip.
And Jason...couldn't help but smile. Because these were his boys, this was his family. This was all he needed.
If you had told him six years ago that he was going to be happy, be a dad, he'd have laughed in your face, maybe punched you for good measure. If you'd have told him nine years ago, as that bomb ticked down, that it would all be okay, that this wasn't the end, that he'd be happy and loved one day like he deserved, he would have cried, and accused you of being a liar.
He thought back to the night he'd escaped Talia - the guards he'd killed before he snuck into the lavish nursery. The look of sheer joy Damian had as Jason had approached his crib. The trust Damian so freely gave him, the press of tiny lips to his cheek - a mimicry of a kiss, a mimicry of Jason and what he taught him - as they escaped into the desert and never looked back.
He thought back to when Dick found him, found them both. A few days after Jason welcomed him into his home, allowed him into their lives. When he got out of the shower one night and found Nightwing standing there holding the infant - his infant - humming a lullaby, and already looking far too smitten to be a mere stranger.
(He thought back to the first time Dick held them both. Had Damian in one arm, Jason in another. Refused to let either go, even as he left a barely-there kiss to Jason's cheek. Lingered there, and breathed a shaky, emotional, "I missed you so much, Jason.")
The grin held, as Jason ran his fingers through Damian’s hair – longer now, and a bit wavier. Pushed it off his face and listened to Damian sigh.
He never thought this would happen. He never thought he’d love someone so much, and be loved so deeply in return. Before his death and after, he thought it was always going to be hard. At first, just fighting to survive, fighting to be respected. And then, after the world went blank and he woke up in a grave, in a pool of green water, he thought it’d be hard to get his vengeance, to get his revenge and do things his way.
But this.
He never thought he’d be…stable. Live in a pretty decent flat on a good side of Gotham. Have a good job, and a good place to come back to at the end of the day.
Have a son.
Have someone to care for, have a responsibility. A real responsibility.
(Have a reason to wake up in the morning. Have a reason to smile every day, to take care of himself, to keep on living.)
And that was only about Damian.
Hand still petting through Damian’s hair, he glanced back at Dick, still as handsome in slumber as he was awake.
He never put much thought into romance, into building a future with someone. It could be a man or a woman, or neither or both. He didn’t care. If it happened, it happened. If it didn’t, it didn’t. He liked kissing. He liked touching. He liked sex. But romance? It was a thing low on his to-do list.
So low that, after Damian came into his life, it was a thing that was erased completely.
Because all he wanted was to be loved. And love didn’t always mean romance.
But then Dick came along. Stubborn old Dickie Grayson. Who wouldn’t leave, even when Jason pushed him away. Who recognized his mistakes, and vowed to fix them this second time around, no matter what.
They’d agreed to cooperate for Damian’s sake. Because Jason had already promised, both himself and the baby he’d stolen, that he would do anything to provide, and Dick was always all about the safety and wellbeing of children. No matter who they were, who their parents were, or what they’d done in the past.
When they began to fall for each other, Jason still couldn’t pinpoint, even these almost four years later.
Jason pulled his hand from Damian’s hair, leaving it to rest on Dick’s cheek instead. Heart swelling at the warmth underneath his fingertips, the breath running along his wrist.
He was beautiful. Dick Grayson was the most beautiful creature in the world, everyone knew that. But what everyone didn’t know was that he was beautiful inside and out. Didn’t have an ugly bone in his body, and whose only flaw, maybe, if you could even call it that, was just caring too much.
And he was all Jason’s.
He and Damian were all his, and even now, years later, he struggled to believe it. Struggled to believe that he, Jason Todd, known street rat, known failure, had gotten so damn lucky.
Honestly, it made him tear up a little bit, every time he thought about it.
He smiled, in the dim candlelight, and shifted forward. Wrapped his lower hand around the back of Dick’s head, as he curled over Dick and Damian both. Damian squirmed, gave a little sigh as he rolled over, huddled into Dick’s chest instead, and burrowed his face against Dick’s shoulder.
And Dick, incredibly ridiculous being he was, remained sleeping. But somehow, somehow, smiled nonetheless. Held his son tighter.
(Held their son tighter. And that’s what he was. That’s what he was always going to be. Jason’s son. Dick’s son. Their baby.)
Jason couldn’t help but snort. Roll his eyes a little, even as he leaned down to press a lingering peck to Dick’s temple. “You dork.”
Dick inhaled, groaned a little as he stretched his legs, and buried his nose against Damian’s hair. Blinked a few times, as thunder sounded outside. It took a second, but his sleepy eyes eventually darted upwards. “Hmm?”
“Nothing.” Jason grinned, kissed his temple again, curled downwards to do the same to Damian. As he did so, he felt Dick move, crane his neck up towards the laptop.
“Movie over?”
“Apparently.” Jason reasoned, not moving back in the slightest. Remained leaning over his boys, crowding them into his arms. “I don’t think any of us made it past the middle.”
“The last thing I remember is cats dancing.” Dick mumbled, face lighting up in the next flash of lightning. He glanced down, ran his hand up Damian’s arm. “Kiddo’s doing good this time.” A pause. “We should probably get him to bed before that stops being the case.”
“And risk waking him so this stops being the case?” Jason questioned softly. “I mean, I’m good here if you are.”
Dick didn’t get the chance to answer, as Jason rolled gently away, and grabbed the blanket draped across the sofa by its corner. Dragged it downwards and across them, situating it across Dick’s shoulder, and tucking some of the material around Damian.
Dick smiled. “I don’t think I’m being given much of a choice.”
Jason settled, head resting on the crook of his shoulder, arm still trapped under Damian and Dick’s heads. He stretched his fingers around Dick’s ear as the other settled the blanket for the final time, stroking at the nape of his neck. “Are you saying there’s another one you would take? Beyond lying here with Dames and me?”
Dick chuckled, reached out for Jason’s free hand and intertwined their fingers, kissing at the back of his hand, holding their fingers against his lips. “Never.”
Jason hesitated at the declaration. It wasn’t a new one, or even a rare one. But it never failed to make his heart flutter every time anyway.
Because this was his. He had this. Only this. And unlike anything he’d ever have before, this wasn’t going to leave him. This wasn’t going to be taken. Bruce had tried, Gotham had tried, the goddamn Court of Owls had tried.
But the other shoe was never going to drop. Not here, not now, not with them.
Because both feet were already firmly on the ground.
He didn’t think as he squeezed Dick’s hand, and whispered. “I love you.”
Dick’s response was instant. Another kiss to the back of his hand as he huddled deeper into the blankets, deeper into Jason’s embrace. He looked up at Jason with blue eyes adoring and honest. “I love you too, Jay.”
Jason swallowed the shy lump in his throat. Glanced down at the child between them, whose fists were already curled into the blanket. Felt Dick press their foreheads together.
“Now go back to sleep.” Dick murmured with a sigh, letting his eyes drop shut. “Because it’s your turn to deal with him when he wakes up with the sun.”
“It’s supposed to rain for the next two days.”
“So he’ll still be scared instead of hyper. Same thing.” Dick let out a yawn, pulled the blanket further up their bodies, leaned down and kissed Damian’s forehead. “He’s still going to want breakfast.”
“Didn’t you teach him about the glory of Crocky Crunch?”
“Jason Peter Todd, you better go to sleep right now, or I’m kicking you out of my cuddle blanket.”
Jason could only laugh, and hold his boys just that much tighter.
(His boys. Not Bruce’s. Not Talia’s. His. Only his.)
“Yes, sir. Right away.”