The sound of Jason's voice, distressed and whispering the one word Bruce was positive he'd never say if he wasn't scared out of his mind, had Bruce clawing at the wheel of the Batmobile as he nearly mowed down anyone and anything in his way. The streets were crowded, but he was going to get there in time. He wasn't going to let Jason die again.
"I'm coming," he said, voice low and as warm as he could manage. The emotion in him was undeniable, the clench in his throat when he swallowed. "Just stay with me, Jason."
There was another sound of crumbling building and Jason's breath did something complicated and probably unhealthy, but he didn't panic. He pressed the phone closer to his ear and wedged himself in tighter against the wall at his back. It was an exterior wall, thicker and reinforced with brick facings and so far it hadn't shown any sign of coming down.
"I'm here. I'm...I'm here. I heard an explosion on the south side of the building, but it was muffled. Someone probably hit the building from the outside." Talking about it like it was a case was helping, the edge of panic in his voice calming a little. "Just bought this building, too. Damn-IT! Fuck! Shitshitshit...please, I can't do this again. I can't...dad. Dad, please..."
The Batmobile's tires would need replacing (again) after tonight, since Bruce took every curve like he was in Tokyo Drift. Dodging an endless slough of traffic and pedestrians and garbage, finally Bruce decided to eject himself from the Batmobile. He could get there faster flying over the rooftops. So when he spoke, he was a little out of breath and the wind whipped into his voice.
"I'm ten blocks east of your position," he confirmed. He was a little further than that, but Jason didn't need to know. Bruce would make up the time if it killed him. "Talk to me about the building. What did you want with it?"
Between emergency services trying to deal with the gas and water main blowouts caused by the collapse and the general disrepair that the city liked to keep Jason's stretch of territory, it wasn't surprising when Jason heard that low voice sounding a little out of breath. He couldn't hear the commotion outside through the rubble, but he could imagine it very clearly.
In any other circumstance, Jason would be pissed that Bruce was in the Bowery. He'd be spitting curses and probably a few bullets to keep his secrets safe from the man who would no doubt judge them. Tonight, however, the building shifted under his feet and Jason made a high pitched sound that should have been impossible for such a broad chest.
"I-fuck! Sorry. Things are crumbling over head and I don't know how much longer I'm going to have signal. Northeast wall, ground level. So far the exterior wall is holding up, but it's starting to buckle a little. Look for the baby boxes. I was putting them in when all this went down.
Clinic. I was going to turn it into a clinic. The one I had on this side got hit a few months ago. People-shitshitshit. People need somewhere to go and the city won't fund anything past the Alley..."
"I've got your position locked in on my radar," Bruce confirmed. It was as close to saying don't worry, trust me as he'd get. Even in the worst of his panics, Bruce had a hard time voicing emotion, especially where Jason is concerned. "Eight blocks, turning north."
As Bruce ran and jumped and shot his grapple gun, his heart raced. If he failed Jason a second time...
No. He wouldn't allow himself to think of that. He would get there in time. He would save Jason. He would kill himself if it meant saving his wayward son.
"A clinic is much needed there. I can see that it gets the proper attention." I.e. funding from Bruce Wayne's bank account. "That should help with the rebuilding. We can do a fundraiser. I know how much you love dressing up for those." A joke. Keep the mood light. "Six blocks. Jason? Breathe. Nice and slow."
So Bruce would kill himself to save Jason, kill Jason to save Joker...so who was the next person in that line? Who's death would need to be threatened for the clown to finally get what he deserved?
Not that Jason was thinking about Joker at the moment. Or even about the scar on his throat that was his daily reminder of his ill-fated homecoming. He was thinking about how he'd been able to stand in his little pocket of safety at the start of the phone call, but now he was crouching, one hand reaching up as if to brace the tons of concrete and wood that was threatening to collapse on him. He was thinking about the cadence of Bruce's breathing and how soothing it was in his ear.
How he'd spent so many restless nights with his ear pressed against that massive chest to listen to that very cadence. How it would lull him to sleep like no other sound could. His breathing slowed a little, the little sounds of distress ebbing as he let himself listen to that breath now.
"You get me outta this and I'll let you dress me in whatever you want to dress me in." There was a low groan of straining metal overhead and Jason made a low, desperate sound...but when he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion.
"If you don't make it, it's okay. It's okay. I don't blame you.
"Jason, listen to me right now," Bruce said, his voice a low rumble, calm but full of importance. "I'm five blocks and closing. I will get you out of there."
The promise of dressing Jason in whatever he wanted, which normally would have been high on his list of priorities, was reduced to background noise as he pushed himself beyond his usual physical limitations, flying across the skylines and getting closer with every second. He still feared it might be too late, but he'd do whatever it took. He would not lose Jason again.
"Four blocks," he relayed, breath shallow. Then a moment later, "Three," and again, "Two. I see the building." And it looked bad but he wasn't going to admit just how bad. He held it back as he descended towards the rubble. "I see where you're trapped. Jason? I'm coming. Make some noise for me."
"No, dad...it's okay. It is. It wasn't your fault. It isn't-" His voice cut off with a startled yelp and more sounds of falling rubble. Bruce might actually be able to see the cave in from where he was grappling in, the middle of the pile of debris slowly sinking into the levels below.
It was going to collapse.
It was going to crush him.
"Dad! Dad, I'm here!" He pounded on the wall that had slowly been turning from savior to tombstone. If he'd been just five feet away from the corner, he would have been able to rip out one of the freshly installed boxes, but that escape had closed off before he'd even been able to make the call. "I'm here! Over he-"
The rubble shifted and the line disconnected. He was alone. It was dark and the air tasted like concrete dust and dirt and he could almost feel the squelch of mud under his fist as he drove it again and again into the concrete of his burial plot the wall.
From inside the crush of the building, Jason let out a terrified scream.
"Good boy," Bruce said, swallowing down the fear and replacing it with action. "Good boy, keep talking." He knew what was needed. He had done this before. Had saved countless people from these exact situations. It was just brick and concrete and rubble. It was nothing a man with Bruce's strength couldn't lift away.
He would get to Jason. He would get to Jason. He would--
The crash of rubble and the line disconnecting had Bruce letting go of the grapple before he'd pulled it out of the nearby rooftop, just letting the line dangle as he fell to the ground and landed hard on heavy-booted feet some distance from Jason. He clawed his way through the mess of debris, listening in panicked silence for Jason's voice below. He didn't hear anything. The panic swelled as he started grabbing bricks and hauling them away, his breath heavy as he struggled to clear a safe path to what was trapped beneath.
He was alone. It was dark and damp earth was piled high on top of him and he was alone. His throat hurt from screaming, Bruce's and Dick's names deafening in the confined space, the faux padding of his coffin doing nothing to stop the sound from reverberating back against his ears.
He was dead. He was dead and buried and alone and he was going to die again. He was going to run out of air, run out of time and space and-
A twisting groan of metal from overhead snapped him out of his flashback, doing nothing to ease his panic but at least he could remember that he wasn't in his coffin. He wasn't in a suit that had been cut down the back to make it easier to dress him. He wasn't caked in makeup to hide the bruising that had turned black under his skin. He wasn't-
Something cascaded by his head and he screamed again, scrambling desperately at the wall. He ripped away drywall and splinters embedded themselves in his fingers as he broke away framing. He didn't feel the pain. Couldn't though the panic that fogged his existence. He couldn't feel the pain then, either, but he was trying hard to not let his mind fall back into itself again.
Something shifted and a sharp pain lanced through his leg as the ceiling finally made contact with his body....but then the wall was ripping away from the outside instead of just the inside and Jason reached out with bloody hands to catch familiar gauntlets.
Two massive hands punched through concrete and brick and rebar and drywall, the material of his nearly unscratchable gauntlets riddled with scrapes and tears. But through the chaos of detritus and rubble, there was a crack of light that shown through, snapping the darkness in half and replacing it with the grateful face of a father who would have done anything for this particular son.
Once Bruce saw him, heard him, touched him, he knew he could get through this. They would both make it out alive.
"Easy," Bruce hummed, his voice a low balm to soothe Jason's obvious panic. "Easy, son, I'm right here." In any other situation, Bruce may have used the fear advantage to add in something like Daddy's here, but he was altogether too horrified by what he was seeing to focus on anything but saving Jason. That came first, his desires always last. "Give me your hands. That's it." Bruce calmly walked Jason through it, shouldering the weight of the rubble and easing it aside so he could grip Jason's arms firmly and haul him up into the light. "Watch your head," he added, cradling it on Jason's way up and out and then not giving a shit about what it looked like or if Jason might fight, he pulled Jason into him and held him tight. The black shadow of his cape, filthy from the rubble, whipped around them and covered them like a blanket. "I've got you," he promised. "I've got you."
Hands closed around his arms and Jason sobbed in relief as he let himself be pulled from the hole that the two of them had created in the wall. He was filthy, caked in blood from numerous cuts and scrapes from falling debris, the red turned to cement by plaster and concrete dust. His leg looked...not like a leg anymore, to be honest, but Jason didn't care.
At that moment, he couldn't care about anything other then wrapping his arms around his father's bulk and sobbing into his shoulder.
"You came for me. Y-you-" His words didn't make much sense, really, panic babbles of 'I thought you weren't gunna make it' and 'Wanna go home's falling out of his lips.
It wasn't easy or as graceful as he'd have liked, but Bruce managed to get Jason into his arms and started walking. "Hold onto me," he demanded. "I'll get you home." He found the dangling line from his grapple and snapped it back into its holster, listening to the familiar zip of heavy duty wires whizz into the machine. When it was all wound back how it should be, he shot it at a nearby building and hefted Jason up into the skies with him.
Bruce didn't go to Jason's safe houses. He knew a few of them (not all), but when Jason said 'home', Bruce was taking it seriously. His true home. Where he belonged, if Bruce had it his way.
They flew through the sky, over buildings and beyond the city limits until Bruce could get them into the Batmobile where he'd left it to speed them home. He didn't bother putting Jason into his own seat; just climbed into the driver's side with Jason still clinging to him like a child. And he drove all the way to the Manor that way and hefted Jason out of the car with him once they arrived, making his way to the med bay.
"Your leg needs looking at," he explained quietly. "I'm going to have to sit you down for that. All right?"
He hadn't argued. Bruce reconnected his grapple line and Jason found enough strength to reach back into the protection of the cape, his hands finding the build in grips in the suit. They were designed for smaller hands, for Robins who'd lost their own lines, but Jason still clung to them easily, face still buried against the nomex of the cowl.
The car ride jostled him enough to register that they probably weren't going to one of his own safe houses in the city, but he didn't argue. He'd fight later, when fear and exhaustion wasn't pulling at every cell in him, mingling with pain until it was all he could do to shift himself so that Bruce could still see to drive.
He was much, much bigger than he used to be when he'd ride in Bruce's lap. Not that he felt it. Not that he ever felt it when Bruce could still haul him around like the child he used to be.
He lost time in the car, his face tucked securely against Bruce's neck, so when the cockpit slid open and Bruce picked him up like he didn't weigh almost as much as Bruce himself, Jason only made a small, surprised sound when he blinked open his eyes and looked around at the cave.
"I...Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He shifted to help Bruce settle him on the hospital style bed, laying back so he could breath through the wave of pain that pulsed through him. It was the first time he'd really felt his leg and he found himself wishing for the calm quiet of the drive once more. "Fuck, it's mangled, isn't it? I...wasn't expecting you to bring me here..."
Bruce said nothing about bringing Jason 'home', exactly where he'd asked if it was up to Bruce, focusing instead on pulling his cowl down so it hung around his neck. Gloves came next so his hands were free and he could wash up and sanitize them. The last thing they needed was Jason's leg getting infected.
When he returned to the table, he cut open Jason's pantleg and frowned down at the damage. It was in bad shape. He'd get X-rays to confirm, but as he prodded around at it, he was pretty sure it was going to need to be snapped back into place and Jason would likely be limping one-legged for a few months until it healed properly. The thought did occur to Bruce that maybe Jason would stay here, let Bruce take care of him...
But he couldn't allow himself to think that was a guarantee. Jason's moods were mercurial at best.
"I'm going to give you something for the pain," he said finally after a thorough investigation. "And then I'll take some x-rays and we'll go from there." He forced himself to look at Jason, directly in his eyes, still seeing the shimmer of tears in them but Jason certainly looked better now that he was out of the claustrophobic deluge. "All right?"
He wasn't really expecting an answer. Bruce wasn't the most talkative creature in existence to begin with and adding in the stress and emergency of the night and Jason knew better then to think he was going to get an actual conversation out of the man.
It was something that used to chafe Dick to no end, but Jason had understood it. Even back in his booty shorts and pixie boots days. Instead, he let himself rest back against the bed, his body starting to communicate with him exactly how badly he was hurt. His hands were on fire, shards of wood and concrete debris still embedded in his fingers. His lungs ached from how much dust he'd inhaled. He was...He was in bad shape.
But he was alive.
He was alive because Bruce had come for him.
He reached up with one blood covered hand, knowing that Bruce wouldn't care that he left streaks on his face. "You saved me. You came for me. I...I was as good as dead in that building." His fingers trailed over the man's features, a slight tremble in them before all at once he was curling his fingers in the neck of the suit and using it to haul the broad man down.
The kiss was light, almost shy, but Jason initiated it.
"Knock me out. I'll move less and you'll be able to do a better job without me screaming loud enough to wake Alfred."
Leave it to Jason to do the one thing that Bruce least expected from his wayward son. The kiss was so gentle and tender and full of misplaced longing, and Bruce understood it so very well. These moments of trauma ultimately brought him closer to Jason whether or not he wanted them to. He let the brush of lips happen, content to have Jason smear blood all over his face if that's all it took to get what he desired.
The rumble of a groan left his lips as Jason pulled away, understanding why but ultimately disappointed as well. Anyway, Bruce already had a syringe in hand, easing it into Jason's thigh where the medicine would slide through his veins and ease him into a worry-free sleep.
"I'll be here," he said, his own free hand cupping Jason's cheek. "The entire time."
Bruce waited until Jason knocked out before he started on the leg, the fingers, undressing Jason efficiently so he could get to every single bruise and scab. Leg first, then he'd worry about the rest.
Their relationship had never been particularly stable or healthy. Jason had been a feisty, scrappy little thing with far too much life experience for someone so young. He'd demanded an emotional connection that Bruce either hadn't been willing to give him...or hadn't been able. Dying and then coming back-coming home hadn't changed that. Not really.
They came together as they always had, needy and desperate. Each craving something that the other could almost offer. They'd lose themselves in each other's bodies and for a few short hours things were good. But then the Mission would continue and Jason would wake up alone to reports of Batman arriving on the scene of some petty crime halfway across the city and the cycle would start all over again.
But this time was different, right? Bruce had saved him. Had grappled across the city to pull him from a building that was going to slowly crush him to death. Bruce had chosen him, right?
Right?
He woke up slowly, his body heavy and sluggish with pain medication. It was just enough to knock off the edge and Jason groaned as he carefully started to process his injuries. His hands were bandaged, but not bound. His head hurt, but not badly enough for a concussion. Mostly, it was just his leg, which was reset and splinted all the way up to his hip. It was propped up on a pillow and half melted ice packs ran along either side.
He wasn't surprised that he was only in his underwear. Nor was he surprised to find himself staring at a familiar ceiling when he finally blinked open his eyes.
When Bruce heard his name, he moved from where he was wringing a wet towel out in the en suite. He'd removed his uniform and was only in a pair of lounge pants at the moment, his broad chest full of fresh scars and old wounds, some of them caused by the very person he was currently coming to check on. Jason was a hell of a shot and even better with a knife.
"I'm right here, Jason," Bruce said, his voice low with promise as he approached the bed and looked down at the state of Jason. "How are you feeling?"
Marks for marks, scars for scars. They'd each carved themselves into the other's skin, Bruce with a batarang to Jason's throat, Jason with blades and his guns.
He watched Bruce come towards him, his gaze flicking to that broad, marked up chest repeatedly. He hurt and he was drugged and he was exhausted, but Bruce had always been able to side step all of that. The man was beautiful. Powerful and commanding in a way that both set every instinct in Jason on edge and laid them out to relax at the same time.
Like cuddling up to a purring big cat.
"Like I was crushed by my own building. How bad is my leg?"
"You won't be able to walk on it for a while," he said, plainly, not missing the slow, lazy drag of Jason's gaze over his body. He knew what he looked like and exactly how vulnerable Jason was, and he wasn't above using those things to get what he wanted from Jason in particular. "But it will heal. I reset the bone, so it will be slow going."
Bruce took a seat on the edge of the bed beside Jason, his hips brushing Jason's almost casually. Almost like an accident. And when he reached out, it was to get Jason's pulse and feel for his fever, not just to linger and touch him again.
"I don't know yet who was beyond the explosions, but I'm close," he said. "I'll find them."
The news, as dramatic and serious as it was, didn't really come as a surprise. One didn't survive a building collapse without something to show for it. And if anyone other than a doctor was going to reset his leg, Bruce was the next best option. The man had probably spent at least an hour meticulously ultrasounding his leg to make sure that each and every piece was back where it belonged. More importantly, if Bruce thought that Jason needed an actual surgeon, he wouldn't have hesitated to stage an excuse and he would have woken up in the hospital, not Bruce's bedroom.
He closed his eyes when Bruce sat next to him, soaking in the warmth of him. His hip against his own, his hands on his face.... To the casual observer, it would be almost clinical, but Jason knew better. He had known this man and his tastes for most of his life, after all. Keeping his eyes closed, he turned into the touch, brushing his lips against that large, calloused palm.
"Sionis or Dent. They're the only ones with the resources to know that I got that building. Maybe a few small time gangs I've been picking apart. Whoever did it thought it was empty, so they did it to send a message.
Stop. Just...stop. I'm too tired for this song and dance and you...you pulled me outta there and just fucking lay down and let me pretend I'm 14 again, okay? Let me pretend we're still us and I'm allowed to be comforted by your heartbeat again."
Bruce stopped, pulling his hands back and looking Jason over. He hadn't anticipated that Jason would be this eager for him, that he'd nearly be begging for Bruce to touch him. And the reminder of what they'd done when Jason was much, much younger didn't go unnoticed either.
"What is it that you're asking from me?" Bruce asked, his voice quiet enough to exist just between them. He wasn't sure if he was capable of holding Jason without making it something more, no matter the injuries.
"Fucking hell..." He scrubbed at his face with one bandaged hand, irritation creeping back up along his spine. "I hurt, I'm drugged and you just saved my life. Can you not overthink everything for one night and let me be okay with you holding me? And if that means fucking me, then fine. Help me roll over and prop up my leg so you don't jostle it too much. Or I could suck you off like I used to do. If...If you'd want that."
The last bit came out a little unsure. It was an offer he hadn't made since they'd started seeing each other again, too angry to trust himself and well aware that a layer of violence was expected between them. But if Bruce choking him on his cock got the man to lay the fuck down...well, it wouldn't be the first time.
"All I've ever fucking wanted was to feel like you loved me enough to chose me over your damned mission for one fucking night and it finally happens and you're making me talk about it. Fucking rude, B."
If Jason actually thought Bruce had given up on the mission for an entire night, he certainly had another think coming and it would be a terrible wake-up call that Bruce was a zebra who never changed his stripes. He was practically incapable of it. His mind always a thousand miles away and a thousand miles ahead, never allowing himself the chance to just exist and be vulnerable with someone he cared for.
He hummed in thought, already imagining this was not going to end well, but then again, it never did. So he eased onto the bed beside Jason, taking up more space than any human man should be capable of, and turning Jason carefully onto his side with his leg still propped up. No matter what they did, Jason had to keep it elevated and still to heal and the one thing Bruce wouldn't do was compromise Jason's future health for a fuck.
"Come here then," he said, knowing full well Jason couldn't exactly 'come here' like normal and that Bruce had to be the one to slide his hands around his waist and haul him close. Bruce's front to Jason's back, he put his body flush against Jason's, half-hard just from the sight of Jason if he was honest but just letting them both get situated first. One massive arm around Jason's middle, the other smoothing his hair out of his face. "I've got you."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
switching to prose, hope that's ok! easier for my to write it
"I'm coming," he said, voice low and as warm as he could manage. The emotion in him was undeniable, the clench in his throat when he swallowed. "Just stay with me, Jason."
Totally fine! ^_^
"I'm here. I'm...I'm here. I heard an explosion on the south side of the building, but it was muffled. Someone probably hit the building from the outside." Talking about it like it was a case was helping, the edge of panic in his voice calming a little. "Just bought this building, too. Damn-IT! Fuck! Shitshitshit...please, I can't do this again. I can't...dad. Dad, please..."
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"I'm ten blocks east of your position," he confirmed. He was a little further than that, but Jason didn't need to know. Bruce would make up the time if it killed him. "Talk to me about the building. What did you want with it?"
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In any other circumstance, Jason would be pissed that Bruce was in the Bowery. He'd be spitting curses and probably a few bullets to keep his secrets safe from the man who would no doubt judge them. Tonight, however, the building shifted under his feet and Jason made a high pitched sound that should have been impossible for such a broad chest.
"I-fuck! Sorry. Things are crumbling over head and I don't know how much longer I'm going to have signal. Northeast wall, ground level. So far the exterior wall is holding up, but it's starting to buckle a little. Look for the baby boxes. I was putting them in when all this went down.
Clinic. I was going to turn it into a clinic. The one I had on this side got hit a few months ago. People-shitshitshit. People need somewhere to go and the city won't fund anything past the Alley..."
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As Bruce ran and jumped and shot his grapple gun, his heart raced. If he failed Jason a second time...
No. He wouldn't allow himself to think of that. He would get there in time. He would save Jason. He would kill himself if it meant saving his wayward son.
"A clinic is much needed there. I can see that it gets the proper attention." I.e. funding from Bruce Wayne's bank account. "That should help with the rebuilding. We can do a fundraiser. I know how much you love dressing up for those." A joke. Keep the mood light. "Six blocks. Jason? Breathe. Nice and slow."
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Not that Jason was thinking about Joker at the moment. Or even about the scar on his throat that was his daily reminder of his ill-fated homecoming. He was thinking about how he'd been able to stand in his little pocket of safety at the start of the phone call, but now he was crouching, one hand reaching up as if to brace the tons of concrete and wood that was threatening to collapse on him. He was thinking about the cadence of Bruce's breathing and how soothing it was in his ear.
How he'd spent so many restless nights with his ear pressed against that massive chest to listen to that very cadence. How it would lull him to sleep like no other sound could. His breathing slowed a little, the little sounds of distress ebbing as he let himself listen to that breath now.
"You get me outta this and I'll let you dress me in whatever you want to dress me in." There was a low groan of straining metal overhead and Jason made a low, desperate sound...but when he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion.
"If you don't make it, it's okay. It's okay. I don't blame you.
I never did."
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The promise of dressing Jason in whatever he wanted, which normally would have been high on his list of priorities, was reduced to background noise as he pushed himself beyond his usual physical limitations, flying across the skylines and getting closer with every second. He still feared it might be too late, but he'd do whatever it took. He would not lose Jason again.
"Four blocks," he relayed, breath shallow. Then a moment later, "Three," and again, "Two. I see the building." And it looked bad but he wasn't going to admit just how bad. He held it back as he descended towards the rubble. "I see where you're trapped. Jason? I'm coming. Make some noise for me."
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It was going to collapse.
It was going to crush him.
"Dad! Dad, I'm here!" He pounded on the wall that had slowly been turning from savior to tombstone. If he'd been just five feet away from the corner, he would have been able to rip out one of the freshly installed boxes, but that escape had closed off before he'd even been able to make the call. "I'm here! Over he-"
The rubble shifted and the line disconnected. He was alone. It was dark and the air tasted like concrete dust and dirt and he could almost feel the squelch of mud under his fist as he drove it again and again into the concrete of
his burial plotthe wall.From inside the crush of the building, Jason let out a terrified scream.
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He would get to Jason. He would get to Jason. He would--
The crash of rubble and the line disconnecting had Bruce letting go of the grapple before he'd pulled it out of the nearby rooftop, just letting the line dangle as he fell to the ground and landed hard on heavy-booted feet some distance from Jason. He clawed his way through the mess of debris, listening in panicked silence for Jason's voice below. He didn't hear anything. The panic swelled as he started grabbing bricks and hauling them away, his breath heavy as he struggled to clear a safe path to what was trapped beneath.
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He was dead. He was dead and buried and alone and he was going to die again. He was going to run out of air, run out of time and space and-
A twisting groan of metal from overhead snapped him out of his flashback, doing nothing to ease his panic but at least he could remember that he wasn't in his coffin. He wasn't in a suit that had been cut down the back to make it easier to dress him. He wasn't caked in makeup to hide the bruising that had turned black under his skin. He wasn't-
Something cascaded by his head and he screamed again, scrambling desperately at the wall. He ripped away drywall and splinters embedded themselves in his fingers as he broke away framing. He didn't feel the pain. Couldn't though the panic that fogged his existence. He couldn't feel the pain then, either, but he was trying hard to not let his mind fall back into itself again.
Something shifted and a sharp pain lanced through his leg as the ceiling finally made contact with his body....but then the wall was ripping away from the outside instead of just the inside and Jason reached out with bloody hands to catch familiar gauntlets.
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Once Bruce saw him, heard him, touched him, he knew he could get through this. They would both make it out alive.
"Easy," Bruce hummed, his voice a low balm to soothe Jason's obvious panic. "Easy, son, I'm right here." In any other situation, Bruce may have used the fear advantage to add in something like Daddy's here, but he was altogether too horrified by what he was seeing to focus on anything but saving Jason. That came first, his desires always last. "Give me your hands. That's it." Bruce calmly walked Jason through it, shouldering the weight of the rubble and easing it aside so he could grip Jason's arms firmly and haul him up into the light. "Watch your head," he added, cradling it on Jason's way up and out and then not giving a shit about what it looked like or if Jason might fight, he pulled Jason into him and held him tight. The black shadow of his cape, filthy from the rubble, whipped around them and covered them like a blanket. "I've got you," he promised. "I've got you."
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At that moment, he couldn't care about anything other then wrapping his arms around his father's bulk and sobbing into his shoulder.
"You came for me. Y-you-" His words didn't make much sense, really, panic babbles of 'I thought you weren't gunna make it' and 'Wanna go home's falling out of his lips.
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Bruce didn't go to Jason's safe houses. He knew a few of them (not all), but when Jason said 'home', Bruce was taking it seriously. His true home. Where he belonged, if Bruce had it his way.
They flew through the sky, over buildings and beyond the city limits until Bruce could get them into the Batmobile where he'd left it to speed them home. He didn't bother putting Jason into his own seat; just climbed into the driver's side with Jason still clinging to him like a child. And he drove all the way to the Manor that way and hefted Jason out of the car with him once they arrived, making his way to the med bay.
"Your leg needs looking at," he explained quietly. "I'm going to have to sit you down for that. All right?"
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The car ride jostled him enough to register that they probably weren't going to one of his own safe houses in the city, but he didn't argue. He'd fight later, when fear and exhaustion wasn't pulling at every cell in him, mingling with pain until it was all he could do to shift himself so that Bruce could still see to drive.
He was much, much bigger than he used to be when he'd ride in Bruce's lap. Not that he felt it. Not that he ever felt it when Bruce could still haul him around like the child he used to be.
He lost time in the car, his face tucked securely against Bruce's neck, so when the cockpit slid open and Bruce picked him up like he didn't weigh almost as much as Bruce himself, Jason only made a small, surprised sound when he blinked open his eyes and looked around at the cave.
"I...Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He shifted to help Bruce settle him on the hospital style bed, laying back so he could breath through the wave of pain that pulsed through him. It was the first time he'd really felt his leg and he found himself wishing for the calm quiet of the drive once more. "Fuck, it's mangled, isn't it? I...wasn't expecting you to bring me here..."
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When he returned to the table, he cut open Jason's pantleg and frowned down at the damage. It was in bad shape. He'd get X-rays to confirm, but as he prodded around at it, he was pretty sure it was going to need to be snapped back into place and Jason would likely be limping one-legged for a few months until it healed properly. The thought did occur to Bruce that maybe Jason would stay here, let Bruce take care of him...
But he couldn't allow himself to think that was a guarantee. Jason's moods were mercurial at best.
"I'm going to give you something for the pain," he said finally after a thorough investigation. "And then I'll take some x-rays and we'll go from there." He forced himself to look at Jason, directly in his eyes, still seeing the shimmer of tears in them but Jason certainly looked better now that he was out of the claustrophobic deluge. "All right?"
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It was something that used to chafe Dick to no end, but Jason had understood it. Even back in his booty shorts and pixie boots days. Instead, he let himself rest back against the bed, his body starting to communicate with him exactly how badly he was hurt. His hands were on fire, shards of wood and concrete debris still embedded in his fingers. His lungs ached from how much dust he'd inhaled. He was...He was in bad shape.
But he was alive.
He was alive because Bruce had come for him.
He reached up with one blood covered hand, knowing that Bruce wouldn't care that he left streaks on his face. "You saved me. You came for me. I...I was as good as dead in that building." His fingers trailed over the man's features, a slight tremble in them before all at once he was curling his fingers in the neck of the suit and using it to haul the broad man down.
The kiss was light, almost shy, but Jason initiated it.
"Knock me out. I'll move less and you'll be able to do a better job without me screaming loud enough to wake Alfred."
'I trust you'.
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The rumble of a groan left his lips as Jason pulled away, understanding why but ultimately disappointed as well. Anyway, Bruce already had a syringe in hand, easing it into Jason's thigh where the medicine would slide through his veins and ease him into a worry-free sleep.
"I'll be here," he said, his own free hand cupping Jason's cheek. "The entire time."
Bruce waited until Jason knocked out before he started on the leg, the fingers, undressing Jason efficiently so he could get to every single bruise and scab. Leg first, then he'd worry about the rest.
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They came together as they always had, needy and desperate. Each craving something that the other could almost offer. They'd lose themselves in each other's bodies and for a few short hours things were good. But then the Mission would continue and Jason would wake up alone to reports of Batman arriving on the scene of some petty crime halfway across the city and the cycle would start all over again.
But this time was different, right? Bruce had saved him. Had grappled across the city to pull him from a building that was going to slowly crush him to death. Bruce had chosen him, right?
Right?
He woke up slowly, his body heavy and sluggish with pain medication. It was just enough to knock off the edge and Jason groaned as he carefully started to process his injuries. His hands were bandaged, but not bound. His head hurt, but not badly enough for a concussion. Mostly, it was just his leg, which was reset and splinted all the way up to his hip. It was propped up on a pillow and half melted ice packs ran along either side.
He wasn't surprised that he was only in his underwear. Nor was he surprised to find himself staring at a familiar ceiling when he finally blinked open his eyes.
"B-Bruce?"
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"I'm right here, Jason," Bruce said, his voice low with promise as he approached the bed and looked down at the state of Jason. "How are you feeling?"
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He watched Bruce come towards him, his gaze flicking to that broad, marked up chest repeatedly. He hurt and he was drugged and he was exhausted, but Bruce had always been able to side step all of that. The man was beautiful. Powerful and commanding in a way that both set every instinct in Jason on edge and laid them out to relax at the same time.
Like cuddling up to a purring big cat.
"Like I was crushed by my own building. How bad is my leg?"
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Bruce took a seat on the edge of the bed beside Jason, his hips brushing Jason's almost casually. Almost like an accident. And when he reached out, it was to get Jason's pulse and feel for his fever, not just to linger and touch him again.
"I don't know yet who was beyond the explosions, but I'm close," he said. "I'll find them."
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He closed his eyes when Bruce sat next to him, soaking in the warmth of him. His hip against his own, his hands on his face.... To the casual observer, it would be almost clinical, but Jason knew better. He had known this man and his tastes for most of his life, after all. Keeping his eyes closed, he turned into the touch, brushing his lips against that large, calloused palm.
"Sionis or Dent. They're the only ones with the resources to know that I got that building. Maybe a few small time gangs I've been picking apart. Whoever did it thought it was empty, so they did it to send a message.
Stop. Just...stop. I'm too tired for this song and dance and you...you pulled me outta there and just fucking lay down and let me pretend I'm 14 again, okay? Let me pretend we're still us and I'm allowed to be comforted by your heartbeat again."
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"What is it that you're asking from me?" Bruce asked, his voice quiet enough to exist just between them. He wasn't sure if he was capable of holding Jason without making it something more, no matter the injuries.
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The last bit came out a little unsure. It was an offer he hadn't made since they'd started seeing each other again, too angry to trust himself and well aware that a layer of violence was expected between them. But if Bruce choking him on his cock got the man to lay the fuck down...well, it wouldn't be the first time.
"All I've ever fucking wanted was to feel like you loved me enough to chose me over your damned mission for one fucking night and it finally happens and you're making me talk about it. Fucking rude, B."
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He hummed in thought, already imagining this was not going to end well, but then again, it never did. So he eased onto the bed beside Jason, taking up more space than any human man should be capable of, and turning Jason carefully onto his side with his leg still propped up. No matter what they did, Jason had to keep it elevated and still to heal and the one thing Bruce wouldn't do was compromise Jason's future health for a fuck.
"Come here then," he said, knowing full well Jason couldn't exactly 'come here' like normal and that Bruce had to be the one to slide his hands around his waist and haul him close. Bruce's front to Jason's back, he put his body flush against Jason's, half-hard just from the sight of Jason if he was honest but just letting them both get situated first. One massive arm around Jason's middle, the other smoothing his hair out of his face. "I've got you."
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