Hey Everyone! This is whumptober prompt 12: starvation. Leave me a comment and let me know what you think! Tell me any prompts you're excited for or suggestions that you want to see! Lots of Love - Lorna:)

Jason hissed as Bruce pushed him onto the medical bed, his body a tense coil of defiance and exhaustion.

"Jason, you need to get something in you, or your sugar is going to drop too low," Bruce said, his voice firm but tinged with worry.

"Screw you, Bruce. I have things to do," Jason mumbled, his words slurring together. "And n' of thm' are sitting here being lectured."

Bruce felt a flare of exasperation, but it was drowned out by the gnawing worry in his chest. He grabbed a bottle of sports drink, twisted the cap off with practiced ease, and held it up to Jason's mouth. Jason twisted his head away in protest.

"Jason, drink it. You need the sugar and the electrolytes," Bruce coaxed, his tone softening slightly.

"I don't want to," Jason slurred, his voice thick with fatigue.

"I just opened the bottle in front of you, Jaybird. There's nothing in it," Bruce said in an attempt to reassure him.

Jason's lips curled in a weak sneer. "Don't care. Drug me, whatever. I don't give a sh*t about that," he rasped, his voice cold.

Bruce's brows furrowed. "Then what is it?"

"Control," Jason muttered, his voice so faint that Bruce had to strain to hear. He didn't have the energy to continue so the word hung in the air, weighted and raw.

"Control?" Bruce echoed, leaning closer. "As in what you control or what I do?"

"…Both…" Jason's voice trailed off, the fight visibly draining from him as he slumped further into the bed.

Bruce nodded, understanding dawning. "Jason, you have control until you start making decisions that hurt yourself. Then the people who care about you have to step in. I'm not going to let you work yourself like this. I will not make the same mistake twice."

Jason groaned, not bothering to argue. He wanted to—the words were there, simmering beneath the surface—but the throbbing ache in his head and the hollow pangs in his stomach silenced him. Bruce didn't wait for further protest before pressing the bottle more firmly to Jason's lips.

"Drink. Now."

Jason's head lolled to the side, too drained to resist. Jason just wanted to sleep, didn't care that the sticky liquid was dripping down his face because he couldn't be bothered to open his mouth. Suddenly, his nose was pinched shut, and there was a brief moment where Jason wondered if his lungs had just gotten too tired to continue pulling in breath after ragged breath. But then survival finally kicked in as panic flared once he realized he couldn't breathe. Instinct took over, and he gasped, his mouth opening just enough for Bruce to pour the drink in.

The liquid was sweet and salty, foreign and vile, and Jason's first instinct was to spit it out. But Bruce's hand was there, cupping his jaw with a firm but gentle grip, his fingers wrapping around Jason's face to keep his mouth closed.

"Swallow it, Robin," Bruce murmured, his voice low and steady.

Something in Bruce's tone cut through Jason's haze of irritation and fatigue. Robin Rule number 5 came to the front of his mind, even if he hadn't been Robin for years: Batman and Agent A had the final say on anything medical. He swallowed reluctantly, choking down the liquid as Bruce's voice continued, calm and encouraging. The process repeated—a breath of air, a mouthful of the sports drink, a few soothing words—until the bottle was empty and a faint warmth began to spread through Jason's limbs as the sugar took effect. It felt like a small eternity.

Jason blinked groggily, the fog in his mind lifting just enough to register the solid warmth beneath him. Bruce's arm was wrapped around him, supporting him in an almost protective embrace, while his other hand rested on Jason's cheek.

"B?" Jason mumbled, his voice hoarse and nasally.

"Yes, Jaybird?"

"What-?" Jason's attempt at a question dissolved into a weak shake of his head as he tried to dislodge Bruce's hand from his nose. The pressure eased, and Jason's voice returned to normal as he continued. "What the hell was that?"

"Your blood sugar was dangerously low," Bruce explained patiently. "It's still under optimal, even with the glucose. And when you crash, it'll dip again."

"Screw you, Bruce," Jason snapped, though the venom in his voice was muted. He tried to sit up, but all he could manage was a feeble wriggle. "You had no right—"

Bruce's hand, warm and steady, returned to Jason's cheek, wiping away the sticky remnants of the drink that hadn't managed to stay in Jason's mouth. "To what, Jaybird? To make sure you didn't starve yourself into a coma from overwork?"

"I wasn't—"

"Shh, Jayce. I'm not done." Bruce's voice was a quiet command, firm but not unkind. Jason's protests fizzled, even though he hated himself for it, leaving him slumped against Bruce as the older man continued. "You're getting an IV. No arguments."

Bruce moved efficiently, getting up and pulling out a needle and a sterile bag of fluids. Jason's eyes flickered to the needle, and he should feel something right? Fear? Anger? Yes, anger. Definitely anger. The surge of anger brought a rush of clarity.

"Wait… no," Jason hissed, trying to push Bruce away. His effort was impressive given his condition but ultimately futile. "Get off… me."

"Jason," Bruce said, his voice sharp. "You're dehydrated and in need of electrolytes. Unless you feel up to keeping something down, you're going to need this IV."

"No," Jason repeated, his tone desperation covered with rage.

"Jayce." Bruce's voice dropped into the deep timbre of Batman, and Jason froze, his anger giving way to a faint tremor of fear. He had a feeling that if he could have worked up the energy to look up, he would've been looking into Batman's cool gaze. His arm was held steady, and his attempts to squirm away were little more than twitches. Bruce's grip was unyielding, but his voice softened again, low and soothing. Jason caught snippets of his words, like a gentle undercurrent pulling him back from the edge of panic.

The antiseptic's chill on the crook of his arm made Jason shiver. Then came the sharp prick of the needle, followed by a hollow sensation as Bruce withdrew it, leaving the IV line in place. Jason whimpered quietly, the sound, barely audible, stuck in the back of his throat as Bruce taped the line down and connected the drip. A cool liquid seeped into his veins, foreign and invasive.

He wanted to claw the tube out but he couldn't get his hand to actually comply. Maybe his brain was just trying save him from himself. He forced himself to push through and his hand fluttered weakly to the IV line, fingers curling around it in an attempt to pull it out. Bruce's larger hand immediately covered his, holding it still.

"No, Jay. You have to leave it in. You'll feel better soon," Bruce said, his voice calm but firm.

Jason wanted to argue, to tell Bruce that it obviously wasn't true because he definitely felt worse now than he had ten minutes ago, but the words caught in his throat. His head throbbed, his body trembled, and his stomach churned with nausea. Bile fizzed at the back of his throat, burning and bitter.

"Hurts…" Jason murmured instead, his voice barely a whisper.

"What hurts, Jaybird?" Bruce asked, his tone laced with concern.

Jason's fingers scratched feebly at Bruce's hand. "Ead… mache… est'. Sha-kin'… B…"

Bruce nodded, his expression grim but determined. He pressed a cool cloth to Jason's forehead, gently wiping away the sweat that had gathered there. Jason sighed softly, the coolness offering a moment of relief.

"Better?" Bruce asked.

Jason gave a faint nod, his body beginning to relax as the fluids worked their way into his system. The trembling subsided, and a faint flush of color returned to his pale cheeks. His features smoothed, the lines of tension easing into an almost peaceful expression.

Bruce shifted to stand, thinking Jason might want space once he regained full awareness. But before he could move, Jason's hand latched weakly onto his wrist.

"Don't leave," Jason mumbled, his voice barely audible. His half-lidded eyes met Bruce's, drowsy but clear. "B—"

"It's alright. I won't leave, Jay," Bruce said softly, settling back into place. His hand rested on Jason's shoulder, steady and reassuring. "I'm right here."

Minutes passed in silence, the room filled only with the rhythmic drip of the IV and Jason's gradually steadying breaths. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, the haze in his mind lifting as the IV fluids worked their magic. He blinked up at Bruce, his face still etched with lingering exhaustion but also a glimmer of awareness. Bruce was clutching his hand like a lifeline.

"B…" Jason started, his voice hoarse. He cleared his dry throat hoping that would help. "I'm fine now. You don't have to—"

"You're not fine, Jason," Bruce interrupted, his voice calm but unyielding. "You've been running yourself ragged, skipping meals, ignoring your limits. This isn't just about tonight—it's a pattern, and it's dangerous."

Jason grimaced, turning his head away. He knew it was true, but he didn't need Bruce to get involved. "I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" Bruce asked, his tone sharp but not unkind. "Because from where I'm sitting, it doesn't look like it."

Jason's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. The weight of Bruce's words pressed down on him, and for once, he didn't have the energy to argue. He didn't even know if he could. Life on the streets and in the league had taught him that unless he was dead, he was fine. Hunger was only a hinderance if it affected his fighting. Sleep was only a necessity when he couldn't go on any longer without it.

"You don't have to do this alone, Jay," Bruce continued, his voice softening. "You have people who care about you, who want to help. But we can't do that if you keep pushing us away."

Jason's eyes flicked back to Bruce, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his guarded expression. "I don't… I don't need your help."

"If you want it, it's there, even if you don't." Bruce said firmly, his gaze steady. "You're family. And family looks out for each other, whether you like it or not."

Jason let out a shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. He hated how much he wanted to believe Bruce's words, how desperately he craved the comfort they offered.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "I'll try. But no promises."

"That's all I ask," Bruce said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "One step at a time. Though I would like that step to either be eating or sleeping on a consistent schedule."

Jason nodded his confirmation, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Bruce reached out, hesitating for a moment before pulling Jason into a gentle hug. Jason stiffened at first, the gesture catching him off guard, but he slowly relaxed, leaning into the solid warmth of Bruce's embrace.

"I've got you, Jaybird," Bruce murmured, his voice a quiet promise. "I'm not going anywhere."

Jason closed his eyes, the weight of the moment settling over him like a blanket. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to let go, to trust that he wasn't alone.