Work Text:
Damian had everything planned out.
Alfred was attending to his father in the cave. Father was consumed with his work. It would only be a matter of time before Alfred convinced him to head back upstairs. Alfred always knew how to get Father to call it a night. Damian would have to get into position before Father retired for the evening.
Damian lays himself across the couch. It doesn’t take much effort to relax himself. It also doesn’t take much effort to stretch himself out hazardously. Damian imagines that he’s in the perfect position. No one would suspect him to be awake, not like this, when Damian would rather jump out of a window than to be seen ‘compromised.’ Damian was going to take full advantage of his family’s conceptions. This – this – would be the night. Just like the one two days ago – when Father had found him fast asleep – when Father had carried him back to bed.
Damian still remembers his warm arms.
Damian calms his breathing deliberately and meditates.
It was now time to play the waiting game.
Damian doesn’t count how many minutes pass until he hears footsteps. Once he’s pulled out of his meditation, Damian fights the urge to furrow his brows, because whoever was walking through his house, whoever was stepping into the living room, they did not have his father’s footsteps.
“Well, would you look at that,” a low-pitched irritating voice announces.
Damian wants to throw himself out that window now.
Damian can hear Jason breathing nearby. It annoys him. Damian is prompted to rise himself out of his ‘sleep,’ but then he thinks about how his father might come in at any time. Damian can’t risk getting up. It would take away his opportunity to be carried and – sigh - Damian can’t believe he’s going through such great lengths just to feel his father’s love. It’s ridiculous. It’s sad.
Damian doesn’t realize his mind is elsewhere until Jason speaks again.
“Dick’s going to love this. It’s a miracle. Sleeping out in the open? I can’t believe it.”
Does he always talk to himself like this? Damian wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.
“Good job, buddy,” Jason says as Damian feels hands slide underneath him.
Damian’s confusion spikes.
“I’m proud of you. Always have been. Always will be. I know this has been hard for you.”
Damian’s confusion increases ten-fold because, hold on, Jason had always been proud of him? It was baffling that this man, who barely knew Damian, would be proud of him to begin with. It was also mind-boggling that he was speaking as if they had a past relationship that Damian wasn’t aware of. Damian knows for a fact that he isn’t on friendliest terms with Jason. Jason was always tense around him when he was awake, and Damian never failed to jab at his weaknesses. It wasn’t the formula for a successful brotherhood.
Damian feels his mind drift to the muscled arms that hold him tight. It’s different than his father’s arms. Jason holds him closely. Father always held Damian loosely, mostly because he was dead on his feet, and on the brink of collapsing (It was no wonder Tim never got any sleep. It was a learned behavior from their local vigilante). Jason doesn’t risk holding Damian loosely. Jason holds him in such a way that there’s a zero-percent probability of dropping. He also holds Damian in a – what Damian could only describe as – familiar manner. Like he’s done this before. Like there’s no boundaries between them.
Damian keeps himself limp as Jason carries him back to his room. Damian can’t deny that he’s disappointed. Jason wasn’t Father. Jason had ruined his opportunity to feel the love he desperately craved.
But.
Maybe – if he pushed away the disappointment – he could look at this in a different way. It’s not an entirely undesirable situation. Jason hadn’t taken to teasing him, mocking him, or waking him up. Jason was just… carrying him to bed. An activity that was not typically taken up by people who didn’t like each other. Damian wonders how long Jason has felt this way towards him.
Damian feels himself lowered onto his mattress.
Jason doesn’t stop tending to him once he has him set down. Jason covers Damian up with a blanket and then proceeds to tuck him in. He makes sure there’s nothing left untucked. Damian is properly confined within warmth.
Jason surprises Damian when he brushes his hand along his bangs.
No words. No sounds. Just touch. Jason skims his hand across with a motion that seems natural. There’s no hesitance in it. Damian is properly befuddled.
Jason leaves after hovering for a little while – watching Damian for a strange amount of time. Damian contemplates opening his eyes, but then he hears Father’s footsteps in the hallway. It makes his heart skip when he hears his door creak.
Father is checking up on him.
Damian doesn’t hear much from his father except for a tired exhale.
Then, as quickly as he came, Father steps away. Damian wonders if Father did this every night. If that was how he’d found Damian on the couch. Once he had noticed Damian wasn’t in his room, he’d went looking for him, found him, and then delivered him to his proper place. It gives Damian something to think about.
Damian almost opens his eyes until he hears another pair of footsteps.
“Master Damian,” Alfred says, popping his head in, “sweet dreams. I assure you that there will be other nights to catch your father’s attention.”
Alfred leaves. Damian pops his eyes open and makes a noise in his throat.
“Wait, Pennyworth,” Damian calls out, “how long have you known!?”