Alfred wasn't used to this. He could never be used to this. Jason, appearing in the early hours of the morning, hyped up on drugs or drunk out of his mind, barely in control of his own body. He'd lie on the couch, humming with his mouth open and peeling his eyelids as far back as they could go. Alfred had fallen into the same routine (much to his dismay), setting the alarm for 2:30 every morning to check just in case if the wayward robin was waiting for him somewhere in the halls of the mansion so Alfred could be there to make tea and drape a blanket around his shoulders. Jason would be shaking and covered in sweat, the dirt and blood would be a thin coat or caked on his skin depending on the night. They'd sit, and if Jason was particularly hammered, he'd lay against Alfred and the butler wouldn't have the heart to push him away.
"Why did I waste my life?" Jason slurs through closed teeth, head in his hands. "I had everything here. I could've gone to any university I wanted to. God, I was adopted by a billionaire, and I just had to go and get myself killed," he stands, rubbing his hands along the blanket and giving Alfred an apologetic look that's somewhere between self-loathing and tears. "I should go. Thanks for...being there."
Alfred sets the teacup onto the saucer and back onto the table. "Master Jason," They meet eyes across the hallway. "You're always welcome."
Jason smiles. "I know." Not everything can be fixed with a cup of tea.
