Alright, last chapter! Welcome to the end, guys. It's been a twisty kind of road, but after this chapter's done it'll all be settled. On Friday, I'll see about posting the first of the finished prompts I got during my 50 followers (I've been in kind of a BDSM mood, so expect that). For now, enjoy this resolution chapter!

I can't even describe the relief that overtakes me at the small, pained groan that slips from Jason's mouth. He's been silent and unconscious for way too many hours, pulse fast before it slowed to a crawl that made me refuse to leave his side in case it stopped. And before that, the drug wreaked havoc on him. The hours I had to watch him to make sure he wouldn't hurt himself, the two times that his... It's been one hell of an ordeal.

I drag myself out of the chair I stationed myself in, trying to ignore the protesting stiffness of muscles I haven't moved in too long. I sit down next to Jason, beside his hip and at his left side, and carefully touch the side of his neck to check his pulse. The machine beside him is doing that already, monitoring his heartbeat amongst a dozen other things, but it's more reassuring to feel it under my fingers. Steady now, and a lot stronger than it was even as little as a half an hour ago.

"Jason," I murmur, turning my touch into a gentle stroke of my fingers up to his jaw. He shifts a little in response, towards my touch, which is more than he's moved since he blacked out. "Are you awake?"

His brow furrows, his head tilts back, and then his mouth parts. "Ow." His voice is a rough rumble, but with a lot more emphasis on the rough than there was last night. Which is good, because my libido has firmly decided that is pretty much the sexiest thing in the world.

This really doesn't give me any hope for my control if I do end up in Jason's bed. When, actually. I think it's pretty much definitely a when. As long as Jason agrees to a couple of small things, and I'm pretty sure he will.

"Hey," I say, very quietly because I remember how badly my head hurt when I woke up from Ivy's drug. "Stupid question, but are you alright?"

Jason's mouth twitches in what I think might be supposed to be a smirk. "Think I'll live," he grumbles, and I can see the effort it takes him to pry his eyes open. His pupils are back to normal, finally. "Water?"

"Got it right here. Give me a second to get you out of the restraints." I lean over, snagging the keys from their hook on the machine and then twisting to get at the restraints holding Jason down. Not nearly as many as when the drug still had him; once he was unconscious we took off all but a basic minimum. Now there's just bands across his ankles and wrists, though still locked shut by padlocks just in case. I make short work of them, and he shifts just a bit before stilling with a wince.

"Fuck, did I actually get kicked in the chest a few times, or does it just feel like that?"

I stiffen for a moment, memory bringing back the sharp terror of why Jason's in that specific kind of pain. The slice of the monitor's alarm, the quiet determination on Bruce's face, and the thud of my own heartbeat as it did its best to pound out of my chest because—

"What is it?" Jason asks, and it must be a Herculean effort for him to shift and prop himself up on his left elbow, but he does it. "Dick? What's wrong?"

I swallow, shake off the remembered panic. "We weren't sure you were going to make it," I tell him, quietly. "You must have really irritated Ivy; she hit you with what we think was at least three times what I got dosed with." I curl my hand into the blankets beneath Jason, close my eyes. "Your heart stopped. Twice. Jesus, Jason, you almost died."

"Fuck, Dick, I'm sorry, I didn't think—"

I open my eyes and snap, "No, you didn't." Then I catch the exhausted pain in his eyes, and the guilt, and the anger drains right out of me. "God," I manage, dropping my gaze to the blankets and then raising it to the roof of the Cave. "God, you deserve to get the lecture of your fucking life but I'm too relieved to be angry right now."

"I'm sure it'll be a hell of a speech," Jason says softly. I look down at him, and he slides down on his arm to lie on his left side, head resting too low to be on the pillow. He's still meeting my eyes though. "I'll listen to every word," he promises, his right arm reaching down — with only a bit of trembling — to take my closer hand in his. "Every word, Dick, promise. Won't even interrupt." His grip is weak, but at least it's something.

I stare at his hand, then shake my head and close my eyes again. "You know, I spent this whole time sitting next to you, just thinking that if you…" My throat closes, and I have to swallow to force it open again. "If you died, we'd leave all of this stuff between us unresolved. You'd still be waiting on an answer, and I'd never get to know if you forgave me or if you were still angry." Jason's fingers twitch around mine, and I force myself to look up. His eyes are half-lidded, but his fingers tighten just a fraction more.

"Dick." He swallows, winces, but then pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, holding my gaze. "It's alright, I do forgive you. I just, needed a bit of time." His fingers twitch around mine again, eyes closing for a moment. "You said 'we,' " he points out, voice barely above a whisper.

"Bruce is here," I admit. "He was catching a nap last I heard, at the cots in the back. Tim's been in and out, the rest of the family is holding down Gotham." I don't think Jason's strong enough to tense, but he definitely flinches at the mention of Bruce. I carefully tighten my fingers around his. "He's been scared out of his mind, Jason. The two of you might have the worst communication in the world, but he still cares more than you give him credit for. Both of us have been here the whole time, and you know how he is, Alfred had to bully him into sleeping at all."

Jason shifts his head in a small nod, and then his gaze flicks instantly up above my head and he does tense. Just for a second before his muscles can't keep the tension, but it's more than enough to get me to turn my head and look. Of course it's Bruce standing there, stiff, tall, and clearly uncomfortable with my words.

"Voices woke me," he explains shortly, at both of our looks. He moves then, circling my legs to stand by Jason's head. He just stands there for a moment — I resist the urge to cross my fingers that he won't say something terrible — with his gaze trained down at Jason, who's looking up at him. Bruce looks tired, guarded, and he might be dressed in his suit from the neck down but his cowl is gone so that's even more obvious. Sleep has messed up his hair even worse than the cowl already had, and there's the edge of shadows under his eyes and strain in his shoulders.

I know Jason can see it as clearly as I can, maybe even better. I've known Bruce longer, but Jason's more tuned into people's emotional and physical states than I am a lot of the time.

Which might be why Jason doesn't say anything but a quiet, "B," in acknowledgement.

"Jason," Bruce answers, like my younger brother's voice has jarred him back to something like consciousness. He straightens a little bit, just a tiny shift of movement. "This was stupid and reckless," he says, voice harsh and sharp, and I can almost see Jason shut down and bring his walls up. "You nearly got yourself killed, you went in on a half thought out plan without any real backup, and you didn't give any of us a chance to help you or to work out a better way to do it." Bruce's jaw works for a moment, and then he shoves out a sigh and raises his right hand, scrubbing it over his eyes and then back through his hair. "But we did need samples of Ivy's new pollen for an antidote," he admits, quietly, "and there weren't many options for obtaining them."

Jason shifts a little bit, eyes slightly narrowed and something wary and slightly confused in them. "What are you saying?" he asks. Bruce is very still, so is Jason, and they're so totally focused on each other that it almost feels like if I move this whole thing will fall to pieces. It's so close. It could be good this time.

"I don't approve of your methods," Bruce answers, after a few moments of tense silence, "but you got the job done. I would have preferred if you'd talked to the rest of us first, given us time to come up with something less risky, but you did get what we needed before anyone else was hurt." He pauses, Jason stares at him, and then he quietly says, "Thank you, Jason."

Jason looks shocked, and it only gets worse when Bruce slowly, haltingly, leans down. He gently brushes Jason's hair away from his forehead, and presses a small kiss to his then exposed temple. It surprises me too, mostly that even though it clearly makes Bruce uncomfortable, he still follows all the way through on it. He pulls back equally as slow, but leaves his fingers holding Jason's hair back from his eyes for a moment.

"You're still my son," he says softly, "no matter what. Don't do something this risky again; losing you once was hard enough." Finally, Bruce's gaze flicks over to me as his fingers fall away from Jason's forehead. "Dick, make sure he gets water and something to eat." His eyes turn back to my younger brother as I nod. "Jason, if you'd rather go to one of your safehouses I won't stop you, but there's more than enough room in the manor. I'd like to keep an eye on you until you're recovered, just in case there are any more side effects that we haven't discovered yet with a dose that high." He waits for the tiny shift of Jason's head, what might be acknowledgement, before stepping back. "I'll contact the rest of the family and update them."

Bruce moves away again, and I can see Jason's gaze follow him as he moves across the cave and to the computer, far out of hearing range. I watch until Bruce is sitting in front of the computer, and then turn my attention back to Jason, who's still staring at him.

That went surprisingly well.

"Did that really just happen?" Jason asks, finally tearing his eyes away from Bruce and up towards me.

I manage a small smile, flexing my fingers around his still loose grip. "You're not hallucinating, promise."

His eyes narrow a little bit. "Did you tell him to say any of that?" Jason demands, or as much as he can make it sound like a 'demand' when his voice is still so rough and tired. It does sting a little that Jason thinks I might do that, or that Bruce would go along with it, but I can't fault him for the suspicion.

"I actually wanted him not to talk at all," I admit. "That was all him, Jason. Like I said, he cares more than you give him credit for. Now come on. Like B said, you need water and food, and it might be a pain in the ass but if you want out of the Cave I can get you upstairs at least. Somewhere more comfortable."

He glances at Bruce's back, and then shifts his head in a more obvious nod. "Yeah, that's… That's a good idea."

I squeeze his hand and then carefully let go, getting to my feet and letting my hand rise to rest gently on his shoulder. "I'll grab you that water, then go talk to Alfred about a room and some food, alright? And…" It's my turn to pause, to swallow and then clear my throat. "When you've recovered, I have an answer for you. Not before," I say quickly, cutting off the sharp spark of interest and what I might actually label hope in his eyes. "There are some things we need to talk about and agree on first, and it's not fair to do that while you're not at full strength. Once you've recovered, we can have that conversation. I promise."

I think the huff of breath he gives is something like a laugh. "A conversation, huh? Doesn't sound like a flat out 'no' at least." It's definitely hope in his eyes, but shielded behind wariness and a carefully controlled expression. "Alright, I'll hold you to that, Dick."

"Good." I pull my hand off his shoulder, and then stretch to work out the dull ache in my lower back from all but sleeping in that chair. Just a couple of quick ones, before I straighten up. "Try not to fall asleep, alright? And if anything at all doesn't feel right—"

"Let one of you know," he finishes. "I know, Dick. Grab me the damn water so I can feel human again."

The rumble of a demand feels more like Jason's usual attitude, and I give a small, lopsided grin. "You got it."

Jason is surprisingly patient. It takes him about three days before Alfred clears him to leave the manor, and another two before he's actually back up to full strength. He stays at the manor, apart from a brief vanishing act on the fourth day where he came back with his bike and a backpack full of clothes. He probably snuck in at least some of his weapons too, but Bruce and I try not to look too closely at that. He, at least, is happier not knowing exactly how many guns Jason has in the house.

He doesn't bring up the promised conversation.

Bruce and he tiptoe around each other, speaking in clipped conversations that are never more than a dozen sentences. I count it as a victory. Five days in a house together with no violence? With their track record, that's a victory. Luckily, the rest of the family recognizes it too. I'm sure that both of them have noticed, but the rest of the family takes on the job of playing interference. Phone calls or texts at just the right times, courtesy of Tim and Barbara, and alternative conversations courtesy of everyone else. They have to know — Jason and Bruce are too smart not to see something this obvious — but if anything I think they're grateful for it, in their own ways.

I probably wait longer than I should, but the thought of the upcoming discussion tightens my gut every time it comes through my head. Still, Jason doesn't push, and I put it off one hour after another. Until I come down to the Cave and find him in the middle of a spar with Cass, who's definitely not going full out, but clearly neither is Jason. Still, it's a smack in the face that Jason's fine, he's recovered, and putting this off any longer is just avoiding the inevitable. Also, he might not be pushing it, but putting this off is just making him wait, and hurting him because there's no way he doesn't know that I know he's fine.

Although part of what kicks me into gear might be that Jason's shirtless and barefoot, and even though it's just a friendly spar he's worked up a sweat. Without all of the gear, and the jacket, I get a totally clear view of how his muscles shift and play underneath his skin. I think it's actually the first time I've seen Jason shirtless since he came back, and there's a big difference between earlier Jason and this one. Mostly, that this one is enough to pause me on the steps of the Cave when I see him, and make me spend a few long moments just staring at the mock fight.

Cass is faster than him, more flexible, but it's easy to see that she's got a healthy respect of the fact that Jason is stronger than her. Jason is playing that to his advantage, making her come at him instead of pressing an offensive where she'd likely dodge and duck around everything he tried. If he gets a hold of her, then it turns into a simpler grappling and endurance match, and he's more likely to win that.

Judging by the small grin on his face, Jason is having a lot of fun.

I head down the stairs, watching their spar as I get closer, and finally stop at the edge of the mat. Jason's gaze flicks to me for a brief moment, and I can see the moment of tense surprise when he realizes I'm there. Cass takes advantage, of course, and Jason goes down hard from the impact of her heel in the center of his chest. He keels over, the air rushing out of his lungs, and collapses down to his knees. His right hand clasps at the point of impact as I wince, and Cass straightens up. She leans over, patting the top of Jason's head with one hand and then following it up with a quick peck of lips to his forehead.

"Have fun," she commands, and then turns on her heel and heads towards the edge of the mats. Towards me. I give her a smile, and she pauses next to me. "Be…" She stops, head tilting in that way she does when she needs to find the right word in her head. Then she pats my shoulder, with a bit of a scary smile, and finishes, "Nice?" with a bit of a question mark at the end of the word.

I give a small laugh, watching Jason lean back on his arms and tilt his head back to stare at the ceiling out of the corner of my field of vision. "That works, yeah. Thanks, Cass."

She nods and then heads off without another word, and I turn to Jason. He's rubbing at his chest, but he still looks like he's enjoying himself, not like he's pissed, so it can't be that bad. I step onto the mat, heading up to Jason, who turns his torso and looks up to meet me. I take one glance back, to make sure that Cass has kept moving, and then another around the Cave, to make sure no one is close enough to get nosy, before offering him my hand. He takes it, letting me pull him up to standing.

"Up for that conversation?" I ask, with just a little bit of a nervous edge.

In contrast, Jason relaxes, and his grin softens to a smirk as his gaze drops to the mat. "Almost thought you'd bailed out on me, Dick," he says, quietly, then pushes out the rest of his breath and looks up to meet my gaze. "Yeah, I'm more than ready." He tilts his head, over towards the stairs I just came down. "Upstairs?" he offers, and then shrugs. "Or if you want to go somewhere else, that's fine. I can uh," he glances around, to the other side of the mat, with a tiny grimace, "put a shirt on. Or take a shower, or something."

The fact that he's clearly nervous too helps, and my mouth curls up at one corner. "It's fine, and upstairs is good. You can put a shirt on if you want, if it helps, but I don't mind." I manage to cut myself off before I finish that sentence with, 'the view.' I think that's a bit of a line to cross before I even know if Jason is willing to conform to what I'm going to need from him.

I know I like Jason, I know I can trust him, and he's hot as hell so physical attraction clearly isn't a problem, but I also know that I can't be that close to him the way he is now. Not with what I know he does, not with how at odds he is with so much of the world. I need him to agree to what I've decided I can't live with, and then… Then, I'll give this a shot.

He gives a snort of amusement, and the grin he gives has just a hint of embarrassment to it. "Yeah, came down with Cass so all my stuff is still up there anyway. Lead the way, Dick."

I take him at his word — as I try not to look at his chest too obviously — and halfway turn away, waiting for him to start to move with me before I finish the movement. He falls into step at my side, and my crusade to not watch him gets a little harder as he moves while we walk. He's doing small stretches, easing down muscles from the fight with simple, easy movements. Mostly detail work, on his hands and fingers, but there's an odd shoulder roll or neck turn in there with it. If I hadn't watched all of my family do the same thing at one time or another, I'd think he was just showing off. But it's just a good thing to do — keeps muscles from going from an intense workout to instant cessation of movement — so I just try and keep my eyes off of him.

We get back up the stairs, into the manor, and I pause for a second. Do I take Jason to his room, mine, some empty one where no one will go looking?

"Anywhere you want, Dick," Jason comments, like he's some kind of mind reader. Logically, I know that there are only so many reasons I might pause, and he just picked the most likely one, but it still feels like Jason is way too in tune with my thoughts. He's not even looking at me when I glance over either, his eyes focused down on his hands as he stretches each finger out with a brief tug.

My glance over reminds me that Jason is missing a shirt, and as nice as the view is I'm not sure I can focus as much as I'll need to if he's shirtless, sweaty, and in my room all at the same time. His room it is; that's where all his clothing will be. Even if he doesn't decide to put a shirt on — I did give him the choice, and a part of me doesn't like the idea of going back on that — it's still his room, not mine. Only a slight difference physically, but a huge one mentally.

Decision made, I head in the right direction. I mean, any room I could take him to to have this conversation would be this direction, so pausing right on getting out of the manor didn't really make sense, but moments of indecision rarely make any actual sense when you think about them.

Jsaon doesn't say anything about our path towards his room, just keeps pace at my side, and moves to open the door when I pause in front of it. It's just a little weird for him to hold it open for me, but the flash of a slightly teasing grin eases out the strange moment. I slip inside the room and flick the light — it's still daytime, but he's got the curtains on the one window drawn shut — as he follows me in.

"Mind if I rinse off?" he asks, as I glance around. I was only really in here while he was still mostly too weak to stand for that long without help, and I really haven't been in here since he brought some of his stuff over.

It's neater than I expected. Not the perfection that Alfred leaves behind when he decides we're not fit to take care of ourselves, but a more human style. Everything is put away, and his gear is carefully either hung up in the open closet, or arranged on the dresser. The bed is made, but pulled down at one corner in a precise, folded angle to make it easy to get into. No evidence of dirty clothes anywhere but the hamper, no dishes, no mess. Actually, it looks a bit like Damian's room. Talia's influence, maybe?

"Yeah," I answer, as he closes the door again. "Go ahead."

I watch him give a small nod and then move to the dresser, pulling open drawers and snagging a pair of what look like sweatpants, and what I'm pretty sure is a normal white t-shirt. It's only because I'm watching that I see the slight hesitation in his movement as he looks back over at me.

"Not going to vanish on me, are you, Dick?" he asks, with a crooked grin and an obvious attempt to not be taken seriously. But I see the slight rise of his shoulders, the way he doesn't turn towards me to ask the question, the dozen small ticks of body language that are defensive and wary.

"I'll be here," I promise, and all those ticks ease out almost simultaneously. "Go on, before you start to really smell."

He snorts, tossing, "It's not that bad," over his shoulder as he heads for the bathroom. He does close the door behind him, and I let out a small breath when I hear the shower start.

I glance around the room for a place to sit, and conclude that apart from hoisting myself up on top of a piece of furniture definitely not meant for sitting on, the bed or the floor are my only real options. There is a single armchair, next to the bookcase, but if I sit in it that forces Jason to sit on the floor to be anywhere near me. I could move the armchair over, towards the bed, but that would still force a strange dynamic. The only way it feels like this is an equal conversation is if we're even, whether that's on the floor, standing, or on the bed.

I don't want to stand for this, and the bed is just a little too imposing for me, at the moment, so I take a seat at the foot of it. The carpet is fairly soft at least, and the bed is a decent rest for my back.

It really is just a rinse, and it's not more than a couple of minutes before the shower shuts off, and one more before he's opening the door and stepping out. He's still drying his hair, and getting him to rinse might have been a bad idea because he's still damp, and the shirt clings to his chest like a second skin. I swallow down the urge to stare, and raise my gaze to his face as he tosses the white towel back through the open door and then heads for me.

He sinks down, sitting at my side but with a decent distance between us. He seems relaxed, but those defensive hints are back in his posture. "So," he starts, "you said you had an answer, and that there was a conversation that needed to happen?"

I nod, and clear my throat. "Yeah." I draw in a breath, to steady myself, then meet his gaze. "I'm interested, Jason," his eyes light up as he draws in a breath too small to be called a gasp, "but there are things I need you to agree to first."

"Sounds like something you'd say to a mark you were trying to get evidence off of," he comments, and then lifts his far shoulder in a shrug. "Shoot, Dick."

I wince, and then turn a little bit towards him. "Killing." He echoes my wince. "I don't like the rest of it, Jason, I don't like what it turns you into, but I can deal with it." I have to draw in another breath to finish, to keep my voice steady. "I don't think I can get seriously involved with anyone who kills. Not even you. I need you to promise me you won't kill again."

He's still and silent for a long moment, and I can see the resignation take over his eyes. "I can't promise that," he says softly. "I wish I could, Dick, but I'm not…" He clears his throat, looks away from me and out into the room. "I don't always have control over myself, and when—" His eyes squeeze shut as he cuts himself off, and then he gives a shrug and a humorless laugh. "Might as well just drop this here. I can't have you for a week or a month just to lose it the next time I have a bad day."

There's a dark resignation to Jason's voice that clenches my stomach, a pained surrender that makes me stare. Jason doesn't just surrender. He always fights, always.

"You're just going to give up?" I ask incredulously, and his eyes snap open. "You can't even try for me?"

"It's not like that," he snaps, glaring at me with his mouth curled into half of a snarl. "You have no idea what the Pit did to me, Dick. What it's still doing. I'd love to just tell you that sure, I won't kill again, but the fact is there will come a day when I snap and it happens. How much I fight doesn't matter; there's no such thing as winning. I won't make a promise to you that I know I can't keep, and I thought you might appreciate me being honest." He looks away, down at his legs, and I can see his hands curl into the carpet. "So is that it? Are we done?" His head tilts back, and he shoves out a breath that's half a laugh. "One chance, and I'm just too fundamentally fucked up to—"

I reach for him before I realize what I'm doing, brushing my knuckles along the side of his neck, and he instantly cuts off. His gaze snaps to me, falls to the wrist of the hand touching him, and then he winces and twists his head away.

"Don't," he says softly. "If that was it, just tell me. You know there's fucking nothing that hurts worse than hope, right?"

My heart clenches, and I ease my hand out against the side of his neck, brushing my fingers along his skin. "I… Hang on, let me think." Jason winces again, but doesn't pull away any farther.

He has a point. We all know that when Jason is stressed, or something triggers him, or he gets caught by surprise by something bad, he tends to slip into a state that's not quite sane. The Lazarus Pit messed him up — who knows how badly? — and it drove him for years. He's better now, mostly. He's still not quite sane sometimes, but he's usually not a danger to the rest of us. Jason's right, it isn't really fair for me to demand a promise from him that he'll never be able to keep. He'll fight for as long as he can, but eventually something will happen, and maybe that something happens at just the wrong time and there's a criminal in front of him that he thinks deserves to die. Maybe he won't even know what he's done until it's over.

I can't hold something that's not Jason's fault against him. He never chose to get dunked in the Pit, he never chose to have it mess with his mind. When it does, I have to accept it. I can't fault Jason for something like that, and I won't ask him to be perfectly in control forever. No one's capable of that.

"Jason," I say softly, to call his attention. His head turns in small fractions, gaze finally meeting mine. I brush my thumb across the front of his throat, high beneath his jaw. "Promise me you won't kill if you can help it."

He pauses, just for a moment, and then asks, "If it's Joker?" It's a question as much as a reminder, and I wince. I know Jason has so many words about this, that he's got entire arguments and counterpoints in his mind, but he doesn't say any of them. He just lets the name hang in the air between us.

I breathe out, making sure every bit of air is expelled from my lungs, before taking a new breath and answering, "If you're in your right mind, then you'll have to choose. Me, or him."

Jason flinches, and I find myself sending up a quick, desperate prayer that it never comes down to that. He's silent for a few long moments, and then gives a pained sound and nods. "I promise," he breathes out. "As long as I have control, I won't kill anyone." His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and then his mouth curves in a hollow smirk. "What else, Dick?"

I carefully slide my fingers up to curl against his jaw, and then through the very edges of his hair. He leans into my touch. "I want you to get help, Jason."

He reacts about as badly as I thought he would.

He jerks away from my hand with a snarled, "Excuse me?" as his eyes narrow. I hold my ground, with a little bit of difficulty.

"I want you to see a therapist," I clarify. "A league-sanctioned one, someone you can talk to about everything you've been through."

His jaw clenches down, and then he's shoving off the floor and to his feet, and I can't do anything but follow him. "I don't need a fucking therapist," he snaps at me. "I'm fine, Dick."

"You're not," I stress, stepping closer and grabbing for his arm. He slips out of range of the first one, but not the opposite hand follow up that closes in the fabric at his shoulder. "Jason, you died." He flinches, pulls a little bit, but doesn't resort to violence. "You woke up in a grave. No one would be alright after that. I am not judging you, Jason, but you do need to talk to someone." I carefully let him go, and it feels like cheating but I pull out, "I need you to talk to someone."

"That's manipulative bullshit," he snaps, sounding a little bit hurt.

"Yeah," I concede, "it is, but that doesn't mean I'm not right, Jason."

His teeth grind together, and then he gives a sharp laugh. "Fuck you," he hisses, into the air between us. "Fine. I'll go once."

"Three times," I press. "If you're still convinced you don't need help after that, I won't ever even bring it up again."

He almost snarls, but then dips his head as his hands clench to fists. "Fine." He meets my gaze, and the only thing that stops me from recoiling from the anger in his eyes is that there's also a slight green tint to them. "What next, Dick? Want me to hand over all my weapons, cut my fucking arm off for you? What the hell are you leaving me with?"

I wince, but tighten my grip on his arm for just a moment. "Bruce," I admit. "I am not asking you to forgive him, Jason, or to get along with him. But try, alright? Even if that means just not talking to him at all. Just try for me, Jason? I can't be in the middle of you two."

"Good I'm not interested in a threesome then," he snaps instantaneously, and I flinch. That seems to get through to him at least a little. "Fuck, sorry. I didn't mean…" He looks away, up at the walls, and then shakes his head. "Alright. I'll try. I can't promise anything, and I'm not biting my tongue if he's a jackass, but I'll try not to start anything. Is that good enough?"

"Yeah, it is. Thank you." I squeeze his upper arm. "Will you look at me, Jason?"

He draws in a slow breath, and then turns his head to meet my gaze. "Is that it?" he asks, and there's something hurt in his gaze that makes his voice crack a bit. It hurts me.

"That's it," I confirm. "Thank you for agreeing, Jason." He swallows, nods, and I step closer. "So my answer is yes. Yes." He stares at me, looking somewhere between shocked and stiff, and I reach up with my free hand.

He draws in a sharp breath as my fingers touch his cheek, brushing along his jaw and then back to comb through his damp hair. "You're serious," he murmurs. "Fuck, you're really serious." His eyes widen, light in surprised hope, and then he gives a slightly breathless laugh. "I… God, tell me you're serious, Dick. Please."

My fingers clench down in his hair, and I move closer at the same time as I pull him down. My lips meet his, and I drag him closer to me and press myself up against him. He makes a shocked noise, pulling against my hold just a little, but I tighten my grip in his hair and pull a little harder. Then he melts against me, his hands coming in against my waist and his lips turning pliant and welcoming underneath my own. The next noise he makes is a low, rumbling noise that screams want at me, as his hands flex against my sides. I make an approving sound back at him, giving him permission to do whatever it is that I know he wants to.

His right hand slides forward, onto my back and sliding up my spine, fingers digging in against my back with a force just shy of desperate. He's making small sounds into my mouth, noises of desire and a whole lot more. Each one feels like a small confession, and I scratch my nails along his scalp. That makes him break the kiss, head twisting down with a low groan as his grip on my waist tightens to just shy of bruising. It's painful, but not enough for me to stop him. I tug at his hair a little bit, and take the turning of his head as invitation to lower my mouth to his neck.

He gives a choked exhale of sound that almost sounds pained when my lips close over the skin below his ear, and then breathes out, "God, Dick."

I pull back enough to graze my lips over his ear, and then whisper, "I'm serious." It's a promise, and I feel his head tilt back, his fingers clench just a little further. I'm going to have bruises.

"Fuck," Jason gasps, and then he's lowering his head and his teeth are against my neck. Grazing more than biting, and I spare just a second to think about how the family will react — Bruce will be pissed, but he really hasn't been the best lately and I find myself not caring like I think I should — before turning my head to bare my neck and giving a small noise of encouragement.

"Go ahead," I offer, combing my hand down through his hair and to the back of his neck. "It's alright, Jason."

Jason shudders, and then his teeth sink into my skin, rolling it between them in a way that I know will break the blood vessels beneath. I'm going to have a large mark, an obvious one, and there's nothing in me but satisfaction about that fact. I allow myself to give a groan, tilting my head back and tightening my grip on the back of his neck, his upper arm. His nails drag down my spine, blunt through the fabric but still enough to make me arch my back a little bit and press harder into him.

I give a second groan, feeling his hip hard against my crotch in a way that is starting to become pretty seriously nice. I force myself to focus. "Is the door locked?" I ask through my teeth. "The last thing I want right now is someone breaking in to interrupt however far we're going."

Jason lets the skin he has between his teeth go, and gives a shaky exhale against my skin. "No, I— Fuck, I'll get it."

I loosen my grip, letting him pull away and move around me. I turn to watch, spinning on my heel as I track him. He flicks the lock, pauses for a moment in clear hesitation, and then takes three steps to the right and grabs the wooden chair from in front of the desk pushed into the corner. I snort as he leans it in underneath the handle, effectively blocking the door even if someone is persistent enough to pick the lock. Honestly, considering our family, it's probably a pretty good idea. Jason's locked door is more likely to be respected than mine, but that doesn't mean it's a guarantee of privacy.

Jason turns back to me, and there's something a little wild to his eyes but not in a dangerous way. The green tinge has faded away, and there's just an edge to his gaze that's a mix of emotions I'm not even going to try and decipher. I'd never get done in the small slice of time left before he comes back over here.

He doesn't crash into me the way that I expect him to. Instead he stops in front of me, and the way he reaches forward to touch me is careful, gentle, his fingers ghosting over my jaw and my arm. That wild edge is still in his eyes, but I can also see the steel control evident in the set of his shoulders and the faint tremble in his hands. I raise my hand to clasp over the one on my jaw, turning my head to press a kiss to the center of his palm before meeting his gaze again. His mouth is just slightly parted, gaze focused on my lips. He looks hungry.

"You don't have to hold back," I tell him. "You're not going to hurt me, and I can take however rough it might get."

His eyes snap up to meet mine, and he blows out a sharp breath. "No, it's not— I know that. I just…" His fingers squeeze down on my arm, and his head ducks away for a moment before he looks back up. "Can we take this slow? You—" He cuts off with a laugh, as I watch him. "You have no idea how much I want you, Dick, but you're… You're so much more important than just another person in my bed, and I want this to be right. I want to give you everything you deserve."

I blink, more than a little shocked, and then my mouth curls in a small smile. "You want to court me first?" I ask, my voice quiet and soft because Jason just keeps surprising me with how kind he is. How thoughtful.

He looks a little bit embarrassed, but nods. "I'll do everything you want me to, Dick," he murmurs, "but I just want the first time between us to be… special. God, fuck that sounds so cheesy when I say it out loud." He's blushing now, the embarrassment a red tinge high on his cheeks that's — even though I think saying it would be a mistake — just adorable.

My smile gets a little bigger, and I press a second kiss to his palm. "It's very sweet, Jason." My words are totally sincere, but that doesn't seem to stop the blush from getting just a little bit more obvious. "Alright, no sex just yet. Not until you feel it's right."

He breathes out, it almost sounds like relief, and gives a small nod. "Thank you," he says, eyes closing as he visibly relaxes. Then he shrugs and gives half a grin, opening his eyes again. They're softer now, less of that wild edge and more just restrained desire. "So now you know; I'm a huge fucking sap. That's pretty much my big secret right there."

"I think it's wonderful," is my immediate answer, as I shift a little closer and then lean in to kiss him. He yields underneath my touch, and then gives a soft sigh as my free right hand touches his waist and strokes up. I break the gentle pressure of our lips, and he curves in towards me but doesn't chase my mouth. It's just his shoulders bowing in, his eyes still closed like he's lingering in the moment.

My breath catches, the fact crashing down that Jason loves me. Not just cares, not just thinks that I'm important, not just appreciates what I look like, but loves me. He doesn't have to say it out loud for it to be obvious, not with everything else he's said, and every single inch of how he's acted. He agreed to go against his own morals for me, he agreed to talk to someone about problems he's never admitted to having in any way more specific than agreeing that he's 'fucked up.' He did that for me.

"What is it?" Jason asks, eyes flicking open, and I shake my head in response.

"Just reading between the lines," I tell him, with a smile and another brush of my lips against his. "Nothing bad." The smile won't leave my face, it's got too much of what I think I'd cautiously call joy behind it, bright and expanding in my chest, for me to make it go away. I can't even make it smaller. "Come lay down with me," I say, tilting my head towards his bed. "There are things we should talk about, decide, and I... " I give a soft laugh, squeezing the hand I'm still holding captive as I turn and bury my nose against his wrist, keeping his gaze. "I don't want to do anything more right now than run my fingers through your hair and memorize what your lips taste like," is my confession, and it might be just a little mischievous but I'll own that.

Jason softens. His entire demeanor eases out, and the breath in his lungs comes out slow as his mouth curls into a grin. "Whatever you want," he says, and it feels like a promise more than an agreement.

I step closer, letting his hand go as I draw him into a kiss. When his arms come around me, loose against my back and in my hair, it's like something finally clicks into place. Like the last tumbler in a lock.

It's just right.