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A sharp, energetic knock snapped Jason to reality. One second he’d been totally immersed in his novel and now here he was: back in the bedroom he’d lived in back when he was fifteen years old. He could feel his knobby knees pressing into the carpet, he could see his fragile little fingers gripping the pages of his book.
The knock came again. Jason knew from experience that it wasn’t going to go away on its own, so set his book down and turned to face the door.
“Yeah?” Even his fucking voice was wrong, higher and softer and missing the rough texture he’d earned over the years. It still caught him by surprise sometimes.
The knob turned, the door swung open, and Dick stuck his head in. “Hey, Jay. I was—”
He paused for a half second, eyes wandering lower and lower until he finally clocked where Jason was: sitting on the floor by the foot of the bed. Even if he hadn’t been down here, Jason knew it would have taken Dick an extra half-second to find him. Everyone was still getting used to him being almost three feet shorter than before.
Actually, everyone was still getting used to a lot of shit from this whole fucked up situation, but that's was what it was like now. This wasn’t like their other cases; Jason wasn't going to bounce back to normal. He was going to stay as… this. Small. Weak. Dependent.
Captain Optimist wasn't thinking about any of that, though. He just got this irritating half smile on his face when he finally clocked Jason. It was probably supposed to be encouraging. “I was wanting to make sure you made it down for family movie night. We’re going to be starting up soon.”
“Oh. Right.” Jason traced the edge of his book with the tips of his fingers. “I guess… I should come to that, huh?”
“It’s not about an obligation. It’s supposed to be family time, that’s all.”
Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes. It made Dick’s smile slip a little.
Good.
“Seriously, Jay. We want you there. I know I’m not the only one who’s invited you before all this happened.” With that classic look of rosy determination, Dick came through the doorway and crossed the room, closing the gap between them.
Although Jason tried, he couldn’t seem to stop his shoulders from hiking up and his back from stiffening as Dick approached. Fuck, he was always so much bigger than Jason now, and the two weeks since Jason’s permanent de-aging were not enough time for him to get used to it. He had a fucking giant for a brother, and there was everyone else, too. Plus things like furniture and cars and everything. The entire damn world had expanded beyond Jason’s control and—
Dick sat on the floor a few feet from Jason, moving silently and keeping his distance. It was that same careful consideration he always showed these days, and the strangest thing about this was that Jason’s own natural instinct to get pissed off was dialed way back.
Yeah, he wasn't in the mood for some kind of older brother pep talk, and he wasn't happy about being seen as vulnerable. But also… he didn't feel that itch on his skin or that burning in his chest. He wasn't tossing out sharp barbs or stomping off to be on his own again.
He was actually just… more at ease now that someone was sitting in his vicinity and was looking out for him. And even though there was a memory in his head of his reactions being different, the very real sensations of the present overrode all of that.
And so Dick got his way: Jason started talking.
“I’m living here now. For… years, probably. I can’t just hide up in my room every time there’s a family thing happening.”
“If you really didn’t want to come, I could make an excuse.”
Jason shrugged. He had no idea what the fuck he wanted. All his instincts had gotten flipped around and he couldn’t tell which way was up anymore.
“Seriously, Jay. Looks like you’ve still got some settling in to do in here anyway.”
Jason grimaced. Yeah, his reclaimed bedroom was still in the works. Most of the leftover stuff from his teenage years was finally dealt with, but after a few trips around Gotham he now had a pile of boxes from his old safe houses that needed to be dealt with, plus a hamper full of brand-new child-sized clothing that Alfred had washed and dropped off yesterday.
“I’m working through it, I’m just…” He glared at a stack of freakishly small t-shirts that he was in the middle of putting into the drawer.
Well, he had been in the middle of that until he’d seen the cover of his book and started looking at it and then somehow ended up on the floor reading. Something heavy twinged in his gut.
And because he had no filter anymore, he ended up saying, “I keep getting distracted. I think it’s an attention span thing.”
Dick raised an eyebrow. “Wait, like…”
“Like how even my fucking brain is six years old. I can’t—” He clenched his hands into fists and pulled in a sharp, deep breath. Every single day, there was a new thing he discovered that cut away at the person he used to be. And it wasn't only the new things! It was all the other degrading constants: needing a step stool to reach his toothbrush, fumbling the silverware every time he sat down to eat, not recognizing his own fucking voice when he spoke.
“It's probably just because you've got a lot to think about,” Dick said. “Anyone would be distracted.”
Jason's face pulled into a snarl as he stared down at his skinny little legs. He shouldn't be allowing himself to get stuck like this. He'd signed up for this life. He'd made his choice. Now, he just needed to fucking get over it.
With a sigh, Dick leaned back and pushed his hair out of his face. “Well, I’m always willing to help if—”
“I don’t want help. I want—” A pang hit Jason’s chest, and he shut it down fast. No way in hell was he going to finish that sentence.
It didn't matter what he wanted, anyway. This was what he was going to get. He gave his head a rough shake and stood up, leaving the book, the laundry, and everything else right where it was.
“Whatever. Let’s go do the movie night thing.”
“Jay—”
“I’m not going to talk about it anymore.” Even though if Dick kept pushing, he would. That’s how Jason was now. Clenching his fists, he swallowed back a sigh. “Let’s go.”
Then he made for the door, working like hell to ignore the shadow of Dick’s much larger body following right behind him.
‘Family Movie Night’ was taking place in the den, one of the few areas of the manor that didn’t look like it had been transplanted directly from the most boring, stuffiest museum you could imagine. There was a giant sectional sofa, several cushioned armchairs, and even a few large pillows scattered around the room. Most of the furniture was loosely aimed towards a massive TV screen that also boasted a state-of-the-art sound system along with every gaming console known to man.
Every month, Jason had been invited to this dumb thing, and every month he'd said no because of course he fucking had. He didn't get cozy domestic moments with his stupidly massive adopted family, and he didn't get casual hang-outs with Bruce where neither of them got pissed off at something the other did. That wasn't how Red Hood did family.
But… Jason wasn't Red Hood anymore, was he?
A shiver crawled across his shoulders, and he had to force himself to keep walking. He couldn’t afford to show even a second of weakness, even though his damn juvenile body betrayed him all the time no matter what he did.
Tonight, Damian and Tim were already there in the den, bickering about movie options as they flicked through the TV menu. Alfred was busy setting up bowls of popcorn and trays of drinks and Bruce was… Right there. Sitting in one of the armchairs without a phone or tablet or laptop anywhere to be seen.
He sat up straighter as he caught sight of Jason. “Jay. I… wasn’t sure if you were coming.”
And what the fuck did that mean? That he’d assumed Jason would actually hide up in his room for this whole thing even though he was in the same fucking house? It was so typical of Bruce to expect the worst of Jason and…
And the anger didn’t go beyond that. It didn’t bubble into heated words or a dramatic exit. It just flowed through Jason, not doing anything more intense than making him frown. Before he'd even realized it, it had faded away to nothing.
The silence was stretching out too long. Pretty soon Tim and Damian were going to notice something was weird and then Jason would have even more eyes on him. He couldn't stomach that happening any more than it already did. Everyone was watching him all the damn time now and he couldn't even blame them all that much. He looked like a child; of course people were going to stare.
With a shrug, he finally forced himself to say something. “Yeah, well… I live here now, so…Figure I should show up.”
“And we’re very glad for it,” Alfred swept in. “Yet another person to hold Master Bruce to his promises.”
Bruce let out an affronted huff. “I’m here tonight, aren’t I? No work in sight, either.”
“But Cassandra is not,” Damian pointed out.
“Which is a matter I will address with her and not you, Master Damian.”
The kid was obviously disappointed, but Jason didn't know how to feel about Cass not making her way back to Gotham yet. Sure, he wasn't looking forward to the whole awkward ordeal of having to face her like this, but he knew it would have to happen eventually, and the longer it got put off, the worse it felt.
And that was as far as he was going to dig into that for tonight. With the focus off of him for a little, it was a lot easier for Jason to make his way fully into the room and pick his spot: the corner of the big sectional. It was far enough away from Bruce that there was less pressure with that whole thing, and it was also lower to the floor than any of the armchairs. It didn’t take that much extra effort for Jason to boost himself up onto the seat and then shuffle backwards until he could rest against the cushions.
And right there, stuck out in front of him, were his legs. They weren’t even close to long enough to reach the floor, but there was no way in hell he was going to have his feet knocking together like this for the rest of the night. He glared at his wrinkly socks. He always had to strategize around every single piece of furniture now, and it fucking sucked. In the end he pulled his legs closer, tucking his feet into the sofa cushion. It seemed like the best option he had.
Two seconds after he’d found his spot, Dick flopped down beside him, filling the gap between Jason and Damian. He stretched his legs out (show off) and put a bowl of popcorn between him and Jason.
So, this was really happening. Jason was going to sit here and watch a fucking movie with his family. And he’d do it next month and the one after that, on and on for the next ten years at least, and probably even more. The whole time, he'd be here, sitting on furniture that was way too big for him and—
A blanket landed over his lap. Jason looked up to see Dick’s carefully casual face.
“You looked cold,” he said with a shrug, plucking a few popcorn kernels out of the bowl as he turned back to the screen.
Jason straightened the blanket. Yeah, he had been cold, actually. It was another thing that was happening a lot more now, partly because he had less physical mass and partly because he’d stopped wearing the casual button-ups that used to make up a solid chunk of his wardrobe. Alfred had ordered him some child-sized ones, but it was fucking hard to manage the buttons with his clumsy fingers so he was wearing a lot more plain t-shirts instead. He’d have to get— Well, he’d have to ask Alfred to get him some more hoodies. That’s how things worked now.
The opening theme of the film had started up, and Alfred had dimmed the lights. Tim and Damian had settled on some kind of lame action flick, which wasn't terrible. After a beat, Jason shifted down further into his spot.
This… wasn't awful. No one was yelling; no one was giving anyone the cold shoulder. They were all just watching. Occasionally, Dick would make a stupid comment. Either Tim would reply to it or Damian would dig his heel into Dick's thigh to get him to stop.
Silently, Jason reached out a snuck a few kernels of popcorn. Chewing on his snack, he stared at that massive screen and blinked. Maybe it’d be okay coming to this thing once a month.
He couldn't pin down when things changed. One minute he was watching a car chase through blurry eyes and the next he was… Somewhere else entirely.
It was quiet. It was warm. There was a steady rhythmic movement underneath him. He curled into the warmth, keeping his eyes closed.
Then he snapped back to awareness. He wasn’t where he’d thought he was. He’d been moved. He was fucking pinned down, a universally bad thing.
He squirmed, and the strong hold around him tightened.
Fuck, he screwed. At his size, an octogenarian with emphysema could overpower him and this person sure as hell felt stronger than that. He'd have to try something else. He'd have to think differently—
“Jay! Jay, it's okay!”
Somehow, in the tangle of limbs and darkness and breathless fear, Jason recognized that voice.
“Dick?” He gasped out a breath. The hold had shifted and now he was… standing upright. In the dark upstairs hallway of the manor. Dick had a firm hand clamped on his shoulder.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.”
Jason tried (and failed) to shrug off that heavy hand. “I wasn't fucking… I— I'm fine, dick face!”
There was a neutral hum that… that meant…
God, Jason's head was fuzzy. He couldn't concentrate. He couldn't think.
“You fell asleep downstairs,” Dick explained slowly, carefully. “I was just bringing you to your room. I’m sorry. I didn't think…”
“Shut the fuck up.” His knees were wobbly, too. Maybe it was a good thing that Dick hadn't let go yet.
“Okay.” There was a pause while Dick took a slow, purposeful breath.
Jason very deliberately didn't copy him. He could do his own set of stupid regulation tricks: picking out the details of the shadowy hallway as he forced himself back to the present. There was that creepy framed portrait of some random Wayne ancestor. The gentle ticking of the clock hung beside that. The soft carpet runner underneath his sock feet.
“I feel asleep in the middle of the movie,” Jason finally echoed. Things were finally starting to get through.
“Yeah.”
Fuck. He didn't remember any of that. It used to take him damn near forever to get any shuteye but now…
“Just… don't move me next time; I can sleep on the sofa.” And it was messed up that Jason even have to say that because since when did people worry about where he ended up crashing for the night? A yawn stretched his jaw, pushing through no matter how hard he tried to clamp it down.
“Oh, well, uh…” Dick pushed his hair back. “You were kind of on me, actually, so… I had to do something.”
It took a second before that clicked. “What? No, I…”
That couldn’t be true How the hell would that even happen? Jason had been in his own spot, and then… Well, he did remember getting closer to the popcorn bowl at some point…
“It's okay,” Dick said. “Actually, it was kinda nice. You're like a weighted blanket.”
Fuck. A sick feeling started to churn up in Jason's gut. He'd really curled up on Dick to sleep while explosions rained down on the screen?
“Jay? Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped or… or made you—”
“It's fine! I was just— Still waking up.” And he still hadn't really been able to do that. His mind felt soupy and his reflexes felt even slower than they usually were, which was saying something.
“Sure.” Gently, Dick squeezed his very large, strong hand on Jason's very skinny, small shoulder. “Do you want—”
“I’m fine. Don't you have patrol to be getting to?” The rest of the manor was still and silent; everyone else had probably gone out for the night.
Meanwhile, Jason had just woken up from fucking naptime.
“I can stick around if you—”
“I don't need anything.” Finally, Jason shrugged off that stupid hand and stood on his own two feet. “Go do your own thing.”
There was just enough light for Jason to see Dick's expression fall. “Alright. I'll give you some space.”
He finally left, and Jason went the rest of the way to his room by himself, fighting against the fog-like fatigue the whole way. He balled his fists as tight as he could and clenched his teeth together.
So. Yet another chip away at who he'd once been. He wasn't suiting up for patrol; he wasn't even sitting on comms. He'd fallen asleep in front of everyone, right up against his brother. He hadn't even woken up when he'd first been moved.
It was wrong. It was different. It chafed against him and made a fire burn deep inside his chest.
But as he entered his room, blinking muzzily in the soft lamplight, there was one thing that itched in his brain above above everything else.
It was the feeling of that hand staying on his shoulder: supporting him, comforting him. Something like that wasn't supposed to feel that way for Jason, but as he held that sensation in his memories and looked at it from all angles, he kept coming back to the same thing:
It had been really, really nice.