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It was a random weeknight, and since Bruce was out of the house for a day trip to Metropolis with Clark, Dick decided that he and Jason were long overdue for a brotherly bonding session.
“So, Little Wing, what’ll it be?” said Dick, practically skipping into the library. Jason was curled up in an oversized armchair with a worn copy of Frankenstein in hand.
Jason took a beat, his eyes trailing the page, before looking up. “What are you talking about?”
“Bruce isn’t here,” Dick clarified. Jason was staring at him like he had lost his mind. “Sooo, we have to do something Bruce wouldn’t want us to do. Like go joyriding in one of the sports cars. Eat junk food until we’re sick. Something like that.”
Jason grimaced and went back to his book. “I think I just want to read.”
Dick sighed dramatically, flopping onto the beanbag next to him. “Jason, you’re no fun. C’mon. We have to do something. Even something lame.”
“Why are you like this?” Jason asked, closing his book and crossing his arms. Dick almost laughed at how Bruce-like his expression and body language were.
“Why are you like this?” Dick countered. “You’re such an old man, Jay. Reading dusty books in the library when we could be out on the town having fun.”
“You know that I’m twelve, right? Even in Gotham, I can’t legally get into-"
Dick scowled. “I’m not saying we should go clubbing. No. Ew. I’m not a bad influence or whatever. I just think we should leave the manor.” Dick sat up only to turn and flop in the other direction, so his torso was resting over Jason’s legs. He clasped his hands tight over his heart, made his eyes as wide as he could, and pouted his lower lip. “Pleeease?”
Jason made a face but he sighed.
Dick knew what that sigh meant. He'd won.
“Yay!” Dick reached up and gently patted one of Jason’s cheeks. “Since you’re not up for joyriding, what if we get all the snacks we can at a gas station and sneak them into a movie? Even Alfred can’t be mad about that.”
Jason worried his lip but shrugged. “As long as we’re home by midnight.”
“Why do you need to be home by midnight?” Dick laughed. He stood and pulled Jason up to his feet after him. “Will you turn into a pumpkin, Cinderella?”
“No, Dickface,” Jason quipped. “I have school tomorrow and I’m not going to fail my math midterm because you’re restless and don’t have any friends to hang out with.”
Dick grinned. “My friends are all busy being superheroes tonight. What’s your excuse?”
Jason glared. “I was happy reading a book by myself but my needy older brother-”
Dick took Jason’s hand and bowed at the waist, but Jason snatched it back before he could kiss it. “As you wish, princess.”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
Dick started skipping down the hall, just for show, and turned back to see Jason following, scowling. Both of them knew it was just for show. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t. Now, c’mon! Let’s go see what’s showing at the movie theater down the street.”
- - -
They settled on a superhero film that was clearly about a knockoff Superman.
Dick made sure to send a selfie of him and Jason in front of the movie poster to Uncle Clark– Jason looking straight at the camera, completely indifferent, while Dick smiled wide and toothy with a peace sign– before they sat down in the third row from the front.
We’ll let you know how accurate it is, Dick texted Clark. Now we’re the journalists!
Uncle Clark replied quickly with- have fun!- just as a text came in from Aunt Lois- why do they always make me blonde in those things?
Dick showed Jason the texts and his brother tried to look unimpressed but he was smiling. “Tell her it’s because blondes have more fun.”
Dick sent back Jason’s answer and Lois shot back, kiddo, the stories I could tell you about before I met Clark. Followed immediately by, nevermind- please forget I said that.
Dick laughed and slipped his phone back in his pocket. God, he loved Aunt Lois. This is why he always got brunch with her after Bruce’s cocktail parties– even the most scandalous piece of Gotham gossip barely phased her.
As soon as the trailers started rolling, both he and Jason began pulling snacks and drinks out of all their hiding spots. The sodas tucked into the pocket of Dick’s hoodie, the candy bars still warm from the cinched ankles of Jason’s sweatpants, crinkly foil bags of chips and cheese curls tugged out of the folds of Dick’s oversized jacket.
“We’re really good at this,” Dick murmured, looking over the monumental horde in his lap. "Maybe we should've turned to a life of crime."
Jason retrieved a bag of gummy bears from his waistband. “I don’t know why you’re surprised. I used to grocery shop as a kid by shoplifting.” Dick’s mood turned sour almost instantly and Jason laughed, punching him in the shoulder. “You make it so easy. I’m kidding, Dickface. I stole the money and paid for the food. I support local businesses.”
Dick rolled his eyes, and played it off, but he knew Jason was only partially joking. He probably did have to steal food as a kid. His parents certainly didn’t have a butler at home to grocery shop and meal prep.
Jason was absently chewing on gummy bears, eyes rapt on the big screen. Dick used this chance to discreetly look him over.
Jason had been living with Bruce for about six months now, and the difference was easy to see. His face and limbs were more filled out from consistent meals and Bruce’s workout regimen. He was nowhere near Robin-ready yet, but he had the muscular build of one in training. His dark hair was curly and full, the white streak glinting in the light of the screen.
But the real difference was in his eyes and his shoulders. With every month spent at the manor, Jason let his guard down a little bit more. Laughed more. Not just his mocking cackles or shark-tooth grins, but soft smiles and even, on occasion, joyful giggles. The wrinkle between his eyebrows was smoothing out. His shoulders had sunk down from up by his ears to the loosened posture of a carefree kid.
Jason was learning to trust them. And Dick was honored to be one of the few he let in.
The movie began and Dick felt warm and fuzzy. The film was sappy and inaccurate, and Uncle Clark was nowhere near as dour or moody as the on-screen hero. Honestly, the faux-Superman was more like Bruce than anyone else. The not-Lois was also too fake and chipper to be Dick's badass, cunning aunt.
The movie kind of sucked, really, but it was pretty and full of bright primary colors that reflected off their faces like spotlights. The warm and fuzzy feeling in Dick’s gut didn’t come from the film, though- it was from finally getting Jason to do something silly and fun. Something inconsequential. Something normal brothers did.
Dick kept trying to discreetly spy on Jason, to see if he was enjoying this as much as Dick was, but Jason had pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and rested his hand against the side of his face, completely hiding his expression from Dick.
Dick wrote it off, thinking he was just that engrossed in the movie.
He didn’t realize anything was wrong until about an hour in.
“Jay, can you pass me the gummy bears?” Dick whispered as fake Uncle Clark and Aunt Lois fought about whether they could be together without compromising their morals.
Jason didn’t reply. Or move.
“Jay? Gummy bears, please?”
Still, nothing.
“Little Wing–” Dick reached over to pluck the gummy bears from where Jason was clutching them in his lap only to realize Jason’s hand was shaking.
Dick’s whole body went cold.
“Hey, Jay,” Dick began, turning his torso so he was fully facing Jason, but also blocking the people beside him from watching. “What’s going on?”
Jason leaned over and let out a barely audible whimper. “It’s–”
Dick pulled up the armrest between them and slid closer, his knee gently pressed to Jason’s jittery thigh. He was trembling. The bag of gummy bears fell to the floor as Jason brought his other hand up to his face, his expression entirely hidden from Dick’s sight.
Carefully, in case it wasn’t welcome, Dick lowered his arm over Jason’s shoulders and pulled him closer, so he was resting against his chest.
“What’s going on, Little Wing?” Dick asked again, his voice as loud as he dared in the crowded theater. He was trying to be discreet, to not make a scene. They were Bruce Wayne’s kids. The last thing Jason needed was a picture of this going viral on social media overnight.
“My head,” Jason sobbed, his voice broken and warped. Dick’s whole body froze at the sound. Jason didn’t sound scared or confused like Dick had expected. He sounded like he was in pain. “I think I’m having a migraine.”
Jason buried his face against Dick’s chest and he put all the pieces together slowly. Jason's hands weren’t over his eyes because he was having a panic attack, but because the pretty flashing lights of the movie were shiny daggers against his sensitive eyes. He was turning into Dick to get away from the sounds, too, pressing one ear against his brother’s jacket to drown out the loud banter as he shakily covered the other with one of his tiny, sweaty palms.
As Jason moved his hands, Dick caught a glimpse of the lower half of his face in the screen’s light. He had bitten his lip bloody and there was a trail of snot and tears running down his jaw.
“Jay, why didn’t you tell me?” Dick grabbed a clean but discarded napkin off the floor of the theater, unfolding it so the bit that had touched the floor was tucked inside. He gently nudged Jason’s hand up so it was only clasped over his eyes and wiped away the tears and snot, balling up the tissue and dropping it back to the floor.
“Can you walk?” Dick brought his other hand up and gently tugged Jason’s hood lower so it was blocking more of the light.
Jason sniffed but nodded. “I think so.”
“Okay, let’s get you out of here.”
He felt horrible about disrupting the movie, but Dick stood to his full height, and cautiously pulled Jason to his feet. Jason swayed, but found his balance and slowly shuffled out of the aisle. He still had his eyes squinted shut and ears covered with his palms, so Dick settled his hands over his shoulders, steering him.
As soon as they were out of the aisle, Jason stumbled into the wall and Dick caught him under the arms.
“Almost to the exit, Little Wing,” Dick soothed. He wanted to sweep Jason up and carry him out to the car. But they were still in public, and Jason would’ve protested being carried around when a photo could be easily snapped.
Finally, they reached the door to the theater and Dick quickly ushered Jason out, not thinking twice. He was just desperate to get his brother back to the car and to get them both home.
What Dick didn’t count on was the bright fluorescent lights in the hallway making Jason’s migraine worse and sending him crashing to his knees with a muffled whimper.
“The lights,” Jason gasped, his hands fluttering off of his ears and over his eyes, fingertips bloodless where they dug into his forehead.
“Jason!” Dick knelt at his side, sliding off his own jacket and draping it over Jason’s head to cover his eyes. “What can I-”
“Bathroom,” Jason whispered.
At first, Dick didn’t understand. They were only ten minutes from the manor- couldn’t he just wait until they got home?
Then he felt Jason’s back seize up under his palm and he understood immediately. Oh. Oh, shit.
Dick glanced around frantically and his eyes landed on a handicap-accessible single stall bathroom. The little green swath above the door knob marked it as vacant.
After a quick check that they were alone in the hall between theaters– they were– Dick scooped Jason up and dashed for the bathroom.
He pried the door open awkwardly with Jason in his arms, the jacket still covering his head, just in time for Jason to scramble up and start retching over the toilet.
“The lights,” Jason choked out just before violently throwing up all the junk food they had binged.
Dick scrambled for the light switch on the wall and plunged them into darkness just in time for Jason to fall to his knees with a painful thud and get sick again.
Dick clicked the lock and fell back against the door, taking a deep, shaky breath of his own and clutching at his hair. What was he supposed to do? Gar had migraines sometimes. They were brutal. Left him hiding in bed for days in a dark, quiet room. And Dick was currently in a loud, crowded, very public movie theater with a little brother puking his guts out in a pitch black bathroom. He didn’t know how to make this better.
“Jay, what-”
Jason coughed again, but this time, he caught his breath. Spit a few times. “Can you call Dad?” His voice was hoarse and frail. “I don’t know if I–”
Dick’s chest went tight. He did this to Jason. He took him to see this too bright, too loud movie that triggered him into a migraine when all his little brother had wanted was a quiet night at home, alone. But no, Dick had wanted to do something together and he’d–
Stop it, he chastised himself. Enough.
He could have a pity party later. Right now, he needed to get Jason home.
“Do you want Bruce to come get you?” Dick asked, voice soft so he didn’t hurt Jason’s head anymore than he had to. “I can carry you to the car, Jay.”
Jason shook his head, the movement barely visible in the light of the glowing blue blink of the inactive hand dryer. Dick could hear that he’d started crying again. “I want Dad.” Jason’s voice cracked on the last word.
Dick nodded, even though he knew Jason couldn’t see it, and hit the speed dial key. Pretended his brother saying that hadn’t just broken his heart into a million pieces.
Just a few weeks ago, Jason would barely let Bruce touch him. Now, apparently, Bruce was the one he wanted when things went wrong. Not Dick, but Bruce.
Bruce picked up after two rings.
“Hey,” Dick said, his voice steady even though he felt anything but. “We need you at the movie theater near the manor. Jason's got a migraine and he’s asking for you.”
Bruce made a noise of concern. “I just got back from Metropolis. I’ll be there in a few minutes. What brought it on?”
“It was my fault,” Dick said, tone empty and coarse. “I took him to see the new Superman movie.”
Jason slid down, his back against the wall. He balled Dick’s jacket up on his knees and rested his head on it. Dick watched him wince when his forehead came into contact with the soft fabric. His head hurt to touch. Another horrible symptom Gar had told him about.
Bruce grunted and Dick could hear a car door slamming. The purr of an engine. “You didn’t know. Jason didn’t tell you about his sensitivity to lights, did he?”
It felt like someone dumped a cup of ice down the back of his shirt. Dick fought to keep his inflection low and neutral. “No, he didn’t– wait, since when does Jay have a sensitivity to light?”
“He gets migraines from bright flashing lights,” Bruce stated, like this was something everyone knew. “He’s had a few since he moved in. That’s why I didn’t take him to the night carnival last week.”
Dick briefly remembered the discussion over dinner, Bruce saying that going to the carnival wasn't a good idea. Dick had assumed it was because of Jason’s bedtime and school the next morning, not because of the bright flashing lights of the marquees.
“Bruce, why didn’t you tell me?” He was trying not to be angry, he was, but he was pissed. And devastated. Dick was the reason that Jason was curled up in a dark public bathroom right now and it was only his fault because Bruce hadn’t bothered to tell him.
“I’m sorry– I didn’t think to.” Bruce sounded genuinely apologetic but that didn’t help either Dick or Jason right now. “How is he, Dick?”
And then Dick felt guilty for a whole new reason. Because he was so busy being mad at Bruce that he was ignoring Jason, who was still in enough pain to leave the normally tough-as-nails kid falling apart on the dirty tiled floor.
“He’s in a lot of pain.” Dick swallowed. “How far are you?”
Another slam of a car door. “I’m here. Coming in the back. Where are you?”
“Single stall bathroom, right across from theater three. I’ll unlock the door.”
Bruce hung up and Dick could hear someone running down the hall. He stepped aside just in time for Bruce to open the door, slip in, and close it as quickly as a man his size could.
Bruce was wearing a grey cashmere sweater and slacks, with expensive loafers and a weighty watch. He also had a small satchel with him and a bright blue Metropolis Meteors baseball cap on. He was as incognito as Bruce Wayne could be.
Bruce gently patted Dick’s chest before tugging at his slacks and kneeling in front of Jason’s balled up form.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Bruce whispered, reaching out and pressing a hand to one of Jason’s knees. “How bad?”
Jason shook his head and whimpered. “It hurts. It feels like something is trying to punch out my eyes from the inside.”
Now Dick felt like he was the one who was going to be sick.
“I’m so sorry, Jaylad.” Bruce rubbed his thumb over Jason’s knee before dropping his bag between them. He pulled out a plastic water bottle and an orange pill bottle. “Here, take two of these. They won’t do much now, but they’ll help later.”
Dick watched as Bruce dropped two pills onto Jason’s sweat soaked palm, cracked open a plastic water bottle, and handed it to him. Jason shakily tossed the pills back and swallowed them with a messy sip of water. Dick couldn’t see very well in the dark, but he could tell that Jason had gotten a good bit of water all down the front of his shirt.
“Hopefully, the pills will kick in sooner than later,” Bruce whispered. Dick hadn’t heard his voice this soft before. Not since back when he was little and wandering the mansion with a stuffed elephant under his arm. It was jarring.
“I brought your noise cancelling earplugs and ice mask, too. Do you want those?”
Jason nodded and sniffed, and Bruce handed him a wad of bathroom tissue from the spool above him. With trembling fingers, Jason wiped his eyes and his nose. Bruce held his hand out for the used tissue once Jason was done, and then threw it away.
There was a cadence to this process, Dick realized. They had done this before. Maybe this is why Jay had asked for Bruce– not because he didn’t want Dick here, but because Bruce knew what to do.
Bruce dropped two small earplugs into Jason’s hand, and Jason winced as he put each in, like they hurt. His skin was definitely extra sensitive because of the migraine, just like Gar’s.
Then Bruce held out what looked like an icy sleep mask and wordlessly Jason pulled it down over his eyes. He rolled his shoulders out, leaned back and sighed. Uncurled a set of fingers from around Dick’s jacket and reached out for Bruce’s hand.
Bruce took Jason’s hand and squeezed, his comically large hand dwarfing his son’s.
“Let’s go home.” Bruce looked over at his eldest and gave him a tight smile. “This is not your fault. You didn’t know.”
Dick dashed at his own eyes and tried to look flippant. Annoyed, even. Bury all the guilt and fear and shame. He could still hear Jason’s cracked “my head” from earlier in the theater.
“What do you need me to do?” Dick asked, thankful his voice sounded normal again.
Bruce held out his now empty bag for Dick to take. “Can you carry this? I’m going to– can I carry you, Jay?” Bruce’s voice was at a normal volume now that Jason had the earplugs in. “I parked around back. No one should see us leave but I’m going to cover you with Dick’s jacket just to be safe.”
Jason cringed but nodded.
“Dick, can you get all the doors?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Bruce helped Jason to his feet before reaching down and pulling him into his arms, Jason’s cheek resting against Bruce's shoulder. Jason’s trembling started up anew and Bruce ran a big, comforting hand up and down his spine, his other arm under his thighs, holding him up.
Carefully, Jason draped Dick’s jacket over his head, tucking the edges down so no light could get in.
Bruce nodded to Dick once Jason’s fluttering hands had locked around Bruce’s neck. “Let’s get out of here.”
Their escape was smooth. Thankfully, the hall was still empty and no one saw Bruce Wayne and his eldest ducking out the back of a movie theater with another kid covered with a jacket.
Dick noticed that Bruce walked calmly the whole way and cocked an eyebrow.
“Running would’ve looked suspicious,” he said, hand still smoothing over Jason’s back. “I didn’t want to accidentally hit his head with my shoulder, either.”
Dick hadn’t thought of that. There was so much he needed to learn.
They reached Bruce’s car and Dick opened the passenger door. Bruce carefully set Jason down in the seat and draped Dick’s jacket across his shoulders before buckling him in. “We’ll be home soon. Just hang on a little bit longer.”
Jason nodded and winced. The movement must’ve hurt his head. The melting mask left water tracks all over Jason’s cheeks and Bruce’s sweater. “I’m sorry. Dick and I just wanted to see a movie. I didn’t think it would…”
Bruce looked over to Dick and gave him a soft smile. See? His eyes seemed to say. He wanted to spend time with you. You didn’t do anything wrong. “Jaylad, it’s okay. You didn’t know.”
Jason let out a stifled whimper and one of Bruce’s hands ran over his bicep.
Dick slid into the back seat and fought down his own brewing nausea. He’d seen Jason fall off buildings and shake it off. Break bones and grin and bear it. To see him so openly in physical pain? It was one of the worst feelings Dick had dealt with in a while.
Bruce drove them back, and thankfully with the eye mask and tinting on the car, the street lights didn’t seem to be making things worse for Jason. There were a few times that his breath caught in a certain way, and both Dick and Bruce were convinced he was going to vomit again, but then Jason would cough and wince and go back to shivering in his seat.
Bruce drove with one hand on the wheel, one holding Jason’s. Dick had never seen Jason let Bruce touch him like this.
When they got to the manor, Alfred was waiting for them in the garage, his arms crossed, one foot tapping.
Dick got out of the car and didn’t get to take a single step before Alfred was there.
“How is he?”
Dick swallowed and shook his head. “Alfie, it was horrible. I’ve never– he was crying. And there was nothing I could do.”
Alfred patted his shoulder sympathetically. “There’s nothing worse than a child in pain, is there? Remember that next time you show up to the manor with a bullet wound and refuse to let me treat it.”
Dick made a face. “This is different. I’m an adult. Jay is-”
“You’ll always be a child to me, Master Dick. Remember that.”
They both moved aside so Bruce could get to Jason.
Again, Bruce knelt down so he wasn’t as looming, even though Jason was still wearing the eye mask and couldn’t see him through it.
“Can you walk?”
Jason unbuckled himself with some trouble and moved his legs so his dangling feet were over the concrete floor. With Bruce’s hands on his forearms, Jason shakily stood up and almost immediately fell over.
Bruce caught him with one strong arm and ran a hand over his back with the other. “Still feeling dizzy?”
Jason all but collapsed into Bruce and nodded. “I don’t think I can do it.”
“That’s okay. I’m going to pick you up.”
Jason didn’t protest, just let Bruce sling one arm over his back and the other under his legs.
“Your bed, sir?” Alfred asked.
Bruce looked expectantly at Jason. “Where do you want to sleep tonight?”
Jason’s fingers hesitantly splayed over the embroidered pocket of Bruce’s sweater. “Can I… yours? Would that be okay?”
Bruce smiled. “Of course, chum. That’s why I asked.”
They moved upstairs, all four of them. Dick slinking behind Jason and Bruce, unsure if he could help or should just slip away to lick his own angsty wounds.
Bruce set Jason on the edge of the bed, went to brush his hair back, and stopped. Touching his face or head was off limits right now.
“What would help?”
The lights were off except for a few small lamps glowing in the hall. Alfred had “migraine proofed” the house before they got home.
Gingerly, Jason tugged the mask off, his eyelashes and cheek bones soaked– some tears, some droplets of water from the melting ice. Shakily took out the earplugs. Dropped all three in Bruce’s hand before using the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe his face off. Dried blood was still caked on his lower lip from where he’d bitten it earlier.
“You know that–” Jason muttered. “With the…” He held up his hands and pantomimed digging the tips of his thumbs into something.
Bruce made an affirmative noise. “But wouldn’t that hurt right now? With your skin like this?”
Jason cautiously rested his fingertips against his temples and dug them in. Winced. “Yeah. But my head hurts worse.”
Bruce made a face and looked over at Alfred. Alfred pursed his lips but Dick couldn’t figure out what they were saying to each other.
Finally, Bruce lifted his hands on either side of Jason’s head and without touching him anywhere else, began to rub his thumbs in a circular motion across Jason’s forehead, temples, all the way down to right above his ears. Back and forth.
Jason’s fists were balled up, his eyes closed, but Dick could see the relief slowly easing his shoulders back.
“Tell me if it starts to hurt more than it helps.”
Jason hummed in response. It was clearly helping more than it hurt.
“I’m going to get him some water, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, voice still low so as not to disturb them. “Anything else you would like me to bring? Maybe some peppermint tea? I know the smell of it has helped before.”
“That would be great,” Bruce replied. “Thank you, Alfred.”
Dick hated standing there uselessly, especially now that Alfred was gone. “Can I help?”
Bruce looked over at him and frowned. “You can start by not blaming yourself, Dick. I can see it all over your face. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.”
“Easy for you to say,” Dick answered, stepping closer so he was watching Bruce’s thumbs work their magic from right over Bruce’s shoulders. “You didn’t accidentally give your little brother a migraine.”
Jason furrowed his brow and Bruce moved one of his thumb’s over the spot. “Jay, you need to stay relaxed. Don’t worry about us right now.”
Shame pooled in Dick’s gut. Could he do anything else to make this worse? Seriously. “Shit, Little Wing- don’t listen to me. I’m sorry.”
“Not you,” Jason whispered. “I knew. I wanted to go anyway.”
Bruce shushed him. “Just relax. We can talk about it once you’re feeling better. No one did anything wrong.”
Tears began to well in Jason’s eyes and Dick didn’t think before sitting down by Jason’s knee, taking his brother’s limp hand in both of his own. “Jaybird, I mean it. You’re going to be okay. Ignore me.”
Bruce wiped under Jason’s eyes with his thumbs before going back to the massage.
Alfred came back, water and tea in hand.
Bruce stopped and placed the glass of water in Jason’s free hand. Jason grimaced.
“I know your stomach probably doesn’t feel like it right now. But if you become dehydrated, things will get even worse.”
Jason took a big gulp and shivered. “I think I want to lay down now.”
Dick let go of Jason’s hand and carefully pulled off Jason’s shoes. Stood and watched Jason move to the center of the bed, curling up on his side facing away from all of them.
Bruce tugged the blanket up to Jay’s chin and ran a hand up and down his back. “Get some sleep, chum. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
Dick worriedly started chewing on his thumbnail, a habit he thought he had broken back in high school. Apparently not.
Half an hour later, Bruce leaned over Jason’s slumped body and peered at his face. “He’s asleep.”
Dick took a deep breath, almost choking on it. He didn't know why it felt like he was finally coming up for air. “Should we–”
“Let him sleep. I’ll check on him in a little bit. We need to talk.”
Dick shook his head. “Bruce, just stay with him. If he wakes up–”
“He won’t. His migraine meds make him tired. He won’t wake up until morning.” Bruce ran his hand over Jason’s shoulders a final time before standing and stretching. Pulling off the silly baseball cap and putting it on the dresser. “Clark made me buy that thing. So we would blend in at the baseball game. It didn’t work.”
Dick crossed his arms and smirked. “Oh, yeah? Two superheroes tried to fit in at a baseball game and got caught?”
“Clark is always so damn happy about everything,” Bruce grumbled, thrusting his hands into pockets as he walked down the hall, Dick trailing behind. “His enthusiasm was so strong that even the team took notice. We were offered back stage passes and it didn’t take long for one of the players to recognize Bruce Wayne.”
Dick laughed. “Sounds like Uncle Clark.”
Bruce led him into the library, Jason’s discarded book taunting Dick from his Jason’s favorite reading chair.
Bruce picked the book up and sat down. For the first time, Dick realized it was actually Bruce’s reading chair. Dick wondered if Jason had picked it on purpose or if it was just the comfiest option and both Bruce and Jason had realized it.
“Sit,” Bruce said, gesturing for Dick to join him.
“Bruce, I don’t–”
“You do,” Bruce cut him off. “Sit.”
Dick rolled his eyes but gave in. Leaned back so his legs were sprawled out before him. Bruce hated when he sprawled out like this. It was a tiny defiance, but it made Dick feel a little bit better. A little more in control.
“It amazes me what refined literary taste Jason has,” Bruce started, flipping Frankenstein over in his hands. “I’ve learned never to underestimate him when it comes to the books he'll read. He can breeze through complicated titles like Crime & Punishment in a week the way the rest of us peruse the newspaper.”
Dick knew Bruce was building to a point so he sank even lower in the chair and let him ramble.
“However, another thing I’ve learned to never underestimate when it comes to Jason is his ability to put himself in bad situations to impress you.” Dick froze. “He didn’t tell you about the migraines because he was embarrassed. He didn’t want you to think of him as fragile or weak, even though this condition does not mean either of those things. He didn’t tell you because he looks up to you and he didn’t want you to think less of him.”
Dick pulled himself up and gave Bruce a pleading look. “B, you know I would never judge anyone for something like this. Ever. Especially Jay.”
“Of course I know that,” Bruce said, idly thumbing through Jason’s book. He smiled at the bookmark- one of Detective Gordon’s business cards- before setting the book back down on the end table and giving Dick his full attention. “Dick, that’s what I’m saying. He doesn’t just trust you or look up to you. He wants you to like him, and for some reason, he’s convinced any sign of weakness is going to hinder that.”
Dick dropped his face into his hands. Took a deep breath. Blew it out. “Tonight was still on me, though. B, you didn’t see him in the theater. I thought he was just being moody about seeing the movie because he thought it was stupid. Instead, he was having a migraine, right in front of me– protege of the world’s most famous detective– and I missed all of it–”
“Dick, Jason hid it from you.” Bruce gestured between them. “We may be great detectives, but Jason is a master at hiding things. You know that as well as I do. He doesn’t show pain or discomfort or weakness until he has no other choice. I’m not mad at him, but we’re going to have a conversation about him not telling you about his light sensitivity in the morning. He hurt himself by doing that and I…” Bruce rubbed his own forehead and grimaced, like he was feeling tendrils of phantom pain. “I don’t want him to ever go through that again if he doesn’t have to.”
Dick blanched. “I think my heart stopped at the theater. We were just sitting there, and I asked him for the gummies, and suddenly, I could see his face and he was…” Dick felt his shoulders involuntarily shiver. “There was nothing I could do.”
Bruce gave Dick a weary smile. “He was at school the first time it happened. Watching a documentary in the front row. The teacher told me that out of nowhere, he launched out of his seat and ran into the hallway. Apparently, his vision gets blurry with the headaches, so he ran face first into a set of lockers and then just curled up on the floor for a few minutes. By the time I arrived, he was hyperventilating from the pain and embarrassment.” Bruce interlocked his fingers and rested his chin on them. “I’ve been Batman for a while now. I know how to handle difficult or complicated situations. It was jarring to be in a situation like that- one where I was just as clueless about what to do as anyone else.”
Dick dared to ask, “What did you do?”
Bruce’s mouth went tight. “Nothing good. Awkwardly patted his shoulder a few times and called Alfred in the car for tips on how to help him manage his pain. But the next time it happened, I was able to help. That sleep mask is filled with some sort of gel and I keep it in the freezer because ice and darkness both help. I found it online, of all places. The noise cancelling earplugs work, too. It also helps that Jason’s gotten more comfortable with me in the last few months. He’s not as scared anymore.”
“He trusts you, B,” Dick said. “He always has. You’re just an intimidating figure. As someone you adopted, it took a minute to get used to your dad being the size of a truck.”
“That better not be a weight joke.”
“Now, it’s right there. Something, something, you weigh a ton.”
“I could still ground you, you know.”
“Let’s see you try, old man.”
Bruce laughed and threw his hands up. “We’re getting off topic. I just wanted to… I could tell Jason asking for me really upset you earlier. You two are so close and he warmed up to you so much quicker than he did with me. I just needed you to know how much he loves you, Dick. Enough that he chose to risk a migraine rather than turning down your invite to the movies.”
Dick ran his hands through his hair. “Bruce, I harassed him into going out with me. He was in here, planning to read all evening, and I–”
Bruce shook his head with a knowing smile. “Dick, Jason has tells just like you did. He was reading this, right?” Bruce held up the dogeared copy of Frankenstein.
“Yeah? So, what?”
“Jason only rereads this when he’s not planning on reading for long. He’s read it a dozen times. It was his idea for me to go to the baseball game with Clark. And he told Alfred the two of you were going to eat dinner out before he went to school this morning.”
Dick tried to look shocked or annoyed at being played by a tween, but he was actually flattered and knew Bruce could tell. “He played me.”
“Like a fiddle.”
Dick cackled. “That little menace had me convinced it was entirely my idea.”
“Well, it probably was your idea. But he orchestrated everything so you would come up with it.” Bruce rolled out his shoulders and stood up. “Don’t be mad at him, alright? Like I said, we’re going to talk about how he put himself in harm’s way tonight, but he just did it so he could spend time with you.”
“I’m not mad.” And he wasn’t. How could he be? He was going to ride the emotional high of too-cool-for-everything Jason Todd-Wayne orchestrating their evening together for the rest of the week. Maybe even the rest of the month. He would need to make sure he hugged Jason multiple times tomorrow, whether he pretended to hate it or not.
Suddenly, Dick’s stomach sank and he remembered where Jason was. “B, he’s going to be okay, right?”
Bruce scratched at the back of his neck. “He’ll be okay in the morning. Usually, he just needs to sleep it off. The meds should kick in soon. I should probably head back up there just in case.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dick waved him off. “I’m fine. Go make sure Little Wing is okay.”
Bruce didn’t need further prompting. “You’re a great big brother, Dick. He’s lucky to have you. So am I.”
Dick felt his face go bright red. Compliments from Bruce, even tame ones like this, always made him bashful. “Uh, huh. I know.”
“Love you, chum.” Bruce gently tapped the door frame on his way out. “Get some sleep.”
“Love you, too, B.”
Dick sank into the reading chair and pulled his knees to his chest, a foolish grin on his face.
Jason had wanted to hang out with him. Jason liked him.
Alfred poked his head in. “Feeling better, Master Dick?”
“Yeah, Alfie,” Dick smiled. “I think so. Turns out, Little Wing doesn’t hate me after all.”
“Oh, I could’ve told you that,” Alfred said, clucking his tongue. “No need to force Master Bruce into a discussion about feelings for something as obvious as that. Didn’t you notice that I wasn’t around after Master Jason got home from school?”
Dick furrowed his brows. “No, what are you talking about?”
Alfred crossed his arms. “Master Jason asked me to avoid you so that you would get bored and come find him instead. The whole thing was very deliberate. He told me that he was hoping the two of you would spend time together this evening, just the two of you. Clever boy. He got his wish.”
That was all it took. Dick’s heart was a melty puddle of slush.
“Thanks for telling me, Alfie.”
“Anytime, Master Dick. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”
On his way upstairs, Dick searched “things to do in Gotham City” on his phone and started a bucket list.
The movie was just the beginning.