Jason’s nightmares are loud. This one is no exception. He thrashes and yells like he’s fighting something–he probably is–and tangles himself up in your bed sheets. It wakes you up almost instantly.
You scoot away, all the way to the edge of the bed. He’s hit you before, in his sleep, and it always makes him feel so much worse when he wakes.
“Jason.” You whisper. Not too loud, don’t startle him. Don’t touch him, either. You learned those two rules the hard way.
“Jason,” You whisper again, “Jason, you’re having a nightmare, wake up!”
He wakes violently, despite your soft tone of voice, and flails up into a sitting position. You watch as he looks around wildly for a few moments, still expecting to see his dreamscape and slowly taking in reality. His hands are shaking and he looks down to watch them.
You decide then that it’s safe to slide closer. You sit cross legged, facing him. Still watching silently, waiting for him to calm down enough to come to you. It almost hurts, having to wait. You want to wrap him up and reassure him as soon as he wakes up, but he doesn’t respond well to that. He needs a few moments to compose himself.
Once he’s had all the time he needs he sits up and crawls over to you. He straddles your lap and slowly lowers all his weight onto you. He knows he’s heavy, but he also knows you’re more than capable of holding him up in moments like this. He buries his face in the side of your neck and hides there. He’s still shaking, and you think you can feel a few tears hitting your skin, but you don’t say anything about it, you just rub his back gently and hold him tight.
“So,” You say, keeping your voice soft, “You’ll never guess what happened to me at work the other day.”
Jason doesn’t like to be shushed or consoled after a nightmare, but he loves to listen to you talk. He hums in encouragement and you tell him everything about work. The book you’re reading. The conversation you had with your mom the other day.
You talk until your voice is cracking a bit, and Jason is boneless and comfortable in your lap. Eventually he nudges you to lay down so you can both go back to sleep. He lays his head on your chest and you hope the sound of your heart beating is enough to keep the nightmares from coming back again in an hour or two,
Your nightmares, on the other hand, are quiet. Jason has said you cry in your sleep sometimes, but you never yell or thrash about. So when you jolt awake at three in the morning, it’s with nothing but a quiet gasp and Jason doesn’t stir beside you. Good, you think, he needs his rest.
You shift yourself to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to decide whether you want to sneak out and watch TV for a while or go back to sleep. That movement is enough to wake Jason though, and you feel a little bad when you hear him mumbling in confusion behind you.
He slots himself in behind you, one leg on either side of your hips, and lays himself across your back. He’s still pleasantly sleep warm and the weight of him against you is grounding. You sigh in relief and don’t feel so bad about waking him.
“Nightmare?” He asks, face buried in your hair. You nod and he squeezes you tightly.
“It’s alright,” He says, “I’m here.”
He squeezes you again, and your hands find his where they’re resting on your waist, entwining your fingers with his. Going back to sleep doesn’t sound so bad anymore.
Nightmares Jason Todd x Reader
Published
Toad's Cave 