Chapter Text
“Jay? Can I come in?”
No reply.
“Jaylad?”
Still no answer.
“I’m coming in.”
Bruce turned the doorknob and the squeak of the old brass startled him. He would need to remember to oil it later.
Jason was crumpled over the toilet seat, his forehead resting on the edge of the porcelain with both of his arms bunched over his head. The sharp tang of vomit permeated the air even though the toilet bowl was empty.
“Are you feeling better?”
Jason sniffed and whispered a barely audible, “Not really.”
Bruce closed the door behind him and sat beside Jason on the floor, his knees digging painfully into his chest from folding himself small enough to fit between the bathroom cabinet and the wall. “Is there anything I can do?”
Jason’s arms tightened over his head and his back spasmed as he coughed into the porcelain bowl.
Bruce settled for gently running a hand up and down Jason’s back.
Jason had clearly thrown up everything in his stomach, but his body didn’t take the hint. Like clockwork, Jason would settle, his shoulders easing down, before his frame would go rigid as he tried to fight off another bout of nausea. Rest, retch, repeat.
“I know you want to ask,” Jason croaked after some time had passed.
“Ask what?”
“About the protein bars. It was you, right? You’re the one who found them?”
Jason was still hunched over, his arms obscuring his vision, so he couldn’t see Bruce nod. “I was looking for a missing relic from the Batcave.”
“The old sword?”
Bruce’s hand froze between Jason’s shoulders. “So, you did take it?” In all the stress of the past week, he had completely forgotten about the sword. He still needed to find it before Diana asked after it.
“Nope.” Jason chuckled a little. Unfortunately, it triggered his nausea, and he didn’t have time to catch his breath before coughing up a few tablespoons of bile. “Fuck. I’ve been puking for so long it’s starting to hurt.” He curled his fingers into his hair. “Dick took the sword. We filmed a TikTok with it. He even drew a mustache and goatee on me with one of your old eye black sticks. I had to memorize lines and everything. High quality production.”
Bruce’s eye twitched a little. Of course. Dick may be nineteen but he was still Dick. “Do you know what he did with the sword when you were done?”
Jason shrugged. “No idea.”
“Why did he give you a mustache and a goatee?”
“Remember how Dick has horrible taste in movies?” Jason asked. Bruce made an affirmative grunt. “Turns out, he also hasn’t seen any of the good ones. He had us reenact a scene from Karate Kid. He was the kid and I was Mr. Miyagi. But I don’t think Dickface has even seen Karate Kid because it’s right there in the title- karate. No swords. I think he got it confused with Zorro or something. I don’t know where he found the script, either.”
Bruce wouldn’t consider himself pop culture savvy, but even he knew the plot of Karate Kid. “Was the TikTok any good?”
“Not really.” Jason rolled his shoulders but made no move to shift from his position hunched over the toilet. “He thought it was funny, though.”
Bruce made a mental note to ask about the video and the sword later. “Jay.” Jason’s whole body tensed up under the hand he was still running across his spine. “Can we talk about the wrappers now? You’re not in trouble, I promise, but I’m trying to understand.”
“It’s so embarrassing.”
“What is?”
Jason sat up and took a beat to breathe. Rubbing his own chest, hard, with the base of his palm. “I can’t look at you when I say it.”
From where Bruce was sitting, he couldn’t see Jason’s face anyway. But out of respect, Bruce let his hand fall from Jason’s back. Gave him more space.
“Before you say anything, I’m already talking about it with my therapist. She knows and we’re working on it together.” Jason shuddered. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”
Bruce looped his arms over his knees and waited for Jason to continue.
“In some of my old foster homes, there wasn’t a lot of food. They weren’t trying to starve us or anything, but we were always hungry. There weren't any snacks waiting for us when we got home from school– just dinner late that night. Except, sometimes, the foster parents would forget or there wouldn’t be enough for all of us. You know what I mean. An asshole kills all the chicken and rice, and there’s only lima beans left by the time you get to the table. Things like that. I got free breakfast and lunch at school, but weekends were hard. There was just never enough food.
“So, I started to hide food in my room. Snacks, mostly. A few of the lunch ladies at school were real ones and gave me and the other desperate kids leftover, pre-packaged stuff when it was out of date. Bags of chips. Jello cups. Granola bars. Whatever I could take home and hide under my bed for nights when dinner wasn’t enough to fill me up, or when the other kids ate my portion because the bus ran late.” Jason shuddered. “Thank God for those lunch ladies. It’s hard to fall asleep when you’re hungry, and then you’re hungry and tired the next morning.”
“That’s the history, I guess.” Jason paused. Took a deep, shuddering breath. “The last couple weeks, I’ve been feeling really anxious. For no reason. Like, I can’t eat. Or sleep. My head hurts all the time. And I can’t stop thinking about food.” Jason’s voice dropped. The toilet seat clattered where his shaky elbows rested on the porcelain. “I haven’t gone hungry since I moved in. Alfred always makes us meals and I know that I can eat whatever I want in the kitchen. I know that. It’s nothing you’ve done, Bruce, so don’t think that. I swear, it’s not. But sometimes, even though I know it’s crazy and all in my head, I just feel scared that there won’t be enough to eat, or Alfred will leave, or– I don’t know! Something stupid like that. And my heart will start racing, and if I don’t go down to the Batcave right that second and grab a few protein bars, I start feeling like I’m going to lose my mind.”
Bruce wanted to touch him, to offer support, but he didn’t know if Jason wanted that right now. Instead, he fisted his hands in his lap. “Jay–”
“Let me finish, okay? If I don’t– I need to tell you now or I won’t. We’re not even at the crazy part yet. Don’t look at me like that. I know how this all sounds. I’m… it’s so embarrassing and weird and I don’t– I don’t know why I do it. But usually, when I get back to my room after raiding the Batcave snack supply– still panicking for no reason– I eat the protein bars. Whether I’m hungry or not. Whatever time of day or night. No matter how many I grabbed. It’s like, I know they’ll still be there in the morning. I know that. There’s still food in the kitchen. I could go eat that instead. But my head is freaking out, and even though there’s plenty of food in the kitchen, and I don’t even like those granola bars, my body and my head keep screaming at me until I eat them. I can’t stop the panic until I’ve eaten them.
“Dr. Malachi says it’s normal for kids who struggled with food insecurity or whatever the clinical term is. I still hate it. I hate that it doesn’t matter if Alfred is actively cooking something when the panic hits– I still have to go downstairs and eat some of those damn protein bars or something bad will happen.” His voice faltered. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. God, I’m– there’s so much wrong with me. Who eats fucking protein bars for no reason and can’t stop? Bruce, I do this several times a day. A day. And I can’t stop. Even with Dr. Malachi’s help, I still can’t stop it.”
“Jason–”
“No, I know it’s weird– don’t try to tell me it’s–”
“Jason.”
But Jason was already shaking his head, mumbling to himself. Completely off in his own world.
“Thank you for telling me.” Bruce’s voice carried in the small bathroom. “I’m sorry you’ve been going through that.”
Jason laughed, but it was tinged with hysteria. “It’s not your fault. You’ve literally done everything you can to help me be normal and I repay you by–”
“You’re not supposed to repay me. That’s not how it goes. You’re supposed to be a kid and just do your best. ”
“If this is my best, I’m a really shitty kid.” A cough bubbled up his throat and Jason painfully threw up even more stomach bile. “I mean, look at me. I’m barfing my guts out in the middle of dinner because I ate six protein bars an hour ago and–”
“Jason.” Bruce tentatively touched his shoulder. When Jason didn’t flinch away, his hand shifted around to softly massage his neck. “You’re going to be alright.”
“Dr. Malachi… She said that she thinks my habit is some sort of compulsion. Like… you know. OCD or PTSD or something like that.” Jason covered his face with his hands, moaning into his hands. “What if I can’t stop? What if it’s like this forever?”
“I don’t think it’ll be like this forever.” It took some creative positioning, but Bruce managed to scoot close enough to drop his arm around Jason’s shoulders, to rest his chin against his son’s hair. Jason melted into him almost instantly, desperate for the physical closeness he’d been avoiding for weeks.
Bruce’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth but he fought through it. “When my parents died, I stopped sleeping through the night. I woke Alfred up with my screaming all the time, for years. My nightmares were so bad I had to take a handful of pills just to fall asleep.”
“I-I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t want you to,” Bruce said. “I’m not good at talking about this kind of thing. I think I was worried you’d think I was weak. I wasn’t weak, though. I was just a kid, not much younger than you, who had lost his parents right in front of him and couldn’t stop seeing it over and over every time I tried to sleep. I had PTSD. Still do. Now, it’s just easier to handle since it’s been so many years. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You just need some time.”
“I don’t want this to take time,” Jason whispered. “I hate this. I hate feeling so out of control.”
Bruce nodded. “I know. Jaylad, I would do anything to take this away from you. Anything. But sometimes it takes time.”
One of Jason’s hands shot up and latched onto Bruce’s. “We’re kind of fucked up, aren’t we?”
Bruce’s chuckle rumbled against Jason’s hair. “Just a bunch of vigilantes doing our best.”
“I know we’re having a heart-to-heart right now, and I’m sorry to kill the mood, but…”
Bruce made an affirmative noise.
“You’re kind of… crushing me. Just a little.”
Bruce scrambled back, trying to disentangle himself from where he’d wedged his body between the wall and Jason. “Oh! I’m sorry, Jay, I didn’t– are you hurt?”
Jason turned to Bruce, wearing a sheepish smile on his face. “It’s fine. Really. It was just like a weighted blanket. An industrial grade one.”
“That feels like a weight joke.”
“Dick says you’ve been fixated on that lately,” Jason quipped. “Accept it, Bruce. You’re a big guy.”
“I’ll journal about it. Process my feelings.”
Jason’s jaw fell open and his eyes sparkled a bit. “Who are you? What have you done with Bruce Wayne?”
Bruce shrugged. Pulled himself to his feet. “How’re you feeling?”
Jason placed a hand to his stomach. Grimaced. “Still queasy but I don’t think there’s anything left for me to throw up.”
“Do you want to get in bed and I’ll bring you some Gatorade? We could read for a little while. Watch a movie on your laptop.”
Jason nodded. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”
Bruce opened the bathroom door to leave, but hesitated. “Do you– would you like me to bring you something to eat? I know you just told me it’s complicated, and I don’t really know what helps or doesn’t, but…” Jason could practically see the gears whirring behind Bruce’s eyes as he tried to come up with something to say. “I’m sorry. I don’t–”
“No,” Jason interrupted before Bruce gave himself an aneurysm. “A Gatorade would be nice. Maybe some food later?”
Bruce leaned over and kissed Jason’s forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
Alfred and Dick were waiting for him in the kitchen with baited breath. His hands shook as he told them what Jason had confided in him.
Dick shook his head and cringed. “Poor Jay. That’s– I don’t know what I thought was going on, but…”
“I don’t think any of us saw that coming,” Alfred offered, patting Dick’s shoulder with a gloved hand. “What can we do?”
“I don’t know,” Bruce confessed. “But I’ll reach out to his therapist in the morning and find out. She didn’t tell me much earlier because she wanted him to say something first. Now that he has, I think she’ll be more helpful.” Bruce dug around the fridge. “Alfred, do we have any Gatorade?”
Dick pointed with his chin. “Bottom shelf. He likes the green one.”
“Thanks.”
Bruce faced Dick and Alfred. “I… I think I’m going to stay with him tonight. Make sure he doesn’t feel alone. I don’t want to crowd him, but–”
“You’re not crowding him,” Dick mumbled, rolling his eyes. “B, Jay is not shy. He’ll ask for space if he needs it. Go up there and stop being weird. Text me if you need anything.”
Bruce knew Dick was right. Unfortunately, he usually was. “Alfred, would you mind leaving dinner out a little bit longer? I might come back and get something for Jason and I to eat later.”
“I’ll leave two plates out, Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “All you will need to do is reheat them.”
Bruce glanced down at the Gatorade again. Should he bring two? Was that too much?
“B,” Dick chastised. “You’re stalling. You’ve got this.”
“I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”
Dick shrugged. “You have before and you probably will again. But you’re getting better at this every day. I mean, look at you. If you would’ve told tween me that you’d be giving pep talks and talking about your feelings–”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know I was talking about my feelings?”
“He was listening to you through the vent,” Alfred supplied.
Bruce glared. Dick blushed.
“Anyway– thanks for that, Alfie, glad to know where your loyalties lie– whatever the circumstances, I overheard you and you did a good job, B. You’re doing a good job. You’re a good dad.” Dick paused and shook his head, like he was trying to dislodge something between his ears. “Ugh. I kind of hate myself for saying that. I can practically taste the betrayal of my self interest.”
Before Dick could carry on, Bruce hugged him. A quick hug that left the loquacious Boy Wonder at a loss for words.
“You’re a good man, Dick Grayson.”
Dicks arms came up around Bruce’s back and held on tight. “Sure. Whatever, B.”
“I mean it.”
“You’re getting soft in your old age.”
Bruce pulled away and Dick reluctantly let him. “I mean it.”
“You said that.”
“Do you believe it?”
Dick’s cheeks were scarlet but Bruce could see the grin he was fighting to keep down. “Yeah, yeah. I believe you. Go. Jason needs you.”
Alfred gave Bruce a soapy thumbs up once Dick’s back was turned to them both and Bruce grinned.
Alfred turned back to the dishes and held up a plate to inspect it. “My my, what miracles simply talking to each other does in this home,” Alfred said. “I wonder who suggested that…”
“Weren’t you listening?” Dick said. “Bruce had been going to therapy. His therapist suggested it.”
Alfred accidentally splashed some bubbles onto Dick’s shirt. “Oh, my mistake, Master Dick–”
Bruce left them to their antics and went back upstairs, the Gatorade under his arm. He lightly rapped on Jason’s door even though it was cracked open.
“Come in.”
Jason was tucked under his blankets, still visibly shaky, with a worn copy of Dracula in one hand.
Bruce cracked the lid on the Gatorade and handed it over before crawling in beside his son. Jason tucked himself under Bruce’s arm without prompting.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Tired. The nausea’s better, though.” Jason took a tentative sip of his green drink before handing it back to Bruce, who put it on the nightstand. Then, he handed Bruce the book.
Bruce’s brows knitted together. “Dracula?”
Jason smirked. “Because you’re Batman. And Dracula turns into a bat. You guys are basically cousins.”
Bruce didn’t dignify that with a response.
“No, I’m serious. Think about it. You both live in a castle, keep nocturnal hours, become bats. Honestly, I take back the cousins bit. You could be brothers.”
“Hn.”
“Bruce Wayne and Count Dracula. The family reunion will be amazing.”
Bruce cracked open the paperback with one hand and dropped the other into Jason’s hair. “Do you want me to read to you or not?”
“Only if you read Dracula’s lines in the Batman voice.”
Bruce smiled and dropped his voice down an octave, “I can do that.”
Jason’s delighted giggles echoed through the whole house.
(Alfred and Dick may have found a different air vent and listened in. Bruce reading Dracula was too good for them to miss.)