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Jason was hot.
He drained the last of the ice water in his glass. The day was almost eight degrees warmer than was predicted, which made this outdoor gala that much more unbearable. Jason had been taking refuge in the shade of the cabana for the food tables, yet sweat was still beading on his forehead.
Jason pulled at the edge of his collar for the umpteenth time. Not only was he hot, but wearing a suit again made him so much more uncomfortable. The last time he had worn anything close to this, he was on his way to pick a fight with Deathstroke.
He did not want to think about that bloody time in his life. Not right now, at his first gala after being back in the public eye.
Jason watched as Dick aired himself with a little hand fan as he chatted up three ladies at once. Last time he saw him, Tim was talking to a group of investors. Bruce, as per usual, was bumbling around talking to everyone.
He was supposed to be talking to people too. He had, at first, until the heat started to get to him. Luckily for Jason, not a lot of people from Gotham’s richest families particularly wanted to talk to Jason. The backstory the Waynes released for why Jason was thought dead only made people uncomfortable.
Jason wasn’t complaining about that. He didn’t have to put on an insanely different personality like the rest of his family. He portrayed himself as a quiet, traumatized book nerd. The hardest part was keeping his anger in check, but again, that wasn’t too out of line with the ‘kidnapped and held captive’ backstory they went with.
Sweat ran down his neck and was absorbed in his collar. Jason turned and set his glass down and grabbed another ice water to cool his hands down. If he weren’t semi-surrounded by Gotham’s upper crust, he would pour some of the water on himself.
Once upon a time, Jason could handle heat much better. Nowadays, it only served to remind him of what he wanted to forget.
Jason clinked his fingers against his glass. He took another drink. He honestly didn’t know how much longer he was going to last outside like this. Deep breaths and ice water would only get him so far. Maybe Bruce wouldn’t mind Jason dipping early?
“Hey there, Todd!” A much too boisterous voice called Jason out of his own head.
He turned to the side to see a dashing young man decked out in an expensive suit and an egregious amount of jewelry. He held an parasol in one hand.
“It’s Todd-Wayne.” Jason replied. His hand clenched around the glass harder. If he was going to accept the fact that Bruce was his father, he was going to accept it. He earned that hyphen with blood and tears.
“Sorry, Todd-Wayne,” The man stressed ‘Wayne’ much too heavily. Jason kept the sigh that was threatening to release from leaving his lips. He was too hot for this. “What’s someone like you doing hiding over here?”
Jason didn’t want to start trying to extrapolate all the meaning loaded into that sentence. He opened his mouth to respond with literally anything, but his words came out a choked breath when the man moved his parasol.
The metal tip of the man’s parasol scraped against the concrete of the patio around them. It echoed into the open air. Jason jolted, and suddenly he wasn’t standing outside in a garden gala anymore.
No. No, as Jason’s breath kicked up, all he could think about was that muggy, hot warehouse, suspended by his arms as that monster scraped a crowbar across the ground.
Jason didn’t drop his glass, but it was a near thing. He fumbled with it before he managed to get it set down on the table.
“Todd,” Then a pause before he added, “Wayne?” The man asked. He tried to reach out to touch Jason, but Jason sidestepped his hand immediately.
“I—” Jason’s words got choked in his throat. Sweat dripped down his temple. He could hear the clown’s laughter, he swore. He swore it echoed around the walls. “I need to—to go.”
Jason pushed passed the man without care of what it might look like. He was starting to hyperventilate. The warmth pressed down onto him from all sides. The stuffy heat of the warehouse had him in headlock, forcing him down and to surrender.
His unsteady hands scraped at his neck. They slipped on all the sweat on his skin, evidence that the heat wasn’t only in his head. They clawed loose the tie that wrapped around his throat. It felt too much like hands trying to strangle him.
His cuff links were the next to go. The tightness around his wrists flashed between the feeling of cloth and rope. Jason’s shaking fingers fumbled with the metal. The heat of the them burned into his skin, and he found himself dropping the cuff links without care where they fell.
Jason stumbled across the warehouse—no, the grass, he was still at the outdoor gala wasn’t he?—faster. He needed to be faster. The searing feeling against his skin—was he on fire again? Was that why he could barely get a breath into his tortured lungs? The heat of it licked at his skin, choking all the breath out of him.
No. Was that the sun? Jason’s chest rose and fell incredibly quick. He was starting to feel light headed. His heart beat a staccato against his rib cage. His hands were shaking. It was the fire. There was laughter all around him.
Jason crashed through doors, uncaring about what sound he may have been making. He needed to get away. He needed to hide, to become unseen, to sequester himself somewhere cold and dark. Somewhere where the heat couldn’t get to him. If he was somewhere small and cold enough, the monster couldn’t get to him. He would be safe.
He pushed passed anyone who got in his way. Jason’s ears were deaf to whatever may fall upon him. All he could hear was that maniacal laughter that haunted his every step.
Finally, he heaved open a large metal door and was greeted with blessedly frozen air. He slammed the door closed behind him and skittered further into the cold dark.
Jason wedged himself in between two shelving units. He squeezed his eyes closed. Tucked away, he was safe. No one would find Jason if he made himself small enough.
He curled his legs up against his chest, an arm around his knee to cover his chest, then the other curled around to protect his neck. He pressed his back harder against the cold metal that he was leaned against.
The freezing air of the room made his lungs stutter harsher with each breath. But it was forcing his breathing to be slower, so Jason couldn’t even be mad. He focused on each and every cool breath, imagining the condensation cloud puffing out of his mouth. He put the rest of his focus onto how the cold froze against his skin. The sweat beading on his skin chilled his body, making him shiver.
It was better than being hot. Here in the cold, it was easier to remember that he wasn’t in that stiflingly warm warehouse anymore. There was no searingly hot metal crowbars. No gasoline and no fire.
Jason let the cold melt into his back. Each shiver was another reminder that he wasn’t with the Joker.
He didn’t know how long he was wedged in there before the door opened again. Jason tucked his head down further into his knees. He didn’t know if he was shaking from the fear or the cold anymore.
“Jaylad?” Someone was speaking. Jason wedged himself further into his secret spot. It didn’t matter if that voice was familiar. If anything, familiar voices were more dangerous than strangers. Familiarity lulled Jason into a false sense of security. He wouldn’t fall for it. “Jay, chum, where are you?”
A vicious shiver wracked Jason’s frame. He kept himself curled up. Keeping his limbs close would prevent the cold from seeping in too far. Jason knew that. He couldn’t move. He had to stay here like this if he wanted to survive the night. The cold wall at his back would protect him, and his limbs would keep him alive. He was alright. He was safe.
Jason was probably lying to himself. He knew what happened when kids got too cold on the streets. He didn’t care. He couldn’t think of much right now, his brain going as slow as it was. But he could remember one thing: the cold was better than whatever he was hiding from.
A shift in the air made Jason peak his head up.
Jason flinched heavier into the wall. Standing before him was a shadowed figure with large, broad shoulders. He was too small. Jason’s heart thumped wildly inside his chest. He was too small to go up against someone that big.
The man before him immediately fell into a crouch. He reached into his pocket. Jason curled up on himself again, shoving his face back into his knees to protect. He made sure his throat was covered by them, and that the hand on the back of his neck was providing good coverage.
Instead of anything coming closer to Jason, a light suddenly started shining.
Out of pure curiosity, Jason peaked an eye upwards again. The man had taken out a small penlight. He set it down on the ground between them. He didn’t come any closer, but Jason could see his face now.
Black hair, graying at the very center, just barely. Blue eyes with wrinkles on the corner of them. Wide jaw, soft lips, crooked nose. Scars. His face was contorted not into vindication or excitement, but a pure and deep worry.
“Bruce?” Jason whispered. His body involuntarily loosened.
Bruce nodded slowly. A small smile teetered on his lips. “Hey there, Jaylad.”
“Wh—” Jason shivered. He looked around at his surroundings, slowly lifting his head to see more of the space. He was sequestered between two shelves of frozen meat. “Where?”
Bruce scooted closer. “You’re at the Kuchelli Country Club. It’s July eight. You came here with me, Tim, and Dick for a gala.”
“July…?” Jason shook with another shiver. His lips felt slow.
“You ran into the walk-in freezer,” Bruce patiently explained. He set his hand on Jason’s knee. Jason didn’t shrug it off, letting his father’s hand leak warmth back into him. “You’ve been gone for a little under fifteen minutes.”
Jason smacked his lips. He could barely feel them. Come to think of it, he could barely feel his fingers. He let go of his legs.
Bruce shuffled forward again. With extremely predictable, large movements, he moved his arm forward to grasp at Jason’s shoulder.
If Jason felt any different than he did now, he would not have let Bruce touch him. As it was, he sunk into the warmth that Bruce’s hand provided. The heavy, reassuring weight took him back to the end of a good patrol, to receiving an A on a paper. It was the polar opposite of the fear that had been coursing through Jason for too long.
Bruce took full advantage of Jason’s acceptance. He pulled his son forward until Jason’s knees were pressed up against Bruce’s chest. He placed his larger hand over Jason’s on the back of his neck. The startling difference between the two hand’s temperatures sent another shiver through Jason’s body.
Jason relaxed into Bruce’s hold. He let the tightness of his hand go lax, let his head drift forward to lean against Bruce’s collarbone. Bruce sighed heavily, shakily, and brought his other hand to tangle into Jason’s hair. He cupped the back of his son’s head like it was the most precious thing in the world.
“Let’s get you out of here and heated up, okay?” Bruce said. Jason could feel the rumble through Bruce’s chest and into his knees.
“No, no heat,” Jason mumbled into Bruce’s chest. He couldn’t go back to that burning fire. He couldn’t. Jason didn’t think he was strong enough. “Please, no heat.”
Bruce moved the hand on the back of Jason’s neck, trailing it down to rest on Jason’s back. “Okay. Okay, just warmth. Is that okay?”
Jason just nodded his head against Bruce. Warmth from his dad seemed like it would be alright. He felt more than heard Bruce say ‘okay’ again. The hand on Jason’s back drifted down further, and then Bruce was cupping his arm underneath Jason’s legs.
Jason didn’t think he was small enough for this anymore, but Bruce proved him wrong. In a slow but controlled movement, Bruce lifted Jason off of the floor, completely carrying him in his arms. Jason could feel how each and every one of Bruce’s muscles strained underneath Jason’s new weight, but Bruce did not complain. He just situated his arms and began slowly backing up and out of the wedge between the shelves.
The penlight stayed on the floor. It illuminated the area Jason had hid himself, making him see just how small the space was as Bruce walked backward. He must have had to dead lift Jason off of the floor. There was no room for any other kind of movement.
Once they were clear from the shelves, Bruce turned toward the door. It was still open. He didn’t say a word as he carried Jason toward it.
All the lingering fear drained from Jason’s body. He fully relaxed into Bruce’s hold, letting himself bury his face in his dad’s shoulder. From the hitching breath that fluttered against Jason’s hair, Bruce hadn’t expected him to do that.
To be fair, Jason hadn’t expected himself to do it either. Jason didn’t want to watch the people watch him, a full grown man, be carried out by his father. He didn’t care. He was cold, and Bruce was warm. Bruce was safe.
Jason lost more time.
The next time he was more aware, there was more body heat leaking into him on both sides. He blinked and shifted his arms. One was swung over Dick’s shoulder, while the other was being held to Tim’s chest. He furrowed his brows, confused. He was in the car. Bruce was driving. When did he get here? When did Bruce set him down?
Dick’s hand was making circles on Jason’s knee. Tim was playing with the callouses on Jason’s hand. He focused on that instead of the low rumbling of voices around him.
Jason blinked, and suddenly he was being let by Bruce into the family room. He groaned something low, squinting at the light in the room.
“Tim, turn the lights down, would you?” Bruce asked. Jason slowly looked around for the kid. His eyes weren’t cooperating with him. “Jason’s still sensitive to them.”
Tim hummed something in reply, then: “Should I start a fire?”
Jason flinched in on himself. No. No he couldn’t do it again. The heat was gone. He got rid of it. He had frozen out the flames and made sure they couldn’t grow again. Jason couldn’t do it another time so soon. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his hand against Bruce’s, and disappeared again.
“Then Jay flipped over it,” Dick. That was Dick’s voice filtering back into Jason’s ears. If that was Dick, where was Jason? “I swear. It was such a high jump I didn’t believe you could do it, little wing.”
That was him. He was little wing.
“That’s literally crazy,” Tim responded. A small movement ruffled underneath Jason’s arm. It made him more aware of where his limbs were. Jason turned his head and looked down. Tim was holding Jason’s arm to his chest (again?), and was securely snuggled up next to him. When did that happen? “I can imagine you doing something so reckless, though, Jason.”
Jason hummed. He didn’t know what story Dick was telling. He was sure it was embellished, though.
“Oh believe me, it was.” Dick spoke again. Jason turned his head toward that this time to find Dick on his other side. His older brother was underneath Jason’s other arm. He was holding Jason’s hand, situating it so their clasped hands rested on Dick’s shoulder.
“You both were incorrigible back then,” Bruce. That was Bruce’s voice rumbling across Jason’s back. Jason looked closer, and found that his brothers weren’t plastered to his side as Jason thought. Bruce’s knees were pressed against Jason’s sides, and his brothers were pressed against those. He was warmed from all sides. “It didn’t get better.”
All three of them laughed. Jason scrunched his nose. He felt the building need to defend himself. “Wasn’ tha’ bad.” Jason mumbled. The energy that it took to say the words had Jason heavily blinking.
There was a beat of silence. Then, Dick laughed. “You’re right. It was much higher than I claimed.”
“Wasn’.” Jason refuted. He leaned his head back against Bruce’s chest. He could feel the subtle laughter rumbling in his dad’s chest.
“I think I’m inclined to believe Jason,” Tim stated. “He’s the type to own up to what he does.”
Jason flicked the fingers in Tim’s hand to say ‘there, look.’ He didn’t have the energy for much else.
“Jaylad,” Bruce interrupted the conversation. His hand brushed some of the hair out of Jason’s face. He didn’t want to think how that movement was even possible. Where were Bruce’s arms, anyway? “You back with us?”
Jason hummed an affirmative instead of saying anything. He was too tired for anything else.
“Can you tell us how you’re feeling?” Bruce asked. That was too vague. Jason groaned his disapproval “Are you too cold, still?”
Jason shook his head and hummed out a negative sound this time. He closed his eyes. “No. ‘M warm.”
Bruce’s relieved breath tickled the hairs on the back of Jason’s neck. “Good. Are you tired?”
Jason made a scoffing noise. Dick agreed with him with a very similar sound. “I mean, look at him, Bruce. Of course, he’s tired.”
“Why don’t we all just be quiet and sleep?” Tim asked. He curled himself further into Jason’s side. “I for one, am very comfortable, and I don’t want to move.”
Dick and Bruce laughed together. Jason managed a small chuckle that was lost into the vibrations of the other two’s chests. Jason had to agree with Tim. He was warm, comfortable, and surrounded by people he knew wouldn’t let any harm come to him. He was drained from the shifting temperatures of the day and all the emotions that it brought.
“Sleep.” Jason decided on. He shuffled down a bit and pillowed his head back more completely against Bruce.
“Looks like little wing agrees with you, Timmers.” Dick situated himself downwards a bit too. He didn’t let go of Jason’s hand.
“Alright, kids,” Bruce laughed more than he said. “If we’re sleeping, less talking and more closing of eyes.”
Jason didn’t need to be told anything else. He let the sounds of Dick and Tim’s final bickering roll over him as he drifted off, not into his own mind, but into sleep. He was done for the day. Jason found where he could be the safest. He didn’t need to be alert anymore.
Jason was safe.