( he's not expecting bruce to let up any because once he's decided on something, he doesn't let go of it. jason gets it, because jason pulls the same shit. he wouldn't say it's something he picked up from bruce. he would say it's likely it's something bruce saw in him, when he'd first found jason. gross.
bitching and complaining is useless, and as much as jason would love to bitch and complain for forever just to out-stubborn bruce, the quickest resolution here is just to let him do what he feels he needs to do, stitch up the cut on his neck, and take off. call dick probably to help bruce figure out his shit, because jason can't. jason hasn't figured out his own shit or even how to fake it effectively.
and gets pulled out of his thoughts by an i'm sorry jason hadn't ever expected to hear. it pulls at something in his chest, something he can't name right now because it's just going to fuck them all up worse and they don't have space for that. he turns to look at bruce as he moves in closer with his gauze to--clean jason's barely there flesh wound that he could just shove some superglue on, call it good, and clean it off when he gets time to shower later. like a proper gotham vigilante.
not only was there an i'm sorry but there's tears too, threatening to escape and that's too much. bruce doesn't let himself be caught when he's emotionally vulnerable. especially doesn't do it when jason's around. and yet here he is, and jason's--huffing out a sigh before he's reaching up for bruce.
pulls shit he's only ever pulled with his siblings, and--reaches over to softly hold onto bruce's forearm. jason's not one for physical affection, not often, not with a lot of people, but he's offering it here. )
Hey. ( soft, and a little wary. this is new territory, paranoia settles at the back of his head that whispers bruce is fucking with him on purpose for reasons jason can't think of but he manages to ignore it. this time. ) We've all got shit that fucks us over, yeah? It's normal. That's why we have each other's backs--this isn't the kind of shit you can do alone. I knew what I was jumping into, I knew I could handle it, and you don't need to apologize for having feelings.
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bitching and complaining is useless, and as much as jason would love to bitch and complain for forever just to out-stubborn bruce, the quickest resolution here is just to let him do what he feels he needs to do, stitch up the cut on his neck, and take off. call dick probably to help bruce figure out his shit, because jason can't. jason hasn't figured out his own shit or even how to fake it effectively.
and gets pulled out of his thoughts by an i'm sorry jason hadn't ever expected to hear. it pulls at something in his chest, something he can't name right now because it's just going to fuck them all up worse and they don't have space for that. he turns to look at bruce as he moves in closer with his gauze to--clean jason's barely there flesh wound that he could just shove some superglue on, call it good, and clean it off when he gets time to shower later. like a proper gotham vigilante.
not only was there an i'm sorry but there's tears too, threatening to escape and that's too much. bruce doesn't let himself be caught when he's emotionally vulnerable. especially doesn't do it when jason's around. and yet here he is, and jason's--huffing out a sigh before he's reaching up for bruce.
pulls shit he's only ever pulled with his siblings, and--reaches over to softly hold onto bruce's forearm. jason's not one for physical affection, not often, not with a lot of people, but he's offering it here. )
Hey. ( soft, and a little wary. this is new territory, paranoia settles at the back of his head that whispers bruce is fucking with him on purpose for reasons jason can't think of but he manages to ignore it. this time. ) We've all got shit that fucks us over, yeah? It's normal. That's why we have each other's backs--this isn't the kind of shit you can do alone. I knew what I was jumping into, I knew I could handle it, and you don't need to apologize for having feelings.