Work Text:
The kitchen is still warm.
The steam from the mug has thinned, turning into faint curls that disappear into the dim air.
Jason leans back in the chair, the kind of exhaustion that has worked its way into the spaces between his bones.
He closes his eyes—not all the way, just enough to rest, like he’s gauging whether it’s safe to do so.
Damian doesn’t move.
He’s still holding the mug, his fingertips resting against the ceramic as it slowly cools.
His breathing evens out, slow and measured, but it’s clear he’s still awake—just not holding himself quite as tightly.
A long, quiet moment.
Damian speaks.
“Tell me when you’re about to fall asleep.”
Jason opens his eyes and looks at him, confused.
“What for?” he asks quietly.
Damian’s shoulders give a small, almost imperceptible twitch—enough to make Jason think of a kitten that usually bares its teeth, suddenly exposing its soft belly.
“…So I can stay awake.”
The youngest of the Batfamily speaks evenly, without any dramatics—just stating something ordinary.
It’s sincere enough to make something in Jason’s chest ache.
Jason is silent for a second.
It’s like a taut line being eased, just slightly.
He lets out a slow breath.
“You don’t have to.”
Damian looks up at him—
His eyes are cool and clear, but there’s a brightness beneath them that could pierce the dark bedroom beyond the window.
“I know.”
He pauses for a beat, deliberately.
“But this isn’t your call, Todd.”
The refrigerator hums in the quiet.
No one speaks in the house.
The night does not swallow them.
Jason closes his eyes again—
this time, with the intention of falling asleep.
Damian takes a sip of the milk. Warmed and then cooled again, the taste makes his brow crease slightly.
He sets the cup down and turns his head toward the window, where the faintest hint of morning light is beginning to draw a thin line across the glass.
No one leaves.