Dreaming Out Loud

When Jason was little, he liked to read to his mother.

He read out loud, making effort to put intonation in his voice. He liked to think, as he peeked in towards her clouded, half-way closed eyes, that she was listening carefully and that he was helping her falling asleep.

Most times though, she was passing out from the drugs.

That didn't stop him. When he finished all the books they owned, which wasn't a lot, he stole a few others. Every night, he'd sit next to her slumped form and read to her, even if it was a book he knew by heart already.

But sometimes, on some rare, blessed nights, she was lucid enough to sit straight and pay attention. She had that little smile on her face, and it always baffled Jason how it could look so happy yet so sad at the same time.

But he loved these nights, because it was some of the rare, precious times when he felt he finally had all her attention. For once, he was the center of her world, instead of her being the center of his. On those nights, she even had enough strength in her arms to circle him with them and to hold him tight agaisnt her as he slowly turned the pages, her cheek against his temple. It felt good. He was even able to ignore the needle marks on her too-pale arms and to keep his eyes glued on the paper. He wanted those nights to last forever.

Those books, those nights – they allowed him to pretend, even just for a while. He dived into fantastic universes with fantastic heroes. The words let him taste the protagonists' lives, share their fights and adventures, their laughs and tears. He followed them all across the world, shall it be the real world or an alternative one – they both had so much to offer anyway. So much more than his world, his reality. So, just for a few hours every night, he pretended that this reality wasn't his.

The texts were colorful, describing the shiny blue of the sea, the green of a leaf, the pink, orange and purple of a sunset, the white of a snow-covered landscape. It seemed like he could finally see something else than the dark shades of grey, black and red he was used to.

The books put colour in his life and in his mother's eyes, as he was able to pull her with him through those universes. Even if it was just for a night every once in a while.

When Jason moved to the Manor, he, of course, took all of his books with him. Except one. He didn't take The Little Prince, because it was her favourite. And because it was the last book he read to her. He just let it on the mattress she used to sleep in, and never went to take it back.

He remembers the night when she died. He remembers shaking her, crying and shouting for her to wake up. He remembers realizing that she wouldn't. He remembers grabbing The Little Prince, snuggling close to her and reading it for the umpteenth time.

It was so hard, as his voice seemed to claw at his throat to come out in this hoarse, strangled, trembling sound. As the letters on the pages shaked as bad as his hands. But he kept reading.

He read until her skin became cold against his.

The memory is so vivid, it's like he's in there again, with her, and he can almost feel his fingers on the book, gripping it so tight it hurts-

A hand on his arm makes him start. He turns his head towards Cass, who is looking up to him with a worried expression in her eyes, frowning. It's the warmth of her skin against his, more than the intensity of her stare, that really brings him back into the present.

They're in the living-room that everybody uses the most at the Manor. Cass and him are standing in front of the bookcase. When she squeezes his arm a little, silently asking him what just happened, Jason raises his free hand towards The Little Prince and takes it. His eyes hover on the cover as he shows it to her, as if the title could give her a proper answer.

Seeing the book among the numerous other ones had been enough to snap his mind back in that very memory. He was talking, and his eyes just falled on the title, and then... How long did he stay standing there, lost in his past, eyes hooked on the shelf? Long enough for Cass to react, apparently.

"Dick bought it," she says, taking the book, still keeping a hand on his arm. Her brows furrow just a bit as she concentrates on the title. "For Damian," she adds, looking up.

Jason can't suppress a small smirk when they hear a characteristic -tt- coming from the armchair a few meters away, where the demon child is slumped, playing on his phone. After all, the brat is still pretending to hate Dick's efforts to familiarize him to Disney movies and crucial childhood literature, as he calls it, harrassing him with declarations like "But really Dami, it's a crime not to know this one!"

Cassandra's eyes stay glued on Jason's. He still hasn't offered her a real answer, after all. When it's clear that he doesn't want to, she tends the book back towards its place on the shelf. Unlike the one they had with his mom, this one's cover is clean of all stunt.

"Do you want me to read it to you?" his tongue acts before his brain know it. Cass's hand stops dead on its tracks. Jason can almost hear Damian's brows raising.

He's absolutely not embarrassed. It's just that he doesn't know what just took him. Or yes, he perfectly knows, but doesn't want to deal with it right now. He's about to mumble a "Forget it", when his eyes fall on the beaming smile illuminating all of Cassandra's face.

Her hand slides to his wrist and she grabs it, leading him towards the sofa near to baby satan's armchair – who sighs loudly, groaning something about childish antics. But Damian doesn't leave the room as they settle on the couch.

Cass is pressed against his side as Jason opens the book and begins reading. He remembers himself that he's just doing it because it was impossible to say no to her after that shining, naive expectation in her eyes. Right?

At first, Damian does an admirable work of keeping a scowl on his face and his eyes on the screen of his mobile. But then Jason can see it out of the corner of his eye – how the brat's expression finally softens and how his thumbs stopped hitting the screen.

Cassandra's arms circle him as she presses tight against his side. He can feel her heat, hear her breath and Damian's rythming his reading.

Jason surprises himself wishing the moment to last forever.

Thanks for reading!

First time writing Cass, so I hope I got her character right... Please let me know what you thought of it :)

(I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone that reviewed and/or favourited my other stories, you'll never know how much I appreciate it!)