Jason was thankful that the sound of the rustling leaves, the warmth of the sunshine raining down between them, and the soft chirps of birds and squirrels had somehow managed to calm him down. He sighed and looked at his knuckles. They were scratched, grazed, bruised and bleeding. He had taken out his anger on the trunk of the tree whose branch he was sitting on.

He had every right to be angry; he just didn't expect that right would make him feel like an immature piece of shit. Well, he'd always known was a little shit, and that he was capable of an immense level of immaturity rivalling Conner's tantrums on not getting bananas in his pancakes, but that didn't make him feel like he might have just shoved the biggest fucking wedge between him and Bruce worse than the crowbar incident.

Leaning back on the trunk, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He'd probably fall and break something if he fell asleep, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Hey,"

"Please go away," said Jason. "I want to be alone for a while, Bruce,"

Bruce sighed. "It would make me feel better if you let me treat your hands," he saw the blood on the trunk of the tree, dried on its bark. "Please come down from there, Jason, and let me treat your hands,"

With some reluctance, jason hopped off from the tree, and landed gracefully, albeit heavily, on his feet, and sat down on the cool grass. Bruce put a blanket around his shoulders, and sat down in front of him and started disinfecting the wounds.

"Hey! Ow!" Jason frowed and tried to pull his hand back. "Watch it!"

"Oh, shush you," said Bruce fondly, and didn't let Jason get his hand back. "Don't be such a big baby,"

"Why didn't you bring the ones that don't sting?" Jason complained.

"Come now," Bruce pulled on Jason's hand when he tried withdrawing it once more. "You've gonethrough things much worse than stinging disinfectant,"

"Yeah, I had morphine most of then time, then died," said Jason bitterly as he scowled at Bruce.

"Tch," Bruce snorted. He started to wrap the knuckles in bandages. "I just think you're complaning because you're wallowing in the attention,"

Jason fell quiet. Bruce was right though.

Bruce tied the bandages off, and made sure they wouldn't loosen, unravel, and fall off too fast. "Other hand," he said, and Jason obediently put his hand on Bruce's knee to start working on.

Jason winced, and Bruce paused for a second when Jason's hand twitched. Bruce chuckled.

"What?" he frowned.

"Nothing," said Bruce. He just liked remembering times when Dick and Jason were little, of all the times the cried, something they would never admit now as adults.

Bruce finished up the wrappings, and put the medical supplies back in the first aid kit. "So are you coming back inside with me or are you staying here until dinner?"

Jason couldn't look at him. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "About the things I said," Bruce probably thought he was stupid thinking the grass looked more interesting than his face. "I mean I'm sorry that I said it, but I'm nto sorry about the content and who I said to. And how I said it. I won't say sorry to him. Because that's how I feel,"

He pulled the blanket tighter around him, and still didn't look at Bruce when he moved to sit beside him. His surrogate father didn't speak immediately, leaving Jason to more of thoughts attempting to justify his actions earlier that day.

Jason just didn't want things to change, much like Bruce. But mostly because he was selfish and he wanted Bruce to stay with him. He didn't want Bruce taken from him, like he was taken away from Bruce. Was it so bad that he just wanted to matter? To be important? To be number one for once? Was it so bad that just plainly didn't like Clark? That he felt like a child who didn't like their parent's new boyfriend?

"One day, you'll get to know someone well enough to say that they'll be a good mate,"

Jason scoffed. "Look how that turned out for you,"

"Mhm,"

"Do you..." Jason felt like he didn't want to finish his question. "Do you still think he's a good mate?"

Bruce noted the reluctance in his son's voice. He knew his answer was not something Jason wanted to hear.

"Yes," Bruce said after a thoughtful pause. "He's proving to be a good one; it's very difficult for me to deny it,"

"Okay," Jason said softly. What if Bruce tossed him out after completing his bond with Clark? "So I guess I should get my things packed, huh?" He'd rather take initiative than wait to be told that he's homeless again.

"I'm not kicking you out, you stupid child,"

That made Jason look at Bruce. "You're not?"

"Of course now. I don't see any reason why,"

"But you're going to bond with him," Jason carefully studied Bruce's face, looking for any indication that proved he was lying.

Bruce took a moment to absorb the look on Jason's face. He looked scared, helpless, like he'd bolt the moment Bruce said something he expectedly dreaded. "So?"

Jason now looked like he was on the verge of crying. "You're not kicking me out?"

"I don't like repeating myself, Jason," Bruce's lips turned up slightly into a smile.

His second eldest trued his best not to burst out crying. He was a bit successful at it. "You're not going to kick me out," he said with a sniffle.

Bruce ruffled his boy's hair. "No," he chuckled. "Where the hell did you get that idea?"

Jason hicupped. "I saw this drama on TV,"

That made Bruce laugh. Jason had so much talent, achievements, shouldered so many responsibilities, and yet, he was still just a child. "Rememember when you were young, I said something about TV?"

"'Don't believe everything you see on TV,'" Jason wiped away the tears with the blanket covering him.

"Seems like you forgot that one," Bruce handed him his handkerchief.

Jason took it gratefully, and blew his nose, and tried to pull himself together. "What if Superman kicks me out?"

"Not if I kick him out first,"

"Promise?"

"Promise,"