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The baby won't stop crying.
It's been three hours, and the baby won't stop crying.
Jason's tried everything he can think of. The milk bottle was knocked out of his hand when he’d tried feeding, the diaper change did nothing, and the warm bath had resulted in impossibly angrier wails.
At his wits end, Jason has resorted to rocking back and forth in the dark, his son clutched close to his chest, whispering vague assurances that go unheeded.
He doesn't know what to do. He's scared, scared that something's wrong, even though the internet had said this is normal for babies Jack's age. All Jason knows is his baby is upset and nothing he can do seems to make it better.
Jack lets out another monstrous screech, his tiny face scrunched up and bright red from all the crying. Despite himself, Jason feels a few tears of his own slip out as well. He's just so tired, today had been long enough as it is and he was looking forward to finally getting some rest after putting Jack down while Dick was out on patrol.
Jason chokes on a sob as he presses his face into his son's hair. He feels like a failure. He told Dick he could do this, he could manage and watch the baby just fine by himself thank you. He didn't want any help, and certainly didn't need it.
Now, he wishes Dick was here. Dick would know what to do, Jason thinks desperately. Dick's taken to parenthood so easily, the way he does everything. It makes something ugly twist inside Jason, seeing how much of a natural Dick is, while Jason struggles to do something simple like put their son to bed.
Jason's still swaying gently and shushing Jack when the door to the bedroom cracks open. Jason hadn't heard Dick come in, too engrossed in trying to calm down a squalling baby and his own spiraling thoughts. The corners of his mouth curl in bitterness. If it had been someone dangerous, Jason would've completely failed at protecting their home and child. He mentally adds it to the list of reasons why he's a terrible parent.
"Hey," Dick calls softly. He hasn't come into the room yet, and the light from outside washes over him like a halo and spills its brightness onto Jack as well. Jason remains shrouded in the dark. "I'm home."
Dick looks beat up, the Nightwing suit is ripped in several places and small scratches cover his face. Jason's jacket hangs over his shoulders. He hadn't realized it was missing..
Jason can't stand to look at him. He thrusts Jack towards his father in stony silence, grateful when Dick takes him from him without a word.
Jack settles almost instantly as Dick hoists him up and coos. Jason wants to laugh at the irony. It seems like he was the thing that was causing his baby pain. Jason’s all too familiar with what that feels like.
Dick leaves the room, humming quietly as he takes Jack into the makeshift nursery. There's muffled noises from the other room, and Jason takes advantage of the newfound stillness to take some deep breaths, trying to calm down. His ears ring without the constant screaming.
There's a few hushed moments, and then the sound of running water as Dick starts his post-patrol routine. Jason sniffles quietly and rubs at eyes that already feel swollen and raw. He hates Dick in that moment, hates him in a way he hasn't in years.
He hates Dick for being able to leave whenever he wants, for being able to soar across the sky in the way Jason can't as his body recovers.
He hates Dick for never being here during the ugly parts, for never being the one to deal with Jack's tantrums.
He hates how Dick has an easy bond with Jack, how Jack never fusses or cries when in Dick's arms.
He hates Dick for being the reason why he has another jagged scar marring his body, remnants from the emergency c-section.
But even as much as he hates Dick in that moment, it crumbles in comparison to how Jason despises himself. He still feels like he’s been cut open, that all his failings spill forth from him, spread out in the open for everyone to see, and the whispers of “never good enough” lick against his skin.
Dick appears back in their doorway, and Jason hears the soft noise of distress he makes at the state Jason's in. He can't help but notice though, where Dick had jumped to soothe their baby, that now he keeps his distance from Jason, his fingers twitching anxiously at his sides.
It makes that ugly thing inside him well up again. He knows Dick's still uncertain around him, wary of his postpartum mood swings. Jason could just as easily smack away a comforting hand rather than accept it. Jason himself doesn't even know what he'd do in that moment. But it gnaws at him still, makes him feel like even more of a monster.
Eventually, something inside Dick seems to come to a resolution and he inches closer. Or maybe Jason just does look that pathetic, he doesn't know. Regardless, the reassuring hand on his shoulder almost sends him into another fit of tears.
"How're you holding up?" Dicks voice is low and cajoling as his thumb starts working in slow circles over the tense muscles near Jason’s neck.
"I hate you." Jason doesn't mean to say it, it's not true, but it's slipped out and he can't take it back now.
Dick's thumb pauses for a second before resuming its soothing motion. "I know." His voice is soft as he speaks.
Jason sighs, letting himself settle further into the body next to him. It's an argument they've had before, and one he doesn't have the energy to continue right now. They both know he says things he doesn’t mean when he’s overwhelmed, when everything just gets to be too much. Dick pulls him closer and they sit tangled together, the silence only broken by the intermittent ticking from the clock mounted on the wall.
The idea of running away flashes appealing through his mind. He can't be made for this life. A partner, a baby.... a family. It's not something he's supposed to have. Jason grew up knowing good and well not to want what he could not have. A childhood of poverty had taught him acceptance about this facet of his life, and what he was allowed to covet.
Dick Grayson and his baby were not on the list of things Jason could have.
He thinks about starting over somewhere new, being free from responsibility. But before the thought is even fully formed, he pushes it down. He can't, won't, do that to his son.
His son.
Jason had never thought about having kids before, hadn't even really wanted them. He's got enough issues on his own, why pass that on? And with the childhood he had, it's not like good role models were common.
But then he'd got knocked up.
Knocked up by the idiot he's been in love with since he was 15, with his soft eyes and kind smile.
And Jason had fallen in love with their baby immediately. This little thing that he and Dick had made together. He'd sworn to himself, staring down at the incriminating double lines on his test, that he would give this kid the best life he could, that he would do everything in his power to make sure their baby never knew the hurt he had. It had scared him then, the responsibility he was taking on. It still scares him, god does it scare him, especially on nights like tonight where he wants to crawl into a hole and never come out.
But, he thinks, glancing over at Dick who is wrapped around him so tightly it's as if he thinks he can block out the rest of the world, he has Dick. Even if he hates him sometimes and even if he hates himself, Dick's support in him has never wavered. Taking a deep breath, Jason lets himself listen to the sound of Dick's steady breathing and the feel of his heartbeat as it beats against his back. He lets the familiar rhythms calm him down. He has Dick's solid weight on his back and their son asleep in the next room and Jason lets the heaviness in his heart loosen.
Just a bit.