Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It came on a Saturday evening.

The knock at the apartment door was soft but firm at the same time. Jason had been halfway through warming a bottle, the baby’s soft fussing echoing from the baby monitor placed on the small kitchen island. He glanced up from the bottle, eyebrows furrowed. You were on the couch, swaddled in a blanket from sheer exhaustion, hair messy from a night of interrupted sleep. He frowned, muttering under his breath and gave you a quick glance.

“Are we expecting someone?” He took a few steps, looking out to the hallway.

You shrug. “Not that I remember.”

“Stay there.” He placed the bottle on the island and gave a glance at the baby monitor before walking carefully to the door.

Another knock came by the time Jason reached the handle and he opened the door just enough to be able to see who was standing outside.

“Bruce?” The name caught your attention and got up from your seat.

The door was fully opened now. Bruce stood outside, broad-shouldered and immovable. He carried the always too difficult to read expression, eyes quickly glancing towards you before going back to Jason. Damian stood beside him, posture rigid as ever, but his eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed and his fingers clutched weakly at his backpack strap.

“What's the matter?” You could feel the slight worry in Jason’s tone.

“I have some important meetings to attend and Damian is not feeling well.” One off Bruce's hand hovered near Damian's shoulder and he flinched, moving away from the touch.

It took Jason some seconds to process the whole situation and when it dawned on him, he gave Bruce a laugh, but by the way he flexed his hand you could tell how upset he was.

“You gotta be kidding me.” He shook his head. “Tell me this is a fucking joke.”

Jason's tone was sharp and Bruce raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t have time for this now, Jason. You can snap at me all you want later.” Bruce gave a nod towards Damian but he stood still in his place. 

“Oh yeah, you have everything except time to take care of your son. You are still the same.” He sounded bitter. He grabbed Damian by his hand and his eyes softened when he looked at the boy, pulling him inside the apartment, giving you a look from over his shoulders.

“Come here, kid. Let’s get you settled.” You smiled towards Damian and guided him inside. 

You could still hear Jason’s voice muffled in the hallway, but now your focus was on trying to make Damian feel at least a little at home. You grabbed the small backpack from his hands and settled on the coffee table, letting him sit on the messy couch. The blankets were pulled around him and you placed a hand on his forehead, testing the temperature. He was alarmingly warm.

“I will not give you trouble.” Damian said and his eyes wandered around the room. Your chest ached a little and you gave him a reassuring smile.

“Don't worry. You are family, it's okay to need help sometimes.” 

You gently touched his hair, removing the wet strands stuck to his forehead. Jason came by the living room a few minutes after. He was mad but a little of the heaviness on his body left when his eyes fell on Damian. The boy looked so small sitting on the couch, weak and fragile, very different from his usual self.

Jason stood at the edge of the room for a long time, arms crossed, jaw tight. Watching. Not moving.

“I didn’t ask to come here,” Damian mumbled eventually. “Father said he had meetings. And that this was the safest place.”

Jason snorted. “Right. Because that’s what he cares about now. Safety. After everything.”

Damian didn’t answer. But his shoulders curled in a little tighter.

“You should rest. Come, our bed is yours for now.” You pointed towards the bedroom with your head.

“I can rest here.” Damian assured and Jason shook his head.

“Not in hell I'm letting you sleep there. Come on.” Jason pointed and Damian looked between you two before answering with a quiet nod.

You helped Damian stand up and Jason made his way back to the kitchen. 

The boy looked around the room hesitant, like if he put his foot inside, some super villain from Gotham would attack him. You rested a hand on his back and guided him to the bed, letting him lay there, under the blankets. He was fast asleep in record time and you left the room.

Jason had the baby in his arms when you came back. He passed around the living room while bottle feeding her and his eyes still had the same look from earlier. Jason was trying but the anger was simmering under his skin like boiling oil. You could feel it.

“He’s just a kid,” you said softly.

“I know.”

“He’s not the one who left.”

Jason looked away. His jaw clenched.

“No,” he muttered, “but he’s the one who keeps getting left behind.”

You didn’t answer. What could you say? Because you knew he wasn’t just talking about Damian anymore. He was talking about himself. About all the times Bruce had sent him away.

Dismissed him.

Buried him.

And now, years later, nothing had changed. A sick son, left at someone else’s doorstep, like a delivery package, because Bruce had work. Because Bruce always had something else to do until it was too late.

The silence stretched for minutes, the only sounds being the baby soft sighs and the cars passing by down the street.

“I know it’s not your job to fix it,” you whispered. “But you’re doing good. He’s warm. He’s safe. He’s not alone.”

Jason’s breath hitched. He didn’t answer for a long time and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and raw.

“I just – keep thinking what would’ve happened if we weren’t here for him.”

You closed the distance between you two and your hands cupped his face with care. Jason leaned into your touch and sighed, looking at the little human in his arms. 

“He doesn’t even get sick days,” Jason whispered. “He doesn’t have time for him, he doesn’t really have time to really heal. Until something bad happens. And then Bruce shows up like he gives a damn. Like he didn’t make us this way.”

His voice cracked. “I was just a kid too.”

“I know,” you whispered and rested your forehead against his — something small and steady in a life that always seemed to be. “But he’s not alone now. He has us. He has you, Jay.”

Jason didn’t answer. He just nodded, one short motion.

Inside, Damian coughed softly in his sleep and your gaze flickered to the hallway.

“We're gonna take care of him, ok?” You pressed a kiss to his face and made your way to the kitchen so you could have some tea ready by the time Damian woke up later.

Chapter Text

Your eyes fluttered open when some noise wandered through your ears. The small clock on the TV stand read 10 PM. Jason was asleep beside you, his arm draped across your waist, in an awkward and probably uncomfortable position, the couch too small for you and him.

You glanced at the baby monitor and sighed when you heard the muffled cries, doing your best to untangle yourself from Jason without startling him awake. 

Your footsteps were soft against the wood floor as you made your way to the nursery, opening the door and eyeing inside. You got the baby in your arms as soon as you stood close to the crib and when you checked that she was not hungry or needed a change of diapers, you gently rocked her in your arms.

“Mommy is here, princess. Let’s not wake up everybody, okay?” You whispered and hummed a song as a way to make her calm down and fall asleep again.

The first cough came when you had just succeeded in your mission of making her sleep. It was soft, muffled by the thick walls.

And then, when she was already in her crib, another came. And then another and another. 

Your eyebrows knitted together as you slipped out of the nursery quietly and you were guided to yours and Jason’s bedroom by the sound padding barefoot down the hallway and cracking the door open.

The light from the hallway spilled across Damian's small form. He was half-sitting up in bed, one hand braced on the mattress, the other clutching at his chest like it hurt more than just his throat.

“Hey buddy,” you whispered, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. “You okay?”

He looked up at you, eyes glassy but still fierce.

“I’m fine.”

It came out hoarse. Weak.

You reached out, touching the back of your hand to his forehead. Still warm — not dangerously so, but enough to worry you.

“You’re not,” you said gently. “Let me get you some water.”

“I already had some,” he mumbled, voice flat. “You don’t have to worry.”

You tilted your head, softening. “I worry because you are important.”

He looked away at that, eyes fixed on the far wall.

For a moment, there was only the sound of him breathing — slow and shallow — and the gentle creak of the apartment around you.

Then he spoke. Voice small. So quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“I didn’t want to come here.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden honesty. “I know.”

“But not because of Todd,” he added quickly, and his throat worked like he was swallowing something hard. “Because of him. Father.”

You were silent.

“I thought — I thought maybe he’d stay. Just one day. Just this once” His voice started to tremble. 

You reached for his hand. Damian let you hold it. You didn’t know if it was the recent maternity, but you had this big urge of protecting him. Embrace him and tell that everything would be fine, that he mattered. But you knew his bondaries so you just waited for him to continue speaking.

“I kept thinking he was going to turn around,” he whispered. “That it was a mistake. That he’d come back up the elevator and say something like, ‘I’ll clear my meetings, just this once.’ But he didn’t.”

Your chest ached. Damian wasn’t the kind to expose his feelings, but the way he spoke was like a desesperate call for help. 

“He just left me at the door like a delivery.”

You brushed your thumb over his knuckles. Damian looked at you — and his eyes weren’t glassy anymore. They were wet. 

You pulled him and waited for any sign of discomfort before holding him tight in your arms, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

You opened your mouth to answer — but a faint sound in the hallway stopped you. The floor creaked. You turned your head just slightly and there he was.

Jason.

Standing frozen in the dark. He hadn’t knocked. He hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t tried to come in but he’d heard all of it. You saw it in his face. The stillness. The devastation. The pure, seething heat of it under his skin like magma ready to burst.

You gave him a look — not a warning, but a tether. You knew he was already unraveling. Jason just nodded once. Then turned and walked away.

Damian cried in your arms until he fell asleep again and you tucked him on the bed before going back to Jason.

He was laying on the sofa again, still and quiet. You laid above him and minutes later fell asleep in quiet too.

When Bruce came on the Sunday evening — two hours early, like picking up a package — Jason was waiting by the door. He hadn’t sleep the rest of the night, shifting between keeping an eye on the baby and making sure Damian had water, some tea and medicine.

You were in the kitchen, your hands shaking around a warm mug of tea you hadn’t touched. Damian sat on the couch, bundled in your blanket, quiet and still, eyes stuck on the baby sleeping in a fortress of pillows beside him.

The door opened with a quiet click and Jason stepped right into the frame blocking it.

“Where’s Damian?”Bruce asked, businesslike.

Jason didn’t move. His voice was ice.

“Don’t worry. He didn’t die overnight.”

Bruce blinked. “Jason—”

“No, let’s skip that part. You said I could snap at you all I wanted later, yeah? So hear me now. ” Jason said. His smile was sharp. Hollow. “Let’s skip the part where you pretend this is normal. That it’s fine to leave a sick ten-year-old at someone else's apartment because you’ve got meetings and boardrooms and shit to do.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed. “I had important obligations—”

“And what was he?” Jason snapped. “An inconvenience? A task to delegate?”

You stepped halfway into the hallway just in time to see Bruce stiffen. Jason didn’t care.

“Did you even look at him?” he snarled. “He didn’t say a word when you dropped him off. You didn’t even ask if he wanted to be here. Just handed him over like a burden.”

Bruce’s face darkened. “Jason, that’s enough—”

“No. No, it’s not.” His voice cracked. “Because this is the same thing you did to me. The exact same thing. Pretend it’s all fine until one of us ends up in a casket.”

Bruce’s face went pale.

“I heard him,” Jason said, voice low now. “Last night. He was coughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

A beat of silence.

Jason took a step forward.

“He still waited after you left, you know? He still waited. He thought you might come back for him.”

And that was it. That was the final blow. Bruce looked away. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even look his son in the eye. And Jason — for once — didn’t yell. He just shook his head.

“He’s not your problem anymore,” Jason said. “Not for today. Not until you earn it. So go.”

The door closed behind Bruce without a word. And Jason turned back to the living room, chest heaving, face flushed with rage — but when his eyes landed on Damian, sitting small and quiet under the blanket his expression softened. He came over slowly. Kneeled.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Damian stared at him for a moment — then leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck. Tight. Wordless. Jason stilled. Then held him back.

“Thank you.” Damian muttered and Jason pressed him tighter to his chest.

“I'll always be here, demon.”