Disclaimers: Not even close to mine.

Spoilers: Small ones for seriously old issues of BATMAN.

Summary: Bruce and Jason, in the dark.

Ratings Note/Warnings: Sexual content, as well as content
some readers may find disturbing.

Author's Note: I've had this 'bunny' for well over a year,
and it's *really* good to finally be able to write it. This
one... call it about halfway between a story and a Good
Bit, since if it was a story, it'd try really hard to be
Suspension. *g*

Acknowledgments: To Jack, Mary, Betty, and LC for
audiencing and encouragement. Totally, completely,
and utterly for Mary.

*

He's got a knife in his hand and he doesn't know why.
He --

He's got a fucking scalpel in his hand, and he's gloved-up
and --

It's one of the good scalpels from the Cave, just a little
more balanced, just a little better-formed for the shape of
his hand than the stuff in school, and the stink of
formaldehyde is high and cloying, gagging, guy's been dead
a while, fucking pickled --

He's in the Cave, and the scalpel is in his hand, and he's;
not awake but he could be, he knows he could be, all he has
to do is wake the fuck *up*, he doesn't have to do this --
he doesn't have to look --

It's his Dad and he looks just like he had the last time Jason
had seen him, all sweaty-greasy-scared-smiling, all
don't-you-worry, all --

The best thing about the way his Dad looks is the neatness
of the two little -- .22s, of course -- bullet holes in his
forehead. It'd been the last thing Two-Face had done to him,
but it's just the start of what --

He has to --

"It doesn't happen often, Robin, but murderers have been
known to mask a subtle -- and distinctive -- style of killing
by aping the obvious methods of known assailants. It can
give them the time to escape justice entire --"

He has to know everything Two-Face did, because he's
Robin, and it's his Dad, but he's Robin and that's the job,
that's the --

He has to --

"Wake up."

Bruce isn't supposed to know he's really asleep, he's
not supposed to play with the scalpels when he's asleep --
wait.

He's -- he's awake. There's nothing for maybe a minute,
two. Silence, blackness, nothing -- no.

"Bruce?"

"Yes."

Because, of course, Bruce had totally just said those two
words and stood there, because -- Jason's starting to be
*real* damn sure of this -- Bruce is kind of the biggest
fucking freak in freaktown. "Uh. Thanks for waking me up."

"You're welcome."

And... that's about it. Again. There's a part of him which
wants to point out that Bruce could've just disappeared
back into the unbearably fucking *rich* gloom, could be
doing it right *now*, but that's the part which keeps
forgetting that Jason's been *at* this for a while, that there
are things he just *doesn't* miss, even though it might just
be because he can't.

Because it's Bruce, and Bruce isn't the kind of person you
can miss, unless he really, really wants you to. And even
then he's still...

He's still Bruce. And Jason knows he's *right* there, so...
"Mind if I turn on the light?"

Bruce takes a briefly audible breath. "You should... sleep.
More."

"Yeah, obviously. It's just not gonna happen right now --"

"Close your eyes."

He does, before he can think, because that was almost --
not quite -- the Batman voice, but it really *wasn't*, and
Jason's about to yell at himself a little for the that -- but
then the warm little lamp on his bedside table comes on.
He likes that lamp, and... "Hey, thanks."

"You're welcome," and Jason blinks his eyes into adjusting,
and...

Looking at Bruce standing ramrod straight next to his bed,
making pajamas look like just a really *stupid* uniform...
doesn't actually tell Jason any more about what's going on.
So... guessing time. "I don't... I don't need to talk about it."
It's an old dream. He's known about his Dad for months,
now. "I mean, it's not..." Jason bites the inside of his cheek
hard. "I don't want to talk about it."

Another one of those -- weird, now that he thinks about it --
audible breaths. "All right."

Dammit. "Bruce, what --"

"I never... I haven't told you about my nightmares."

"Um." Really not. Of course, there are a whole fucking lot
of reasons why pretty much no one but them ever gets to
spend nights in the manor. "Alfred... he told me some."

Bruce nods. "I don't need to talk about them, either. They
aren't that sort of dream."

It's not a question, except for how Bruce is looking directly
into Jason's eyes and not really blinking, which kind of
makes it a Question. ("Are you ready.") "Yeah, I mean... I
kind of think this is a dream -- my dream -- that I'll be
having until I die, one way or another --"

"Yes," Bruce says, and it sounds... it sounds like a *lot*, but
Jason isn't sure how to narrow it down any more than that.

"So... yeah." And what he doesn't say with anything but the
way *he's* staring directly into Bruce's eyes -- only Jason
doesn't have anything against blinking -- is 'give me a
fucking *hint*.'

At least, he kind of hopes he is.

He's pretty sure Bruce *can* just stand somewhere for hours
and stare without feeling any bad effects in the morning,
but -- damn. "Bruce --"

"I don't need to talk. But sometimes... I think I would like
to."

Oh.

"With you."

Which is another kind of 'oh,' except... except that it also
isn't. They're partners. "Well... pull up a mattress, man."

Bruce nods, and -- and it takes kind of a minute to figure
out why it's weird. Beyond the whole 'in bed with Bruce,
who's sitting up like maybe his spine is made out of the
same alloy they use for the batarangs' thing.

That's not why. Or it's only a really fucking *tiny* part of
why.

The *why* is because of the way it feels, like maybe Jason
will blink and find himself on top of Bruce on the mats,
grinning and talking shit, like Bruce *couldn't* break him
like a twig if he put about two percent of his mind to it.

It's -- he doesn't know. "So... I know it's your parents."

"Yes."

Jason nods at Bruce and... stops nodding, because he thinks
he kind of looks like one of those disturbing punching clowns
or something. Or he thinks he does. What *time* is it? He
shakes it off -- *internally* -- and shifts on the bed until he
can look at Bruce kind of straight-on. He folds his legs, and
Bruce --

He's smiling a little, but it's not really at him.

"What is it?"

"I used to..." And the smile is gone like *that*. Bruce
actually looks kind of *uncomfortable*, and that's --

This doesn't need to be any weirder than it already is,
because otherwise Jason will pretty much have to beat
himself unconscious on his headboard. "Used to what?"

For a second, it's actually a little --

Scary isn't the word, not really. 'Fucked-up' is closer,
because the look on Bruce's face is pure, unadulterated
*Batman*, and --

Gone, with a smile. "I'm sorry. I used to -- I was going to
say I used to imagine a moment like this, when I was in
boarding school. Just... talking."

So why did that fuck you up? Jason tries on a smile. "I
could go put on one of those damned blazers, if it'd help."

Bruce laughs, softly. "Then I'd have to sit here being silent
and strange, I think."

And it's... quiet. Bruce is always quiet, unless he has to be
loud -- for Batman or 'Bruce Wayne' -- but it's... different.
Jason doesn't really know what to say.

"I never thought I'd know someone like..." Bruce shakes his
head. "I should let you -- try to -- rest."

"Uh, Bruce, you woke me up from a fucked-up nightmare
and now you're talking about, like -- now you're *talking*.
No offense, but I'm kinda wired right now." And probably
that could've been a *lot* less blunt, but --

"None taken," Bruce says, and it's not a laugh -- it's not
even close -- but it still feels like one. "Jason..."

"Yeah?"

"You truly don't find this -- too much."

This time, it isn't a Question so much as -- he doesn't know.
Something huge and loud, and all about the fact that
Bruce's eyes are a little wide. Damn. Just -- "*Partners*,
Bruce."

"I've had a partner before. This never... came up."

Dick probably didn't even *have* nightmares. Or... Jason
doesn't know. He shrugs. "It's not like... you can't really
predict when things are going to fall out of your mouth --
or *want* to fall out of your mouth, sometimes."

"You make it sound like a digestive disorder."

Which -- heh. "Emotional food poisoning, maybe. Just get it
all out, you'll be fine."

Bruce closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the
headboard. The smile on his face is nothing but Bruce, and
he's... "One could wish for Ipecac."

Jason snickers. "They probably *do* have emotional Ipecac.
It's totally a conspiracy by, like, the abnormal psychiatrist
lobby or something to keep it from the public."

Bruce opens his eyes again, and the look is just...

It's still just *Bruce*, but there's something about the
position of his head... he's pretty much literally looking
down his nose at Jason, but it doesn't feel like that.

"I've been told paranoia is dangerous, Jason."

Heh. By him. Possibly less than three hours ago. Jason wags
a finger at Bruce. "For all you know, it was really my evil
clone."

"Hmm. The one created by the evil abnormal psychiatrist
lobby."

Jason grins. "It could happen."

"Could it?"

And -- he's pretty sure they're still just playing. It's all about
the way Bruce still isn't looking *directly* at him with more
than his eyes, and it *does* make sense in his head. It's
just that...

It's just that it's kind of exactly like the 'playing' when
they're sparring, only more... something.

Jason doesn't know.

And Bruce looks away, and kind of... it's not a sigh. It's a
breath.

Except for how it's Bruce, and so it *is* a sigh -- Jason
doesn't know if he wants to turn his head enough to see the
clock or *not*, if he's honest with himself. Which he doesn't
want to be. So. "Your dreams?"

Bruce still isn't looking at him, but he's smiling a little. "My
dreams? Or my nightmares?"

It's a strange smile, even though it's just the usual 'Bruce is
a little tired, but mostly mellow' thing that Jason got used to
seeing within a month of living here.

("Master Bruce often does his level best -- which is, of
course, very good indeed -- to deny his desire for
companionship, and yet those of us who know him well...")

It's a strange smile because of his arms, Jason decides.
Or -- his hands. They're just sitting flat on Bruce's thighs,
and Jason can't decide if they should be more or less
*tense*, and -- there was a question. "Uh -- nightmares
*are* dreams. Just, you know --"

"Do you really think so?"

"Well, I mean, it's the definition, and --" Jason snorts and
shakes his head. "I'm not smart enough to be having this
conversation, man --"

"*Don't* say that."

Bat-look. Jason snorts. "Fine. It's too *late* -- or fucking
*early* --"

"Language --"

"For you to call me on my *language*," Jason says, and
grins.

Bruce glares for a moment longer, but it *is* Bruce. And
the smile comes back. "I cede the point."

Jason does a -- very small -- victory dance. It's harder when
he doesn't really have the excuse -- or the energy -- to get
*up* to do it, as opposed to just moving with Bruce
*watching*. He always watches. "So -- dreams. I mean.
Sometimes you get good ones, sometimes you get bad ones.
Sometimes -- sometimes they're really bad."

"I've always thought..."

And Bruce trails off. He just doesn't stop *looking* at Jason,
and it's not a 'finish this thought' look, either. Jason tries to
focus on just looking a little patient.

Bruce's hand -- the right one -- twitches on his thigh. Just a
little, and then it's back to just laying there, and Bruce is...

Bruce is watching Jason stare at his hand. "Uh... Bruce --"

"I've always thought dreams -- truly good dreams --
deserved better than to simply be lumped in with all the
rest."

"You don't... you don't have a lot of good dreams," he says,
and he means to make it a question, but it's like he had a
choice -- either say what he wants to, or stop staring at
Bruce's hand like a jackass.

"Not when I'm asleep," Bruce says, and...

And it's better, in a lot of ways, to be meeting Bruce's look
for this. There's even more of a smile in his eyes than the
one on his face.

It's just that now Jason has to figure out if he should be
trying to steer them back to whatever awful things Bruce
moans and screams about when it's his parents in his head
or...

There's no real choice, there. ("Choice is often an illusion...
especially for people who need it to be so.") Jason resists
the urge to shake himself like a dog and punches at Bruce's
knee a little, instead. "So what do you dream when you're
awake?"

"Will you tell me what you do?"

Which... heh. "Well, dreams or *fantasies*?"

And Bruce kind of... tilts his head. "Is there a difference?"

Suddenly, they're in the place where they're apparently just
a few tiny seconds from discussing Bruce's *jerk-off*
fantasies, which means his brain made a wrong turn
somewhere, or Bruce's did.

Or... no. Maybe not. "Sometimes I have good dreams when
I *am* asleep, Bruce."

Bruce nods, slowly and just a little doubtfully. "I... I
remember. I used to." And his hand doesn't really twitch
this time, or move.

It just feels like it will. "And... I don't know. Do I have to
give up the domino if I say the sun's usually shining...?"

Bruce kind of hums a little, and turns to look out the
window. The curtains are pulled back -- he's pretty sure
Alfred has them super-glued that way -- but it's still just
*black* out there.

Especially with the light on in here. And --

"Are all your good dreams... bright ones?"

"Hunh? Well... I mean. Sometimes it's just the feel."

"Warmth? And... other things?"

It feels -- really obvious that Bruce isn't looking at him right
now. Not in anything like a good way. Jason punches his
knee again --

And Bruce's hand is warm and hard and covering his own.
*Holding* it.

"Sorry, just --"

Bruce doesn't say anything right away, except for how he's
kind of almost yelling. His eyes are just --

He's --

"You're never alone in a good dream, Jason."

As opposed to the bad ones. And he -- he wasn't exactly
alone in *his* nightmare, but. Jason swallows and shakes
his head. "No. Not -- not really. Bruce --"

"It doesn't matter --" Bruce's head-shake is almost
*violent*. "No."

"Bruce?"

"Does it matter how dark it is if you're not alone?"

And the thing is...

The thing is, there are a lot of ways of not being alone that
Jason knows a lot *about*. But none of them --

He doesn't think Bruce is asking about any of those. He --
Jason *knows* Bruce isn't, even before he gets up on his
knees and reaches -- he can't reach the lamp without
moving closer.

"Jason."

It shouldn't feel so *huge* that he's moving closer, when
he's barely even touching Bruce anywhere before he *can*
reach the lamp --

"Jay..."

And then it's dark, and his eyes are closed -- a reflex Bruce
hasn't bothered trying to train him out of. You don't actually
get accustomed to darkness all that faster this way, but it
*feels* like you do, like something is (finally) taking a deep
breath, opening up, *relaxing* --

"Jay," Bruce says again, and now there's a hand on Jason's
face -- the old, tiny scar on his cheek from some not-really-
friend of his Dad's, and the only thing Jason really
remembers about him is the ring and the smell of freaking
Old Spice.

And it's --

It's just his cheek, and the scrape of Bruce's calluses, and --

("The more you laugh now, Jason, the more painful you'll
find your *own* first manicure.")

"Jay."

It's not just that at all. Not anymore. Not with Bruce's mouth
on his, like it's more than bright enough for him to be able
to see where to aim, even though Jason can't see a thing --

His eyes are still closed. He thinks about opening them, but
by then Bruce's tongue is right there, waiting for him to
open his mouth, and so there's no point to doing anything
but letting his eyes be closed, as opposed to squeezed
shut.

It's a --

He's had better kisses. Harder ones, hotter ones, *much*
wetter ones, but none of them with Bruce, and so none of
them have come with *that* sound, and the way Bruce's
hand tightens in a way which would actually hurt if his
hand wasn't positioned right, and the way he's suddenly
hot all over.

He hasn't had better kisses. Not --

Not in the dark.

And he's expecting Bruce to say -- something, after he
breaks the kiss, or to ask him something, but --

("Are you ready.")

-- maybe it's already been asked, just sometime when he
wasn't actually paying attention to what he was saying, or
doing, or... he doesn't know, and he's on his back, and his
eyes are still closed, but his body is reminding him that he's
pointed the wrong way, and if he goes to sleep this way
he'll be missing his pillow before he can ever *really* start
getting rest --

His body is telling him that Bruce's mouth is hot enough on
his throat to make him feel cold all over, that Bruce's hands
*know* him well enough to find every scar he's ever had --
even the ones which he didn't remember until now, when
everything he's feeling *stutters* from one stroke of
Bruce's fingers to the next, and --

"Bruce --"

"Yes."

"What -- what do you dream when you're not sleeping?" He
knows. He --

"This," Bruce says, and he might not just be kissing Jason's
mouth again to shut him up, but if he is it's an excellent
choice, especially because this kiss is hot and wet and
hard, just like Bruce was listening to the inside of his head
before, as opposed to just kissing him. No.

No --

The other kiss was a test, or maybe a feint. If he takes
*this* --

And it's his turn to make a noise, and then another because
the first one makes Bruce kiss him even harder, and lick his
tongue, and Bruce has got one hand in his hair and the
other on his hip, and when Jason tries a little thrust, he
gets a bigger one *back* -- which knocks -- *shoves* --
most of the air out of his body in a moan, and then Bruce
is sucking on his lips -- both of them, one at a time -- and
kissing him again, again, and Jason feels himself heat up
all over even more and --

He doesn't have the *air* to make any more noise, because
Bruce is just that close and Bruce's dick is driving against his
thigh, his dick is driving against Bruce's abdomen, and
they're doing this, they're totally *doing* this.

And he wants to say something -- anything -- about how
Bruce could've just said something, but probably that's as
stupid as every *other* time he's assumed Bruce would
make sense, as opposed to just being himself.

This --

This is enough sense. Especially when he can make his body
stop yelling six thousand different things for long enough
to get his legs spread, because *that* makes Bruce pull out
of the kiss --

"*Jay* --"

-- and he can finally breathe again, or at least gasp, because
every thrust is getting him closer -- every one of his *own*
thrusts is getting him closer, and opening his eyes gives him
the gleam of Bruce's teeth, Bruce's eyes, and Jason knows,
then, that he'd never closed them.

Clutching at the slippery-wrong silk of Bruce's pajama top is
better than clutching at his own blankets, though, because
it makes it mean less that he still can't focus enough to
really see what's going on.

He can feel the heat of Bruce's skin through the silk on his
knuckles, and he can feel the way they're moving together
like (partners) this is just another thing they can have, and
if it would maybe be better to do this with the lights on, it's
not like Jason can say for sure.

Maybe it's safer in the dark.

Maybe --

"Oh, I -- I need you, Jay --"

-- maybe it's just dark enough that he can sound like this,
so desperate, so fucking close, so --

And he's coming before he can even register the scrape of
Bruce's teeth on his throat as more than just another part
of the dark and the *confusion*, before he can find a
better word for the sounds he's making than 'whimpers,'
before he can think about trying to at least be a little subtle
about it.

And before he can start breathing again, the way Bruce is
driving against him starts to hurt, a little. Not because it's
that hard (it is), but because he's always way more
sensitive when he comes after sleeping than at any other
time. Still, it can't really last long, so if he just grits his
teeth a little --

He can wind up flipped, sprawled *over* Bruce, and it feels
like Bruce has about a dozen different hands for his sides
and his back and his face and his ass and everything but,
like his legs --

"Jay --"

"What -- what should I do?"

"I..." And then Bruce is laughing, soft and a little breathless --
but not because it was that funny.

Jason *can't* just grind against him -- not for at least a few
minutes -- but...

It's kind of easy to shift over enough -- just enough,
because Bruce is holding *on* -- to get his hand down.

"Jay --"

And Bruce isn't laughing anymore --

"Oh -- please --"

Even though it takes an embarrassingly long time for his
fingers to figure out that there's a drawstring involved with
Bruce's pajama pants, and so he can either get it untied or
ruin clothes worth more money than his Mom used to see
after the government and the union were through with her
paycheck. Back when she was --

He's not thinking about any of that, and he also *can't*,
because Bruce isn't *helping* so much as using the hand
which isn't pressed to the base of Jason's spine to stroke
his wrist, and the backs of his knuckles, and his forearm.

"God, Bruce, I -- sorry --"

"Perfect, it's -- Jay, just don't -- stop --"

And Bruce has a really kind of weird sense of perfect, since
Jason is only *just* getting the damned knot untied, but
Bruce has a weird sense of pretty much everything that
isn't coffee or cars, so...

So it's just Bruce's rock hard *dick* in his hand, and he's
calmed down enough that he's actually probably closer to
freaking out than he's been since Bruce woke him up, even
though it's not like he *doesn't* know what he's doing.

But --

"Oh -- Oh, *Jay* --"

But he also isn't, because it's not like Bruce is still in high
school with a bunch of horny teenagers who don't ask
questions. It's just --

It's just that *good* for Bruce, and it's making Jason flush
all over again, and maybe start panting when Bruce does,
and definitely start *squeezing*, because he thinks this --
all of it -- has to be about understanding each other.

So even if he doesn't --

"Yes --"

Even if he doesn't understand a damned *thing*, he does,
because it's dark, and Jason knows he'll be passed out
long before it's (bright) light again, and maybe everything's
kind of perfect in the dark.

Especially if 'everything' includes Bruce's hand just *curled*
around his own, not urging him any faster until Jason
*makes* it faster, and when Jason shifts enough to get his
ear against Bruce's chest, he can hear and feel exactly how
ragged Bruce's breathing is.

Exactly -- "You're close --"

"Jay --"

"You're so -- you're gonna come for me -- *fuck* --"

And maybe also there are a million different ways of being
trained, because it doesn't matter *how* hard Bruce is
squeezing his hand -- Jason's still kind of surprised that
Bruce is coming all over his fist as opposed to chewing him
out for cursing again.

Of course, Bruce doesn't sound like he has enough air for --

"Jay -- Jason..."

That. "I know," he says, and wonders if this is where he
kisses Bruce's chest, as opposed to just kind of rubbing his
face all over it. Or --

"Yes," Bruce says. "You know. You..."

And now he's just wondering when Bruce is going to let his
hand go -- he's loosened the grip -- and if they're gonna
stay here all night, and -- and basically everything that'll
*keep* him from wondering just what the fuck they just
did. Because --

Because that was kind of... not partners. Or.

There are too many things he doesn't know.

And it's too messy for Bruce to be playing with his fingers
the way he is, but it's also a cue to let go at least enough to
*let* Bruce play. He smells... really hot. He --

It's possible those are just the dead-tired and kind of blown
equivalent of warning bells going off in his brain, but it's
*also* really hot to just close his eyes and follow his
damned nose until he can lick a little bit, even though it
makes Bruce *jerk*, even though it's just the *sound*,
because he's licking his own fingers.

"*Jay*."

And then he's not, and Bruce has his clean hand in Jason's
hair, and Jason actually has given more blow-jobs than
hand-jobs, and this is and *isn't* the time to think about it,
as opposed to just sucking Bruce's fingers until they're just
a little salty with sweat, and then until the only thing he can
taste is his own spit.

It's kind of a surprise that Bruce *lets* him pull off and sit
up, but then it stops being one, because Bruce is kissing
him back down to the bed again, his *body* is a kiss, and
his tongue is just something else to suck, and Jason isn't
actually sure *how* long it's been, but --

But he's hard again, and he knows the noises he's making
are really damned obvious, and he knows exactly how
obvious they *are* when Bruce moves them until he can
get a knee up between Jason's thighs and his own -- wet,
*sticky* -- fist around Jason's dick --

"Like this?"

Yes. No. No -- "Please -- just --"

"Jay."

"Faster, faster than I did you, please, Bruce --"

And he does it, and it's incredible, it *hurts* and it's
incredible, and he can't really do anything with his legs but
spread them and plant his *feet*, and Bruce has his other
hand on Jason's shoulder --

He's *bracing* himself on Jason's shoulder, or maybe just
holding him down, making sure he can't get *away*, and
laughing just makes Bruce do it even faster -- "Bruce --
fuck, Bruce, please -- *please* --"

"What -- what is it? What do you need?"

"Just -- don't -- oh *fuck*, Bruce, don't let me yell --"

"I want -- Jay, I want --"

"*Please* --"

And he keeps it together long enough for Bruce to kiss him
again, and moan into his mouth, but Bruce never stops his
*hand*, or even slows down, and it only takes a few more
strokes before he's drowning out Bruce's moan with a
scream, before he's making his own tongue buzz with it,
and maybe Bruce's too --

Before Bruce is fucking *biting* him, and Jason thrusts into
Bruce's fist as hard as he can and comes until everything is
kind of blanked-out and flat-lined except for the fucking
*sweet* ache in his balls and the sting in his caught lower
lip.

And then it's just a matter of trying to figure out whether
it's better or worse that he *can't* really just snap back
from that, even though Bruce is kind of kissing him all over
his neck and chest. Or maybe because he is. Or --

It's too much, except for how Jason never thought 'too
much' could feel, well, good.

It's the kind of too much that involves letting Bruce haul at
him enough that Jason can get himself moving. Just, you
know, not far.

Right side up in the bed, and Bruce is kind of...

Well, he's staring, and he's got his hand pressed flat to
Jason's chest, which is -- nice and kind of warm, even
though it's making Jason's breathing a little too shallow.
It's just that Bruce is also half-twisted off the bed, in a
position he's pretty sure even Bruce can't keep up for long.
Which is... really weird and confusing.

"Bruce?"

He presses a little harder for a second, and kind of
*tightens* his mouth, but he doesn't -- he isn't saying
anything, at all, and that didn't help with the confusing, at
all.

Except for how it does -- when Jason's brain finally comes
back online enough to realize that this is his bed, and not
Bruce's bed, and also they'd just... not fucked. Except for
how it was. Bruce is trying to figure out whether or not he's
supposed to stay.

Or maybe just whether or not he wants to...? No, Jason
can't really see that. Bruce does want it, just like he wants...
everything else, apparently.

And he's finally adjusted enough to the light levels that he
can mostly see what he's doing, so he grabs Bruce's
forearm --

"Jason --"

-- and pulls.

"Jay."

"Just for a while? Until --" 'Until I go back to sleep,' is what
he was *going* to say, except that's lame and also
completely besides the point of pretty much all of this. It's
just that he doesn't know how else to end the sentence.

And Bruce is doing that annoying thing where his head is
positioned *perfectly* for his face to catch and fucking get
a death-grip on every shadow in the room, so Jason kind of
lacks a context for Bruce's "Until...?"

But... only kind of. It's an honest question -- just not one he
has a real answer to. He shakes his head and shrugs, and
pulls again --

And winds up with Bruce half on top of him, and also
completely failing to justify it with another kiss. If that's
justification.

Jason leans in and does it himself, and it makes the way
Bruce says his name into something messy and jumbled
and low.

"Just -- until."

Bruce nods, close enough that the sides of their noses
brush, and then pushes Jason's head down to the pillow.

Heh. It kind of makes Jason wonder what kind of babysitter
Bruce would be. Well, other than fucking *wrong*. "Night,
Bruce."

Bruce's fingers press a little against his cheekbone. "Dream,"
he says, and his voice is caught somewhere between an
order and --

And 'request' isn't really strong enough. "You, too," Jason
says, and closes his eyes.

end.