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Jason always has a pretty substantial appetite, but the amount he eats to make up for Dick, who looks physically incapable of choking anything down, does get a little excessive.
"Hungry?" Steph asks wryly as Jason swaps plates with Dick, who Alfred was trying to tempt into eating anything.
"Been running around all day after those lunatics," Jason informs her around yet another mouthful. Is this stress eating? It feels like stress eating.
"No really Alfie, I'm stuffed," Dick is saying next to him.
"Can I make you something else?" Alfred offers.
"No, no, really," Dick says to Alfred. He smiles and makes eye contact with Bruce. The smile falters.
Bruce's eyes narrow.
Jason decides to cut himself off before he ends up throwing up on Bruce as a defense mechanism. He starts plotting how to get rid of all the others at the table so they can talk to Bruce without more complications.
Damian casts him an annoyed look when Jason starts drumming his fingers on the table.
"You sure you didn't get shorter since the last time I last saw you?" Jason asks.
"Good thing you wear a helmet, I can't imagine how much worse the brain damage would be without it." Damian replies acidly.
Dick laughs, Jason glares at him. Traitor.
"You guys need new material," Tim tells them. "It's always the same three jokes between you. Height, brain damage, or death."
"Your girlfriend told me you had those issues. You doin' okay?" Jason asks, concerned.
"Hey!" Dick's half-laughing, half-annoyed as Jason catches a bread roll in the face, ducking before the other one can hit him.
"Boys." Bruce scolds. It's quiet, but it sweeps across the table. Dad-like. How sweet.
Cass smiles too much and spills water out of her glass. Jason doesn't think he's ever seen her grin like that.
"Jesus." Stephanie complains, looking pretty amused herself as she tosses a napkin Cass's way.
Duke eyes it when it lands on him. "You guys know you can pass things without throwing 'em right?" He hands it over to Cass, who's scowling a little. She drinks the next glass primly.
There's some blood at the corner of her mouth. Jason realizes there's actually a pretty decent amount of bleeding around the table. And this time he looks at Dick more carefully.
He's rigid, one hand tightly digging into his forearm. Dick's eyes look cold.
Jason's unnerved. He brushes his thigh against Dick's leg and Dick gives him a long, desperate look.
Jason thinks fast. There's no way to get Bruce's attention on a top secret matter without alerting the others. Nosy bastards will all want to hear this out.
What should he do? Try and tip over a candle? Make eye contact with Bruce? Threaten to shoot someone?
Dick fumbles for Jason's hand under the table, and Jason can feel him trembling minutely.
Shit.
Family is extremely generous when it comes to them. And after spending every night risking their lives for the city, the high of the past day and half wears off fast.
And sure enough, within minutes, Tim offers to drive Stephanie home, which Dick looks relieved about. Duke seems to clock that something's up and feigns a jaw cracking yawn, dismissing himself with a wink at Jason's smirk.
That still leaves the others. Cass, Damian, Alfred even. Dick's starting to lose his mind, that much's obvious.
"You know, we should get going too." Jason gestures at himself and Dick, suddenly getting up. He pretends to wobble suddenly.
Dick's hands are there, steadying him. "Jay?"
"Oh sorry. Shit, took a bad knock to the head." He had, but it wasn't that bad. "Dickie, you might have to drive."
"No." Bruce says and Jason has to pretend not to smile.
It's an old trick, pulling all of Bruce's strings...
"I'm checking it out. Downstairs, now." Bruce orders, getting up.
As Jason predicted, exactly none of the rest want to be involved with this. Jason and Bruce's every interaction is a minefield, and even adrenaline junkies despise family drama.
"I'm fine." Jason argues, just to stay in character.
"Downstairs," Bruce repeats and Dick gives Jason a look, following him.
On the way down, Jason starts regretting it.
It's Bruce's cave. Jason would've preferred someplace with fewer weapons, and more ways out. Jason rests his hand on his holster, mentally runs through the other weapons on him. Dick had helped put it all on, which told Jason that Dick was armed too, just less lethally.
But with Dick's new strength and speed, he was more dangerous than anything Jason or Bruce had on hand.
Dick looks like he's being led to his execution and barely changes his demeanor until Bruce stops at the medbay, turning around.
Jason's torn between providing comfort and focusing on Bruce. He decides that comfort can wait.
Bruce is watching them intently. He’s seen through their act, he knows there’s something more to both of them being there.
Jason wants to laugh, so was that whole thing back there Bruce leaning into a fantasy he wanted, or just something for Alfred?
"Sit down." Bruce says and Jason perches on the cot. Bruce shines a light into Jason's eyes. "What did you two want to talk to me about?"
Jason can't move, with Bruce's fingers on his chin and a light in his eyes.
Dick takes a breath. "Me. I, uh. Something happened."
The light clicks off, to the relief of Jason's building headache.
Bruce waits.
Suddenly, Jason's realizing how moronic what he's going to say next sounds. Even for them.
"You remember those cases in Bludhaven a couple of years back?" Dick asks, voice impressively steady. "Bodies drained of blood? BPD kept running into dead ends. So I looked into it, I sent you a sample recovered from the crime scene."
What did Dick even die for? Jason wonders bitterly. What’s the story he’s so afraid to tell? Why's he being so vague?
Bruce looks like he’s putting puzzle pieces together, grim and horrified. "DNA, with abnormalities."
Dick nods. "I caught the woman behind it. She bit me. And it's changed me. It made me like her." Dick stares right at Bruce. "I don't have a pulse, or any body temp really, and I need to drink blood to survive. And I'm not--"
Bruce's eyes widen fractionally.
For the first time, Jason realizes how big of a rift his death, Dick’s death, and Bruce’s pride had created. Dick had actually gotten away with it.
"I'm not alive anymore," Dick says, wetting his lips, voice toneless.
Bruce looks devastated. And Jason can’t believe how much he expected Bruce to have a solution to this, can't believe how much he secretly thought Bruce already knew.
It’s almost a trend between Jason, Dick, and Stephanie. Which one of Bruce’s kids would it be next?
"Why didn't you tell me?" Bruce asks, voice just barely giving away his anger and Dick looks helpless for a second, tense and frozen.
Jason nearly scoffs. Tell you how? He wants to snap at Bruce.
Bruce had been angry, then preoccupied so long, who knew how he’d react.
Perhaps if Jason and Bruce had reacted better to Jason’s resurrection, if Dick hadn’t been adopted so late, if Bruce had killed Joker a long time ago–- Dick would’ve come clean.
“I didn’t know how to fix it,” Dick says finally and Bruce’s face falls apart. Because obviously, Dick blames himself. His self-loathing runs so deep that he walked into gunfire.
Jason wants to strangle him all over again, but at the same time, he's watching Bruce.
There’s really no fixing this outside of a machete or some stakes.
There was no hiding from Bruce Wayne.
Jason had tried, and he’d only succeeded that long because he’d been buried. Dick couldn’t run, especially not now that Bruce had stepped up his surveillance game.
Not when Bruce could convince the League to come after Dick.
“I haven’t killed anyone.” Dick declares suddenly and Bruce’s eyes darken again. Then his voice catches and Jason's sliding off the cot, shifting toward him. "But it's been... hard."
Jason’s no optimist but either the new kids have actually unlocked some frozen part of Bruce that feels, because Bruce looks like he hadn’t even considered that. Like he doesn't get why Dick was telling him that.
Bruce turns and Jason stiffens, hand gripping his gun.
Bruce merely opens a fridge and grabs a blood bag.
Dick and Jason exchange a look.
Dick's lips are blue. He looks tired and drawn, and Jason can't believe he's missed that.
Bruce holds it out to Dick, who looks torn and slightly miserable. But he takes it with shaking hands.
Jason stupidly wants to compete with Bruce when he sees the name on the bag for which one of them gets to give Dick blood.
Dick does look at Jason before he drinks. Jason nods.
It's a test, he thinks, half-disgusted, half-relieved. Because colour floods back into Dick almost immediately as he starts to drink out of the top of the bag.
Bruce watches Dick, who loses composure the more he drinks. The restraint must've been getting to him.
Dick's panting slightly, lips stained with blood. The empty bag drops to his side. He looks horribly guilty.
Bruce swallows. He steps forward and Jason moves, so he's in front of Dick.
The wounded look in Bruce's eyes almost convinces Jason it wasn't some last meal before death shit. But Dick wasn't paranoid about this meeting for nothing.
Not that Dick, the self-sacrificing bastard, seems to care. He's ready to die. Permanently this time. And Jason didn’t put so much effort into chasing him for Bruce to get in the middle of this.
"The only thing I wish you'd done, is come talk to me," Bruce says, deflating physically. And Jason can see Dick look just as confused out of the corner of his eye. "This doesn't change anything Dick, about what I think of you, or your place with me."
Jason can hear Dick's swallow. Finally, see that mask Dick had on start to crack as he stares at Bruce.
"So that's it?" Jason demands, ruining whatever this moment should be. "You're letting this go?"
Bruce stares him down. "There's nothing more valuable than Dick's life."
"He's not alive." Jason pushes.
"He is to me." Bruce says and Dick's jaw ticks, eyes ridiculously wide.
Jason's not fully convinced, but for the first time he might believe that Bruce isn't going to kill Dick.
"I'm so sorry," Bruce starts. "I--"
There's a quiet beeping, warning them someone's coming. Because yeah, Bruce rigged the Batcave to alert him when someone approaches.
They move fast. Dick's blood bag vanishes into the biohazard bin, Jason moves his hand off the gun, Bruce stops looking so caring. Just as well, it was getting creepy.
"Am I interrupting?" Damian asks curiously, eyes panning between them. He's picking something up, of course he is.
"Do you need something?" Bruce questions.
Damian shifts his weight between his feet. "Are you going to be here for a while?"
Dick glances at Bruce.
Bruce nods. "We'll deal with it in the morning. We'll figure it out."
Jason wants to shout at them. This isn't some bad dream that'll be magically fixed in the morning.
Dick blinks, turning back to Damian. "Yes, why?"
"You could come on patrol with us," Damian says, arms crossed. "It's an easy enough case that even you can feel useful."
Dick cracks a smile while Jason rolls his eyes. "Sure thing Dami. I'm honoured you thought of me."
Damian grins and Jason wonders how the hell Dick got through to him.
"Conversation's not over." Jason protests.
"It is for me," Dick answers Jason, looking slightly exhausted, but also more alive than he had for a bit. Dick smiles tentatively at Bruce.
Bruce's lips twitch in some semblance of one. Jason's not putting any money down on this lasting.
"We don't have to stay." Dick murmurs as he passes. "Text me if you go to the safehouse?"
It thaws Jason, almost against his will.
"Yeah." Jason replies. Dick squeezes his arm before following a highly impatient Damian.
Jason fumes for a bit after. He wound himself up too much to fight someone. He whales on the punching bag for a bit, angrily paces around the vehicle bay looking for something to do, and finally winds up behind Bruce.
Staying was a bad move, he keeps giving away how much Dick means to him, unravelling the self-image he’s created of being unaffected, and uncaring of whatever this family is.
But it’s also a warning to Bruce, because Jason's not satisfied Bruce won't try and kill him. Maybe Bruce’s principles will always keep him from revenge, but if he does anything to Dick, Jason has no such values.
Bruce's scribbled some notes. Zatanna, Constantine. Doesn't take a genius to know where Bruce's head is at, what Bruce's next three moves are going to be.
Jason wants to tell him to hold off on training. But Bruce won’t. With his own hands and some convoluted plan, he’ll try and build his kid back.
Bruce is looking at the corner of the screen, that should be holding Dick’s vitals if Dick was in the suit. Dick left everyone out of his explanation-- Clark, Tim, Victor, Donna-- though it’s a matter of time before Bruce catches on.
"You should be grateful," Jason drawls, eager to vent a little. "He could've come back worse."
Bruce looks at Jason, and a little further from the exasperation is tiredness. "I wasn't ungrateful for your return Jason. I'm grieving for Dick. For what he's lost."
"Well we can't get it back." Jason snaps. "So the sooner you get with the program, the sooner he can start feeling normal. Start fucking acting like himself again."
Bruce shakes his head, exhaling loudly.
Jason's not done wanting to punch him. "And what the hell do you mean you weren't ungrateful for my return?"
Bruce drags a hand down his face. Jason raises his eyebrows.
Bruce waves a hand. "Not after--"
“Save it,” Jason says roughly, viciously satisfied. “I don’t care if it was the tragedy, or the pain, or whatever. You’ve said everything I’ll ever need to hear already."
Bruce looks torn.
That, strangely, feels good to Jason.
Both of Bruce’s eldest sons have died. What’s the point? Bruce did all this to save the city, he’s lost more and more doing it.
Depressing as fuck. But all things considered, this was still a better welcome back to life than Jason crawling out of his own grave.
"Why did neither of you come home?" Bruce asks.
Jason takes a moment. “He didn’t, to protect you. I didn’t, to protect me.” At Bruce's look, Jason shrugs. "That's who he is, always trying to protect you."
Bruce shakes his head, like he's unable to comprehend how fucking ridiculous Dick is too.
"That why you didn't kill him?"
"He's my son."
Jason whistles. "I can count on one hand how many times you've said that in front of him."
"He knows."
"Nobody knows what you think."
"He does. And the other reason I'm not that--" Bruce scoffs, meeting Jason's eyes. And it's a look Jason feels he's seen before. In the mirror.
"What?" Jason asks. "Just fucking say it."
"If it had to happen to anyone, I'm almost relieved it's him."
Before Jason can shoot him, Bruce goes on.
"There's no one else I'd trust to make this work."
They'd have to reinvent psychology as a field to factor Bruce in.
"I'm sure you think that's some kind of--" Jason breathes out. "I don't care. Just tell him I headed back."
"I'm glad he has you." Bruce says.
Of course, he's clocked their thing. Fucking hell.
"Not going to give me some kind of shovel talk?" Jason clicks his tongue. "Too late for that, I guess."
Bruce rolls his eyes. "I'm more worried about what he'd do to you."
"Me?"
Bruce raises an eyebrow.
Jason can feel his cheeks heating up. "You think he'd hurt my feelings?"
Bruce's definitely amused.
"You're so fucking off about that."
Bruce hums, opening a drawer.
"You're not even a good detective--" Jason catches the thing Bruce throws his way. "What the hell?"
"You want to spar?"
Jason glares at him. "Just so I can knock some sense into you."
Bruce nods. "Whatever helps you." He ducks when Jason takes a swipe at him, laughing just barely.
Dick's fake heartbeat keeps going as Jason tries to land a solid hit on Bruce.