The apartment was quiet except for the sound of rain tapping softly against the windows and Damian’s occasional sniffles. The little four-year-old was curled up on the couch, bundled in blankets with his head resting against Jason’s chest, his small hand clutching tightly at his brother’s shirt. His fever had left him tired and achy, and the only thing that seemed to bring him any comfort was being close to Jason.

Jason ran a gentle hand through Damian’s hair, murmuring soothing words in Spanish, his usual roughness softened as he held his little brother close. He’d barely left Damian’s side all day, patiently reading to him, keeping him hydrated, and making sure he had everything he needed. He seemed to instinctively know exactly what to do to calm the little boy’s worries, especially when Damian got clingier with each passing hour.

You sat beside them, watching the way Jason cared for Damian with such tenderness, even though he looked exhausted himself. Every now and then, Jason would glance over at you, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips, as if to say he didn’t know how he’d handle this without you there to support him.

Jason gently adjusted the blankets around Damian, his voice a low murmur as he spoke. “Mijo, try to get some rest, okay? I’m right here,” he reassured, his Spanish accent comforting, a natural warmth to his voice as he continued to rub Damian’s back.

Jason looked over at you, a hint of relief in his eyes. “Gracias for being here, cariño. He’s been… a handful today,” he said with a soft laugh, though it was clear from his expression that he’d do anything for his little brother. He glanced back down at Damian, who was half-asleep, murmuring Jason’s name every now and then just to make sure he was still there.