Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jason had always been good at disappearing. Even after he started staying at the manor more often, his safehouses remained an easy out for when he needed space from the overbearing presence of his family. Which tended to happen a lot, as once again, the bats were extremely overbearing. 

Jason was absolutely not hiding because he was sick. He was hiding withdrawing from his family because he was allowed to do whatever the fuck he wanted. It was not because his nose was both clogged and running. It was also not because his entire body ached and he was so tired and he couldn’t stop shivering even after he threw on a hoodie over his long-sleeve.

Staying at one of his safe houses the past few days was a much needed break, though he had spent too long staring at his phone with lidded eyes, at war with his mind as he debated calling Dick or even his dad at this point. The few texts Jason had sent to let them know he was still alive weren’t enough to stop the ache in his chest. It had been months since he had been away from the manor for this long. Even longer without being in a room with at least one of his siblings or Bruce. It was a little lonely. Only a little though. He could handle it, obviously. 

The relationship Jason had with his family was still a tad too fresh, meaning Jason had at least a couple more days of self-inflicted isolation before his door would be kicked in. Nobody wanted to be the reason Jason retreated again and cut off the bats for an indefinite amount of time. He was sure the fact Jason actually texted at least every other day helped them stay away for now, though he had an inkling they were checking on him in other subtle ways. He knew what being watched felt like, and he wasn’t an idiot—most of the time.

He sniffled and rubbed at his dripping nose with the sleeve of his sweater—that he may or may not have stolen from Bruce, but he would deny it to anyone who brought it up. The fabric was soft and smelled faintly like home, and it was a small comfort he would allow himself.

His Red Hood gear felt heavier than usual as he sluggishly fit the armor to his body, his shoulders slumping under the weight. Jason was extremely grateful he made the decision to wear a helmet with his outfit, because the second any of the bats saw his face, they’d immediately know something was up. Not that he was sick or anything, because he wasn’t. They were just annoyingly nosy and always in his business for no reason and liked to overreact.

Halfway through lacing up his boots, he swayed, forced to sit down on the bench near the entrance of the apartment. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the black spots spreading across his vision. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes harshly and clearing his throat. Shaking his head a little, he finished tying up his boots before standing cautiously. He didn’t keel over and die, so Jason figured it must be from running on too little sleep and decided to not think about it ever again.

He raised his arms to place his helmet on his head, but was interrupted by a sudden burning sensation in his nose. He sneezed into his elbow, followed by a couple dry coughs that scraped his throat raw. Jason just sighed before putting on the helmet, mentally preparing for the exhausting patrol he was about to have.

It was raining. His suit was mostly resistant to water, but tonight it did little to dull the chill creeping into Jason’s bones. He shivered and sniffled, cursing his helmet for being in the way, leaving him unable to swipe at his runny nose. The rain wasn’t as harsh as it could have been, which was practically a miracle considering it was Gotham. It didn’t matter much, as it still felt like it was seeping through the kevlar and leather and burrowing into his sensitive skin, and Jason suddenly wanted to go back to the lumpy, stained mattress in his safehouse and sleep for the next week.

He shook the thought from his head, feeling guilty for even thinking of leaving the streets of Gotham to fend for herself. Red Hood was needed, and he couldn’t afford to take the night off because he was feeling a little tired. A little tired was nothing compared to the violence taking place in the streets.

He stumbled a little on the rooftop as he switched his comms on, the sudden chaos of several voices setting off a deep, throbbing pain in his head. The volume was lowered immediately, and Jason tried to focus enough to hear what they were saying.

“—see what happens the next time you mess with my shit you little twerp—“

“Guys, please—“

“Don’t N, don’t defend the little shit!”

“I’m not defending anyone Red—“

“It is not my fault Drake is an incompetent, foolish—“

“Little D, c’mon, enough with the name calling!”

“Enough. No names in the field.”

Jason sighed wearily as there was finally silence. His brothers were a lot to handle on a good day, and today was absolutely not a good fucking day.

“Hood, nice of you to finally join us,” Bruce’s voice echoed in his helmet, at least somewhat quieter than his siblings. It sounded slightly condescending, though Jason knew his dad well enough to know that it was actually concern. 

He grunted in return, knowing using his voice at the moment would cause him to cough, which would immediately raise suspicion. Jason was known for being less vocal when he was enforcing his need for space, which meant him not speaking would be taken as him still being in a mood. Even if he took slight offence to that, it was the conclusion he preferred they come to.

He let them carry the conversation, making a noise of acknowledgement every so often when deemed necessary, except he was only partially listening as he hopped from rooftop to rooftop. The only thing he was really paying attention to was if anything big was going down tonight. That, and not slipping and falling to his death because his head spun a little with every jump. He hoped the most he had to do was stand imposingly in the shadows and make some men piss their pants in fear. Jason didn’t think he could concentrate enough to deal with any rogues or drug busts at the moment.

“Hood!”

“What,” he ground out, letting out a small breath when his voice didn’t betray anything. 

Tim sighed, and Jason could see the dramatic eye roll his brother had absolutely given him. Jason crossed his arms, scanning the streets as he sniffled discreetly. 

“I’ve said your name like ten times already dude, what’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem.”

“Nice one, super original.”

“Fuck off.”

“You know, I was going to bring up how you’ve been suspiciously quiet this whole time, but now I think I preferred you that way.” 

Jason snorted and regretted it as soon as he did, suppressing the coughs that were attempting to claw their way out of his throat.

“Is there a reason you’re distracting me from patrolling right now? Shouldn’t you be helping B or Robin or something anyways?”

“Nah, they’re fine, it’s been a slow night so far. And I know for a fact you’ve been doing fuck all, don’t lie.”

“And how would you know that?” There was a beat of silence, then Jason sighed.

“O,” they both said at the same time. Jason closed his eyes for a moment, sniffling quietly again as Tim sucked in a breath.

“Seriously though, what’s up? We’ve barely heard from you all week, and I swear N is going to start crying if you don’t text him back soon, and I really don’t have it in me to deal with his dramatic ass.”

Jason stilled, thankful that Tim at least cared enough to switch to the private comm at some point—most likely when Jason wasn’t answering him—before he called him out on shit. 

“‘M fine, jus’ need some space,” he grumbled, blinking slowly as he started feeling worse by the minute. There was a small chance he was sick. There was a less small chance he needed to sit down, and he lowered himself to sit against the ledge, nose wrinkling as his pants became damp from the wet concrete.

“Totally respect that, but you’ve ‘had space’ for days,” Tim paused, then sighed again. “Is there a reason? Is it something we’ve done? More specifically B?”

Jason hummed in slight amusement, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. Gotham was too polluted to see much of anything, but he felt comfort in knowing the stars were there even if they weren’t visible. He sniffled again, feeling increasingly annoyed and wishing, not for the first time, that he had some way of wiping his nose with his helmet on.

“Maybe.”

“Always so helpful, Hood.”

“I aim to please.”

Jason knew he was being utterly useless at the moment, sitting around while he should be actively seeking out crime to stop. He knew he was also dragging Tim’s attention away from patrol as well, and he should put on a more convincing act to prove to his brother he was fine. Instead, he closed his eyes, wondering if the lecture he’d receive for taking a nap on the roof would be worth it.

“Jay.”

The voice didn’t come from the comm in his helmet. It was still close, and he jolted as something touched his arm. He blindly reached for his gun, pulling it frantically from the strap and aiming it in front of him as a small click echoed loudly in the tense silence. It trembled in his hand as he panted, cursing himself for being off his game enough to be snuck up on. He had no idea how much time had passed after he closed his eyes.

Jason’s vision finally focused, and his eyes went a little wide as he realized who was in front of him. Tim was crouched in front of him, his ridiculous cowl staring back at him. Water dripped from the beak as the rain continued, though it was a calmer drizzle now. He had his hands up as if Jason was some cornered, frightened animal instead of the literal fucking Red Hood.

“Fuck Red, I could’ve shot you,” Jason said, lowering the gun and tipping his head back. The thought made him feel even worse, and he could guess the trembling was now only partially from the fever he wouldn’t deny he had anymore. 

Tim tilted his head and gave him a small, reassuring smile.

“I knew you wouldn’t shoot me Jay, you’d miss me too much,” Tim said, patting his shoulder, causing Jason to grumble weakly and smack his brother's hand away. No one scolded him for using names in the field, so Tim must have turned his comm off once he found Jason. “Besides, I also know you only have rubber bullets in the gun on your right side.”

Jason snorted.

“You’re such a creep, you stalker.”

“And you’re sick.”

“Nuh uh.”

Tim frowned, and Jason could feel deep in his soul the look his brother was giving him. He was tired of being on the receiving end of such an exasperated expression.

“Dude,” Tim rocked back on his heels, planting his gloved hands on the concrete. He shifted his legs, lazily kicking a foot out to nudge one of Jason’s own legs. “You’re literally shaking, even though I can literally see one of Bruce’s sweaters under all your gear,” Jason made an irritated noise at that. “You’ve been sniffling and muffling coughs the whole time because you’re an idiot and forgot to mute your comms. And I snuck up on you way too easily,” Tim smirked, and Jason fought the urge to take his helmet off just so his brother could see the way he was trying to murder him with his eyes.

“Fine, I might be a touch under the weather,” he forced the words out, and applauded himself for being so vulnerable. That was basically calling an ambulance if he had been anyone else.

“‘A touch under the weather’ he says,” his brother mocked him, leaning forward and invading his personal space. “I’m sure Alfred would love to check you over and make you some soup if you came back to the manor—”

“I’m not going.”

“Hood, come on.”

Jason’s stubborn silence was answer enough, and Tim reached up to yank on his hair before realization hit that his hair was currently hidden under his cowl. He took a few calming breaths instead, his jaw twitching in the way it always does when he knows he’s not going to win.

“Fine. But you have to go straight home and text me updates every four hours. And take a fucking nap, you’re practically slurring your words at this point.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Jason,” Tim’s voice went low and his posture shifted slightly, and he suddenly remembered just how terrifying Tim could be, and thanked whatever higher being was out there that Tim was on their side.

“Okay, okay, jeez. I will, fuck, you’re almost worse than Big Bird.”

“Ugh, don’t compare me to him,” Tim whined, pushing himself up and holding a hand out. He didn’t make any teasing remarks or look at him expectantly. His hand just stayed there as an offer, a choice, not a way to make Jason feel like he was weak.

Jason stared at it for a moment before giving in, letting his surprisingly strong brother help him up off the ground. He bit back a groan as his head spun again, gripping Tim’s shoulder tightly for a moment before he forced his body to stabilize.

“You good?”

Jason grunted, his capacity to form words for the night having reached its limits.

“Alright, you need help getting home big guy?”

Jason shook his head, and Tim nodded in return. Out of anyone in this family, Jason could rely on Tim to—mostly—respect his wishes, though he knew Tim would still make sure he got home safely in his own loving, creepy way. 

“I’ll let the rest of the bats know you’re finished patrolling, it’s late enough that no one should really question it,” Tim said, and Jason nodded. “I won’t tell them you’re sick, but I can’t promise that they’ll leave you alone for much longer if you don’t do more than answer a text.”

Jason sighed, knowing his brother was right.

They parted ways after that, Tim lightly punching his shoulder, Jason giving him a two-finger salute before cautiously hopping between rooftops back to his safehouse. The fire escape was slick with rain, and he fumbled a bit with his window before he was able to crack it open. The thought of showering and changing out of his gear and into fresh clothes was daunting. He decided to skip the shower and change as quickly as he could in his rapidly deteriorating state. Adrenaline must have taken over him during patrol, as uneventful as it was, and he could tell he was crashing hard. 

The clean sweatshirt and joggers helped him feel a bit more human, but his head pounded and his throat was on fire. He sniffled, absolutely not whining when he could barely get any air in, his nose completely stuffed. Jason stumbled to the kitchen, opening one of the cabinets and letting out a tiny sigh of relief when he saw it was stocked up with meds. He popped a few extra-strength tylenol, swallowing them dry and slamming a fist down on the counter at the pain it caused. He grabbed a tall glass and filled it with water, chugging it in a matter of seconds before refilling it and making his way to the couch, bringing both the water and meds with him. There was no way he could manage walking all the way to the bedroom, as much as he yearned for his mattress, as shit as it was.

The couch felt like the comfiest thing in the world to his fevered brain, and he barely registered his head hitting the pillow before he was out.

The first thing to happen upon opening his eyes was the sun searing into said eyes. He quickly squeezed them shut with a loud groan, rolling over and burying his face into the couch cushion. The sudden brightness brought back his headache tenfold, and he knew any attempt at getting more sleep was futile. He sulked for a few more minutes before deciding to brave the light again.

The sun was still way too bright, but at least it didn’t worsen the dull pain in his head the second time around. He squinted until his eyes adjusted, then pushed himself up so he was leaning against the couch’s armrest. Jason thought sleeping would have at least eased some of the symptoms he was experiencing, but everything felt so much worse. The meds had worn off sometime throughout the night, and his whole body ached. He popped a few more, caring little about the recommended dose, only needing some relief from how awful he felt. There was no way he could deny being sick at this point, even if he wanted to.

His phone was face up on the coffee table, and he glanced at it when it buzzed. He blinked a couple times, wondering if he was hallucinating, because there was no way he slept until noon. Leaning forward was a struggle, but he managed to grab his phone, sighing at the amount of notifications he had from his family. Jason sent a quick text to the group chat, not having the energy or patience to reply to all of them separately. He did frown when he read what Tim sent.

4:09am

Timbo: jay

Timbo: it’s been over four hours are u dead

4:35am

Timbo sent one attachment

Timbo: glad to see u actually took my advice

Jason opened the attachment and sighed so hard it triggered a coughing fit. After his lungs finished protesting, he looked back at the photo his brother sent. It was of Jason, curled up on his couch, cheeks flushed and lips parted. There was no way it wasn’t taken from inside the apartment, which meant Tim had managed to break in without waking Jason.

12:17pm

Jason: what is wrong with you?

Tim replied instantly.

12:18pm

Timbo: he lives!

Jason sent him the middle finger—affectionately—in return, not interested in keeping a conversation going at the moment. He coughed again, the sound rough and chesty, and fuck it hurt. He rubbed his chest after, rubbing a hand over his face. His stomach took that moment to protest, loudly, and he realized he hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning.

He forced himself up, knowing he had to have a can of soup laying around somewhere. He preferred making soup himself, but he doubted he could muster up the energy to do more than heat some up in a pot.

The canned chicken noodle soup wasn’t as awful as he thought it would be, and he finished it relatively quickly. He curled back up on the couch, suddenly way too aware of the fact that he was alone with his thoughts and no way to distract himself. The thought of calling someone or even going to the manor tugged at his mind again, but he shoved it back down. He’d already gone this long, to give in now would be humiliating.

It seemed the universe made the choice for him, as Jason startled from a sudden knocking on his door. His gaze immediately went to one of the hidden spots he kept his guns. Another knock, and then his brother’s voice followed.

“Jaybird,” Dick sang, tone light, but Jason could detect the concern hidden in his voice. “Jay, open up,” he whined when he didn’t get a response in five seconds.

Jason rolled his eyes, questioning how Dick was the older brother when he acted so childish all the time. The knocking started up again, but cut off when Jason got up—way too fast—and stomped over to the door. He threw it open, glaring at the bright smile on Dick’s face. Though his smile was real, his brother looked a bit tired and stressed, and Jason almost felt bad for being the cause. 

“Hey man,” Dick said, letting himself in and tugging on Jason’s arm to follow him as he shut the door behind them. Jason was too tired to resist. “You look like shit.”

Jason scrunched his nose and crossed his arms.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dick hummed in a way that infuriated Jason, not having to use his words to call Jason out on his lie. He guided Jason over to the island, still smiling as he forced him to sit on one of the bar stools. Dick ruffled his hair and Jason let him, then remembered who he was and that he had a reputation and shoved his hand away. Dick, the asshole, just chuckled and walked over to the cabinets, grabbing two mugs.

“Where do you keep your tea?” Dick didn’t bother asking if he had any in this safehouse, already knowing the answer.

“In the one beside the fridge,” he murmured, folding his arms on the counter and resting his cheek against them. He watched Dick go through the process of making the tea, eyes lidded as his brother hummed softly under his breath. 

Jason didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until a hand carded through his sweaty hair, then moved to gently rest on his forehead. He blinked blearily up at Dick as he placed one of the mugs in front of him. The steam made him sniffle, and he rubbed his nose against his sleeve.

“You’re pretty warm bud, do you have a thermometer lying around?” Dick asked softly, continuing to play with Jason’s hair when he didn’t try to pull away. Jason knew there was no point in denying it. Dick always had a weird big brother instinct that allowed him to notice even the smallest sign one of his little brothers was sick.

“Dun’ think so,” he said, yawning and fighting the urge to take a nap when he just slept twelve hours straight. A small frown pulled at Dick’s mouth, and he gently pushed Jason more upright, sliding the mug closer.

“Drink your tea,” he tapped Jason on the nose, and Jason grunted and wrapped his hands around it, the warmth seeping into his skin.

“If I do, will you leave?”

Dick made a dramatic, wounded noise.

“Absolutely not,” Dick grabbed his own mug, rounding the counter to perch on the stool next to Jason. “I’m staying, since your stubborn ass won’t come back to the manor and let us take care of you.”

Jason didn’t say anything, choosing to focus all his attention on bringing the mug to his lips, though he was clearly not happy. That changed when he took a sip, a small noise escaping him as his eyes flicked over to his brother in surprise. Dick smiled.

“I was hoping you still liked Chamomile best. You didn’t have many options anyways, but I remember you always choosing it over anything else and you always added honey to it and I’ve read it’s good for when you’re sick so—”

“Dick,” Jason interrupted softly, and Dick stopped, suddenly looking sheepish. “Um, thanks. It’s good, so uh, yeah, thanks.” 

They both stared at each other, and then Dick beamed.

“Of course, anything for you Little Wing!”

Moment ruined.

Jason grunted again—because that seemed to be all he could do these days—and went back to drinking. The warmth spread throughout his body, calming some of the chills that had yet to disappear, and the honey soothed some of the rawness of his throat. There was silence between them now, but it wasn’t awkward. Dick scrolled on his phone as Jason slowly sipped his tea, politely ignoring the constant sniffles and coughs from him. After a particularly loud sniffle, Jason noticed his brother’s eye twitch. He smirked. 

After the third—purposefully loud—snff from his brother, Dick sighed and gave him a look.

“Blow your nose, Jay.”

“Don’t tell me what to do Dickfac—“

He was cut off as his older brother shoved a wad of tissues to his nose, smiling in that smug way that made Jason want to cut off his head and shove it in a duffel bag, but he wasn’t allowed to do that anymore because it made Bruce sad or whatever. And maybe he would feel a little bad if he killed his brother. 

He didn’t even know how the man was able to grab tissues that fast, or maybe Jason was just more out of it than he’d like to admit.

Glaring up at him, Jason huffed and harshly blew his nose into the tissues, keeping steady eye contact with Dick the entire time. Dick, the fucking asshole, just raised a brow and kept smiling, not even phased.

“Doesn’t that feel better?”

Jason sniffled again and grabbed the tissues from him, crumpling them in his hands. Then his lips curled up a little, and Dick hesitated at the sudden glint in his eyes. He chucked the balled up tissues at his brother, relishing in the high-pitched squeak Dick let out at his betrayal.

“Yeah, I feel better now,” Jason laughed as the other man pouted at him. The laughing quickly turned to coughing, and Dick looked concerned again, rubbing Jason’s back as he hacked a lung up into the sleeve of his sweater.

“Seriously Jay, can you please stop being so stubborn and just let me take you home?”

“I am home.”

“You know what I mean, dumbass.”

Jason stared at the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow him whole so he could escape this painfully vulnerable moment. He sighed, his shoulders losing a bit of their tension as he tilted slightly into his big brother. Dick immediately wrapped an arm around him, pulling him a little closer, and Jason closed his eyes as he soaked up the warmth. He could feel his resolve wavering, and he was starting to realize how dumb and stubborn he had been the last few days. He knew his family cared. Maybe that was the problem.

“Fine,” he muttered, turning and shoving his face into Dick’s sweater. “But only because I know Alfred misses me a ton and has been suffering from being surrounded by only idiots the past few days.”

“Uh huh, sure kiddo, whatever you say.”

Jason tilted his head up and gave him a menacing look that really wasn’t very menacing. His eyes were watery and red, and he seemed like he was on the verge of falling asleep. It didn’t help that his nose was pink and his bangs were falling into his eyes, the way they did when he was thirteen and down with the flu. The thought made Dick’s heart clench, and he fought very hard to make sure his smile didn’t waver.

“Don’t call me kiddo.”

Dick just chuckled and kissed his sweaty curls, causing Jason to growl at him, though he still didn’t pull away. If anything he leaned into it more, cursing his weak mind for still finding comfort in the arms of his big brother. It was like a switch had flipped as soon as he allowed the tiniest amount of affection in, and now it was all his body craved. He pulled away after a few moments, staring at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the room. 

Huffing a little, he moved to get up, swatting at Dick’s arms as his brother reached to steady him. Trying to prove he could stand on his own turned out to be a mistake, his eyes rolling slightly from the overwhelming dizziness that overcame him. Jason panted as he fought to stay upright.

“Fuck Jay, why’d you let it get this bad? You don’t need to be alone anymore, you don’t need to hide these things from us,” his brother sounded so sad, and Jason sniffled for a completely different reason, turning his face and hiding it in Dick’s shoulder. “No one will think any differently of you for being sick.”

“‘M sorry, Dickie.”

“It’s okay Little Wing,” he teared up when Dick pressed his lips to the top of his head, and he hated the stupid fever he had for making him so emotional—because it was definitely only the fever's fault. “Everything’s okay, I promise. Now let's get you home, huh?”

The car ride was short, though Jason suspected it was because his eyes stayed shut for most of it. He blinked, still half-asleep with his head resting against the window, and suddenly they were approaching Bristol. Dick wasn’t even filling the silence, and it made Jason wilt a little in his seat, knowing he’d upset him. He shivered a little, and Dick must have noticed because he turned the heat up, though Jason knew—even with his brain still fuzzy with fever and sleep—Dick himself had to be overheating.

They pulled up the long drive way, and for a moment they sat there after Dick parked. Then Dick gave him a warm look and got out of the car, walking over to Jason’s side to help him out. Jason knew his brother was taking most of his weight, but he didn’t complain. Everything felt heavy.

“C’mon bud, you’ll feel so much better in your own bed, don’t you think?”

Jason gave a small nod, letting Dick lead him up the steps and through the front door. The manor was oddly empty, not even Alfred had come to greet them when they entered. Jason guessed his brother had something to do with that, as he knew Jason was tired and sick and overwhelmed, and adding another person into the mix was the last thing he needed at the moment. They made it up to Jason’s room without any interruptions—if you didn’t count the few times Jason stumbled and almost ate shit before Dick steadied him.

His bed was so much softer than the shitty couch he had slept on the night before, and he would’ve cried if he wasn’t so exhausted. He curled up on his side, rubbing his cheek into the pillow as his brother tucked the blanket around him. It turns out he wasn’t too tired to cry, because the action caused a few tears to slip out. Dick didn’t mention it, he just cupped Jason’s cheek and wiped them away with his thumb.

Jason’s head still throbbed with every movement, and his body ached as he shivered under the covers. He could tell the meds were wearing off again, his fever climbing and making him feel both hot and cold in that confusing—and very annoying—way. 

The hand on his cheek pulled away, and Jason was too out of it to hold back a whine, not wanting the comfort to leave. Dick chuckled and rubbed his shoulder through the blankets, saying something about being right back.

He must have dozed off again, because he flinched as someone sat down on the edge of the bed. They shushed him, and Jason cracked an eye open, realizing it was his brother again.

Dick smiled and held up a bottle of nyquil, shaking it a little.

“I got the good stuff,” he said, placing it on the bedside table so he could help Jason sit up a bit. Jason didn’t say anything as he weakly lifted an arm, opening and closing his fist the way a toddler does when they want something. He was desperate for anything that would knock him out so he could escape the misery coursing through his veins.

Dick grabbed the bottle again, unscrewing the lid and measuring the correct dose, though he definitely poured a bit more than the recommended amount. Thankfully it was the liquid version, which would be a lot easier on his throat than trying to swallow another handful of pills. 

He drank it quickly, scrunching his nose a little at the taste, and let Dick lay him back down. 

“Get some sleep kiddo. I’ll be back in a bit to check on you, ‘kay?” 

Jason panicked a little and grabbed his brother’s wrist as he moved to get up, not wanting to be alone again after days of—self-imposed—isolation.

“Stay?” It came out small, and he hated the way he sounded almost scared, but it worked. Dick nodded and walked around to the other side of the bed once Jason was able to let go of his wrist. He sat beside the shivering lump that his brother currently was, then began to run his nails up and down Jason’s arm.

He was out before the meds even had a chance to kick in. 

Unfortunately, he wasn’t out for long.

Waking up drenched in sweat was fucking awful. He felt a little more rested, but everything else felt the same, if not worse again. He shivered, wrinkling his nose as he shifted, his shirt damp and sticking to his back. It was hard to determine how high his fever still was, but it seemed to be lower, a small blessing.

There was also someone beside him on the bed, Jason could feel the thigh his forehead was pressed against. He must have rolled in his sleep. He expected it to be Dick, since he promised Jason he would stay. He scowled at the childish thought. He sneakily opened one eye and looked up.

It was not Dick.

Bruce was sitting on his bed, dressed in an old t-shirt and sweatpants. His tablet was on his lap, but he wasn’t typing, just staring at the screen.

“I know you’re awake, Jay,” his dad said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

Jason groaned, shoving his face further into the pillow—and in turn, Bruce’s leg. Bruce chuckled softly, turning his tablet off and looking down at him.

“Still not feeling good, huh?”

“Wha’ do you think?” Jason grumbled, shifting so he could glare at his dad, though it was more of a sleepy squint. His eyes drifted towards the window, suddenly noticing how dark it was. “‘Time’s it?”

“You’ve been out a few hours, it’s almost eight.” 

“Where’s Dick?”

“He’s in the cave with Tim and Damian,” Bruce said, brushing his fingers through Jason’s hair and subtly checking his forehead. “They should be leaving for patrol soon.”

Jason frowned a little and coughed a few times. 

“Why’re you still here then?”

“What do you mean?” Bruce looked confused, tilting his head a bit.

“Aren’t you going on patrol?”

“I think Gotham will be fine without Batman for a night,” Bruce said it like it was a completely normal thing for him to say. “Besides, my son needs me more.”

Jason blinked in surprise, vision going a little blurry. He realized it was because his eyes were betraying him yet again. He was tired of crying, and it was all his stupid family’s fault.

“Oh,” he sniffled. “Okay.”

Bruce gave him another warm smile, and Jason wasn’t used to all the sudden affection he’d been getting the last several hours. It was nice, and yet it made his chest ache, like he was being teased with a small sliver of what life could have been like if he never went and got himself killed. He wanted this, the smiles and the hugs and the soft tones. Like he was deserving of their love. God, he wanted it so bad.

He didn’t think he deserved it though.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Jason,” Bruce’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. Jason glanced up at him, a little shocked when he noticed the sheen in his eyes. “I know things haven’t been the same between us, but you’re still my son, always. And—” His voice cracked, and his dad took a couple breaths. “And I hope you know how grateful I am that you were given back to me. I hope you know how much I love you.”

He had never really seen Bruce this emotional, and it was a little terrifying. He was looking at Jason, almost afraid, like Jason would suddenly cuss him out or tell him to leave. Which was fair, a few months ago Jason probably would have done that. 

“You’re such a loser, old man,” it came out a little shaky, and Jason wished whatever plagued his body would turn fatal so he wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore. Sadly, it did not. 

Bruce rolled his eyes fondly, gently grabbing his son's shoulders and pulling him up into a hug. Jason squawked, which set off another coughing fit. Bruce rubbed his back as he coughed into his arm, and he went limp afterwards, not able to resist the warmth of his dad. He muttered something under his breath, and Bruce raised a brow. 

“What was that?”

“I said I love you too, I guess.”

“Hn,” it seemed Bruce was done with expressing feelings for the time being, though he felt the smile he tried to hide against Jason’s hair. He gave an exaggerated sniff, pulling back a bit to meet Jason’s eyes. “You should shower, you’re all sweaty.”

“You’re an asshole,” he grumbled, but let his dad help him up without a fuss. His head still spun once he was vertical, but he felt more steady on his feet after the nap, which was great because Jason would rather stay in his sweat-soaked clothes than have his dad help him shower.

Bruce looked hesitant to leave Jason alone, but he did. There was already a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants folded on the counter, most likely Alfred’s doing, as the man was all-knowing. It made Jason smile a little.

“Call for me if you need anything.”

Jason nodded, though it did not reassure Bruce in the slightest.

“I’ll try my best not to pass out and die in there,” he joked, because it was his trauma and he could do whatever he pleased, and it was always funny to see his family’s face after. Sure enough, Bruce’s eye twitched.

“That is not funny.”

He did the mature thing and stuck his tongue out. Bruce sighed.

“Don’t use hot water, I don’t want your fever spiking.”

“Yes, dad,” Jason said, then shut the door. He let out a breath, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve. He looked up and grimaced at his reflection. No wonder everyone looked so concerned, he really did look awful. He was pale, which only made his freckles and the circles under his eyes stick out even more. His cheeks were flushed, his nose red and chapped from rubbing and blowing an endless amount of times. His hair was a mess, his bangs damp and plastered to his forehead, and Jason couldn’t wait to feel clean again.

He didn’t take much time washing his hair and body, and he ended up spending most of his time sitting on the tile as the water sprayed his back, staring at nothing. His eyes were drooping again, and he had no idea how he was still this tired when all he had been doing the whole day was sleeping. Showering made a difference, and it felt good to not be covered in sweat. He was so over being sick, and he had a feeling whatever bug he’d caught was going to linger. Some tiny, selfish part of him hoped it would, if only it would gain him more of Bruce’s attention. Jason didn’t think he was ready to lose it again once Bruce didn’t have a reason to be close by. 

A knock on the door startled him, but he relaxed when he realized it was just his dad.

“You’ve been in there a while kiddo, you okay?”

Jason cleared his throat, slowly getting up and turning the water off.

“Yeah, ‘m good B.”

“Alright. I changed the sheets so you’d have some clean ones to sleep in.”

Jason yawned, lazily rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He grabbed the t-shirt sitting on the counter, noting that it was one of his dad’s shirts. It was soft against his sensitive skin, and smelled like a mix of Bruce and the jasmine-scented detergent Alfred always uses. He yawned again, ready to sleep for another day.

Bruce was still there, which wasn’t surprising. He looked up from his tablet as Jason walked out of the bathroom, standing up and placing his tablet on the bed.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to watch a movie or something, but you look like you’re about to fall asleep,” Bruce had a fond expression on his face, and he lifted his arms slightly before stopping. They both stood there awkwardly, wanting the same thing but too stubborn to be the one to do anything about it. Jason was eventually the one to initiate, too tired to care about his—fake—reputation for resenting affection from his family any longer.

“Fuck off, old man, I’m not tired,” he grumbled, clearly lying, and shuffled forward to bury his flushed face in his dads sweater. Bruce wrapped his arms tight around him, and they stood there a while until Jason yawned again. Bruce walked them over to the bed, not letting go as he laid them both down. 

His symptoms seemed to dull as he stayed curled up with his head on his dad’s chest, the sound of his heart beat lulling him to sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so safe, so at ease. If anyone would make him feel this way, even after all the tension and shit they’ve been through, it would be his dad. He could tell he was close to falling asleep, and he nuzzled into his dad, eyes fluttering.

“Love you dad,” it was faint, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if his dad even heard it.

“I love you too sweetheart, so much. Now get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He believed him.

He didn’t feel the need to disappear anymore. He could let himself have this.