Work Text:
Jason doesn’t bother knocking on the door to Dick’s apartment. He has a key of his own, and he unlocks the door as quietly as he is able.
The apartment is dark, and all the curtains are still drawn despite it being past noon. Jason kicks his boots off, then stumbles towards the kitchen as he tries not to drop any of the shopping bags. Dirty pots and pans cover the stovetop, dishes are piled in the sink, and the bin is overflowing with old takeout containers. The fridge is mostly empty, but a few wilted veggies and moldy fruit still remain. Jason tosses them out, empties the bin, then gets to work.
Dick’s washing up gloves are neon pink, and Jason pulls them on with a roll of his eyes before he begins cleaning. Some of the larger pans he sets to soak, and he is glad he’d remembered to bring his own supplies. There’s barely any dish soap left in the bottle, and Dick’s sponges are a sad, sad sight.
After the dishes have been left to dry, Jason wipes down the counters, turns on the oven, and starts to cook. He preps a tray of lasagna, portions out a week’s worth of chicken and rice, sets a pot of soup to boil, and leaves a bowl of bread dough to rise. By the time he’s finished, it’s almost four, and he makes himself a salad to eat while he waits for the lasagna to finish baking.
Jason knows that the living room is going to be in dire need of a clean, too, but that’s too close to Dick’s bedroom, and he doesn’t want to risk waking him. If he isn’t out by dinner time, then Jason will bring him something to eat, but he just settles for reorganizing Dick’s spice cabinet in the meantime.
He’s sitting on the counter, halfway through debating if he should organize them alphabetically or by type when the bedroom door creaks open and Haley comes bounding out.
Dick looks like hell. Greasy hair sticks up in wild clumps, and a shadow of stubble darkens his jaw. There are deep lines creased into the side of his face from where he had been pressed against his pillow, and Jason takes a deep breath before he jumps down from the countertop.
“Hey,” he says quietly as Haley comes over to weave between his legs. “You’re finally awake.”
It takes a moment before Dick lifts his head to meet Jason’s eye, and the older boy tries and fails to summon a smile. “Did Alfred send you?”
“Nah, he didn’t need to.” Dick absolutely reeks; there’s no telling when he last showered, but Jason hugs him anyway. “I know you well enough.”
“You shouldn’t have to clean up after me.”
“‘Course I do. One of us was actually raised with valuable life skills. The other was raised in complete and utter anarchy.”
“Hey, now, the circus was a great place to grow up.”
“I wasn’t talking about the circus, Mr. I-got-a-batplane-for-my-birthday.”
That makes Dick chuckle, and he pulls himself out of Jason’s embrace with a shrug of his shoulders. “Alright, alright, you’ve made your point.” He cranes his neck to peer into the kitchen. “Lasagna? It smells great.”
“There’s chicken and rice portioned out in the freezer, too.” Jason points to the pot on the stove. “Pumpkin soup. I hid more vegetables in there because I know you won’t eat them otherwise. Garlic bread’s going in the oven once the lasagna’s out. Oh, and there’s some healthy ramen packs in your cupboards. None of that processed shit that’ll turn your insides to rot. Fridge is stocked, spices are somewhat organized, and you now have clean dishes to eat off.”
Dick’s lower lip wobbles, and he stares very pointedly at the ground by Jason’s socked feet. “How’d you know?”
“You didn’t come for Sunday dinner two weeks in a row.” When Dick sits, Jason stands behind him and begins to rub his shoulders, feeling the tension held tight in Dick’s muscles. “You weren’t answering Damian’s texts, and when the kid freaks out, you and I both know he makes that everyone’s problem. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”
Jason knows better than to ask why Dick hadn’t told anyone. He takes it upon himself to try and single-handedly hold their odd little family together whenever Bruce fails, and Jason can see how that weighs on him. When they had been younger, Dick had been far less guarded. Jason had known him before Bruce had turned him into a second parent, back when Dick had been nothing more than the cool older sort-of-brother that had let Jason stay up past his bedtime when they’d had sleepovers in Dick’s shitty apartment.
“You know that none of them would think any less of you if they knew. We’ve all got our own shit, Dickie.”
“Yes, but none of you are the oldest. It’s my job to take care of you guys, not the other way around.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Jason wraps his finger around a strand of Dick’s hair and tugs. “We take care of each other. That’s how this works, at least until Bruce learns how to be a functional parent.”
“Like that’s ever going to happen.”
“So then let us help you.” He slots a hand under Dick’s armpit and tugs him to his feet. “Go shower. I’ll start tidying up in the living room.”
“Jason, you really don’t have to-”
“You want me to get Alfred in here?”
Dick frowns. “Alfred would be nicer to me.”
“Alfred would also go and snitch to Bruce. Now please, for the love of all that is good and holy in this world, go and shower before I throw up. You smell fucking rancid.”
In hindsight, he should have expected Dick to retaliate, and he shrieks when Dick grabs his face and shoves it into his armpit. When Jason’s close to choking to death, Dick releases him, tweaks his ear, and runs to the shower before Jason can exact revenge. Or so he thinks.
Jason waits a few minutes, then flicks on the washing machine and hears Dick shriek when his shower turns cold.
“Jason, you son of a bitch! Turn the washer off!”
“Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over the shower!” Jason yells back as he goes and turns off the washing machine. He hears Dick laughing as the water returns to normal, and Jason is grinning as he begins to wipe off the coffee table.
By the time Dick comes out of the shower, Jason has moved on to his bedroom, and he tosses Dick a fresh set of clothes before he gets back to stripping the bed.
“I’ll come by for dinner tomorrow,” Dick says as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants. Jason notes the new scar on his back, still slightly inflamed. “If Damian’s upset, I should-”
“Damian will manage without father number two for a day, Dickie.” Jason reaches over and grabs Dick’s damp towel to throw in the laundry hamper. “You don’t have to go if you’re not feeling up to it.”
When Dick goes to protest, Jason holds up a hand. “Okay, fine, what if I drive him here instead? I’ll bring the others, too, and we can have a movie night here. We can order a pizza, and then when you’re sick of us, you can just go right to bed. You don’t have to drive an almost four hour round trip, and I get bonus sibling points.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that sibling points aren’t a thing?”
“You’re just mad because I’m in the lead.”
Dick throws a dirty sock at him. “You are such a pain.”
“Yeah, but I’m a pain with lasagna, so put a shirt on and come grab a plate.”
They eat in silence, plates piled high with lasagna that is still steaming from the oven. There’s a small cut on Dick’s face where he had nicked himself shaving that Jason almost mistakes for a smudge of red sauce, and for some reason, the sight of it makes Jason want to cry.
“Call me if it gets this bad again,” Jason whispers. “Don’t wait for me to figure it out.”
For a moment, Dick looks far, far older than his twenty eight years. Jason sees a shadow of Bruce in him, and, not for the first time, he wonders how their lives would be different if Bruce Wayne had not found them.
“You don’t have to take care of me, Jay.”
“No, I don’t.” Jason reaches over and wipes his thumb over the cut on Dick’s cheek. “But I’m going to anyway. I’m stubborn like that.”
Jason spends the night because Dick refuses to let him drive home so late, and they stay up watching bad reality TV on Dick’s tablet, curled up beneath freshly washed sheets with Haley sprawled out between them. Dick digs his toes into Jason’s legs to make him laugh, and Jason only hits him a few times with his pillow.
It’s like they are young again, like there aren’t gray strands starting to appear in Dick’s hair, like Jason’s bones don’t creak whenever he stands up, like the weight of two broken cities doesn’t lean heavy on their shoulders. For a moment, Jason can pretend he is thirteen again, and that he hasn’t just spent the last seven hours cleaning with the hope that it’ll make his brother a little less likely to kill himself.
“I’ll call you next time,” Dick says quietly just as Jason is about to fall asleep. “I promise.”