Chapter Text
Jason scrubbed his hands against his pants, trying to free himself of the clammy feeling that was taking over his whole body.
He wasn’t nervous. No way.
Just… not excited. And very unsure about what was about to happen and why Donny had woken him up by yelling “Todd” into the dormitory and then spent twenty minutes making him 'presentable.'
Why did Donny always pick him for these special clients? There were eight other boys in the house. Why was he always the one pimped out to away-visit clients?
“You’re the pretty one,” Donny always said, “It’s a compliment, you ungrateful brat.”
At least when he worked nights in the house, the men couldn’t get too violent.
But with these types of jobs? Away visits?
There was no supervision. No checks on the clients. No guards in the house, listening.
Jason shuddered, and wiped his hands again.
“Knock it off,” Donny said, swatting Jason on the back of the head, his ring smacking his skull in a familiar pain, “you fuck this up and I’ll double your next shift.”
“When have I ever fucked one of these up,” Jason grumbled, clenching his fists to try and stop. His palms were still sweating, though. Fuck.
“None of your lip, either, I’m not in the mood.”
Jason rolled his eyes and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, so Donny wouldn’t keep bitching about it.
Donny had no right to be grumpy. Jason was about to make him plenty of money. More than enough to cover Jason’s expenses for the month. Not that Donny would admit it.
No. He’d go with whoever the client is over night. Maybe a day or two, then come back and Donny would have him on shift again the second he was physically capable, regardless of whether Jason still had any debts left for the month.
“You want me to stop buying you those books?” Donny had said once, when Jason was ten and had complained about five men in one night.
Poor, young, naive Jason. Five was the standard, now.
“No,” had been his answer, so Jason didn’t bring it up anymore. The homeschool books Donny got him were the only things keeping him sane.
One day, when he was too old and too big for this job, he’d be free. Donny would have no use for him, and he wouldn’t be at risk of another, worse pimp taking him. Then he’d be able to make his own money, and go to school for real.
That was the one reason he stayed with Donny. He’d have to do the work regardless. At least Donny treated them well and didn’t dump them in the river when they grew too large and all their clients quit paying, like most the other pimps.
“You don’t need me to go over the rules,” Donny said, lowly, as they continued down 77th street, “right, boy?”
Jason rolled his eyes again and said, “‘Course not. Been doing this three years now, D.”
“Good. Don’t fuck this one up.”
“You already said that,” Jason cut in, but Donny ignored him.
“I want him as a repeat.”
It took all Jason had not to roll his eyes yet again. He knew if he had ‘too much’ attitude, Donny would flip his shit on him. So he frequently walked right up to the line. And danced there.
But Donny didn’t have to tell him he wanted him as a repeat. That was always the goal, no matter how much Jason disliked it. Some clients he preferred to never seen again.
Actually… most of his repeats he’d rather never see again. They were all terrible. But Jason did know the rules: Do everything asked, and do it well.
And Jason did do it well. That was probably why he was always chosen for these special clients. Donny did not need to coach him, or worry Jason was being ornery and pissing off the client.
They walked four more blocks, to a familiar restaurant good enough regular people could eat there without anyone getting suspicious of their private dealings and moral character, but just skeevy enough no one bat an eye at money and goods being exchanged in the back room.
This was Gotham. Mind your own business and eat your baked ziti, that was basically the motto.
Donny grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him into the little dive, moving a little too fast for Jason’s short legs to keep up. They went through the side door, and Donny grunted a quick greeting to his ‘cousin’ in the kitchen as they passed.
Fucking mob.
Jason focused on keeping his breathing even. It was almost go time and he needed to be ready.
“Stay here,” Donny said, shoving Jason into the all-too familiar private dining room, in the back of the restaurant, where all these sorts of deals went down. Donny walked out into the main room, probably to see if his mystery client was there.
Jason crossed his arms and tilted his head in greeting to the guard, who was sitting at the table across the room, playing solitaire with a worn deck of cards.
Joey was his name, although he’d told Jason once he ‘preferred Joe, but at least Joey wasn’t as bad as J.J.’ Jason had grinned, a mere nine at the time, and agreed ‘J.J.’ was an awful nickname.
“Word of advice, kid,” Joe had said, “pick a name you hate to give folks. Keeps the name your ma gave ya from leaving a bad taste in your mouth.”
Jason had taken the advice to heart. All his repeats called him some variation of Peter.
“—didn’t think you were serious, Don,” a quickly approaching voice said. Deep. Warm. Jason would guess this was a big guy, just based on his voice alone, and it took a lot in him to keep his body relaxed.
And to ignore the dread coiling in his stomach.
“Permanent seems to be your style,” Donny said from just outside the room, “I couldn’t bear to part with this one permanently, but he’s an example of what I can get ya, if you’re ever in the market for permanent.”
Aww. Donny couldn’t bear to sell him permanently.
How sweet.
Jason took a step back, away from the door, and crossed his arms for half a second, before quickly dropping them again. No attitude.
He didn’t want to be permanent. But Donny had, in the past, sold a boy here or there, to the highest bidder. But those had always been the trouble makers. The criers. The ones Donny didn’t see the use in keeping. Jason had worked hard to make sure Donny never saw that in him.
He wanted that future. He wanted college. A job. Adulthood. All the things orphans from crime alley could barely dream of.
“Oh, I don’t know if I’m interested,” the man said, as the curtain between the two rooms lifted, and the man ducked under it, Donny following close behind.
And it was immensely clear why Donny had been so uptight about this one.
Because standing just inside the room was Bruce Fucking Wayne.
Gotham’s richest asshole.
Great.
The uber rich were always the freakiest men. The absolute worst clients.
Not that many of his clients saw him as a person, but the super rich acted like he were an object, there to abuse however they wished.
It was basically a fact now. Jason’s next 24-hours were going to be the things his nightmares were made of.
Maybe, at least, Donny would give him a few days off after. A week, maybe, if Wayne paid well enough, and Donny felt bad enough.
Which, sometimes happened. When Jason needed the break, like he probably would.
“Oh, you really weren’t kidding,” Wayne said, his sharp blue eyes scanning Jason, like he were some fucking puzzle.
It was a step up from how usually he was looked at like a piece of meat. A play thing. A show dog. But it wasn’t much of a step up.
“Just ten-years-old,” Donny said, “I heard you liked young. Pretty blue eyes, too. Just wait until you see them in the daylight.”
“Yes,” Wayne said, a little tightly.
Ah. So he was one of the self-conscious ones. That…
Wasn’t so bad.
Meant he wouldn’t be too bold.
Probably wouldn’t invite friends over, either.
Donny crossed the room and got behind Jason, putting his hands on each of Jason’s shoulders, squeezing just a little too tightly. Jason smiled, to cover up his grimace, and tried to look as ten as he could.
Even though he was twelve. And about to turn thirteen, in two short months.
“Give him a shot,” Donny said, pushing Jason toward Wayne so harshly, Jason stumbled. He quickly righted his balance, and looked back at Donny, before he reluctantly crossed the room to Wayne. “I know you’ve had the same kid for about ten years, so it’s hard to move on, but this one is worth it.”
Oh. Jason didn’t know that.
So maybe he was bold.
Something dark passed over Waynes face, so quickly Jason questioned whether it’d actually been there, before he turned his gaze down on Jason. His eyes were cold. Cold and calculating.
Jason’s heart hammered so hard, he could feel it in his throat when he swallowed. He finished approaching Wayne, despite his nerves, and forced a smile on his face as he pressed himself close, within inches. Donny was standing right there, so he reached up, to put a hand on Wayne’s thigh, just like Donny wanted him to do.
Entice the client.
Even though clients that weren’t already giving him flirty eyes rarely reacted well to advances from Jason. Those types usually wanted Jason to wait, until they were alone. Donny didn’t get that, though. Because Donny had never done the work.
Just made them all do it…
Wayne shifted his weight, just enough, that he dodged Jason’s hand. He clenched one fist, and placed his other hand on the top of Jason’s head, and gently pushed Jason backward, so Jason took a step back away from Wayne.
And Jason could breathe a sigh of relief. If he did, Donny would beat the shit out of him for fucking this up, so instead he kept the smile on his face, and only internally thanked everything he could think of that Wayne wasn’t interested.
Before Jason could finish that thought, however, Wayne opened his mouth and asked, “How much?”
So much for that.
“One hundred an hour, or two thousand a day,” Donny said, and Jason could just hear the grin in his voice. If he turned around, he was fairly certain he’d see the dollar signs in the bastard’s eyes.
Wayne pulled a whole roll of cash out of his pocket and tossed it over to Donny, asking, “How much will that get me,” his eyes not leaving Jason the whole time.
Those same calculating eyes. Jason could tell he was making grand plans inside his head, and Jason didn’t want to know. He'd find out soon enough.
“The week,” Donny said, and all hope of time off vanished from Jason.
What the fuck was a week going to entail? Some of Jason’s worst days of his life was because some asshole bought 24 or 48 hours of his life. But a whole week?
Jason suppressed a shiver, as Wayne smiled lightly and said, “Perfect. Are we good, then?”
“Yes, sir. Bring him back here same time next week. It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”
Wayne set a hand on Jason’s back, and lightly pushed him out the door, and through the maze of tables in the main restaurant. None of the patrons paid them any attention, and somehow no one heard the hammering of his heart.
There was no way Wayne couldn’t feel it, though.
Especially since he murmured, “It’s all right,” as he pat on Jason’s back a couple times, just as they left the restaurant through the front door, “I’m not going to hurt you, lad.”
“Of course not,” Jason said, forcing a smile again, making his tense body relax again. There was no room to be nervous. This was fine.
It was fine.
Nothing he couldn’t handle. Nothing he couldn’t do.
Wayne sighed, and removed his hand from Jason’s back, as he sped up his gait and led Jason down the road and around the block, toward some parking. He stopped, abruptly, next to a Tesla, and Jason didn’t have the headspace to admire the car like he wanted. He’d never seen a Tesla so up close, and had certainly never been inside one.
But his whole body wanted to start shaking, so he was dedicating all of himself to not letting that happen.
“Come on,” Wayne said, as he opened the back door and motioned for Jason to climb in. At least he’s not shoving you in the trunk, Jason told himself, as he slid in. Wayne leaned over the door, sticking his head inside the car, and said very gently, “Really, lad. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, nodding. He didn’t know what game they were playing, but he could play along, “Of course. It’s fine. I’m totally used to it.”
“It’s not fine,” Wayne said, hanging his head as he pressed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, “It’s wrong. You’ll never have to do anything like that ever again. I promise.”
Weird thing to promise, Jason thought.
Unless Wayne meant Jason never had to get sold again. Which meant he was just kidnapping Jason and keeping him.
Which…
Heh. Donny wasn’t going to allow that.
Wayne would wake up dead if he kept Jason for a single day more than he paid.
At least Jason could count on Donny for that. Donny was ruthlessly protective of his boys.
With another sigh, Wayne stood up and shut the door, then took his sweet time rounding the car to the driver’s seat. In fact, he didn’t get in the car. Instead, he leaned up against the driver’s door, and pulled a cell phone out of his coat pocket.
Calling his friends, no doubt.
So much for a shy, self-conscious dude.
Jason wrapped his arms around his stomach, and tried to think happy thoughts.
The next week was gonna suck.
Notes:
Welcome! This fic will likely be over 200k words, it's very much a 'slow burn found family / recovery' fic.
Also, I love comments, so don't be shy to leave one! But please no constructive criticism. It tends to discourage me from writing, rather than the other way around. I have betas to offer CC when I need it, so please don't leave any in a comment. Thanks, and thanks for reading!! ❤️
Chapter Text
Wayne took his sweet ass time on the phone, his baritone barely filtering in through the Tesla’s thick windows. All Jason could hear was the notes, none of the words, no matter how hard he strained his ears.
Once upon a time, the rich sound would have lulled him to sleep. The sound of his dad speaking, sitting in the next room over. Everything calm. Everything safe. At least for the time being.
But nothing was calm and nothing was safe. Hadn’t been in years, and wouldn’t be for years more.
Jason ran his hand across the faux leather seat next to him. The cool fabric helping with his clammy hands more than his pant-leg had done. Stupid polyester slacks Donny made him wear.
The whole car was helping, actually. A pleasant new-car smell. Cool air, despite the summer heat outside, and the sun beating down through the windshield. Jason closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the moment, knowing that it would likely be another week until he had another peaceful moment like that.
The card door clicked open, allowing the street noise to penetrate the quiet calm of the car. But Jason did not open his eyes. Not until Wayne cleared his throat and asked, “Kid, what’s your name?”
The fuck did he care? Jason wondered. He’d never understand why clients ever even wanted one. Jason always thought it would be like naming a chicken you were raising. Once you named it, you couldn’t kill it, right?
Well. Wayne probably wouldn’t be killing Jason, so maybe it was a bad analogy.
“Peter,” he said, closing his eyes back as he sank backward into the seat.
That, apparently, was not a sufficient answer for Wayne, because he then asked, “Last name?”
No one had ever asked for his last name. That really was getting them into the chicken-analogy territory. Last names implied he was someone’s son, and most of his clients were fathers. He always thought it made them a little uncomfortable, to compare Jason or the other kids too closely to their own.
Once his clients heard “Peter,” they immediately started calling him “Pete” or “Petey” and went on with whatever it was they wanted.
Jason scowled. What the fuck did it matter what his last name was? What was it to Wayne? He was a means to an end, not a new acquaintance. Jason would be perfectly fine if he never saw Wayne again after this week.
Perfectly fine.
Wayne waited patiently, still standing outside the car. Or, well, Jason was choosing to believe it was patiently, because he hadn’t opened his eyes back up. But Wayne clearly still wanted an answer, so Jason said, “Parker,” with a slight smirk on his face.
“You expect me to buy that?” Wayne said dryly, and Jason’s smirk turned into a grin.
“Why not, you’re rich aren’t you? You can buy anything.”
“Okay,” Wayne said, in an almost amused tone. Jason was pretty sure he could hear a smile in his voice.
Cool. So Wayne liked back talk. Jason could definitely work with this.
“Apparently he’s Spiderman,” Wayne paused, and with the door open, Jason could now hear the murmur of his phone. But, again, no words. Jason opened his eyes, and saw Wayne staring off into the distance as he listened. Nodded. “Sure. Will do. See you in a few.”
With that, Wayne pressed ‘end call’ and slipped the phone back into his coat pocket, then, finally, slid into the driver’s seat.
Fun. So now they were going to wherever his friends were.
Jason swallowed, and took a breath. No room for nerves.
“You know,” he said, once Wayne started up the car by pressing a button, so fucking cool, “It’s not cool to out a guy’s secret identity like that.”
Wayne’s lip honest-to-God twitched, like he wanted to smile, but thought doing so was illegal, and looked back at Jason through the rearview mirror. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. What if, like, The Lizard was listening in on your phone call and heard that? Basically a death sentence.”
“I don’t think The Lizard wants Spiderman dead,” Wayne said, “Aren’t they friends?”
“You can’t be friends with your villains,” Jason said, flatly, “That’s just asking for trouble.”
“Hm. Suppose you’re right.”
“So,” Jason asked, a moment later. He hated the silence. Silence meant thinking and thinking meant dwelling and there was no room for that. “Where’re we going, boss?”
Wayne scowled, slightly, but didn’t take his eyes off the road as he mumbled, “Don’t call me that.”
“What would you like me to call you, then?” Jason asked sweetly, grinning wide. Teasing was something he could do. “Handsome? Lots of guys like that one.”
“Just Bruce is fine,” he grumbled, “And I’m taking you to the police.”
What?
“What?” he demanded, looking frantically at the door handle a few feet away. Curse him and his decision to sit in the middle seat. He’d need to scoot over discretely and get ready to bolt the second Wayne stopped the car. “No way, man. I ain’t going down for prostitution.”
“Peter,” Wayne said, then shook his head and sighed, “Lad. Prostitution isn’t a crime a child can commit. It’s a crime committed against a child.”
Yeah right. He’d known lots of kids who got arrested for prostitution, and they were never seen again.
Jason was not going to juvie.
“Well, you’re the one who just bought me,” he said, scowling, “So what, you’re turning yourself in?”
“I threw money at your handler so I could get you away from him,” Wayne said reasonably, as if that was a thing people actually did. A weeks worth of money had to be like, 10 grand at least, “Would you have preferred I let him take you back to who-knows-where and do who-knows-what to you because I refused to purchase your time?”
Donny woulda beat the shit out of him, had Wayne refused his advances, Jason knew that. But he’d rather take a beating than go to juvie. Or, even, spend a week with a rich freak. Donny would leave him in good enough shape to work, so it wouldn’t even be bad.
Jason crossed his arms and sank into his chair. He needed to figure out how to unbuckle his seatbelt quietly and slip to the next seat over without Wayne noticing. Because if Wayne noticed, he’d probably lock the doors so Jason couldn’t open them.
If they weren’t already child locked…
“Look,” Wayne said, through a sigh, “You’re just a kid. Don’t you want a life free from… all this? This work?”
Of course Jason wanted that. But it wasn’t possible. Leaving and living on his own would only result in harm. Not death. Kids didn’t get to be homeless free agents. And kids didn’t just get killed for running away.
No. They’d either sell him to someone harsher, or just work him harder.
Lock him up in a room somewhere so he couldn’t move, and send in men who liked the whole kidnapped, unwilling child thing…
Jason shivered. He’d heard the screams that caused. He did not want to be one of those kids.
Those kids didn’t make it to adulthood, and Jason was going to college one day. He refused to do anything that jeopardized that.
“So you’re just gonna hand me over to the cops?” Jason asked incredulously, “Newsflash, dude, the cops are in on this shit. Three of my clients are part of the GCPD.”
Wayne’s face soured, and he said, “That’s terrible.”
“That’s Gotham,” Jason countered, “But you should know. You’re here. With me. And it sounded to me like you’ve done this before.”
Why else would Donny even try to pimp Jason to him? Bruce had bought a kid in the past and kept him for ten years.
“The papers,” Wayne said testily, “suggested I took in a child for illicit purposes, when that was not the case at all. I fostered a child. Legitimately. That boy is like a son to me, and I have never touched him. Nor would I ever think about doing so. I sued every last publication for defamation and won every single case.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jason said, rolling his eyes, “So you have a kid you don’t touch, but here I am. So clearly—“
“Kid, I said I’m taking you to the police,” Wayne cut in, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Oh yeah? How do I know they’re really police, huh? Maybe they’re just your friends and you’ve got a weird kink. Into handcuffs, huh?”
Jason look a little pleasure in how Wayne spluttered.
“I—What?” Wayne stammered, “No. I’m really taking you to the police.”
“Yeah, sure,” Jason said flippantly, “If you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was say so. It’s nothing new to me.”
“That—Look,” Wayne tried, but Jason didn’t let him figure out what the hell he was even saying.
“What’s the matter? Didya think you were my first? Rich and naive, aren’t you?”
He probably should not be getting so lippy with his client, if Wayne really was a client and just playing some really weird-ass game with him, but part of him was starting to believe Wayne was being serious about the whole, police thing. And he wasn’t sure what the heck was about to happen, if so.
“Okay,” Wayne said, his voice a little high. “Stop talking. Let’s listen to the radio, yeah?” Bruce reached over and started pressing buttons on the giant screen on the Tesla’s dash, and mumbled, “Listening to the radio sounds like a great plan to me.”
Heh. Jason was embarrassing him.
“Yeah, okay,” Jason said, crossing his arms and smirking, a little, as the sound of talk radio filled the car. Wayne really was a freak. “Whatever you want, you’re the boss.”
“No, I’m not.”
Jason shrugged. “This is the weirdest foreplay ever, just so you’re aware. You’re officially the weirdest client ever.”
Wayne looked almost pained, at that comment. Like someone had kicked his puppy, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Like he was the kicked puppy.
“What? Am I killing your mood? You aren’t giving me much to work with, here.”
Also, Jason was almost 96% sure now that Wayne really was taking him to the police.
And probably wasn’t thinking about touching Jason.
“That is not something a ten-year-old should say,” Wayne said, his frown deepening as something darker took over his face, “That is not something a ten-year-old should know.”
“Well good thing I’m twelve.” Almost thirteen.
“Donny said…” Wayne said, a little dumbfounded, and Jason could not help his bark of laughter.
“Donny Falcone lied to you?” he said, with a dramatic gasp, “I’m shocked. Absolutely shocked.”
“Kid—“
“This is just, insane. I can’t believe a pimp would lie about his kid’s age.”
“I get it,” Wayne said, looking at Jason through the mirror again.
Jason shot Wayne a flat look and said, “If you can’t tell, I’m being facetious.”
“I could tell.”
“People like younger, so he tells them ten. I’m short enough I can pass for it.”
Jason’s short stature both worked in his favor, and against it. The longer it took him to reach an adult height, the longer he’d have to keep doing this work. But at least it meant the mob would protect him, until he was old enough to make it on his own. Instead of being one of those 14-year-olds kicked out then, forced to figure it out before they could even work legitimately.
Working corners was not something he ever wanted to do. But sometimes that was the only option for those kids.
Pretend they were adults, get an adult pimp, and work for real.
With a heavy sigh, Wayne nodded, then asked, “How long have you been doing this?”
“Since I was nine.”
Wayne hesitated for a long moment, as he stared off at the traffic ahead of them.
They were moving pretty slow, but weren’t at a complete stop. Jason could probably use it as a chance to escape, but where exactly was he gonna go? Donny wouldn’t believe him if he said Wayne was taking him to the cops.
“I’m sorry,” Wayne finally said, very softly after a full minute had passed, and Jason snapped his attention back to him.
“What?”
“That’s horrible,” he said, with a very slight rasp to his voice. He paused and cleared his throat, then continued on, “I’m sorry it’s happened to you. I’m sorry the state has failed you so significantly. I’m sorry people have allowed this to happen right under their noses. I’m sorry people have turned their heads and pretended to not see. I’m just—I’m sorry.”
Jason stayed sitting there, completely still. Staring at Wayne.
Was—
Did Wayne honestly think he had some role in the fact Jason was a child prostitute?
He felt guilty about it all?
Wayne was still staring straight ahead, at the cars in front of them, so Jason couldn’t look into his eyes and test his sincerity, but Jason kind of highly doubted he would have made such a speech if he were a lying bastard and just taking him to some kinky dress up party.
“You’re really taking me to the police?”
“Yes.”
Okay. Now Jason scowled. “What do you think’s gonna happen, huh?” he demanded, “Half the cops are in the mobs’ pockets. They’ll say ‘oh thank you, Mr. Wayne, for rescuing this poor child,’ then they’ll say ‘yo this is one of Donny’s boys’ and pass me right back over to him. I’ll be working again tomorrow night.”
A double shift, too, just like Donny threatened.
Although one good thing about all this was, Donny would probably stop trusting him with away-clients for a while. No more getting into strangers cars, going to who knew where to face who-knew-what. Jason could do without that anxiety in his life, at least for a few months.
“No,” Wayne said forcefully, as if by just saying it, he could making it so, “You won’t. I won’t let that happen.”
Jason scoffed. “They’ll just kill you.” Honestly, Bruce Wayne was nobody. Just some rich playboy, would be easy to take a hit out on him.
“They can try,” he said, the corner of his lip tugging up again, back into his weird smiles-are-illegal thing.
“Naive and stupid,” Jason said, rolling his eyes as he sank back into the seat and closed his eyes, “Listen to your stupid radio. I’m gonna start crafting my speech to give Donny to maybe convince him not to beat me half to death over this. Or, at least, to leave my face alone.” Jason liked his face. And having all his teeth in his mouth, too.
“I’m not taking you to ‘the cops,’ lad,” Wayne said, softly, “I’m taking you to Gordon.”
Jason snapped his eyes open. “The commissioner?”
Wayne nodded.
Oh. Jason sat up and tried to think.
Gordon was one of the good cops. He was pretty sure. There had been plenty of hit attempts on him, one of his clients told him one night, when he was drunk as a skunk and holding Jason close, telling him all his secrets. Jason had just closed his eyes tightly, and tried to think of something else. Anything else.
He hated it when the clients wanted to cuddle. It made him feel so slimy.
But Gordon was one of the good ones. And he knew who the bad ones were.
“Yeah,” Wayne said, apparently reading Jason’s thoughts now, “He’s not going to let you end up in the mob’s hands, either.”
Maybe not, but he couldn’t protect Jason forever. What were they gonna do with him? Keep him locked up in Gordon’s office, by his side at all times?
“You know,” he said, trying to come up with an actual plan for escape. One that would probably work, “you’d be doing me more of a solid if you, like, I don’t know. Put me on a bus to Topeka.”
“Topeka?” Wayne asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Yeah. Or, I don’t care. Kalamazoo. Just some random midwest town in some podunk state without mobs running the social services. I can pretend to be an amnesic kid and they’ll give me a new name and a new family and everything.”
Might actually work, now that Jason thought about it.
It’d be difficult to keep his attitude in check for, like, ever, and keep them from finding out he knew exactly who he was and where he was from.
But, then again, some midwest folks from a milquetoast state might know enough about Gotham to know not to ask Jason too many questions, and just play along with the whole amnesic thing.
Wayne squashed his fantasy, though, when he opened his mouth and said, “But what about the other kids Donny has? How will running away help them?”
Running away.
Bruce Wayne really was naive.
“It’s every man for himself, in Gotham,” Jason grumbled, sinking back down into his seat, “I thought even the Richy Rich knew that.”
“If we go to Gordon, we can help them, too. He’ll start an investigation. Get Batman in on it.”
Jason scoffed. As if Batman cared.
Batman had been around for over a decade, and he hadn’t done one damn thing about anything real in Crime Alley. He focused on the Joker and the small, petty crimes like muggings. He looked the other way, when it came to most of the mob’s dealing.
“The entire damn Justice League,” Wayne continued, the fucking idealist, “if that’s what it takes, to take Donny down and every other human trafficker in this city, okay? You’re safe now, and we’re going to make all the other kids safe, too.”
“That’s your problem,” Jason said, finally earning eye contact from Bruce, now that they were sitting at a traffic light.
“What?”
“You’re a dreamer. An idealist. Open your eyes, dude. This is Gotham. You’ll never be able to fix it.”
Running away was the only real option anyone had.
Jason was, sure as fuck, leaving Gotham the second he was able to. Leaving the east coast in general, and finding himself one of those nice, milquetoast towns where he could relax and be safe.
That was the dream.
Gotham was a hellhole. A cesspool that ate everyone up and crushed their spirit. Jason refused to let it do that to him, and he definitely refused to feel any sort of loyalty or care to the city that had ruined so many lives.
They’d all be better off if everyone left Gotham. Spread out across the country, and let the stupid city just die.
The city didn’t deserve to be fixed.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try,” Wayne said, seriously. And Jason just rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, okay. You keep dreaming, I’m going to work on that speech.”
The light turned green, and Wayne sighed again.
Gotham was the mobs. That’s what people like Bruce Wayne didn’t understand. It was Crime Alley, and all the crime, and all the poverty.
“You won’t need it,” Wayne said, softly, as the car started moving again, “I’m not letting anyone hurt you ever again.”
“Sure,” Jason said, just to put an end to the conversation.
This was Gotham.
And Gotham was hopeless.
Jason refused to let himself feel the hope of believing Bruce Wayne’s promise for even a second.
At least he wasn’t about to have a week from hell with Gotham’s richest men. He could let himself relax in that knowledge.
Notes:
Up next, we meet Gordon. :D
Chapter Text
Bruce Wayne could see right through him, Jason was convinced.
They parked a couple blocks away from the GCPD’s headquarters, and Jason learned very quickly that the Tesla’s doors were, indeed, child locked.
Because Wayne had to open the door to let Jason out.
Then, when Jason tried to trail along behind Wayne, the bastard slowed down and ushered him along, with a hand hovering just behind his back. Jason fully expected Wayne to grab him if he tried to bolt.
And Wayne was a big dude. There was no way Jason could out run him or escape him.
So. He was stuck.
Walking down the street, toward the police headquarters.
Fuck this was actually happening. Bruce Wayne was legitimately delivering him straight to the GCPD and if Jason didn’t get offed for squealing, everything was about to turn to hell.
Everything.
He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to convince Donny he hadn’t done anything. He’d done literally nothing. This was all Wayne’s fault.
Donny liked Jason, he was pretty sure. On some level. He was nice enough to Jason. Talked to him when it wasn’t necessary. Bought him things to keep him entertained during the day. And, really, he almost never hit Jason. Not really. Not beyond smacks on the head for mouthing off. Some of the other kids got it all the time.
But Jason wasn’t sure Donny liked him enough to overlook this.
This would be seen as a major betrayal.
And it wasn’t even Jason’s fault.
Crap. Jason was not going to cry about this. He was too old to be crying about shit.
“Lad,” Wayne said, his hand patting Jason on the back once, very gently. But then Wayne seemed to realize what he was doing, and he removed his hand quickly and put it in his pocket. He sighed, then said, “You don’t need to be scared. I told you I was going to protect you.”
Right. Because that fucking mattered.
“And I told you the mob was just gonna kill you,” Jason grumbled, “I don’t wanna get offed, too. I didn’t do nothing.”
He wanted to grow up. He hadn’t done this stupid job for over three years just to have some idealist freak decide to try to ‘save’ him and get him fucking killed in the process.
Or worse.
“They can try,” Wayne said again, and Jason found it no more amusing than he did before, “They won’t succeed.”
“You’re so fucking cocky.”
“Lad—” Wayne started, but Jason cut him off.
“Why do you keep calling me that? It’s weird.” Who the fuck called kids ‘lad?’ That was so… 1900s. Jason saw that word used in old books. Lads and lassies. Where in the hell did a dude in the 21st century pick it up?
“I… don’t know,” Wayne admitted, “I guess it’s a word I heard a lot growing up, and I just… use it a lot now. I’ve never thought about it.”
Jason scrunched his nose up, as they stopped at the final intersection before the HQ, waiting for the light to change.
Wayne looked down at him and asked, “What would you prefer I call you, then?”
“Nothing,” Jason said, stomping out into the street as soon as the sign turned to walk. Ready to get this over with. “I want you to call me nothing and never talk to me again. You’re ruining everything.”
With a sigh, Wayne caught up with him in just two long strides, then stepped ahead of Jason to open the door to the HQ building. When he motioned for Jason to walk through first, Jason scowled at him.
But he didn’t have much of a choice. Because Wayne was huge. And now they were being watched by the security guard, who was sitting next to the metal detectors…
And fuck.
This was happening.
Passing through security was actually pretty easy. The officer made small talk with Wayne. Mr. Wayne, while he emptied his pockets and took off his belt for the metal detector. He forgot about his cell phone, and had to go back through. Twice.
Because the idiot had two phones on him.
“Your turn, son,” the guard said, and Jason turned his glower on him.
The guard wasn’t even fazed by it, though, because he raised an eyebrow and pointed toward an empty bin he pulled out. “Empty your pockets of everything metal.”
“I don’t have anything,” Jason snapped, crossing his arms a little tighter. He kind of wished he had brought something.
A knife, maybe.
If he’d had a knife, maybe they wouldn’t let him in the building and then he could just go back to the house.
Like Donny would’ve let him keep a knife…
“Then go through the detector,” the guard said, a little challenge in his voice. Jason stomped over and held his arms up, just like the little picture showed, and waited for the machine to scan him.
Wayne stood about five feet away, beyond the check point where he was collecting up his stuff. He wasn’t looking at Jason, but Jason felt like he was being watched closely, anyway.
Fuck him.
The machine beeped, and the screen showed Jason was free from metal. When the guard looked at the screen, Jason stuck his tongue out at him and went to join Wayne.
“You carry around too much shit,” Jason said, while Wayne continued to pick up all his coins one at a fucking time. “Why the fuck do you need two phones? You a drug dealer, or something?”
“No,” Wayne said, laughing a little as he slipped his phones back into his pockets, “One is a personal cell, the other is for work. Makes it easier to leave the work one at home, so no one from work can bother me if I don’t want them to.”
“Sounds like a drug dealer to me,” Jason said, crossing his arms again as they finally started walking forward, toward the front desk further down the hall.
“And you don’t have anything with you?” Wayne asked, instead of taking the bait, and Jason just scowled harder.
“What, did you expect I’d bring the condoms?”
Bruce Wayne was, officially, the dumbest idiot ever.
Actually. Scratch that. Donny Falcone was the dumbest idiot ever, because he was stupid enough to try and hire Jason off to Bruce Wayne, a dude who clearly had never hired a whore once in his entire life.
Because he clearly had no idea how any of it worked.
Why the fuck would Jason bring things with him on a job?
Wayne’s face soured, however, at Jason’s comment, and he asked, “Do you have things that are yours back at… wherever you live?”
Yep. Wayne had no idea how anything worked.
“At the house?” Jason said derisively, as he and Wayne got in line at the front desk. There was some old lady in front of them, arguing about some paperwork or whatever in her hand. “Yeah. I’ve got stuff.”
He had all the books Donny had got him over the years. His clothes, of course, but he didn’t care much for those. Most of them weren’t even comfortable, and weren’t for him…
But he had a picture of his mom. And the teddy bear she’d given him, when he was little…
Donny probably wouldn’t have said anything, if he’d brought his bag with him. Cause, like, Jason probably should have brought clothes and such considering he just got rented out for a whole week, but Jason didn’t know it would be a week.
And Donny probably didn’t know that, either. Otherwise he woulda packed Jason a bag, himself.
But, also. Jason would never trust anyone enough to bring his stuff with him. There was no telling what people would do to it.
Destroy it? For the laughs? Just simply take it away and keep it?
Use it…?
Jason tried not to be too attached to his things, but he wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to handle that.
So yeah. Why the fuck would Jason bring his stuff with him to a job?
“Okay,” Wayne said, gently, “I’ll figure that out, okay? I’ll make sure Gordon knows so someone goes and retrieves your things for you.”
Yeah, sure. Jason wasn’t telling them where the house was, though. He liked his picture and bear, but he wasn’t stupid, either. If Wayne didn’t know where Donny’s house was, then Jason sure as fuck wasn’t going to be the one to rat him out.
Hopefully once Donny got him back, and Jason was going to hope that was what happened, and he didn’t just get offed, Donny would let him keep it all. Or, at the most, simply take it away and make him earn it back.
He could handle that. That would be okay.
The old lady in front of them finally picked up all her papers and moved out of the way, so Wayne smiled and motioned for Jason to step up to the desk with him.
“Ah, Mr. Wayne,” the cop lady behind the desk said, “The Commissioner is expecting you. Officer Pearce will take you.”
Jason looked to where the lady was pointing, over at a group of officers, and froze up a little.
Because.
Shit.
“Everything okay?” Wayne asked, bending over so his face was closer to Jason’s ear, and Jason resisted the urge to fucking smack him.
Because no. Everything was not okay.
He should have expected it. He’d just told Wayne about how half the cops were in the mob’s pockets, but he hadn’t really expected to see one of his regulars in the building.
Just… standing there. Chatting with Officer Pearce and a couple other cops.
Jason didn’t know the client’s name. He’d never told Jason. But he’d never forget his stupid fucking face. Especially since the asshole came over almost every week.
The asshole looked over, when the receptionist called to get Officer Pearse’s attention, and locked eyes with Jason, narrowing his eyes the second he did.
Of course he’d recognize Jason, too.
Shit.
Shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck.
He thought he’d get a little bit more time before the mob found out where he was.
“Hey,” Wayne whispered, as he knelt down next to Jason and looked up at him, “What’s wrong? Do you recognize someone?”
Jason snapped his eyes to Wayne’s, and scowled. “What?” he asked, “No. What are you talking about?”
“Kid,” he said, but Jason shook his head, briefly, and forced himself to forget about it.
“What?” he asked evenly.
“You can tell me. I said I was going to help you.”
“Right, sure,” he said, waiving his hand, making Wayne back up and stand back up, “And I believed every word you said. Thank you, Mr. Wayne. You have solved all crime by simply saying it won’t happen again.”
Officer Pearce motioned for them to follow him, so Wayne only sighed and turned to follow.
Wayne sighed a lot, Jason was starting to notice.
They wasted no time going upstairs, and were led straight to Gordon’s office. No loitering or chit chat on the way.
It didn’t help Jason’s nerves.
He was back to wiping his hands off on his pants, and trying to control his breathing.
“Gordon,” Wayne said gruffly, once they reached the commissioner’s office, and Jason could roll his eyes.
Because Gordon replied with, “Wayne,” then looked down at Jason and pinched the bridge of his nose. “There is no way you’re keeping this out of the papers.”
Was it wrong that thought made Jason smirk, a little? Bruce Wayne hires 12-year-old whore, the papers would say. Bastard deserved the press, considering what he was doing to Jason’s life.
Although Wayne would be dead within the week, so it didn’t particularly matter. Probably getting a hit taken out on him would clear his name, too.
The mob didn’t kill clients that paid, after all.
“I don’t care,” Wayne said, seriously, “I wasn’t leaving him there.”
Gordon sighed, and led them into his office as he said, “I understand that, and I’m not saying you made the wrong choice. But what were you even doing at Marzoni’s?”
Poor, stupid Bruce said, “I like their baked ziti,” and Jason outright snorted.
Dumb bastard.
“I called you the very second I got the kid out of there,” he added.
“The kid has a name,” Jason said. If they were gonna keep talking about him, they could at least pretend he was standing in the room with them.
Because he fucking was.
And it was his life they were ruining.
“The kid hasn’t told me it,” Wayne hummed.
“Sure I did.”
“Peter,” Gordon asked doubtfully, and oh. Wow. Wayne had been talking directly to the commissioner on the phone, hadn’t he?
How the fuck did Bruce Wayne have a direct line to the commissioner?
Or, well. He was rich. He probably owned the commissioner. The rich owned most politicians, and shit.
Was the commissioner a politician? Jason was pretty sure he was elected…
At least it was stupid, naive Bruce Wayne that owned the commish, and not the Falcones.
“Yep,” Jason said, popping the ‘p’ as he did. When both men looked at him skeptically, he added, “I swear. It says ‘Peter’ on my birth certificate and everything.”
Didn’t he look like a Peter? All his clients bought it, just fine.
“What else does your birth certificate say?” Gordon asked, and Jason grinned.
Smart guy.
“Oh lots of things, I’m sure. You know, like City of birth: Gotham. Eye color: blue. That sort of thing.”
“Son,” Gordon sighed. Jason couldn’t help how his face twitched, a little. What was with assholes calling him that?
Based on how Wayne looked like a kicked puppy, again, he was guessing Bruce fucking noticed.
Fuck Bruce Wayne. Couldn’t he go away now? He’d handed Jason over to Gordon. Job done.
Jason’s life ruined.
“Either you can tell me your name,” Gordon said, “or I’m going to get your fingerprints and we’re going to run them against our database. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll take the name ‘Peter’ along with your approximate age and run it against the missing and exploited children’s list. I guarantee we’ll find your full name within the hour. So just tell us it.”
Fuck them. He’d forgotten Gordon was a real life detective and everything. Jason had his fingerprints taken when he was placed into foster care, back when his mom died. His record would pop up in seconds, he was sure.
But he was nothing if not a brat.
“Screw you.”
All Wayne had to do, though, was cross his arms and raise an eyebrow at Jason, and he buckled.
“Fucking fine,” he snapped, “it’s Jason Peter Todd, you assholes.”
There.
“Thank you,” Gordon said, as he rounded his desk and started typing on his computer.
“Fuck you,” Jason replied, crossing his arms and scowling out the windows behind Gordon.
Now they had his fucking name, and soon would know everything about him.
The mob might already know he was up there. Bruce Wayne was gonna get offed soon. And there was no telling what would happen to Jason.
If that stupid cop downstairs told Donny Jason had gone and ratted everyone else, Jason was dead.
Not, like, physically dead, of course. Not right off. But he definitely wasn’t gonna be allowed as much freedom as he had before. And Jason wouldn’t be surprised if he got auctioned off and was never seen again. Ever.
But that all depended on where the fuck Gordon was gonna send him. Because if Gordon just put him into foster care, then it would be super easy for the mob to get him back. But if they put him into, like, witness protection? Then they might have to just off him.
Either way, there was almost no chance Jason was going to be allowed to grow up and go to school, like he’d been working at for years.
All because Bruce Fucking Wayne looked at Jason like he was a stupid little puppy he had to rescue.
“Jason,” Wayne said, softly, from where he was still standing a few feet away, and all Jason wanted to do was cry.
He’d done so good at never telling clients his name. Donny knew his name, of course, but Donny never did shit to him, and he usually called him ‘Todd,’ anyway.
And now, hearing the name he’d been so careful to protect coming out of a client’s mouth? He could definitely cry.
Even though Wayne wasn’t a client.
He wasn’t a client and he needed to go away, now. He’d given Jason to Gordon. Jason never wanted to see him again.
Bruce knelt down in front of Jason, just a couple feet away, and Jason felt like he was looking right through him. How the fuck could Wayne do that? Jason felt worse than naked, like Wayne could see everything he was thinking and feeling.
Jason scowled, and tried his best to make the desire to cry to go away.
“Lad,” Bruce said, gently, “Tell me something I can do to help you feel a little safer.”
“Nothing,” Jason snapped, “I was fine before you decided to go playing hero and make the mob think I’m a fucking squealer.”
“So you did see someone downstairs,” Wayne said, and that was not what Jason meant to tell him.
“Fuck you,” Jason cried, reaching up to try and press the tears back into his eyes. And make them stop.
But he didn’t want to block his vision entirely with his hands, where he couldn’t see what Bruce was doing, so he ended up just partially covering his eyes as he started crying harder.
Fuck everything.
He was twelve and hadn’t cried in, like, two years. Probably. This was stupid.
Bruce held one of his hands up, like he wanted to place it on Jason’s shoulder, but he faltered and shook it mid-air, before dropping it back down to his own knee.
Good.
Jason didn’t want his fucking comfort. He wanted him to go away.
He was just making everything worse.
But then Wayne said, “Come on,” as he stood and motioned for the chairs across from Gordon’s desk, “Come sit down.”
With no other option, Jason did as he was told and sat down in one of the arm chairs. He wiped his face clean with the hem of his shirt, and watched as Wayne filled a little paper cup with water from Gordon’s water cooler.
“Here,” he said, as he passed it to Jason, “this will help.”
Jason wasn’t sure why the fuck water would make everything better, but he pulled his legs up on the chair and curled up, and started drinking the fucking water like a little baby.
Because, seriously.
Crying because one of his asshole regulars was downstairs and saw him going to a meeting with Gordon.
Maybe he wouldn’t even tell Donny. S’not like he could tell his coworkers ‘hey thats the whore I hire a couple times a month, I’ve gotta go warn his pimp’ anyway.
Right?
Although it didn’t really matter.
The mob found out about everything. It was going to happen, regardless.
Jason just hoped he could figure out a way that resulted in the least amount of things changing for him.
Because he wasn’t about to accept that he’d worked as hard as he did, and done everything he’d done for over three years just to throw it all away like that.
“You don’t have to worry, so much,” Wayne said, as he sat in the chair next to Jason’s, “You can trust me when I say I will not allow the Falcones to get their hands on you again.”
Sure.
Jason had no doubt Bruce meant that with all his heart.
It was just too bad Jason knew the Falcones better than him.
And now he was starting to feel a little bad for Wayne. And, if not for him, for his stupid fucking kid. Because his dumbass, idealistic dad had gone and gotten himself dead.
And Jason in so much trouble.
Notes:
Thanks so much for all your comments! They're so encouraging 🥰 I'll go through and reply to the ones I haven't replied to yet tomorrow, most likely.
Thanks for reading. ❤️
Chapter Text
Wayne sat next to Jason for several minutes, while Jason nursed his water and tried to pretend none of it was happening.
At least Wayne quit talking. Jason wasn’t sure he could handle Wayne talking more. He didn’t need to hear his useless promises.
Gordon spent that time on his computer, clicking through stuff and printing out some pages as he went. Jason was sure he’d pulled up Jason’s entire life on his screen and was now judging it all.
“Okay,” Gordon eventually said, making Bruce look up from the phone he’d been texted on, casually, while Jason’s life continued to spiral down the drain.
“Bruce,” he said, motioning for Bruce to follow him into the conference room, attached to Gordon’s office, and Jason just sank down into the chair further.
They weren’t even gonna include him in the conversation about his life.
What assholes.
“Be right back, kiddo,” Wayne said, and Jason rolled his eyes and kicked in his general direction, when he pat at the armrest near Jason’s legs.
“You think I care?”
At that point, Jason almost wished Wayne had just brought him home and been a normal client.
Jason watched idly as Gordon passed Bruce all the papers he’d printed out, mostly because the walls between Gordon’s office and the conference room were just glass. They’d shut the door, most the way, but the blinds were open.
And Jason could hear, just fine, when Gordon sighed and said, “He’s supposed to be in state custody. The paperwork says he’s in state custody.”
“Great custodians, the State of New Jersey,” Bruce grumbled, as he flipped through all the papers.
What was even on all his papers? He didn’t have that much of a history. Junkie Mom. Jailbird Dad. Orphaned at nine.
Super short file, right? Jason hadn’t even been to real school in years, even before his mom died, so it wasn’t like Gordon could have a ton of school records.
“Bruce,” Gordon sighed, “I know. I can only do so much.”
Jason looked down at the empty cup in his hand, and started picking at the wax coating the lip.
What did Gordon even care? What did Wayne even care?
It wasn’t like Jason was the only kid in the whole city that’d been picked up by the mobs.
“So, he was forced into prostitution while a ward of the state,” Wayne said bluntly, “What do you plan on doing with him, now?”
Yeah. What did they plan on doing?
Jason wanted to know, so he knew which eventuality to plan for. Being offed, sold, or just beat up by Donny real good.
“Send him home with you.”
“What?” Bruce asked, echoing Jason’s thoughts exactly.
Because.
What.
“No, I’m not equipped—“
“Yes,” Gordon cut in, “Your home is the safest spot for him. You know who will be after him.”
No. Jason agreed with Wayne. His home was not the safest spot for Jason.
The mob knew exactly who Bruce was and knew he’d taken Jason.
His home was probably the least safe spot in the entire planet.
Sticking Jason in Wayne’s home was just making the mob’s job easier, because they’d be able to off Wayne and take Jason all in the same job. Easy peasy.
“You’ll just send an exploited and traumatized child home with a complete stranger?” Wayne asked, and Jason scowled.
Why didn’t he come say that shit to his face?
“You aren’t a stranger,” Gordon responded, “Dick Grayson has graced my dinner table enough times I feel like I know you quite well. You raised a good kid, that one. I have no doubt your home is perfectly safe for another child.”
Dick Grayson?
Wayne huffed, and asked, “What if I don’t want another child?”
Why would a kid want to be his kid, if he named the first one Dick.
Then again. Wayne did say he ‘fostered’ a child. So. Maybe the name wasn’t his fault.
“You’ll turn that kid away and force me to put him back into state custody, where he’ll be kidnapped and punished for his escape attempt?”
That was happening, regardless of where Gordon put him.
Jason kind of wanted to throw his cup at the door, when Wayne pinched the bridge of his nose and seemed to actually think about it, then said, “I knew how to handle Dick. I understood his trauma. This kid…”
“You don’t have to understand a child’s trauma to take care of them”
Fuck them so hard.
He did not have trauma anyone had to understand.
What he had was a couple asshole adults trying to ‘fix’ his life and ruining everything in the meantime.
Outside Gordon’s office, Jason heard the elevator ding, and a group of voices piped up as the door opened. He peeked over the chair to look and didn’t recognize any of the cops who entered the floor and started chatting with a cop sitting at her desk out there.
He wondered how many cops there were in the building. And how many were in the Falcone’s pockets.
None of them seemed to notice him, sitting there. So at least there was that.
But he’d rather not be kidnapped back, so he sank down further in the chair so he couldn’t be seen at all above the arms.
“You could get him a therapist, you know,” Gordon said, regaining Jason’s attention, “Actually, I recommend that. If Gotham CPS actually did their damn jobs…”
One of the cops laughed, loudly, causing the other four to start up, and Jason could hear nothing but them.
“Shut up,” Jason mumbled, but of course. No one heard him.
Because he was invisible and being completely ignored. Like usual.
A couple adults in another room planning out his night. His week. His life.
And Jason had no say in it.
“Jason,” Wayne said, Jason wasn’t sure how much later. He’d kind of zoned everything out, and just focused on slowly uncurling the lip on his cup, and then flatting out the entire cup until it was back into its original form: a disk of paper.
Jason jumped at Wayne’s voice, and looked up in time to see him pinch the bridge of his nose and take a deep breath.
“This is a terrible idea,” Wayne mumbled, then smiled and looked back at Jason, “The commissioner has suggested my home is the safest spot for you, for the moment.”
“You know those walls are literally just glass, right?” Jason asked, as he sat up, so he was actually sitting on his bottom, “And I could hear everything you said?”
Not entirely true, but it wasn’t like it mattered.
He took pleasure in how Wayne looked at least a little sorry he’d been talking so bluntly about Jason right in front of him.
Traumatized child.
Fuck him.
“Jason,” Gordon said, and Jason turned to scowl at him, too, “Bruce here is a good man, and I’d trust him with my own kids. And have, in fact, trusted him to watch my kids in the past. You’ll be safe in his house.”
It wasn’t Bruce Jason was super worried about. Who cared what Bruce did.
The Falcones was who Jason was worried about.
But Jason doubted they’d listen to him and just let him go back to Donny to beg for forgiveness, so he didn’t even bother protesting.
“Uh huh,” Jason said, rolling his eyes, “I don’t have a choice, so whatever.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Wayne said, determinedly.
Jason rolled his eyes. “I believe you, okay? You wouldn’ta brought me to the commish if you were just gonna take me home and invite over all your closest friends for fun time.”
He supposed that could be exactly what Wayne was planning. Just tell the commissioner all about Jason and the evil Donny Falcone that had pimped Jason out, then magically go home with his very own forever-kid to keep and a still-clean name in the papers.
But Jason doubted it.
No one would be that stupid and fuck with the mobs like this.
Right?
Hopefully Wayne’s poor kid didn’t get caught up in all this.
“Look,” Jason said, when no one responded. Wayne looked mildly sick, actually, and Gordon had just clenched his teeth and taken a deep breath. “Whatever. Can we just get this over with and leave?”
Jason didn’t even care anymore.
“All the paperwork you’ll need to review and sign will be waiting for you downstairs,” Gordon said, nodding once, “I’ll work on finding a social worker or two I can trust to start working on his case.”
“Good luck with that,” Jason mumbled, as he stood from his chair and followed Bruce out of the office, and to the elevator.
Now they were getting a social worker or two killed, too.
Not that Jason cared about them.
Or Wayne, honestly.
It was just his stupid kid he felt bad for.
Downstairs, Wayne had to talk to the cop lady at the desk for a long time, while he went through whatever paperwork he needed. Jason was fairly certain he was also flirting with the lady, which was major overcompensation if Jason had ever seen it.
Jason wandered off, a little, while Wayne was busy, and started looking around at all the little brochures on a table not too far away.
Really, he was maybe ten feet away from Wayne. And, the floor was pretty empty, anyway, so Jason didn’t care.
The brochures were kind of amusing, too. Who would go to the police station just to get a brochure labelled Are you a victim of domestic abuse? We can help.
Those kinds of things should be at, like, apartment rental offices, or something. Pizza counters. Somewhere people actually went.
Rehab is accessible to everyone, another brochure read, If you’re ready for help, contact the Wayne Foundation.
Wayne Foundation?
Bruce Wayne really was a bleeding heart, wasn’t he?
That or really compensating…
“Peter,” a familiar voice hissed behind him, making Jason jump and spin around.
Where had his fucking client even come from? He’d not been on the floor when Jason got down there. And Jason did not hear the elevator open.
“What?” he asked, with a steadying breath. Like fuck was he gonna let this guy know he was scared.
Because, obviously, Jason wasn’t. He didn’t even know the meaning of scared.
The idiot didn’t say anything, just looked Jason up and down, so Jason rolled his eyes and asked, “Did you need something, officer?”
Officer Asshole narrowed his eyes, and asked, lowly, “What did you tell them?”
“Less than you’re telling them right now, you dumbass,” Jason snapped.
Because, really.
This guy was stupid.
When all Officer Asshole did was scowl, Jason added, “I refused to tell them anything, but I bet ya Gordon’s watching right now. Sees you on the cameras talking to me. So good job, there.”
Jason still wasn’t super excited about this asshole going and telling Donny Jason had met with Gordon. But…
The thought that Gordon might be ordering his detainment, that very moment?
It gave Jason a sort of sick sense of victory. He almost hoped Gordon was watching the cameras, to see if he could figure out who Jason ‘had recognized.’
He had no idea if it would slow down the mob finding out, or not, but it was pretty fucking funny.
Officer Asshole didn’t agree, though, because his scowl turned murderous, and he took a step closer to Jason.
There was no way Asshole could blame Jason for this. This was not Jason’s fault.
Jason mirrored the step, moving backward, but bumped right into the table. The brochure display wobbled, then fell to the ground behind the table in a loud crash, and Jason winced.
All eyes turned to them, he could just tell. Even though there were only, like, five people lingering around.
“Sorry about that,” Wayne said, appearing right in front of Jason in an instant, putting his massive body between Officer Asshole and Jason, even though there had only been a couple feet of space, “I was distracted by all this paperwork, wasn’t watching him.”
What?
Wayne knelt down, and started picking up the scattered brochures, and gave Jason a quick look. Jason was almost positive he was asking are you okay?
So Jason nodded. Slowly.
He had no idea what was happening. Wayne had figured out what was going on, right? There was no way he was so oblivious now that he couldn’t figure out who this guy was.
Right?
“No trouble, Mr. Wayne,” Asshole said, taking a step back from Wayne, “I was just making sure he wasn’t lost or looking for help.”
“That’s very kind of you Officer,” Wayne said, as he looked up at Asshole’s uniform and read his nametag, “Dawson.”
Wayne finished gathering up all the brochures and set them on the table. He stood, then, and turned toward Jason, asking, “Ready, kiddo? I think I have everything we need, and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving for some lunch.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, in an exhale. Leaving would be good.
Very, very good.
Jason quickly followed Wayne out, allowing him to keep his body between Jason and Dawson the entire time, so Dawson couldn’t even look at Jason.
Once they were outside, and two blocks away from the HQ, Wayne finally cleared his throat and asked, “Who was that guy?”
Yeah. So he wasn’t oblivious.
Just… a very good actor…?
What?
Was anything Wayne had said that day real?
“No one.”
“Jason,” Wayne said, and Jason scowled.
He still wasn’t going to rat anyone out. Even if he did kind of want to see Officer Asshole get arrested. Just because the jerk deserved it, for being such an idiot.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Lad,” Wayne sighed.
And Jason’d had enough. “Stop talking to me.”
Wayne held the folder of paperwork in his hand, and smiled as he said, “Looks like you’re going to be living with me for a while. I don’t think I can honor that request.”
A while.
Right.
More like maybe a week, tops. Even if Wayne was just an actor and had just made it ‘legal’ to have his very own Jason at home, available for whenever he wanted, the Falcones still weren’t going to let him keep Jason. So it didn’t matter.
“When we get home, I’m going to walk you through the security system,” Wayne said, as they reached Wayne’s car, “I’ll show you why I’m confident the mob won’t be killing me any time soon.”
Jason just rolled his eyes.
“It protected my boy from the Court of Owls just fine,” Bruce said, as he opened the back door, for Jason to get in. When Jason slid in, Bruce leaned back over the door and said, “And, trust me, they are far more dangerous than the Falcones. The Falcones look like a middle school gang compared to them.”
The Court of Owls was real?
“Okay?” Wayne asked. Jason didn’t say anything immediately, so Bruce shut the door and rounded the car, this time getting into the driver’s seat immediately.
Jason still hadn’t figured out how to even process what Wayne had just said.
He sounded insane.
But… Wayne clearly was a good actor. And not nearly as oblivious as he pretended to be.
And. If not from ignorance, he had to get his confidence from somewhere.
“Your son was targeted by the Court of Owls?” Jason finally asked, a little disbelief in his voice. Because. Just. What? He thought they were just a nursery rhyme. They were a nursery rhyme. A fairy tale, with a scary ending, like The Little Red Riding Hood. Or… or… the one with the old woman in the gingerbread house. Something there to scare kids into behaving.
Right?
Wayne nodded, so seriously Jason couldn’t help but believe he was actually telling him the truth.
So Jason scowled and asked, “What the fuck did you do to piss them off?”
With a wide smile, Wayne said, “I took in the kid they wanted to kidnap and turn into a talon. Ruined their grand plans.”
He- what?
“So…” Jason said, slowly, “You make it a habit to take children away from criminal empires…”
“I think twice is considered a coincidence,” Wayne said, as he started up the car and pulled out into traffic.
Jason scoffed. “I don’t think you need to do it a third time to prove it’s a pattern when it’s stealing children away from criminal empires.”
Who did that?
How confident was Wayne really that he felt completely comfortable just doing this.
Had he targeted Donny, that morning? To do this?
Was this just more part of his cover? Show the world ‘oh look, I saved this child,’ so people quit saying nasty things about him, meanwhile he’s got his own toy at home? All his?
“You’re a smart kid, you know that?” Wayne said, and Jason just grumbled.
He kind of wished his brain quit thinking, sometimes. It was just exhausting, when all it made him do was worry about shit.
“My point was,” Wayne said, after a moment, “the Falcones won’t be killing me or taking you back ever, got it?”
“Sure. I’ll believe it when it happens,” Jason sank back into his chair, and looked out the window. After a second, he added, “Or… doesn’t happen. I guess.”
Just because Wayne could protect his kid from the Court of Owls didn’t mean shit. Everyone thought they were fake. So that gave them a major advantage.
The Falcones were so good they were openly a thing. And still got away with everything.
“I’m going to hold you to that, then,” Wayne said.
“Yeah, whatever. Are you really gonna get me lunch, or did you just say that to get away?”
Wayne’s lip twitched, and he looked back at Jason through the mirror as he asked, “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.” Jason was starving, actually. He hadn’t had anything to eat since dinner, the night before.
And he’d had a long night, since then…
Usually he got lunch around noon, when he woke up. But stupid Donny stupid waking him up early and not even feeding him, first.
“Then sure,” Wayne said, as he turned onto the highway. The sign they passed said they were heading toward Bristol, and Jason wasn’t sure if he should feel more or less relaxed about that. Being outside Gotham.
But Wayne asked him, “What would you like?” and Jason figured he could push it all out of his mind, for the moment, and try and convince Wayne to get him a burger.
It’s not like he could do anything about anything else happening, anyway.
Chapter Text
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Wayne smiled as he set the kids meal down on the table in front of Jason, when Jason refused to take it from his hands.
“You wanted a double cheeseburger, right? That’s what I got you.”
“But a kids meal?” Jason demanded.
“Remind me again how old you are?”
That didn’t mean anything. He was almost thirteen. Way too old to be eating kids meals.
He hadn’t had a kids meal in years, anyway. Not since he was, like, five.
What the fuck was Wayne pulling?
“If you’re still hungry after that, I can get you something else.”
“That’s not the point,” Jason snapped, but he sat up on his knees, a little more, so he could open the box and look inside.
There was a double cheeseburger, just as promised. And also some french fries, apple slices, and, worst of all…a toy.
Jason pulled the toy out and scowled at it.
“You have to finish your food before you can open the toy,” Wayne said.
But when Jason looked up at him, he could see the amusement dancing in his eyes, so he said, “Fuck you,” and opened the toy right then.
Apparently that was exactly what Wayne expected him to do, because his eyes crinkled further in amusement as he ate a fry, then asked, “What’d you get?”
“Legos,” Jason answered, watching as the little plastic pieces scattered across the table, falling out after Jason had so haphazardly ripped the bag open.
Whoops.
Wayne threw a hand out, catching a few pieces from tumbling off the edge of the table. “I see that,” he said, as he pushed them all up into a little pile in the middle, “but what do they build?”
How the fuck was Jason supposed to know that?
“Oh,” he said, once he looked back down at the little papers that fell out of the bag, too, “I guess it builds… a car? Like,” he squinted at the paper, and tried to make sense of the symbols on it, “A Superman car?”
“Does Superman even have a car?” Wayne asked, holding his hand out for the paper in Jason’s hand.
Jason shrugged, and passed it over. While Wayne was scrutinizing the instruction booklet, Jason pulled out his burger and unwrapped it, and couldn’t help the growl his stomach made in anticipation.
“When was the last time you ate?” Wayne asked, as he tossed the instructions on top of the lego pile.
“Last night.”
“Hm,” he hummed, “well. I promise to feed you breakfast, tomorrow.”
“Downright gentlemanly of you,” Jason said. It wasn’t like he cared. He usually slept through breakfast, anyway. Just ate a snack later in the day to make up for it. Like most of the other boys.
Jason took a bite of his burger, and wanted to cry with how good it was. Which was dumb. Because it was just McDonald’s.
But Jason was hungry and it was good.
Bruce sighed, and turned his focus to opening his own burger.
“You sigh a lot. Maybe you should see a doctor, if breathing is that hard.”
Wayne ignored him, and pointed at the pile of legos. “You going to build your Superman car?”
“No,” Jason said, through a mouth full of burger. Three bites in and he was down to half a burger. How sad.
“You took all the legos out,” Wayne said, “I think you have to build it.”
Jason opened his mouth to answer, but paused and watched in horror as Wayne proceeded to open up a plastic fork and knife and... eat? his burger? with a fork?
“What the hell are you doing,” he asked. Because. What?
“I’m eating lunch,” Wayne said, as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with what he was doing.
“I was right. You are a freak.”
Wayne did his little smiles are illegal thing, again, which was weird. Cause Jason had seen him actually smile and even grin several times, by then. But his smiles-are-illegal smile seemed to light up his whole face, and Jason wondered which was the acting.
If any of it wasn’t acting.
“I’m just saying,” Bruce said, “building your lego car could be fun.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jason scoffed. He pulled his fries out of his box and dumped them out onto his empty burger wrapper. He thought for a second, and went ahead and got the apple slices out too.
They were obviously packaged for little kids, but there was a package of caramel sauce to dip them in, so they would be forgiven.
“I loved legos as a kid,” Wayne said, after they’d eaten in silence for a couple minutes and Jason was almost done with his food, “Dick did, too. We tried building a large scale model of Wayne Manor, once, several years back. But he lost interest and we never finished.”
Oh yeah. Wayne’s kid’s name was Dick.
Jason’s distain for that fact must have shown on his face, because Wayne raised an eyebrow and asked, “What?”
What did he mean what? There was no way Wayne was this stupid.
This.... inconsistently oblivious.
“You adopted a kid named Dick,” Jason said flatly, “and then got upset when the papers accused you of fucking him?” Hello? That was almost the obvious conclusion.
Wayne’s eyes went wide, for a split second, before he said a little admonishingly, “We’re in public, could you watch your language?”
Jason should watch his language? “You’re the one with a kid named Dick,” Jason exclaimed, “besides there’s no one here.”
They were, quite literally, alone in the back dining area they’d chosen to sit in.
With a sigh, Wayne explained, “His name is Richard. Historically, Dick is a very common nickname for Richard.”
“Yeah, but now it means—“ Jason started, but Wayne cut him off.
“I know what it means,” he said, almost snappishly, “But his parents gave him that name, and English was not their first language. I was not going to force him to change it, just because some people think of something else first.”
That…
Was fair.
Dick didn’t let people ruin the name for him, just because they saw it as something different. Jason didn’t let people ruin the name his parents have given him, either. If a client ever called him Jay, he’d probably start crying on the spot. Because they’d be ruining it.
It was bad enough Wayne knew his first name was Jason.
“Build your car,” Bruce prompted, pulling Jason back, “I want to see the finished product.”
Jason forced a grin and asked, “What, are you the boss, now?”
Putting the car together at least sounded like a good distraction, so Jason went ahead and pulled all the little legos toward him and opened up the instruction booklet to figure out how to do it.
It really wasn’t difficult, not that Jason expected it to be. Sure, he was a kid, but happy meals were meant for, like, four year olds, and Jason was definitely not four.
But, still, he got a little stuck when, on the final step, he couldn’t find the piece the little booklet said he needed.
“It’s under your wrapper,” Wayne said, flicking at the edge of his burger wrapper, which he still had spread out on the table in front of him, like a plate.
Jason grabbed the wrapper, where Wayne was pointing, and sure, enough, there it was. A little two peg brick in bright blue. When he retrieved the brick, however, he accidentally flipped the wrapper toward him too far, and knocked his cup of ketchup over.
Right onto his shirt.
“Aw, man,” he whined, looking down at the red gloop now decorating the front of his nice, white polo shirt.
His ‘very expensive,’ in Donny’s words, name brand polo shirt. That Donny got all uptight about keeping clean, whenever one of them wore it or the other ‘designer’ clothes.
Wayne held out a napkin for Jason to take, so he did, grumbling, “Donny’s gonna kill— oh.”
Maybe that didn’t matter, anymore. “I guess Donny’s gonna kill me anyway.”
“No,” Wayne said, slightly exasperated, “he’s not. And it’s just a little ketchup, it’ll come out.”
“Easy for you to say,” Jason grumbled. Wayne probably had people to remove stains and shit from his clothes. Jason didn’t. He just had Donny. There was a girl who came and did their laundry, but there was no way Jason would be able to corner her and beg her to fix the shirt, without telling Donny.
But, again, it didn’t matter anymore. Because he was probably getting offed. Or sold. The least of Donny’s gripes with him was going to be the ketchup on his shirt.
Jason finished dabbing as much of the ketchup off as he could, and dropped the napkin into his empty happy meal box. Then he looked up and noticed Wayne just staring at him.
Like a fucking creep.
But, not, like. An actual creep. Just someone who was super lost and confused.
“What?” he demanded.
“You,” Wayne said slowly, “don’t have any clothes.”
Hadn’t they already covered the fact Jason didn’t have any stuff with him? Was Wayne, like, having aneurysms, or something? Dementia?
His fucking intelligence seemed to come in and out in spats.
Or he was a magnificent actor. Lying about everything.
Wayne sighed again, and clarified, “You didn’t have any clothes for this week.”
Yeah. Jason fucking got that. “If you wanted me to wear clothes, you should have told Donny,” Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes as he picked up the rest of his trash off the table and shoved it in his box. He went ahead and added the instruction booklet to the trash, now that his car was finished.
Jason closed up his box, and pushed his car forward, a little, to make it roll over toward Wayne before he finally looked up at him.
Bruce had covered his eyes. And was just sitting there. With his hands on his eyes. Being quiet.
Did… he break? Jason wasn’t sure what was happening.
“Um,” Jason stammered, “You okay, boss?”
Wayne huffed, then nodded as he sat back up and said, “Yes. Okay. We’re going to…” he looked at his watch, then out the windows behind Jason, “Target.”
“Target?” Why the fuck?
Nodding, Wayne asked, “Target has clothes, right?”
“Yes?”
“Okay,” he said, as he stood and picked up the tray and put Jason’s trash box on it, “then Target.”
What was even the point? Jason wasn’t going to be with Wayne long enough to need clothes.
Unless Wayne had other ideas… Jason still wasn’t even sure. What was real.
But he refrained from reminding Wayne his death was imminent, and definitely refrained from asking what the fuck Wayne wanted to do with him, and just stood to follow.
It wasn’t like Wayne would give him straight answers, anyway.
“Don’t forget your toy,” Wayne said, and Jason just groaned.
“I was hoping you’d forget about it.”
Sure enough, Wayne took Jason across the street, to Target.
It was actually pretty funny, because he looked incredibly lost when they walked inside, and he looked around for a moment before finally picking up a basket.
Jason got the feeling Wayne never went shopping, for himself.
Rich bastard probably had people.
“Okay,” he said, when all Jason did was stand next to him, staring, “to the clothes. Do you need anything else? What else do you need?”
Nothing? Jason wanted to say. As long as Wayne, like, fed him, he really didn’t need anything. And since Jason was pretty sure Wayne would not get to keep him for the full week, no matter how confident he was in his stupid ‘security system,’ he definitely didn’t need anything.
And he really didn’t want anything.
He hated when people bought him shit. Cause it always came at a cost. And fuck that.
Jason was not going to be in Wayne’s debt, as much as humanly possible. No matter how much he claimed he ‘wasn’t’ going to ‘hurt’ him.
Because it wasn’t like no one had ever said those words before.
Donny never even let them keep the shit people bought them, either. So it very wasn’t worth it.
Wayne sighed, when Jason didn’t respond, and said, “Okay. Fine. We’ll just get clothes for now, and figure everything else out later.” Under his breath, he added, “Alfred can figure everything else out,” and Jason decided not to ask who Alfred was.
Friends was not a topic Jason wanted to broach.
At the boys’ clothing section, Wayne held out an arm, motioning at all the clothes, and said, “Okay. Pick some stuff out and try it on, I guess.”
“Want me to put on a fashion show for you?” Jason asked, forcing a little smirk.
“No,” Wayne said, forcefully, “Just pick something out.”
“I don’t even know what you want,” Jason protested. Pick what out? What kind of clothes? For what purpose? What was he going to be doing? There were tons of types of clothes.
“It’s not,” Bruce said, then stopped abruptly, letting out a quiet growl. He turned around, so his back was to Jason for a second, and Jason watched as he clenched his fist tight.
Jason took a step back.
Why the fuck was Wayne getting mad at him? He was the one being annoying. He wasn’t being clear.
But Wayne shook his hand, then turned back around, and offered Jason a semi-calm face. “Look. I want you to pick out clothes you like that you will feel comfortable wearing without taking into account the feelings or thoughts of anyone else. Got it?”
No.
But Jason nodded, anyway.
If it kept Wayne from flipping his shit on him, Jason would just pick random shit. Maybe if he picked the wrong things, Wayne would correct it.
Right?
Jason wandered around the clothes section, trying to ignore how Wayne’s attention didn’t leave him, even if Wayne stayed standing off to the side. And was pretending to look down at his phone.
Wayne said comfortable, so that’s what Jason looked for. His current clothes were a little on the tight side, so he found a pair of jeans and t-shirt that looked like they’d be looser.
Donny had picked his current outfit out, because it looked like the shit rich kids wore. Just slacks and a polo. Which Jason appreciated, in a way, because at least it was normal looking, but Jason wasn’t a fan of either slacks or polos. He way preferred jeans and hoodies. Just. Baggy, and engulfing him.
He wasn’t sure Wayne would be cool with a hoody…
There was a reason Donny picked out tight clothes for him…
Jason took a breath, and tried to refocus on picking out clothes. He found a couple more shirts, and two pairs of shorts. Which meant he had three full outfits.
Three was good, right?
Jason dropped the clothes into his basket and stood there, expecting Wayne to, like, review and approve everything. Or something.
He didn’t.
Instead, he asked, “That’s it?” and Jason huffed.
“Do I need more? You only got me for a week, dude.”
“I don’t know how long you’ll be living with me,” Bruce stressed, “but it will most certainly be longer than a week.”
No it wouldn’t.
A week was the absolute longest. Because even if Donny didn’t find out about what Wayne did, reporting him to the cops, when Wayne didn’t show up at 11am at Marzoni’s with Jason in tow, the mob was paying Bruce a visit.
Wayne sighed. “Investigations take a while, lad. And that’s after Donny’s been arrested, which hasn’t happened yet.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jason said, with a snort. Arrested. Hilarious.
Officer Asshole might get arrested. But there was no way Gordon was gonna even find Donny, and if he did, there was no way he’d get enough evidence to actually arrest him.
“He’ll have a trial,” Wayne said, apparently still living in his ideal world where everything was gumdrops and roses.
“And sentencing,” he pressed on, “And appeals, most likely. It’ll be a couple years. And I don’t know if Gordon intends on having you be in my custody that entire time, or if he’s going to find other protective custody for you, but I can promise that you’ll be with me for longer than a week.”
Years.
Jason laughed. Wayne was delusional.
It might have worked with his first kid, but there was no way in fuck it was going to work with Jason.
“Look,” Wayne said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just pick out three more day outfits, and then a few pairs of pajamas and we’ll call it done, okay?”
“Yeah, whatever,” Jason mumbled. He could do as asked, just fine.
He just wished he had a better idea of what the fuck was going on.
Notes:
Thanks for all the awesome comments. I'm going to try to actually keep up with answering them and do that tomorrow, I hope. 💕
Thanks for reading!
Chapter Text
Jason was back to wiping his hands on his slacks as he and Wayne approached Wayne Manor.
His fucking house was called a Manor.
Nothing good ever came from places with fancy names like manor or estate. Fucking pretentious, lawless places Jason would rather stay far, far away from.
And it didn’t help, at all, when they approached his property and there was an immediate gate. An iron gate, that attached to a huge fence, that surrounded the property.
It might not hold people out who really wanted to get in, but it meant that it was private. Very, very private. And literally anything could go on inside. And everyone on the outside world would be none the wiser.
As Wayne turned onto the drive, and came to a stop right in front of the gate, Jason took a quiet breath in, and let it out slowly.
Everything was fine.
He could handle whatever was happening. He could.
And when the mob finally found him, and offed Wayne, he could beg them not to off him, too. Because Wayne had kidnapped him. And it wasn’t his fault.
Right?
“Okay,” Wayne said, once the car came to a complete stop, “So this is the only entrance onto the estate.” He rolled down the window, and started typing a long code into the keypad. “I have to enter my code, and everyone with an access code has a different one, so the computer knows who should be entering.”
Jason nodded, and watched as the little keypad lit up with a green light. Just above the keypad was a little sliding door, that then moved to reveal a scanner of some sort.
“And now it wants my retina scan,” he said, as he took off his sunglasses and leaned a little outside the car, “so it can confirm it’s me. Everyone has to do this if they unlock the gate by themselves. We make guests buzz in and let a person admit them onto the grounds.”
“Okay,” Jason said, nodding a little. That was… neat, he supposed.
But, again. Fence. It wouldn’t, really, keep anyone out who wanted in. Fences were easy enough to scale.
The keypad lit up, again, and a little computer voice said, “Welcome home, Mr. Wayne,” as the gate started to open.
“And now it will let us on the grounds. The fence here,” Wayne said, starting to move the car forward even as he pointed at the fence, “has a sort of force field on it that prevents people and larger animals from crossing onto the property. It allows things like squirrels through, though.”
“How does it do that?” Jason asked, because that sounded awfully advanced. Jason kind of wondered if someone had told Wayne that was what it did, and charged him like a zillion dollars for it, but really it was just an electric fence. Or something.
“It’s a new technology that Wayne Tech is experimenting with. It uses a lot of cameras and sensors to track people and things that get close to the estate, and everything on the estate. Then it activates the field when something we don’t want in attempts to cross the property line.”
Did it also prevent people from leaving the property?
Why else would it track people already on the property…
Could Wayne just program it to not let Jason ever cross the property line? And then it didn’t matter if the mob got him?
But, no… how would the mob even get in, then? They’d have to disable it. That was, if it actually worked the way Wayne said it worked.
Which it probably didn’t. Because if this technology existed, the mob would have been using it already.
“I can show you the interface, if you want,” Wayne said, looking back at Jason through the mirror, “that way you can see how well it keeps track of everything.”
Jason shrugged. He didn’t really care. It was just good to know he was being monitored at all times…
And there were cameras. Recording things…
He took another slow, deep breath. Everything was fine. They weren’t even inside, yet.
Because the drive way up to Wayne manor lasted forever. It took, like, two whole minutes to reach the actual Manor.
Which was insane.
Wayne kept babbling on, trying his best to convince Jason the mob could never get him.
“The computer already knows we’ve entered the grounds,” he said, “but it’s keeping track and made note of the fact I have an extra person with me. If someone else used their code to get in, and they entered the grounds with more than just themselves, I would get an alert on my phone or tablet letting me know about it. We know long before anyone reaches the Manor how many guests they’ve brought.”
“That’s cool,” Jason said, looking down at the lego car in his hands. He’d been spinning the wheels, on and off, the entire ride ‘home’ from Target. Just as something to distract himself. It made a vroom sound, whenever he spun it fast.
“Then here’s the garage,” Wayne said, as they slowly down near it. The door was already opening before they approached, and Jason hadn’t even seen him press a button. Which was another neat thing, he supposed.
“There are cameras on every entrance, so we always know who’s gone inside, and how.”
“Are there cameras inside?” Jason asked, as he unbuckled his seat belt and slid over. Wayne had parked, and now Jason was just waiting for him to get out and let Jason out.
Plus, it was important to know if every single thing he did was being watched, too. And not just his movement tracked.
“In some areas,” Wayne admitted, “On all the outside doors, and all the public places, like the ballroom. But not in the bedrooms or private family areas.”
Oh. That was good.
He hated when clients recorded shit. It was even worse when they made Jason watch it. He didn’t want to watch it. He just wanted them to finish whatever they were doing and go away.
“You have a ballroom?” Jason asked, after a beat, “Like, for fancy dances or whatever?”
“Yes,” Wayne said, as he got out of the car and finally opened Jason’s door for him, “we host parties every once in a while. There’s an annual Gala for sure, then often we’ll do several other events throughout the year.”
Great, he thought. So even if the mob couldn’t get through Wayne’s security and take Jason back and off Wayne, they’d be able to infiltrate during one of the public events. Especially since so many of the rich people are in the mobs pockets…
Jason wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.
Wayne grabbed the target bags from the trunk, then led Jason through the garage and to a door he assumed led to the main house. Jason was a little distracted by trying to admire the four cars they passed, on their way.
One was a Lamborghini, and Jason kinda wanted to stop and admire it for an hour, first. It was bright red and amazing.
“So, as you can see,” Wayne said, making Jason stop drooling over the car to refocus on the fact that Bruce Fucking Wayne was leading him into his fucking super private house, “we have a lot of security that prevents anyone from sneaking up on us. Even if someone managed to breach the perimeter and get to the Manor, we would have had a several minute warning and that is plenty of time to retreat to the panic room.”
“You have a panic room?” Jason asked, grimacing a little. He didn’t like the sound of that.
“Of course, I’ll show you later.”
Jason took a deep breath, as Wayne opened the door and motioned for him to go through.
Panic rooms were fine.
Everything was fine.
He was already going to be alone with Wayne in a giant manor. It didn’t really make a difference if he got stuck with him in a tiny room that could obviously be locked so only certain people could open it.
It was fine.
Jason had dealt with that sort of thing before.
He could do it. He could do anything.
Wayne led him through the maze that was, apparently, Wayne Manor. The entire Manor was decorated quite well. Fancy looking rugs with expensive looking art and shit on the walls. On one wall, though, there was a picture that probably wasn’t worth anything. Because it was actually just a picture of Wayne and a little kid.
Dick, Jason assumed.
And Dick looked an awfully lot like Jason.
Like. It wasn’t enough that they would be mistaken for each other, Jason thought, but they were eerily similar.
Same black hair. Same blue eyes. Same stature…
Wayne had a type and Donny had picked Jason because of that, hadn’t he?
It took all of Jason’s self control not to stop in his tracks right there.
Because Donny had pegged Wayne exactly right, hadn’t he? And he’d picked Jason because he knew Jason was Wayne’s type.
Had he been lying, too? When he said he couldn’t part with Jason permanently…?
Jason hadn’t done anything to piss Donny off, he was pretty sure. Yeah, he mouthed off sometimes, but Donny never got too mad about that.
But, then again. Bruce Wayne was probably willing to pay a boatload of money for a kid that fit his criteria. And Donny was never one to turn down money…
“So,” Jason said, trying to keep his voice even and aloof. He was fine. Friendly. He was super fucking friendly. “Is your kid here?”
“Dick?” Wayne asked, and Jason wondered if he had more than one kid, “No. He doesn’t live here anymore. He moved out earlier this month.”
Oh.
“So, it’s just you and me,” Jason said.
Shit, Jason was right. Bruce was a gigantic liar, and was setting everything up so he could have his own replacement kid.
His kid left, and he had no one there anymore… and he liked having a boy just there. Available. And all his.
And.
He’d taken Dick away from a criminal empire. And thought he could do the same again.
The public would laud him as a hero, meanwhile Wayne was just as bad as all the other rich guys in town.
Donny would have sold him Jason, he was almost certain, now. Had he just offered…
“No,” Wayne said, leading Jason through one last doorway, into what appeared to be the kitchen, “Alfred should be here.”
“Who’s,” Jason started, just to be interrupted by an old guy.
“Indeed I am, Master Bruce.”
Master.
Fuck.
Master Bruce.
Like fucking hell was Jason going to say that. Wayne would have to beat that into him.
Wayne smiled as he placed the Target bags up on the counter. “Hey Alfred, this is Jason.”
Alfred, apparently, was an old dude. In his 60s, maybe. Or 70s? He was wearing a fancy ass suit, and was currently rolling out dough for what appeared to be dinner rolls.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, young sir,” Alfred said, offering Jason a warm smile, “I’m afraid Master Bruce did not give me much warning of your arrival, so I have not had time to prepare your room yet.”
“Um, that’s okay,” Jason mumbled. He didn’t expect he needed his own room.
Unless Alfred just meant the place he would keep his clothes…
Also why was this guy calling him sir??
He was staff. Jason knew how to deal with staff. At least the mob’s staff. Lackeys. People.
None of them could boss him around, usually. Because they worked for Donny, and Jason worked for Donny. But they didn’t particularly like Jason, either. Or any of the other boys.
Some, like Joe from Marzoni’s, were nice enough. Shelled out good advice and smiled politely. Maybe even vented at Jason, told him the straight shit. But none of them ever acted at all like they owed Jason anything.
Jason was nothing to them.
Why was Alfred acting any different?
Then again, Wayne was still in the room with them. Perhaps that would change, if Alfred was ever alone with Jason.
“You okay, lad?” Bruce asked, “You’re being awfully quiet.”
“Yeah, boss,” Jason said, forcing a sweet smile onto his face. He hadn’t meant to, like, drop the act or anything. Shit. “I’m great.”
He needed to pull it together.
Everything was fine.
Wayne didn’t seem to buy it, because he frowned and opened his mouth, like he were going to ask are you sure? Or something else, but then Alfred interrupted.
“You’ve gone to Target,” he asked, looking through the bags Wayne had put on the counter.
“Jason needed clothes,” Wayne said, nodding.
Alfred raised an eyebrow and asked, “So you went to Target?” And Jason got the overwhelming feeling that he was right. Bruce never did his own shopping.
“Was that bad?” Wayne asked.
“No, sir. I am merely surprised. I did not believe you knew where Target was.”
He was right!! Wayne was useless, wasn’t he? Jason’s smile morphed into one of actual amusement, then, as he climbed up on one of the barstools at the island.
“Of course I know where Target is, Alfred,” Wayne said, but he looked at Jason and offered a tiny smile of his own in response.
Alfred just raised his other eyebrow, clearly not believing Wayne at all. “What did you purchase the young master?”
Young master??
Fuck no, Jason was not being called that. Before he could protest, though, Wayne answered Alfred with, “He picked out some day and night clothes,” like Jason weren’t even in the room.
“What about socks?” Alfred asked.
Wayne’s eyes widened a little because, no, Jason did not pick out socks.
“Underwear?” Alfred pressed, “Shoes? What about a toothbrush, Master Bruce? Did you let the lad pick out his own shampoo and soap?”
“No,” Wayne admitted, a little dejected.
They were just gonna keep talking about him like he wasn’t there, weren’t they? Great. Jason loved it when he was nothing more than a piece of furniture, in the room, waiting for someone to need to use him.
He was, of course, being sarcastic. But he also didn’t want to find out what happened if he made Wayne angry again, in a private place where he could turn around and use his fist against Jason, so he kept his mouth shut, and just placed his lego car up on the counter and rolled it forward, into the shopping bags.
Wayne turned and looked at him, then smiled when Jason looked up and met his eyes.
Fucking creep.
“Hm,” Alfred hummed, as he, too, turned toward Jason, “Master Jason, I will be happy to do a run for you. Do you have any particular scents you are partial to? Or a preferred toothpaste?”
A what?
Why would anyone have a preferred toothpaste? Just buy the cheapest thing, that was what Jason’s mom always did. And he was almost entirely certain that was how Donny ran things, too.
And, why the fuck was he asking Jason? Jason didn’t really care what he smelled like, as long as it was clean. So, really, Alfred should just ask Bruce what he wanted. That would make life easier for everyone, Jason included.
Because he did not want to deal with Bruce being mad his hair smelled like strawberries, when he hated strawberries, or whatever.
Both men kept staring at Jason, actually waiting for him to answer, so he shrugged and said, “Whatever Bruce prefers is fine.”
That was the wrong answer, apparently. Because Bruce sighed, loudly, and covered his face with his hands rather dramatically.
“I assure you,” Alfred said, “Master Bruce’s opinion holds no weight when it comes to your personal hygiene products.”
“But,” Jason protested, “if he doesn’t like it, then…” he trailed off, when Bruce turned around and balled his hand into a fist, again, and set it down on the counter. His back was to Jason, now, but Jason was certain he was about to blow a fuse.
And Jason wasn’t even sure what he was doing to cause it. Earlier Wayne was smiling and laughing at Jason’s back talk, but now he was getting all pissed just at basic statements.
“Then?” Alfred prodded, gently, much more calm than Bruce was.
Jason merely shrugged, though. Because he wasn’t sure if Alfred knew what Wayne had kids for.
Although he doubted Alfred could live in the house and not know.
But, even so, Jason didn’t really want to explain about how he’d had clients in the past flip their shit because Jason used some fruity smelling shampoo, and they ‘couldn’t handle’ the scent. Ever since, if he went to away-visits with clients, he just let them pick whatever he used. It made life so much more pleasant, not having to deal with an angry and violent man for however long he was stuck with them.
“I really don’t have a preference,” Jason settled on saying, because it wasn’t untrue.
Wayne took another second, and lightly thumped his fist down on the counter a couple times, before turning back around and offering Jason a semi-calm face. “For now,” he said, “we can just get him some surplus stuff we have laying around and bring him to the store another time. I don’t want him leaving the estate until at least Donny Falcone is behind bars.”
Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. But he was done reminding Wayne that Donny wasn’t going to be arrested. And the mob was gonna off him.
Plus, he hadn’t been expecting Wayne would let him off the estate, anyway. What would be the point in that? Pay all that money and go through so much trouble of explaining how the security system wouldn’t let anyone in or out, just to give Jason chances to escape by going back to Target?
His security system might work exactly as described, but the mob could just get Wayne when he left the property. Then, who knew what would happen to Jason. The State would probably take custody again, and Jason would be handed right back over.
“Very well then,” Alfred said, as he picked up the Target bags.
“Alf,” Wayne said, before Alfred could say anything else, “Could you take Jason for a while, and help him get settled? I’ve got a lot of work I need to do.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Wayne grabbed a bottle of fancy, rich people water from his fridge, then crossed the kitchen, stopping right next to Jason. “You go get settled in, kiddo. We’ll talk more later, okay?”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure what they would talk about, or if Wayne actually meant talk, and not something else, but he had to admit it was a little nice Wayne hadn’t just dragged Jason right up to his bedroom the moment they got ‘home.’
Confusing, too.
But if Wayne thought he had Jason forever.
Or… until Jason grew up and was too old to be of interest… then he probably was in no rush.
Which was fine. Jason was definitely in no rush.
In fact, the longer Wayne put it off, the better. Because then maybe it would never happen before the mob got him back. And this could be his break, that he had been hoping Donny would give him.
“Shall we go pick you a room,” Alfred asked, giving Jason another smile.
Jason nodded, and returned the smile with a little more ease, now that Wayne was gone. “Yeah, sure.”
He knew, for a fact, whatever happened once the Falcones got him back was going to be hell. Even if they didn’t off him or sell him. Nothing was going to be pleasant, and maybe not for a long time.
So he might as well enjoy the slow, peacefulness of now while he could.
Because now wasn’t so bad. Even if he still had no idea what was going on.
Chapter Text
Alfred took a few more minutes to finish making the rolls, which were for dinner, apparently. He needed to roll them out and then let them rise in the dish, after he formed them.
It was pretty cool to watch.
Jason didn’t know bread had to ‘rise,’ and wondered what caused it to do so. But he didn’t really want to ask this Alfred guy. Because he wasn’t sure if Alfred would explain it to him. Alfred might be staff, but he didn’t owe Jason shit.
But Alfred kept working on the rolls, so Jason rested his head in his hand, where he was still sitting at the island counter, and asked, “Are you the cook or something?”
He really hated silence.
Alfred smiled, as he continued forming the rolls and placing them in a casserole dish. “I am the family butler,” he said.
“Oh.” Jason nodded, looking off away from Alfred. He didn’t know butlers like… existed. He thought they were just in books.
That kind of explained the master crap, though. He was pretty sure butlers called the people they work for master or miss or whatever. Like, master bedroom. Same word.
It was still weird.
“Yes,” Alfred said, still smiling as he worked, “My job is to take care of the Wayne family.”
“So,” Jason said slowly, “just Bruce? He said his kid moved out.” Who else lived in the house?
“Master Dick did, indeed, leave a few weeks ago,” Alfred explained, as he placed the last roll in the dish. He picked up a towel and draped it over the dish, and moved the dish over to the top of the oven.
Which was weird. Why did it need a towel?
“But he is still a member of this family,” Alfred continued, “And there is of course Master Bruce, who requires a lot.”
Jason grinned. Wayne did seem pretty helpless when it came to normal stuff. “He doesn’t know how to shop.”
“No,” Alfred said, with a sigh, as he grabbed another towel and started wiping down the counters, “I’m afraid he does not. As I said, he requires a lot.” Alfred continued cleaning for a moment, then he smiled and added, “And now there is you.”
Jason shrugged, and shifted so his arms were crossed and his head was resting down in them, on the counter.
“I”m not gonna be here long,” he mumbled, “You don’t gotta do anything for me.”
“Nonetheless,” Alfred said, smiling softly, “I will still care for you as long as you are here.”
Poor Alfred. Hopefully the mob didn’t get him, too. Jason kind of hoped Wayne was right and his security wouldn’t let the mob in.
That was nice of him, Jason supposed, to say he’d care for him. But maybe it was his job, and he was just getting paid to take care of Jason.
And if Jason was the new Dick…
Alfred finished wiping down the counters, then tossed the rag in the sink and washed his hands. Once he was done, he pat his hands dry on his apron, then asked, “Now then, shall we go pick out your room?”
“Sure,” Jason said, sitting up to hop down off the stool, “I guess.”
It wasn’t like he had much of a choice.
Kind of funny he was getting a room though.
Jason shoved his hands deep into his pockets and followed Alfred through the maze of halls and up a set of carpeted stairs
This house was ridiculous. Why did one dude need such a massive mansion? Or even three people?
“This here is Master Bruce’s quarters,” Alfred said, as they passed a set of double doors and paused, briefly. He pointed at the door across the hall from them, and said, “and this is Master Dick’s.”
Figures it would be right across from Wayne’s. How often did Dick actually sleep in there?
“Now we have a couple options,” Alfred said, turning to face Jason, “we have four extra rooms on this floor. There is one closer to the stairs, and three further down the hall.”
Jason shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure how to respond. Did it matter where his room was? It wasn’t like he was going to use it much.
Or even be there long.
“We can put you in the far room, all the way down the hall. You will not be disturbed by anyone in the hall, that way. Or you can choose the room close to the stairs, so you do not have to walk past other’s rooms. It is up to you.”
What did that matter?
Although making Wayne walk all the way down the hall to get him was pretty funny, if he thought about it.
But that might piss Wayne off….
He’d already pissed Wayne off a lot, and he wasn’t even sure how. Doing something to purposely piss him off would only end in disaster, he was sure.
Alfred kept waiting for Jason’s answer, so he finally shrugged and mumbled, “I don’t care.”
“Hm,” Alfred hummed, as he nodded for a moment, “Very well, then. How about we try the room at the end of the hall. If you do not like it for any reason, we can try another one. Sound fair?”
“Sure?” Jason said. Fair wasn’t quite a thing he cared about, but whatever.
Absolutely nothing in his life had been fair up until that point, but that’s just how life was. Life’s not fair, Jay, his dad always said.
Jason followed after Alfred, to the door way at the end of the hall, on the same side of the hall as Wayne’s.
If only Waynes room was on the other side of the hall wall, his room was gigantic.
Not super surprising, considering the rest of the house.
Alfred opened the door, and motioned for Jason to go inside.
“This is a bedroom?” Jason blurted out, before he could think better of it.
Because damn. The room was huge.
Who on earth even thought about making a bedroom so huge? Why did a bedroom need a couch, too??
Jason understood master bedrooms being gigantic, which explained Wayne’s room. He’d seen plenty of those before, but random extra bedrooms? Meant for kids?
The bed in the room was also gigantic. Jason didn’t know what each of the sizes were called, but his bed back with his mom had been just big enough for him, really. And the bed in Donny’s house had been similar.
This one, though, could easily fit several people in it.
And… Jason didn’t want to think about that.
“Is it to your liking?” Alfred asked, after he’d crossed the room and opened all three windows.
“It’s… fine,” Jason eventually said. It was definitely more than fine, and there had to be a catch.
“This over here is the bathroom,” Alfred said, opening up one of the two doors along the wall Jason thought he shared with Wayne’s room. He was slightly relieved to know the door didn’t lead straight to Wayne’s room, but the fact the room had a bathroom?
A gigantic, horrible catch. Had to be.
Jason stepped back a little, back into the threshold to the room, while Alfred was in the bathroom, clicking on the lights and fans and doing whatever else he was doing to ‘get the room ready.’
There was no lock on the door, he observed. A little to his relief, if he had to be honest.
Because a room like this… A room with a bathroom and sitting area and bed and everything…
It would be incredibly easy to lock him inside it. And never let him out again.
Jason wrapped his arms around himself, and tried to keep calm.
He was fine.
Wayne wouldn’t do that. There was no way Wayne was lying that badly.
Why would he tell Gordon about Jason just to drag him home and lock him up for the rest of his life?
“There is a basic toiletry set in there,” Alfred said, as he exited the bathroom, “And clean towels and such in the linen closet, all are at your disposal.”
Jason nodded absently, but didn’t fully pay attention to whatever else Alfred was doing, as he wafted around the room, opening up things and fluffing up pillows.
Everything was okay.
Wayne wasn’t lying that badly.
Besides, he had the first kid. Whom he obviously let go.
Which… which…
Was good, right? Because it meant he’d probably let Jason go? If somehow the mob didn’t kill him first?
Either the mob would get him back, and he’d do anything to make sure he got the future Donny had promised him, or Wayne would get to keep him, and he’d do whatever it took to get Wayne to let him go, like he’d done with Dick.
Yeah.
This was fine. Everything was… fine.
“Why don’t you take a seat, Master Jason,” Alfred said, walking over to Jason and holding a hand up behind Jason’s back, as if to push Jason along toward the nearest armchair.
He didn’t touch Jason, though, just waited patiently for Jason to start moving himself.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Alfred said, once Jason had collapsed down in the armchair and curled up.
His thoughts? Alfred didn’t want to know his thoughts.
Especially if Alfred didn’t know.
Alfred sighed, but much less dramatically as Wayne always did. His sigh was quiet, and far less annoyed. More defeated, maybe, and it made Jason look over at him as Alfred sat down on the armchair opposite him.
“Perhaps if you share,” he said, “I could help alleviate your fears.”
“I’m not scared,” Jason mumbled. Because he wasn’t.
He was just… worried. And shouldn’t be. Because he couldn’t control one damn thing happening. All he could do was control his reactions to all the possibilities.
“No,” Alfred said, humming a little, “I suppose you aren’t. But I am still happy to answer any questions you might have. Perhaps I can shed some light on any concerns you might have.”
Jason sat there for a full minute, sifting through all the questions he might ask. Something as blunt as ‘so how often does Wayne like having fun time?’ probably would not go over well.
Especially if Alfred didn’t know.
What he eventually settled on was, “Why did Dick leave? Did he run away?”
Because if he ran away, then Wayne would probably work harder on making sure Jason didn’t.
“Oh, heavens no,” Alfred said, waving his hand a little, like the mere thought Dick ran away was ridiculous, “He has left to attend college.”
College?
Jason couldn’t help but pause, for a moment. Because—
Dick went to college.
Jason really hoped Jason was the same as Dick, to Wayne. For whatever that was. Because if the mob didn’t take out Wayne, and Jason got stuck with Wayne permanently, at least, maybe, he could go to college one day, anyway.
Right?????
And, Dick going to college, meant either he was really Wayne’s kid, or Wayne worked hard to keep up the appearance that Dick was his kid.
Either way, Dick got to go to college.
“He will likely return soon, to meet you,” Alfred added.
What? Why?
That made no sense. Why would he care who Bruce picked up to replace him enough to want to meet him?
He should be relieved, Wayne had moved on and probably wouldn’t need him for that anymore.
“Well, he shouldn’t,” Jason mumbled.
If Jason ever got away, he’d never come back.
Unless…. Wayne was paying for his college. And he had no choice.
No. He’d find a way to pay for his own college. He wasn’t letting Wayne or anyone else buy him.
“What was that, lad?” Alfred asked, still sitting calmly in his chair. He was a lot different from Wayne, in that regard. More subdued. Less commanding of everything around him.
Jason didn’t feel quite so nervous around him. Because, somehow, he just knew Alfred wouldn’t do jackshit to him.
“The mob,” Jason said, louder, “They aren’t gonna be happy Bruce stole me. Maybe Dick should stay away, so they don’t hurt him, too.”
Alfred smiled, and said, “I don’t believe Master Dick will allow some thugs to intimidate him.”
“He gets that from Bruce, doesn’t he,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. The Falcones weren’t just some thugs. But whatever.
“He and Master Bruce are a lot alike in that regard, yes.”
“Well it’s gonna get them killed,” Jason muttered. But, again, it wasn’t like anyone was listening to Jason.
He’d only been living with the mob for three years. What did he know?
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, sir,” Alfred said, and Jason just rolled his eyes again, “Many have tried to kill Master Bruce. None have been successful.”
“Maybe,” Jason said sardonically, “if he didn’t pick fights with criminals, he wouldn’t be on hit lists.”
It was gonna get Alfred killed, too. And Jason. And all of them.
Jason just wanted none of this to be happening. He’d rather rewind time to that morning, and start screaming at Donny, or something. Provoke a beating and make Donny pick a different boy to sell off to Wayne, since damaged goods rarely sold well.
If there was ever a next time for this shit, that’s what he was going to do. Take the beating and avoid all this.
The uncertainty about the future.
“Regardless,” Alfred said, as he stood, “I doubt we need worry about the Falcones much longer. I have a strong feeling justice will be served swiftly for those particular men.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Jason said. They could all keep dreaming.
“Now then, I will be making a shopping run. Do you have favorite colors or types of clothing I should purchase?”
Since ‘whatever Bruce wants,’ was an unacceptable answer in this house, Jason just shrugged and tightened his arms around his body. “I don’t care.”
He’d still like a hoody, or something big and baggy to curl up in. To cover himself with, but even Alfred would probably know that wasn’t acceptable.
“All right, lad,” Alfred said softly, “and are you sure you do not have scent preferences? Perhaps an opinion on coconut or citrus?”
With another half shrug, Jason sank down into the chair further. As long as it didn’t smell like shit, he didn’t care.
Honestly.
“That is fine,” Alfred said, “we will work on it.”
Work on it. Sure.
Whatever.
“Now then, how about I give you a brief tour of the manor, first, so you may find something to occupy your time better than sitting here wallowing.”
“I am not wallowing,” Jason protested, but did force himself to his feet to follow Alfred.
Maybe if he found some place else to chill out for a while, he could take a nap without worrying whether Wayne was gonna try him out anytime soon.
If Wayne couldn’t find him, he couldn’t get him.
Alfred hummed, and led Jason down the hall. “Regardless, Master Bruce will be indisposed most the day, as he is most days, so it will be good to find you some entertainment options.”
“‘Working,’” Jason asked, making air quotes with his hands, even though he was behind Alfred, and Alfred could not see him.
“Yes, he does that a lot,” Alfred said. Either Alfred was ignoring Jason’s sarcasm, or he didn’t catch it. Whatever. “He is a fan of telework, and spends most his day in the study, working. You may interrupt him at any time, of course. Do not be shy.”
Yeah right. Like Jason would do that.
He wasn’t stupid.
“You may, of course, seek me out for anything you need, as well,” Alfred added, after they’d descended the stairs and turned in the opposite direction from the kitchen.
At least, Jason was pretty sure they’d turned opposite from the kitchen. He’d need to, like, draw a map or something of this freaking castle.
“Sure,” he said. Seeking Alfred out sounded less dangerous than seeking out Wayne, that was for sure.
Especially if he was right, and Alfred wasn’t gonna do shit to him.
Although, he’d thought there for a few minutes Wayne wasn’t gonna do shit to him. But then it’d turned out Wayne was a magnificent liar.
It wasn’t too out there, to think Alfred might be one, too…
“That door down there is the study,” Alfred said, pointing toward a closed door at the end of the hall, “and through these doors is the den, where we have most the entertainment options. Video games, board games, and the like. You are welcome to take anything you wish and move it to another room, if you’re more comfortable somewhere else.”
“Sure,” Jason said again. He wasn’t sure where else would be more comfortable.
Unless he had free rein of the entire manor. If so, then he’d go find some random ass corner that looked like no one ever went into, and hide there.
Just as long as it Wayne wasn’t gonna, like, do something about that…
Jason… didn’t really want to know what a big guy like him could do. What kind of damage he could inflict.
“And, of course,” Alfred said, once Jason had walked into the den and started looking at the shelf full of games and puzzles, “You are more than welcome to explore the manor. If the door opens, you may enter.”
“Okay,” he said.
That sounded vaguely ominous. Were there locked rooms? There probably were, right?
But why were they locked? And what was Wayne hiding behind them? And from whom was he hiding it?
Jason, probably. If snatching Jason had been something he planned.
Or maybe it was stuff even Alfred didn’t know about. If Wayne did keep secrets from his butler. Like why he kidnapped little boys.
“Now then, I must make a run to the store before I prepare dinner. Do you need anything before I leave?”
“Uh, no,” Jason said, after a beat.
“Very well. If you need anything while I’m away, you know where Master Bruce is.”
“Yeah.” Although it wasn’t like Jason was gonna go barging into the study, being all like Yo Bruce I need a juice box.
He wasn’t stupid.
Exploring the manor, however…
That might be something worth doing.
If only to find the potential hiding places, should he ever need one.
And, considering how his day had gone so far, he’d probably need one…
Notes:
Hello~~~ I'm back from vacation and finally got this chapter finished. Hopefully I get back into the groove and headspace of this story. I know there's a few scenes coming up relatively quickly I've been stuck in for several days now. Can't wait to write them. :)
Thanks for reading and commenting and everything else. I'm going to try to answer all the comments, I know I'm a couple chapters behind. I'm notoriously bad at answering comments, but I'm trying! ❤️ you guys.
Chapter Text
Jason spent 20 minutes in the den, trying to ‘entertain himself’ with the various games there.
The video game system, a Nintendo one, wasn’t super interesting. The game currently in the… the thing was The Legend of Zelda and Jason had no idea what was going on. He’d never been that into video games, anyway. The house had a bunch of them, to keep the boys quiet, but Jason usually either watched the other boys playing them, or just ignored their existence all together, and spent all his free time reading or working through his workbooks.
He’d explored the den rather thoroughly, and found no books anywhere, so he’d looked back through the board game and puzzles. But, again, nothing jumped out at him.
So, he took to exploring.
Mostly, he just tried to find the furthest away point from the study as he could. Which meant he discovered what must be the ballroom and several formal sitting rooms a fair distance from the ‘private family area.’ With big fancy chandeliers and absolutely nothing of interest.
Actually, there was tons of breakable looking stuff in those rooms, so he backed away and definitely stayed far away.
Cause he was not gonna break shit. No way.
The Manor just kept growing larger and larger in his head, and he was almost positive it was actually a castle, when he kept finding more staircases, and more halls, and more rooms.
Like. A zillion rooms.
In the end, he found a small little room on the third floor, on the exact opposite side of the manor from the main living areas.
Considering all the dust settled on the surfaces and the sheets covering the furniture, Jason was wiling to bet no one ever went up there.
That was exactly what he wanted.
Under a partially covered window, where old, dusty curtains with significant fading on them was letting a bit of sun into the room, Jason found a pretty comfortable couch.
It was large enough he could lay down on it and spread out, one of his arms dangling off the edge of the couch, and the other draped across his face, blocking the sun out of his eyes.
He tried to take a nap. That’s what he wanted the most, because he’d barely gotten any sleep the night before, and everything going on was just making him so damn tired.
But his stupid brain wouldn’t shut up.
His thoughts kept going in circles, driving him nuts, keeping him too wired and too worked up to do anything more than lay there. Staring at the crook of his elbow, trying not to get dizzy with the circles his mind was going in.
Around and around and around.
He didn’t know what was going on, and it felt like every five minutes he learned something new that knocked him down and changed everything. Everything he knew and thought and was expecting to happen.
There were a few things he knew for sure:
The mob was going to be pissed, and if they didn’t know already, when they learned about it in a week’s time, at the absolute latest, they were going to go after Wayne.
Wayne kidnapped Jason from Donny, and told Gordon about it.
This wasn’t the first time Wayne had done so.
The world thought Dick was Wayne’s son. And Wayne spoke about Dick as if he were his son.
Donny, and a lot of journalists, thought Wayne just got Dick so he didn’t have to hire whores all the time. So he could have his very own boy, at home, permanently.
Wayne denies that’s what happened.
But Donny was able to get Wayne to come meet Jason, and then he paid a lot of money to bring Jason home.
Why else would he take Jason? What else did Jason know how to do? Nothing. He didn’t even know how to be a son.
And Jason looked just like Dick. That was too much of a coincidence for Jason to ignore.
What should happen next is the mob kills Wayne, and gets Jason back.
But…
Jason had a bad feeling that wasn’t going to happen. And Wayne and Dick and Alfred’s confidence that the Falcones were no one to be scared of might turn out to be true.
For them.
This time.
Which meant Jason would be with Wayne permanently.
And… Would… would that be so bad?
So far Wayne had been pretty nice. Yeah, he’d gotten angry a couple times, but Jason could learn what his buttons were and avoid them. He’d done that well enough with Donny, after all.
Or his dad. When he was little…
Otherwise, Wayne had been nice. Chatting with Jason. Buying him food. Clothes. Giving him a bedroom and his own bathroom.
Then there was Alfred, who was super nice. If he didn’t turn out to be an actor, too, Jason thought he could really like Alfred.
Especially if Alfred kept acting like he was an actual person.
Wayne didn’t seem super interested in using Jason all the time, anyway. Not if he didn’t immediately drag Jason up to his bedroom. Or… study. Or wherever he did that shit.
Which meant he might not even have to work nearly as much as he did for Donny.
One guy, and maybe the occasional party. Just one dude most nights. And Jason stayed there permanently, with food and things to do. He probably could ask for books and stuff, too, and keep going with his education.
Hell. Dick went to college.
Maybe he could even convince Wayne to send him to real school. He’d promise not to say a damned word about anything. And he’d hold to that promise. Because it’s not like social services would be able to do jack shit about anything.
He’d just end up back in the mob’s hands.
Or sold.
Or dead.
And right now, it looked like sticking with Wayne might be his best bet for college and adulthood and a future.
If the mob didn’t get him…
Around and around and around. No matter how many times he tried to make his brain stop, he just kept going in circles.
Right up until someone knocked on the door, and Jason jumped, nearly tumbling off the couch.
“Ah, there you are, lad,” Wayne said, as he opened the door and stuck his head in.
What the fuck.
He was, like, super out of the way.
Jason pushed himself up to a sitting position, and watched in almost disbelief as Wayne stepped into the room, a tablet in his hands, and frowned.
“You okay?” Wayne asked.
Was he okay?
Fuck no. But he wasn’t telling Wayne that.
“I’m fine,” he said, taking breath and regaining himself. He had to act. He wanted Wayne to want to keep him permanently.
Right?
Yeah. Right. Because college.
He really hoped this wasn’t a terrible mistake.
“You sure,” Wayne asked, still frowning, “you look a little spooked.”
Well yeah.
“I’m just… surprised you found me,” he said, then mentally kicked himself.
Way to just tell Wayne he was hiding from him.
“Oh,” he said, smiling a little as he turned the tablet in his hands toward Jason, so he could see the screen, “I couldn’t, so I looked and found you on the security system.”
Jason stared at Wayne for half a second, before he scowled and looked down at the tablet’s screen. And sure enough, there was what appeared to be a map of the Manor, with two little dots in what had to be the room Jason had found, in the far corner of the Manor.
“It—“ Jason started, then asked, a little shakily, “You can track me?”
Fuck.
“Well, yes,” Wayne said, clicking the tablet off as he rubbed at his jaw, “But I don’t check this unless I’ve already looked in the usual spots myself and can’t find someone. It just keeps people from needing to check over 100 rooms personally to announce dinner is ready.”
“Oh,” Jason said. That was fine.
Made perfect sense.
No hiding spots in the Manor. No hiding anywhere.
Everything was fine.
“I—Okay,” Wayne said, in a serious tone, “I won’t use this anymore, okay? Unless it’s an emergency. We can get you a watch or something instead, and then you can keep track of time and know when to come down for meals. Okay?”
Jason swallowed, and just shrugged. It was fine. He didn’t care. That's what he'd keep telling himself, at least.
Wayne… Wayne could track him whenever. That’s fine. It wasn’t like he had a place to hide in Donny’s house, anyway. Why did he need a place to himself, now?
He didn’t. He was fine.
“Does that sound fair?”
Fair.
What was their thing with that fucking word?
Fair.
Nothing was ever fucking fair. And they needed to quit so he could convince himself it was fine, anyway.
“I don't care,” Jason said, letting his annoyance cut into his words.
Wayne could keep track of him, fine. Whatever.
So far Wayne hadn’t complained Jason found some random ass room to nap in, so maybe everything really was fine. He’d keep exploring, and Wayne would just come get him when he needed him.
Good. Fine.
Perfectly fair.
“Okay,” Wayne sighed, “Well. I came to get you for dinner. Alfred made pot roast. Do you like roast?”
“Yeah,” Jason said, as he hopped up and came when Wayne motioned for him to follow, “That’s fine.”
“Good, let’s go, then. I think you’ll like Alfred’s cooking.”
Wayne led Jason down a staircase he definitely didn’t use to get up there, and through a far more direct path back over to the kitchen. The entire time, he walked a few steps away from him, and tried to keep up inane chit chat.
“Do you have any favorite meals,” he asked, but Jason just shrugged.
“The kind that isn’t poisoned, I guess,” he said, after a beat.
Wayne did his weird not-smile, and huffed a very quiet laugh, saying, “I don’t think you need to worry about that with Alfred. Me, maybe. I can burn water, I wouldn’t even eat chicken I’ve prepared. But Alfred’s an expert.”
“How do you burn water?”
With a shrug, Wayne opened one last door, which led into the main hall the kitchen was located off, “I haven’t a clue. All I know is I tried to boil some water, and next thing I knew the smoke alarm was going off.”
“No,” Alfred said loudly, from inside the kitchen, “What he means to say is he did boil water, and left it sitting on the stove until all the water evaporated and the pot caught fire. That is why Master Bruce is no longer allowed to touch the stove.”
“I got distracted,” Wayne said, and if Jason didn’t know better, he’d say Wayne was whining.
How fucking old was Bruce Wayne?
Like, thirty, right?
“Master Bruce, if you would, please set the table,” Alfred said, as he grabbed a pile of plates and silverware off the counter and handed it over.
“Sure thing.”
Jason watched, a little in awe, as Wayne just… did as he was told. And took the dishes into the dining room and started setting it all down on the table.
Alfred could… tell Bruce what to do?
Wasn’t Alfred the butler?
“Did you enjoy your expedition, lad?” Alfred asked, as he went back to putting all the food he’d prepared onto fancy dishes and then setting the dishes on a cart.
He was scraping some green beans off a metal pan into a nice looking bowl, at the moment.
Jason just shrugged. Because he had kind of sort of enjoyed his exploring. Until he learned it didn’t matter and Wayne could find him no matter where he went.
Alfred hummed, and set the bowl of green beans on the cart, then went about pulling the rolls apart and placing them inside another dish. This one with a towel inside. “I bought you quite a few new things this afternoon,” he said, “The clothes are in the wash, and I’ll bring them up to your room once they are folded.”
“Cool,” Jason said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to be doing, in the moment. But not freaking out about shit he couldn’t control sounded like the right answer. A second passed, and he added, “Thanks.”
“All the other items I bought you are already in your room,” Alfred continued, placing the final roll in the bowl and flipping the edge of the towel over the rolls, “I will let you decide where you wish to store everything, so I left everything on either the bathroom counter or your dresser.”
“Okay, thanks,” he said again.
“My pleasure, lad. If you think of anything else you need, let me know. I will pick it up for you.”
Jason nodded, and with that, Alfred ushered him off into the dinning room so they could eat dinner.
Or. Well. Wayne and Jason could eat dinner.
Alone.
Sitting, like, almost next to each other. Wayne sat at the end of the table, and Jason sat in the seat right to his right.
It wasn’t quite as direct as it had been at lunch, but during lunch they’d been out in public. Now it was just them.
Alone.
In the dining room.
Because once Alfred set the food out and helped them get everything they wanted on their plates, he left.
“Alfred doesn’t eat with us?” he asked, stabbing at a piece of scalloped potato with his fork, trying his best to not freak out.
The fuck was even wrong with him? He could be alone with Wayne, who cared. He had to get used to it, anyway.
“No,” Wayne said, with a sigh, “We’ve tried to convince him but he rarely sits with us. He sat with me when I was a boy, but quit when I went off to college.”
“Oh.”
They ate in silence for another minute or so. Or, well, Wayne ate, while Jason tried to force a couple more bites into his mouth.
It was hard. Since his stomach had flipped upside down for no reason, the traitor.
“Is there anything in particular you like to do for fun,” Wayne asked, after another minute.
Jason looked up, from the fork full of roast beef he’d been working on convincing his stomach to accept, and stared.
Then he forced on a grin and said, “Anything you like.” Acting was good. He could eat better, too, maybe. If he just pretended to be happy and friendly and everything.
Yep.
Wayne sighed, and Jason forced the bite of food into his mouth and started chewing.
“I meant,” Wayne said, through his sigh, “in your free time. To entertain yourself.”
Jason snorted, and managed to swallow his food without his stomach protesting. He picked up his roll, and hoped maybe he could get the whole thing down next.
Because like hell was he going to tell Wayne what he actually liked doing. Rule number one to doing this kind of work: Don’t let the clients know anything real and personal.
They only ever used it against him.
Apparently Wayne could read Jason’s mind, because he sighed again, in a much more defeated tone, and said, “I can probably dig out Dick’s legos, if you liked your car. Dick had a lot of legos. I think he also had other building things like knex. Or the magnet ones? I forget what those were called. They’re all up in the attic.”
“I haven’t played with legos since I was, like, five,” Jason said flatly. Which wasn’t entirely true, but he certainly hadn’t played with legos since he was nine, at least. Donny didn’t let them have toys like that. He got mad whenever they had little things they could leave around, where he could step on them or clients could see them.
Besides, he’d only built the car because Wayne told him to.
“Hm,” Wayne said, “That’s fine. I’ll still pull it all down after dinner, in case you change your mind.”
“Whatever you want, boss,” Jason said, before he kept eating. His stomach had completely given up on revolting, now.
Mostly.
Wayne sighed, again, and mumbled, “I said you could call me ‘Bruce.’”
Jason grinned. “You’re the boss, boss.”
And, of course, all Wayne did was sigh louder.
“Master Bruce,” Alfred chastised, as he pushed through the swinging door between the kitchen and dining room, with a giant vase thing full of water in his hands. Carafe was the word his brain supplied, but he couldn’t figure out why he even knew that word. Or if it was the right one.
If he had his dictionary he could have looked it up, but of course it was still at Donny’s…
“There is no place for that attitude at the dinner table,” Alfred continued, as he filled Jason’s half empty water cup back up.
The way Bruce looked like a scolded little child at Alfred’s words made Jason grin for real, then quickly hide his grin with another bite of green beans.
Alfred could boss Wayne around.
This was… absolutely the best.
He wasn’t sure what the fuck it was. Or what it meant about Alfred. But whatever it was, it kept Wayne quiet for the rest of dinner.
Jason didn’t like the silence, but he liked it better than listening to Wayne try to convince him he was a nice guy by talking about toys and food and whatever the fuck else Wayne thought up.
It also made eating even easier. Because Wayne wasn’t doing anything, and Alfred was actually just inside the kitchen. And Jason still couldn’t figure out if Alfred even knew.
After dinner, Wayne disappeared. Maybe to go get the legos he promised. Or maybe to go back to his study. Jason honestly had no idea, because Wayne hadn’t said anything more than, ‘I’ll be back in a bit,’ before he vanished.
And Jason couldn’t find it in himself to care.
Well. He could. Because it was just making his insides more prickly. The longer Wayne ignored elephant in the room and made Jason keep guessing when it would happen.
Probably at night. Although his away clients never waited until it was night. But they usually only paid for a short amount of time, so it made sense for them. Wayne thought he had Jason forever. So maybe he would wait until night, when Jason was in bed.
That would make sense. Kind of.
So in the meantime, Jason went back to ambling around the Manor, and decided maybe one of those puzzles would be worth his time.
Or, maybe, he could figure out the TV and find something to watch. If Wayne was rich, he might pay for cable. Or satellite. And then, maybe, Jason could watch something actually interesting, other than PBS or ABC or whatever else Donny’s shitty antenna picked up.
That sounded like the perfect distraction, to stop his mind from going around and around. Because there really was no use in going in circles, until he found out exactly what Wayne wanted.
Notes:
Last night, after I posted yesterday's chapter, I ended up outlining what I thought was gonna be this chapter and ended up being 2-3 chapters worth of thoughts and dialogue. Which is pretty exciting. I don't know if I'll get the next chapter fleshed out and done as quickly as I got this one, just because we're coming up on the weekend now and I've got to switch to my weekly project, but we'll see.
Also work and stuff has me in actual meetings all day tomorrow. Remotely... because I'm in mandatory quarantine. 🙄 But whatever.
As always, thanks for reading and everything!!! ❤️
Chapter Text
Jason spent an hour after dinner watching TV. He’d found one channel playing a documentary about Ferrari's, and honestly it was the coolest thing ever. He could see himself watching a lot more TV if Wayne’s fancy satellite had more channels as cool as that one.
“Master Jason?” Alfred said, near the end of the program he’d been watching, from the doorway behind the couch Jason was laying on.
He sat up, and peeked over the back of the couch to see Alfred standing there, his gloved hands clasped and a nice smile on his face.
“You don’t gotta call me that,” Jason said, returning his smile. He kind of didn’t want to be called master.
At all.
Like. Ever.
Alfred just smiled a little more and said, “Nonsense, lad. Now, I’ve finished folding your new clothes and placed them in your room. Would you like me to put them away, or do you want to choose in which drawers everything goes?”
“I can do it,” Jason said. He didn’t need Alfred to do everything for him.
Really, Alfred didn’t have to do anything for him, but Jason already liked him way more than Donny’s people. Donny’s people rarely tried to make Jason feel welcome, like Alfred clearly was trying to do.
“Of course,” Alfred said, “It’s all up in your room when you get a chance.”
“Okay,” he said. Jason had a chance, then. All he was doing was watching TV, so he hopped up and started toward the door, then added on hastily, “Thanks.”
With a nod, Alfred turned and started to leave the room, ahead of Jason, but paused when Jason asked, a little quickly, “Uh, do you know where Bruce is?”
He didn’t care, really. Not… entirely. It would just be nice. To know where he was.
In case he had to face him upstairs.
What the fuck was wrong with him? He needed to get over this.
“Last I checked,” Alfred said, once he turned around from half way down the hall, “he was poking around in the attic, looking for Master Richard’s old things.”
He’d spent an hour up there?
And what the hell was with his insistence, getting down all of Dick’s old toys?
Well, obviously he wanted Jason to be just like Dick had been.
“Oh,” he said, nodding, “Okay. Thanks.”
“My pleasure, lad. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Jason trotted down the hall and up the stairs, quietly preparing himself, just in case Wayne was up there.
But, thankfully, he wasn’t. His bedroom door was open, too, and just looking inside as he passed, Jason couldn’t see Wayne in there.
Which hopefully meant he was up in the attic. And would stay there. Forever.
In Jason’s room, he found the basket of clothes Alfred had been talking about, sitting on the floor right in front of his dresser.
Alfred bought him a bunch of clothes, apparently. There was at least twenty shirts in the pile, along with the ones Wayne had bought him, and a good dozen pairs of pants and shorts.
Some were better than others. He didn’t care much for the polos or the khakis Alfred got him, but Jason figured Alfred just bought him some because that’s what he’d been wearing.
That, or he wanted Jason to have ‘rich kid’ clothes.
Because none of the new stuff was from target, that was for sure.
Jason started putting the clothes away into the dresser, placing the socks and underwear in a top drawer, and then separating the shirts and pants up based on whether he actually liked them. He put all the stuff he liked in higher drawers, and everything else in lower drawers.
Where he would never wear them.
Ever.
As long as Wayne wasn’t lying and he got to pick what he wore, that was.
In the other top drawer, next to the sock drawer, Jason put all the nice pajamas Alfred bought him. At Target, Jason had picked out just some basic cotton pants and shirts sets, but Alfred got him a mix of flannel and silky-looking pants, with a large variety of shirts, too.
His favorite was a bright red long sleeve shirt. It was a superhero shirt, with what he was pretty sure was Flash’s symbol. A yellow lightning bolt. The pants with it were plaid, and the entire outfit was two sizes too big for him. And, just like the rest of the clothes, it smelled vaguely like lavender.
Jason decided to go ahead and change into his pajamas then. It was night time, after all. Almost…
He had to tie the drawstring on the pants, to keep them up, and Jason was thrilled. It was a nice change from the stiff, tight clothes Donny always made him wear.
Speaking of, Jason would have loved to just throw what he had been wearing in the trash, but he went ahead and placed them inside the hamper next to the dresser.
Wayne appeared in the doorway when Jason was closing back up the last drawer of his dresser with his foot, and Jason was quite proud of himself for not jumping when Wayne spoke up.
“Hey, Jase. You look cozy.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking down at how he was absolutely drowning in the pajamas, then over at Wayne, “Is this okay?”
“Bud, you can wear whatever you want,” Wayne said, smiling a little, although it looked a little forced. Did that mean he didn’t like it? Or was he annoyed Jason was even asking? “You don’t need anyone’s input.”
“Kay.” He crossed his arms and tried not to stare at Wayne.
He was just standing in the doorway, still, and was carrying three boxes filled with brightly colored… things. The big box on the bottom was obviously legos, but Jason had no idea what the other two, smaller boxes on top contained. Just. Bright colors.
At least that’s all he was doing.
“May I come in?” Wayne asked, “I found Dick’s old toys I was talking about.”
“Um, I guess?” Jason said. Why did Wayne even ask? It was his house.
Wayne stepped a few feet into the room, then set down the boxes and knelt down in front of them, saying, “These are the toys Dick liked the most. If you don’t like them, that’s fine. Don’t feel like you have to like them, okay?”
“Okay,” Jason said, nodding a little. He hadn’t moved from where he was standing, next to the dresser, but Wayne didn’t seem to care.
“We can find you things you like and buy them, okay? This is just what we already have. I wasn’t expecting to have another kid move in, or I would have ordered some new things already.”
Jason only nodded.
How did Wayne not expect to get another kid? Hadn’t he sought Donny out for this?
“Okay,” Wayne said, now frowning just a little, “And if you find something in another room you like, like puzzles or books or something, you can bring them in here. There are plenty of shelves in here, you can fill them up with whatever you want, okay? I want you to feel at home here.”
At home. Right.
Because Jason was there permanently.
Where were the books at?
Wayne sighed, and picked up one of the boxes, a little, as if checking to make sure the toys were inside it. Then he looked up at Jason and said, “I get why you’re afraid of me, kiddo, but I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to hurt you.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Jason said, tightening his arms around of himself.
Because he wasn’t afraid of Wayne.
Nope. Not at all.
“That’s good,” Wayne said, and Jason could just tell Wayne didn’t believe him for a second, “You don’t need to be afraid of me. You are safe here.”
“Sure,” he said. Because it might actually be true, just based on the ridiculous security system. It was unlikely the mob was breaking in.
It was probably just when they opened the manor for parties, or Jason left the manor that he’d have to start worrying about all that.
Wayne tapped on the lid of the top box a couple times, then stood as he said, “Okay, well. I’m going to get a bit more work done, then I’ve got to go out. Alfred will be around if you need anything.”
“Uh,” Jason stammered, for a second, before he nodded and said, “Okay.”
Wayne was going out? On Jason’s first night with him?
“Okay,” Wayne repeated, rubbing at the side of his face. After another second, he just turned around and walked out.
And that was it.
Jason couldn’t say he was annoyed by it. Not at all.
After Wayne had fully retreated down the hall and to the stairs, Jason walked over to the boxes and sat down in front of them.
As promised, there were legos, and building toys in the other two boxes. One was filled with what had to be the ‘magnet things’ Wayne was talking about, because it was filled with a bunch of little rods with magnets on either side of them, and a ton of metal balls.
He picked up one of the rods, and watched curiously how it attached to one of the metal balls, then connected a few more together until he had a triangle.
They were pretty neat, he had to admit. He spent a good five minutes creating a bunch of little triangles, connecting them all together on the floor until he ran out of pieces entirely and had just one giant triangle on the floor, made up of probably a hundred little triangles.
Maybe he’d keep those ones, at least. Maybe.
Jason shrugged and smashed up the triangle, squishing all the magnets up together so he could dump them back into their box. Once they were all cleaned up, he went and found a shelf the boxes could sit on.
The largest box, with the legos, was too big for all the shelves in his room, so he just put it against the wall next to the shelf holding the littler boxes and called it done.
After he had everything up nice and neat, he decided it wouldn’t be terrible if he went exploring again.
If Wayne really was going out that night, he probably didn’t have to worry about him at all. So it might be the perfect time to scope out more of the family living area.
And maybe he could find some books.
Jason wandered around for a little while, and discovered two more living rooms, both which had way bigger TVs than what was in the den he’d been in earlier.
In one of the living rooms, there was a bookshelf on either side of the fireplace, so Jason started browsing through all the titles.
He didn’t recognize any of them.
And, in fact, they seemed to be really old, too. One whole shelf was filled with stuff like Annals of Congress, 1803, and such. There was no way people actually read those books. They looked more like antiques, there for decoration.
Where the fuck were the books they read? Bruce said he could bring books back to his room.
“Ah,” Alfred said, startling Jason into spinning around and facing the butler, who had somehow snuck into the room without him noticing, “I see you like your new clothes.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, in an exhale, while he worked on making his heart calm back down.
“I’m glad,” Alfred said, “Are you interested in reading about our congress in the nineteenth century?”
“Uh, not really,” Jason said, rubbing the back of his neck. What he really wanted was a copy of Alice in Wonderland. That was the book he’d been reading at Donny’s.
Even though he’d read it half a dozen times before. He just wanted to finish reading it again.
“I was just looking around.”
Alfred smiled, and asked, “If you are bored, may I challenge you to a game of chess?”
Jason grinned, and said, “Sure.” Alfred was definitely nice.
“Have you ever played chess before?” Alfred asked, as he motioned for Jason to follow him to wherever the chess set was. Probably in that den with all the games.
Although Jason didn’t remember seeing a chess set among all the other board games.
With a shrug, Jason followed along. He’d played chess before, yeah, but not in years. And he wasn’t sure he remembered how each piece moved… exactly.
He might have been in the chess club when he was in third grade… But that was mostly because the chess club got after school snacks, and Jason was a major sucker for Oreos and zebra cakes, okay? Not a dork.
“I would be more than happy to teach you then, lad,” Alfred said, leading Jason into a room he hadn’t explored yet.
It was another den-living room thing. Although this one didn’t have a TV in it. And up against the wall was a real life chess table. With what looked like a marble top and carved stone pieces.
“Wow,” he said, as he sat down across from Alfred, “this is so fancy.”
Alfred smiled, and ran Jason through what each of the pieces were called, and how each of them could move. The only one he couldn’t remember, exactly, was what the bishops were called. As it turned out, he remembered everything else.
Jason got to move first, and he and Alfred traded turns back and forth about ten times in mostly comfortable silence until Wayne stood in the doorway and knocked on the door.
With Alfred right there, and Bruce already saying he was leaving for the night, anyway, Jason wasn’t even startled by it. And when he looked up, he saw Wayne decked out in a fancy-ass suit. Or, tux, maybe? Jason didn’t know the names of the fancy clothes. Whatever it was, it included a bow tie, and Wayne looked stupid in it.
“Where are you going all spiffied up?” Jason asked, as he looked back down at the board and tried to decide which piece he was going to move next. Alfred would be able to kill his knight in the next round, if he didn’t move it. But, Jason could take Alfred’s last bishop that round. So it was a hard choice to make.
“Charity gala at the museum,” Wayne answered, “I’ll be back in the morning,” after a pause, Wayne corrected, “maybe late morning.”
Jason snorted. “Not even going to pretend you’re spending the night in your own bed?”
With a huff, Bruce said, a little indignantly, “Shouldn’t you be in bed? Isn’t it 12-year-old bedtime?”
It was like nine. At the latest.
So, no.
Usually his night was just beginning at this point.
“Dude, I haven’t slept at night in years.”
Wayne put a hand on the doorframe, then shut his eyes and tapped his forehead against it.
Apparently Jason was annoying him again, or something. Jason didn’t get it. Did he want banter or not?
“You worked last night, didn’t you,” Wayne finally asked, and Jason was just more confused.
“Uh, duh,” he said, “I work every night.”
Except that night, apparently.
He was playing chess with the butler and probably going to bed. To sleep. Jason couldn’t find anything to complain about, at the moment.
Well, he could. Wayne was still being annoying. Especially when he just sighed and said, “Well, not anymore Never again.”
“Sure.” Maybe he wouldn’t have random clients every night, but he wasn’t naive enough to actually take Wayne at his word.
Alfred smiled, when Jason looked back at him, as he continued contemplating his move. Jason had decided to kill his bishop, and Jason was a little surprised Alfred hadn’t immediately retaliated by killing his knight.
“When do you normally sleep,” Wayne asked, after a second, “Because as far as I can tell, you’ve been awake all day.”
“Yeah, cause stupid Donny woke me up to meet you. He couldn’t resist the dollar signs, I guess. Usually I sleep until lunch.”
“I’m sorry,” Bruce said, and Jason looked over to see him frown, hard, “If you go to bed soon, you can start relearning to sleep at night.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jason said, dismissively, looking back at Alfred as did, indeed, move his rook three spaces over so it could take out his knight.
Wayne sighed again. “I know you think Donny will get you back, but I swear to you he will not. You will be either here, or in another perfectly normal home, where you will sleep at normal times so you can attend school like every other kid your age. Okay?”
Jason’s heart stuttered, a little, at the notion of school. But he wasn’t going to let himself get his hopes up. Yet.
Much.
He hadn’t even broached that topic with Wayne yet, so it was kind of maybe exciting he seemed to expect Jason to attend school.
But if he let his hopes up too high, it would absolutely destroy him, if Wayne ended up deciding to just keep Jason secret forever, instead.
So he was not going to trust it. Not until it actually happened. He would be just fine with books, which Wayne said were somewhere in the house already.
“I have to go,” Wayne said, when Jason didn’t answer, “I’ve kept the driver waiting 20 minutes already.”
“Do behave yourself tonight, sir,” Alfred said, “I do not wish to see your face plastered across the papers tomorrow.”
Wayne grinned, and said, “No promises, Alfred.”
Jason just rolled his eyes. Playboys.
“Good night, Jason,” he said, his smile softening a little when he looked at Jason, “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
“Bye,” Jason said, turning back toward Alfred. Wayne walked off, a second later, and Jason rested his head down into his hand, feeling himself relax even more.
And as he relaxed, he could feel just how tired he was. Maybe he should go to bed soon.
But playing chess with Alfred was kind of fun. So Jason decided he’d at least finish out the game. Especially since it was clear Alfred knew Jason was a whore. And obviously didn’t care. He hadn’t looked confused at all during his and Wayne’s conversation, and his smile was just as soft as it had been before.
Jason definitely really liked Alfred. He hoped Alfred kept being nice to him, and wasn’t acting. Alfred could make living with Wayne almost pleasant, he thought.
Notes:
Woohoo, another chapter got done. This actually had a lot more dialogue for it, too, but I hit 3k words and decided that was a nice spot to end this chapter. The next chapter might pick right back up with Jason & Alfred, or that conversation might get pushed off a little more. We'll see. I'm just kind of winging this. :) I have like 10k words in draft/outline/notes so.... this is gonna be a long fic. Heh.
Anyway, I gotta write a chapter for The Best Things today or tomorrow, so this one probably won't update again for a few days. I hope I can keep myself focused, at least.... this story keeps calling me back. It's where my muse is right now. 😆
Thanks for reading ❤️ You guys are so sweet in the comments.
Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Master Jason, if I may,” Alfred said, after Jason had sat there for a few minutes, just resting his head down in his hand. He was thinking about his move. He was.
He was also really tired.
But hearing Alfred call him that again made him scowl, just a little, before he looked up at Alfred.
“Master Bruce means you no harm,” he said, after a beat. Jason could roll his eyes.
He didn’t, though. Just said, “Yeah, he told me.”
Did they both think Jason thought Wayne was gonna hit him, or something? Murder him and bury his body in little pieces in the back yard?
Jason didn’t think that.
Maybe yes on the hitting part, but Jason could easily avoid that by just not pissing Wayne off.
Besides, people said all the time they weren’t gonna hurt him. And yet they still did things that hurt. So why the fuck would he even listen to such a stupid promise?
But Alfred probably didn’t know. Jason… hoped Alfred didn’t know.
How could Alfred not know? He did, like, the laundry and shit… And obviously knew where Jason came from. And what kind of work he did.
If Alfred knew, it meant he was no better than Wayne. And Jason shouldn’t like him. Because then he wasn’t a nice guy, he was just… being nice. To help Jason feel more comfortable in the house, or something.
To make Jason be more comfortable for Wayne…
“I get the sense you do not believe him,” Alfred said.
What was this guy, a mind reader?
Jason looked up from where he’d been staring at the board, but didn’t answer. Because the truth was he didn’t know if he believed Bruce. And he didn’t want to get into it with Alfred.
Or anyone. Ever.
He’d rather just… keep going. And if Wayne did hurt him, then fine. Whatever. But if he didn’t, then great, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath for that outcome.
“I’ll be blunt,” Alfred said, a moment later, “Master Bruce did not bring you here so he could touch you in any manner.”
Yeah, okay.
People didn’t just drop 10k on a kid for no reason.
And Wayne hadn’t promised that. He’d just promised not to hurt Jason.
Right? Well, he’d kind of promised that, right before he took Jason to the police. But he’d been acting the whole fucking time. So how could Jason even consider trusting anything he said?
Alfred sat there, for a long minute, and was clearly waiting for Jason to respond somehow. So he finally scowled and snapped, “Yeah, that’s what he said, too. But that was when he was pretending to be naive and stupid.”
“What makes you think he was acting,” Alfred asked, apparently completely unfazed by Jason’s attitude.
Donny would have smacked him for back talking like that. Or for calling one of the other mob members ‘stupid.’ Even when every fucking one of them was.
“He—“ Jason started, then paused. Because what made Alfred think he wasn’t? He sat back in his chair, just in case what he said pissed Alfred off. At least he’d get a touch of warning, first.
“He managed to buy me and convince Gordon he was ‘rescuing’ me, just like he did with Dick.”
But Jason wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t falling for it, too, like Gordon. And maybe he should stop falling for Alfred, too.
Well. Maybe he’d let Alfred play chess with him and stuff, because that was less awful than sitting around doing nothing, but he didn’t have to believe the praise for Wayne that came out of his mouth.
Somehow, Jason’s accusation didn’t piss Alfred off. Instead, he smiled, like he thought he just won the argument. “Ah,” he said, “but that is not a bad thing, because Master Bruce never once harmed Master Dick.”
At that, Jason did roll his eyes. Just because Wayne or even Alfred didn’t think it was ‘harming’ didn’t mean jack shit. He pulled his legs up onto the chair and hugged his knees, so he could rest his head on top of them. There was no use in arguing that. Alfred wouldn’t understand, anyway. If he even wanted to.
“Master Jason,” Alfred said, then stopped. Probably because Jason couldn’t stop his face from screwing up, a little.
He wasn’t going to cry. He didn’t cry.
Except earlier…
Maybe he should go to bed. He could crawl under the covers and pretend nothing was happening. Wayne wasn’t even home. He could maybe actually sleep.
How the fuck was he going to sleep in the same house as Wayne for the rest of his childhood? He wouldn't be eighteen for over five more years.
“Lad,” Alfred said, very softly, “I am terribly sorry monsters have harmed you in the past. It kills me to know what you have been through, but I promise you Master Bruce will never lay a hand on you, just as he never laid a hand on Master Richard. I would never allow that to go on in my house.”
Jason scrubbed at the side of his face, just to try and make the stinging sensation go away. Then asked, a little shakily, “Your house?”
Alfred was the butler. He was staff.
But Alfred smiled, a little deviously, and said, “I did raise Master Bruce, you know.”
What? “You did?” Jason asked, looking back up at Alfred with wide eyes. How did a butler raise the person he worked for?
“Indeed I did,” Alfred said, “From the age of eight.”
“That’s why he lets you boss him around,” Jason said, thinking aloud. But then why did Alfred call him master? And Jason and Dick…
Alfred hummed as he nodded, then said, “I suppose so, yes. And I promise you, lad, I would never allow him to harm a child in any way.”
“You swear?” Jason asked.
He had no idea what to think now. He wished everything made fucking sense. Why couldn’t everything happening fit neatly into one category. Was Bruce Wayne a dickwad or not?
“What do the kids say?” Alfred mused, as he smiled and made a little cross over his chest, with his finger, “Cross my heart and hope to die?”
With another roll of his eyes, Jason huffed, “Kids don’t say that. Old people say that.”
“Hm, regardless.”
Jason sat for a few seconds, before he sat up, just enough so he could reach the board, then moved his knight closer to Alfred’s king. He was within reach of the king, now, but Alfred couldn’t do anything about it. He’d just have to move the king.
“Check.”
Alfred smiled wide at Jason’s move, then started reviewing the board. While he was confirming he had to move his king, Jason sat back again and hugged his knees tighter.
Before his brain could talk him out of it, his mouth asked, “Then… Why would Donny assume that Bruce would want me?”
Had Dick been some whore kid Wayne found, too? Or was he a nice, clean, proper child? Based on all the pictures Jason saw, he would assume the latter. So why on earth would Donny think Bruce would want Jason? Some dirty crime alley working rat? If not for fun time?
That was all Jason knew how to do.
“Why do you assume Master Bruce must want that,” Alfred asked, as he finally moved his king one spot to the left, out of reach of Jason’s knight.
“Because he’s rich?”
Poor people might be pedophiles, too, but they didn’t hire child prostitutes, Jason knew that much. And they certainly didn’t throw a huge wad of money to get to take one home for a week.
Or forever.
Or whatever.
Alfred merely raised an eyebrow, as if asking please elaborate.
“And…” Jason continued, lifting a hand so he could pick at the scrunched fabric around his knee instead of look at Alfred, “The rich, like, don’t care about laws and stuff?” Like, sex with kids was illegal. “And are usually pretty freaky.” At least as far as Jason could tell, the richer the client was, the crazier he was.
“Stereotypes, is what you are saying,” Alfred said, “You have a set of beliefs about rich men, based on your experiences with them.”
When Jason nodded, Alfred continued, “My assumption is Donald Falcone has a similar set of stereotypes in his head, and did not look beyond those to see Bruce for who he really is.”
“Which is?” Jason asked.
“A naive, stupid man.”
Jason couldn’t help it. He grinned, and hid his face behind his knees, so Alfred couldn’t see.
But Alfred must have seen anyway, because he returned the smile and said, “I do believe he is far less naive than you think, lad.”
Lad.
“You’re where he gets ‘lad,’” Jason blurted out, dropping his legs so he was sitting criss cross, so he was sitting up a little taller. No wonder Bruce sounded like an old man. He picked it up from an old man!
“Perhaps,” Alfred said, still smiling, but then he shifted to a more serious face and added, “Master Bruce is well aware of how Gotham works. The city stole his parents from him when he was younger than you are in a horrible act of violence. He has not been blind to Gotham’s dark side since, and he has dedicated his life to making it better.”
What the fuck did Bruce Wayne think he could do to change Gotham?
“He’s just one dude,” Jason pointed out. One rich dude everyone thought was a pedophile. And taking Jason in was not going to help him in that regard, at all, even if he did turn out to be good, like Alfred was trying to convince him.
Jason still wasn’t going to hold his breath for that result. He’d just be pleasantly surprised, if it turned out that way.
“Perhaps,” Alfred conceded, “but ‘just one dude’ got you away from the Falcones, did he not?”
“Yeah,” Jason said. For now. “But I’m just one kid.” How the fuck did kidnapping one working boy fix an entire city?
Donny would just go find himself another boy to replace Jason, after he put a hit out on Bruce.
In fact, that was going to happen regardless of whether Wayne turned out to be a freak.
Alfred nodded, and said, “True. But if all Master Bruce was able to do in his entire life was save just one kid, wouldn’t that still be worth it? Especially if that one child was you?”
What made Jason special?
Hell, what made Dick special? Because either Wayne was a pedophile and he’d just been taking in his own boys, or he was rescuing children. Which meant he’d actually done it for ‘just two’ kids.
Jason didn’t really want to think about any of that anymore. It was giving him a headache, and he still didn’t even know if he could trust Alfred.
And since he was trapped in Wayne Manor regardless, what was even the point of fretting over it all? Either everything was okay, or nothing was. And either way Jason could be fine. He would be fine. Just like he always was.
So Jason stared at the board in front of him, and saw how all he had to do was move his bishop five squares diagonally, and then the next turn he could kill Alfred’s king with the bishop. And since his king could only move to three spots, all of which Jason could reach with either his queen, knight, or rook, Alfred was screwed.
“Alfred?” Jason asked, once he sat up on his knees so he could reach the whole board better.
“Yes, dear boy?”
“I lied.” Jason reached out and moved the bishop the five spaces, and grinned. “I know how to play chess. Checkmate.”
“Well played,” Alfred said, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling more as he smiled at Jason, “But I’m afraid the gloves must come off, now.”
“Okay, you’re on,” Jason replied, as he started resetting his side of the board. He could do another round, for sure. As long as Alfred let the topic of Bruce drop.
He did, thankfully. And the next round of chess went a lot quicker.
Apparently Alfred had been going easy on him. Because Jason absolutely got his ass kicked the second time around.
Alfred managed to take his queen almost immediately. It was like, five rounds in or whatever, but it was still an outrage.
“You should protect your queen, Master Jason,” Alfred said, as he murdered her so cruelly.
All Jason had taken of his so far was some pawns.
“She will be avenged,” Jason promised.
He lied.
Because Alfred got his king just a few rounds later, when all Jason had managed to capture of Alfred’s was a bishop. Which Jason was pretty sure Alfred used as a decoy, to distract Jason.
Like a jerk.
“You are a worthy opponent, Master Jason,” Alfred said, like he thought that would cheer Jason up.
It was fun to play against someone who clearly knew what he was doing, though. Instead of stupid other 8-year-olds who kept calling the knight a ‘horsey’ and moved it wrong every single time.
“You know you don’t have to call me master, right?” Jason said, again. Not that he expected Alfred to listen any better the second time.
“It is proper etiquette, young sir.”
“No,” Jason grumbled, “It’s weird is what it is. I’m not your master.”
Not even Bruce was Alfred’s ‘master,’ considering Alfred said he raised him, and he bossed him around a bunch, too.
And even if Wayne was like that, Jason wasn’t. He’d never ever ever make someone call him anything like that.
Ever.
He wasn’t even sure he liked sir.
In fact. He didn’t. He didn’t like sir, at all. Sir was what stupid adults on power trips made kids call them. No guy who ever said Yes, what? to Jason had ever been worthy of his respect.
Alfred nodded, and said, “But that is not what the word means.”
Yes it was. It might also mean other things, but one definition of it was like boss, but worse. And Jason wasn’t even Alfred’s boss. Or anyone’s boss.
His face must have soured, in response, because Alfred frowned and asked, “Does it truly bother you?”
It was stupid. It was really really really stupid, but Jason’s stomach flipped, a little, when he tried to answer Yes. It really bothers me. So he just nodded, twice, and focused on his pieces as he reset the board for the next time someone wanted to play with the chess set.
Alfred took several long seconds to respond, as he sat there quietly. Just staring at Jason, while Jason purposely didn’t look up.
Finally, he said, “You will have to forgive an old man, I have been using the term for nearly 40 years, and it will be a difficult habit to break. But for you, I will try.”
“Really?” Jason asked, quietly.
“For you, my dear boy,” Alfred said, his kind smile back on his face, “anything.”
Jason was going to ignore the little shoot in his chest, at Alfred’s words, and just returned Alfred’s smile. If only a little smaller.
He really did hope he could trust Alfred. Because so far Alfred was awesome.
“Well then,” Alfred said, clapping his hands once the board was fully reset, “I do believe it’s time for bed, Jason.”
With another smile, Jason nodded, and hopped down off the chair. He was tired, so going to bed sounded like the best idea.
And with the prospect of actually sleeping in his room, Jason wasn’t going to turn the chance down.
“Do you need anything?” Alfred asked, without standing to follow Jason. Which was also nice. Because Jason didn’t really want Alfred going to his room, either, if he was honest. If he could just be in his room alone, he’d actually sleep.
“No thanks, Alfred.”
“Then sleep well. When you are ready for breakfast in the morning, come find me and I will prepare you something. There is no set time.”
“Okay,” he said, with a nod, “Thanks, Alfred.”
“It is my pleasure, dear boy.”
As Jason made his way up to his room, he chose not to think about anything Alfred said about Bruce. Because he would probably go crazy, trying to figure out what was true.
But at least Alfred was nice. Jason could deal with anything Wayne wanted, as long as Alfred kept being nice to him. He wouldn’t even have to pretend everything was fine.
Probably.
Notes:
Exciting. Next chapter it's finally not the first day. :D I love this slow pace, tbh. I hope y'all like it too, cause I'm having such a blast going so in depth with Jason's transition into Bruce's house.
Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sleep should have come easy.
Jason was alone in his room. Wayne wasn’t even home. And Alfred wasn’t anywhere on the same floor as him, not that he expected Alfred to come bother him at any point.
So Jason was alone. It was dark. It was quiet. He was tired. Sleep should have come easy.
But it didn’t.
For the first hour, Jason kept tossing and turning. Every time he felt himself start to drift, his stupid body jumped awake, making him look around to see what the fuck had even startled him.
It was always nothing.
Because he was alone.
After the first hour, he got up and closed his door. He hoped that was okay, and no one got mad at him for that, but it was probably worth the risk. Maybe with the door shut, his brain would stop freaking out. Besides. Wayne wasn’t even home.
And even if he did come home, the opening door would wake Jason, so he would have plenty of warning. And could absolutely sleep. Right?
Wrong.
No matter how he lay in the bed, he could not convince his body to go to sleep.
It was the bed, he was pretty sure. The bed was huge. Way too big.
His bed at Donny’s was way smaller. Really no room for more than just Jason. Like. A cot. He was pretty sure it was called a cot.
This bed was so big several people could sleep in it. And usually when Jason was in big beds…
Jason pressed his pillow into his face, trying to smother his stupid brain and make it stop thinking. He was on break. It was a night off.
Nothing helped.
Finally, after Jason had been trying to sleep for at least two hours, he sat up and looked around the room. There was no law saying he had to sleep in his bed.
Probably.
And there was a couch in his room.
Jason wrapped himself up in the gigantic fluffy blanket from his bed, and dragged one of the pillows with him. He threw the pillow on one end, and collapsed down, putting his back against the back of the couch, and snuggling down so he could see all the windows.
Which was how Jason spent he had no idea how long. Just staring out the windows, watching the silhouettes of the bats, against the clear, starry sky.
- - -
Jason woke many hours later, still curled up in his blanket, in the same position. Completely undisturbed.
The sun was high in the sky, too, which meant it was probably late morning. Wayne might even be home, already, it was so late.
He took his sweet time sitting up, and stretching out his stiff muscles. When he finally stood up, he looked at the little clock on his nightstand, and saw it was almost 10.
10!
He slept for, like, nine or ten hours straight. Absolutely insane. He never slept that long. Usually he got something closer to six hours of sleep. Maybe seven or eight if he was lucky.
Never ten.
And had his stupid brain let him go to sleep when he actually went to bed, it would have been way more sleep.
But since it was late morning, and since Wayne was probably home already, Jason went ahead and took a shower and got dressed for the day. He wanted to go find Alfred before he ran into Wayne, and he felt weird not being clean and dressed before doing that.
Sadly, there weren’t any more long sleeve shirts in his dresser, but there were plenty of nicely sized t-shirts, and none of the pants were skinny cuts, so he just picked a set out at random and put it on. Just a plain blue shirt with some jeans.
Jason took half a second to gather himself, before he finally opened his bedroom door and stepped outside.
No one was in the hall, which was good.
And when Jason passed by Wayne’s room, the door was still open. And the room still looked empty.
Which meant either he wasn’t home yet, or he was elsewhere in the house.
Maybe he could just spend the whole day in his study again, and leave Jason alone. And then he could go away again that night, and leave him alone forever.
With a snort, Jason shook his head and bounced down the stairs. He wasn’t that stupid. He’d just deal with Wayne whenever he appeared. It would be fine.
He found Alfred sitting in the kitchen, sipping at a cup of tea and reading a book. Jason felt kind of bad, for interrupting his quiet morning, but the second he stood in the doorway, Alfred looked up and shut his book with a smile, so it was too late to turn around and occupy himself elsewhere.
“Good morning, lad,” Alfred said, “I trust you slept well?”
“Yeah, it was good.” Jason nodded as he crossed his arms. “Is W—Is Bruce home yet?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” Alfred replied, and Jason let out an involuntary breath. Good. He could have a quiet morning, too.
Alfred continued, “He should be home by lunch, however. Would you like some breakfast?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.” Jason was hungry.
Of course, Alfred just smiled as he stood and said, “Nonsense, lad. You are never too much trouble.”
Jason sat down at the island while Alfred pulled out some stuff from the fridge and a frying pan. As far as he could tell, Alfred was making him bacon and eggs, which he had absolutely no complaints about.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, while Alfred started frying the bacon. Jason drummed his fingers against the cool stone counter beneath him and tried to think of something to talk about. Or do. So his brain wouldn’t get wise and start thinking about shit.
Alfred’s book was sitting on the counter opposite him, so he sat up a little taller and tried to read the title. But the book was upside down, and the back of it was hard to read from where he was. The words were too small. And upside down.
But Jason wasn’t subtle, apparently, because when Alfred turned around, he smiled and said, “I am reading Hard Times by Charles Dickens,” and stepped over so he could push the book toward Jason.
“Oh,” he said, carefully flipping it over so he could look at the cover. He didn’t want to mess anything up.
“My dear boy,” Alfred said, some amusement in his voice. Jason liked how Alfred smiled and just seemed happy all the time. It was way better than how Wayne just sighed and frowned a lot. Got mad at him.
“You will not break it,” Alfred continued, and Jason just ducked his head a little.
“I didn’t want to lose your place.”
“I am on page 112,” Alfred said, turning back to flip the bacon, “Don’t you worry about that.”
“Oh.” Jason opened the book and started reading the first page, just to find out what the book was about. The sentence structure was a little strange, and a bit roundabout, he thought, but that just made it more fun to read. It made him slow down and actually think about what it was saying.
“Do you read much,” Alfred asked, once Jason finished the first page and turned to the next.
“Uh, sometimes,” He wished he could read more, but Donny wasn’t always eager to buy him new books all the time. ‘I just fucking bought you two new books last week,’ he would say. So Jason tried to go slow and not tear through his books too fast.
Even though goodwill sold paperbacks for fifty cents a piece… he really didn’t understand why Donny wasn’t willing to let him spent like, three dollars a week on books. Who cared? Jason raked in way more than three dollars a week.
Way way way more. He knew what his hourly rate was.
So he just read the books he had over and over, to keep from whining at Donny too much, and make him stop buying books all together.
Maybe Wayne wouldn’t be as volatile as Donny, and he could convince Wayne to spend a few dollars here or there on books more often.
He… he’d need to get a feel for Wayne, first. Just to make sure asking him for shit wouldn’t ruin everything.
Although he’d already offered to buy Jason things he wanted… he said toys, but Jason could spin it that books were basically the same thing.
Plus, he said books were already in the manor…
“I’ve never read any Charles Dickens,” Jason said, as he started reading through the second page.
He’d been wanting to read some Dickens, but Donny hadn’t brought him any yet. Donny rarely brought Jason with him to the thrift stores, so Jason had asked specifically for a few authors, and Donny just laughed and said, ‘You’re quite the little dork.’ But Jason was pretty sure Donny was looking, so he wasn’t bugging him too much about it.
“After breakfast I’d be happy to retrieve you my favorite of his,” Alfred said, “if you wish to read it.”
Jason grinned and nodded. “That’d be cool.” Alfred was so much nicer than Donny.
Obviously.
He hoped…
“Dickens wrote in the mid 1800s,” Alfred said, “so the prose is different from today’s writings.”
“Yeah,” Jason agreed, “the sentences are kinda… long.” It didn’t bother him, though. It actually reminded him of other older books he read. He usually liked older books. “When was Pride and Prejudice written?”
Alfred hummed, and said, “I believe in the early 1800s, why?”
“I’ve read that one,” he said, with a shrug. The styles weren’t really the same, but they were similar. The sentence structure.
“Have you really?” Alfred asked, and the sound of astonishment in his voice made Jason look up. Then duck his head a little back into the book.
He didn’t want to look too long, or think too hard about how Alfred could possibly look at him so, so… fondly. After knowing him less than a day.
“Quite impressive, lad,” he said, and Jason heard him pull the bacon off the pan and pile it up on a plate, “I will certainly bring you a copy of Oliver Twist later, then.”
It wasn’t that impressive. It was just one of the books Donny had found him, so he’d read it. Over and over.
And okay, he loved it, too. But that was beside the point.
Alfred cracked a couple eggs and said, “However, you may borrow that one, if it captivates you.”
“No,” Jason said quickly, even though he was on chapter two already. Not that that was too impressive. Chapter one was stupid short. “You were reading it.”
With a little chuckle, Alfred went over to the fridge and got out some orange juice, but didn’t respond. So Jason kept reading.
“Hey, that smells good,” Wayne said, a moment later, from the doorway behind Jason.
Jason jumped. Hard. Then cursed himself for jumping like that. He didn’t want Wayne thinking he was afraid of him, because he wasn’t. Obviously. And clients hated it when he seemed scared.
Or they found it cute.
And Jason hated that.
He turned and offered Wayne a smile, but Wayne just frowned back at him, so Jason turned back around and tried to just make himself turn invisible. Or keep reading.
Reading would be better.
“Master Bruce,” Alfred said, after a second, “Did you know this child has read Pride and Prejudice?”
“Really?” Wayne said, and he sounded impressed, too. But Jason wasn’t turning back around to see. “Wow. I couldn’t get through that one.”
“I know,” Alfred replied, “Your tastes in books is abhorrent.”
Wayne laughed, and said, apparently to Jason, “I was always into mystery novels. I would make Alfred get me the crappy ones, too. Those were the best.”
Alfred scoffed, like the mere idea of crappy novels over classics was offensive. “And then he would not read the entire book, but rather figure out the solution as quickly as he could, then read the ending to confirm.”
“No need to read the middle if I know the ending,” Wayne said.
Jason wasn’t sure how to respond. Or if he even should. He kept trying to read, but he couldn’t. His eyes had gone over the same line fifteen times, but the words weren’t making it into his brain.
And they had been kind of talking to him.
No one said anything about him not responding, though, and instead Wayne walked across the room to stand right behind him. Jason put all his focus on not leaning away.
But Wayne didn’t touch him.
Instead, he set a backpack on the counter in front of him, and Jason just looked up and stared at it.
Because.
It wasn’t a backpack.
It was his backpack.
From Donny’s.
The one he would pack sometimes, for away visits if the client wanted.
How did Wayne get it?
Did he go see Donny?
Why the fuck would he go see Donny? Jason didn’t need clothes. Alfred and Wayne got him plenty.
And he really, really didn’t want to wear the shit clothes Donny made them wear, not when he had way more comfortable stuff upstairs…
“That’s yours, right?” Wayne asked, moving around the corner of the island, so he was facing Jason a little more, and not behind him anymore.
Jason must have looked super confused when he looked up, because Wayne smiled and said, “Batman raided Donny’s place last night,” as if that explained everything. And didn’t raise five thousand more questions.
Because Batman…
“What?”
How did Batman find out about it? Why last night?
“Yep,” Wayne said, grinning now like he was so fucking happy about it, “Gordon says all the boys have been rescued. They’re being placed into federal protective custody.”
“Federal?” Jason asked. Like. Not Gotham. Or New Jersey. But the United States Government was going to protect them?
Why?? How??
Wayne nodded and said, “Yeah, the FBI is getting involved. Gordon called them up about it. Usually these sorts of cases go federal, anyway, so best to get them involved right from the start.”
What? Why last night?
Well, he knew why last night. Wayne had dragged Jason to Gordon yesterday morning. So Gordon probably called up Batman, then the FBI.
“What about me?” Jason asked. He wasn’t sure if he wished he had been there, or not. To be rounded up with the other boys.
Was federal protective custody any good? He knew New Jersey couldn’t protect people from the mobs. But the feds could move them to like, Alaska.
“You’re already in protective custody,” Wayne said, and Jason tried not to deflate.
Because right. ‘Protective’ custody. With Bruce Wayne, the guy who bought him. Sure.
Before he could dwell on that, Jason looked back up and asked, “What happened to Donny?”
“He’s in custody,” Wayne said, “He’s facing a lot of charges.”
“Already?” he asked. He’d kind of assumed Donny would be able to escape a raid. He had secret escape passages in the house, after all. Jason didn’t think he was supposed to know about them, but he did. Donny probably thought they’d try to ‘escape’ using them, but none of them were that stupid to even try.
Wayne grinned again and said, “Yep. Batman dropped him off at Gotham General last night.”
Jason scrunched his eyebrows, as if that could help him make more sense of that statement. “The hospital?” he asked. Shouldn’t he have gone to jail…?
“Somehow,” Wayne said, like he knew exactly how, “he broke both his legs, all his fingers, and his jaw.” Jason knew exactly how, too. Batman did shit like that, sometimes.
It was why the mobsters did their best to stay out of Batman’s way.
And up until Wayne went telling Gordon, Donny had been out of Batman’s way. Batman hadn’t given two shits about what the Falcones were doing in crime alley. In fact, the Falcones rarely had to deal with him. It wasn’t unless one of the idiots directly challenged him did anything happen.
“Hm,” Alfred said, “Can’t say I feel sorry for the bloke.”
“No, me either,” Wayne agreed.
Jason couldn’t tell if Wayne was happy because he hated Donny, or because he was happy he got Jason before the feds took all the boys…
Batman must not have had much going on, if he followed up on Gordon’s lead so quickly.
That, or he owed Gordon a favor, and that’s all that was. Because everyone knew about what went on in some of the mob’s houses in Crime Alley. It wasn’t like Batman wasn’t aware. There was just no way.
Jason’s vision came back into focus when Alfred sat a plate down in front of him, with the newly scrambled eggs next to the bacon. With a weak smile, he said, “Thanks,” and took the fork from Alfred’s hand and started eating.
There was no use in speculating about any of it. So Donny got beat up and arrested, and the other boys all rescued. That was fine.
Good, even.
Right?
Because now going back to Donny wasn’t an option at all. And… as long as Donny didn’t trace his problems back to Jason, the mob wouldn’t care about Jason at all.
And would probably leave him alone. Because it wasn’t Jason who’d done anything. It was all Wayne. And if they didn’t find out about that, either, then really he was completely off their radar.
So now he was staying with Wayne permanently. Probably. It was the most likely outcome. And staying with Wayne could be okay.
He just wished he knew for certain what living with Wayne would entail…
Although if Wayne brought him his clothes from Donny’s…
With a breath, Jason pulled the backpack over so it was next to his plate, and slowly unzipped it.
And…
Jason had to scrub at his eye, to make it not start leaking.
He wasn’t crying. Nope. Not at all.
Just had slightly watery eyes.
Because in his bag wasn’t clothes. There weren’t any clothes at all, actually.
There was the picture of his mom he’d managed to hang on to over the years, and his teddy bear.
He’d thought he would never see them again.
“One of the other boys pointed out your stuff to Batman,” Wayne said gently, “He was apparently very insistent you got rescued, too.”
Jason looked up, from where he’d placed his hand on the teddy bear, still inside the bag. He didn’t want to pull it out and hug it, just in case it gave Wayne ideas about what he could do to upset Jason ever.
“Who?” he finally said, after clearing his throat and taking another steadying breath. Jason hadn’t been close to any of the other boys. He tended to keep to himself…
“His name was Nick,” Wayne said softly.
“Oh.” Jason hadn’t realized Nick thought they were friends, or whatever. Nick was the newest boy, and he cried a lot. He was little, but Jason was pretty sure Donny was close to just selling him off for how much trouble he was.
But Jason was still nice to him, and stuff. Obviously. He was just a little kid. And sometimes Nick asked him to read to him, so he did. But usually Nick went and played games with the other boys, or just cried in his bed until someone told him to shut up.
Jason was glad Batman got him away. He just hoped wherever protective custody was, was actually safe.
Inside the bag were also three of his books, so Jason reached in and pulled them out. He’d had a few dozens books at Donny’s but he figured it was asking way too much to keep them all. It would have been hard for Batman to pass them along, probably.
Plus, they were all just books from thrift stores and stuff. Nothing that couldn’t easily be replaced. His picture and bear, though…
“Apparently Batman got the books it looked like you used the most,” Wayne said, startling Jason back into focus, “Or were maybe working in, currently?”
With a quick review of the titles, Jason nodded. It was his current math workbook, which he was almost done with, and the British Literature book he’d just started. Then, the only novel was Alice in Wonderland, which he was in the middle of. He’d been storing all three of the books next to his pillow, so maybe that was why Batman took them.
Good. Now he could finish Alice in Wonderland.
“You must like reading,” Wayne said.
“Uh,” he mumbled, “it’s just homeschool stuff.”
He did like reading, but he didn’t like telling people that. Although it was probably too late, since he’d gone and talked about reading with Alfred, and Alfred immediately told Wayne about it.
Which was fine. Perfectly okay. Wayne said he wanted to find things Jason liked. Jason could only hope he meant that in a good way, so Jason wouldn’t be bored when he was alone.
“That’s good,” Wayne said, “I’m glad you were keeping up with your studies.”
Did that mean he’d encourage Jason continuing them… Obviously, right? Cause he’d said school last night…
“Have you seen our library?” Wayne asked.
Jason hesitated, and answered, “No.” Because he hadn’t.
There was a library? No wonder he couldn’t find books. They were being stored in a library.
How on earth had he missed it? Although, he hadn’t really explored anywhere near Bruce’s study. And it would make sense if it was near the study.
“Would you like to see it?” Bruce asked, and Jason had to work hard not to nod too eagerly. Of course he wanted to see it.
If there was really a library, and Jason was allowed to use it, he didn’t even care what was going on. He’d be able to deal with it.
Like, seriously. Alfred was going to let him read some of his books. He got Alice in Wonderland back, and his bear and picture. Wayne seemed good with Jason getting an education.
And there was a library.
Yep. Jason could deal with anything that came along with it.
Notes:
There we go :) I know a few of you kept saying you wanted this to happen.
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Alfred made Jason finish eating before he could see the library.
Well, he’d said, ‘Let the lad finish his breakfast first, sir,’ but Jason knew he’d actually been telling Jason to eat.
So Jason downed the glass of orange juice Alfred sat in front of him and finished off the bacon and eggs and quickly as he could. So much for not looking excited, he thought, as he finished up.
“Ready?” Wayne asked, and Jason just nodded as he jumped down off the stool.
He was so ready.
Jason followed Wayne down the hall and toward the study, just where he’d anticipated the library would be. As it turned out, it was behind the set of french doors right down the hall from it.
And when Wayne opened them and motioned for Jason to walk on in, he just froze there. Right in the doorway.
Now he knew what Belle felt like in Beauty and the Beast, when Beast gave her the library.
No flipping wonder she fell for him. A library as beautiful as that was worthy of love.
And the library in front of him was just as gorgeous as her’s had been. Wayne was just letting him use it, and Jason was thrilled.
“Wow,” Jason breathed, as he looked around. He could use it, right?
Every wall was covered in bookshelves, spanning two stories in height all the way around. There were even library ladders that rolled around on a track, and right in the middle of the room was a large seating area with the most comfortable looking couches ever.
To think, he’d thought the book section at Goodwill was where it was at.
Guess there was no need to convince Wayne to buy some thrift books every once in a while.
Wayne chuckled a little, as he slid past Jason and into the room. “We have a good collection,” he said, on his way over to the seating area, “but if you ever want to read something we don’t have, let us know. Alfred or I can order it for you.”
Order it?
He’d just order any book Jason wanted?
What was the catch?
And was it a price Jason was willing to pay? He’d already been doing so much just for the few books and moderate protection Donny offered him…
But Wayne was supposedly going to protect him against all the gangs, and not rent him out, and possibly send him to school?
There had to be a catch. Alfred was lying and there was a catch.
Wayne sat down on one of the couches and looked at Jason expectantly, though Jason wasn’t sure what he expected…
Did he want Jason to sit with him? Probably not, he hadn’t, like, motioned for Jason to follow or anything.
Jason was so lost. Usually he knew by the 24-hour mark exactly what a client liked and wanted from him. Hell, usually by the one hour mark he knew all that. But with Wayne he had no fucking clue.
Why couldn’t he just make fucking sense?
“Go ahead,” Wayne said, gesturing at the stacks around them, “look around. If you find anything you want, you can bring it to your room, or wherever you want to read it.”
This was a dream.
Had to be.
No way was it real. Where Wayne just… let him loose at the library without a favor first.
And there was absolutely no way Alfred was telling the truth about Wayne. Jason just didn’t see it possible that Wayne was dangling everything Jason wanted right in front of him and honestly didn’t want stuff from him in return. That was not how people worked. And it was certainly not how rich people worked.
But whatever was going to happen would happen, regardless, so Jason walked over to the nearest shelf and started browsing.
All he could find on the first four bookcases was psychology books.
Psychology. What kind of a freak was Wayne, that he had that many books on how people thought. And a lot a lot of them were specifically forensic psychology books. Like. Criminals?
Jason understood having a few books on the topic, but multiple bookcases full? What the fuck?
“What kind of books do you like to read?” Wayne asked, as Jason moved further down the line of shelves, letting his fingers brush against the spines of the books.
“I dunno,” he replied honestly. Whatever Donny got him, most recently. Although he was partial to classics. Donny had given him a copy of Twilight and Harry Potter and while he didn’t particularly hate them, they just couldn’t compare to Pride and Prejudice.
And before Donny had him, he really hadn’t had time to read much. He’d dropped out of school to take care of his mom, and when he did that, he lost access to the school library. Considering he couldn’t even scrape together enough to make rent, some months, he certainly couldn’t afford cheap books at the store…
The next major section Jason found looked to be history, with a major focus on Gotham history. Which made sense, kind of.
“You really like non-fiction,” Jason observed, as he continued to skim past the books. Funny enough, next was more books related to the law. It looked like these ones were actual law books. Like. ‘This is the law of the country’ type books.
Wayne was nuts.
Didn’t he, like, own a company? It wasn’t like he was a cop or a lawyer.
Unless he studied all this shit so he could know how not to get caught doing illegal shit… that would make sense.
“I do find non-fiction more interesting,” Wayne said, “but there’s a lot of fiction on this side over here.”
Jason looked to see where he was pointing at the opposite side of the library, and went to check it out.
Sure enough, that entire half of the library seemed to be fiction.
Much better.
Although Jason wouldn’t have turned down reading the non-fiction stuff if that was all he found. Maybe he could be a lawyer one day.
He could be a lawyer, right? Totally. The only question would be if people would hire him. To be a lawyer.
And, the whole, if he could make it through school and actually be good at it, and stuff.
Doing something like that would probably require he do way more than homeschool himself with random workbooks…
“Alfred prefers fiction,” Wayne said, while Jason continued browsing, “he’ll talk your ear off about what he’s reading if you let him.”
Jason smiled, a little, and said, “Cool.” He’d very much like someone to talk with about books. Most of the other boys didn’t want to hear it, and Donny only sometimes let Jason ramble to him. And he supposed that would never happen again, what with Donny being arrested and the other boys rescued.
But so far Alfred had been fun to talk to. Well, mostly. When he wasn’t trying to convince Jason Wayne was a total gentleman, or whatever.
With a breath, Jason refocused himself on looking through the books. There were a ton he wanted to read, just on the first two bookcases he looked through. In the end, though, he picked out the second book after Harry Potter, just because he felt he should read the rest of the series, as well as Through the Looking-Glass, for almost the same reason.
If he was going to be with Wayne for a long time, he probably had plenty of time to read all the books.
Once he had the two books in his hands, he turned around and stared at Wayne for a second, unsure. Bolting straight to his room to read would probably just piss Wayne off. Plus, he’d left his backpack in the kitchen, like an idiot, and it would be difficult to run to the kitchen, grab it, then go to his room.
But he hadn’t wanted to bring it when he and Wayne were going to be alone…
And it’s not like his room was any different than the library. It was all Wayne’s domain.
That was one thing he was going to miss about Donny’s. The dormitory was never a place for work. Not even for the rich assholes who showed up at random times during the day and paid double for an hour.
“What’d you pick out?” Wayne asked,
Jason walked over toward the couch, and held the books out for Wayne to look at, but Wayne didn’t take the books. Just nodded and said, “Dick loved that Harry Potter series. He dragged me to those movies as they were coming out.”
So Wayne took Dick to the movies, too. Movies, toys, college… Alfred said Wayne treated Dick well and would treat Jason well, too.
“I read the first one,” Jason said, just to say something. He needed to be better about that. Be better about… being friendly. To Wayne.
If he wanted Wayne to treat him well, that was. And he did. Because the alternative was… he didn’t even know. He didn’t want to know.
Jason sat on the couch, on the other end from Wayne. He wasn’t sitting right next to him, but Wayne could easily reach him. If he wanted to. Jason pulled his legs up onto the couch and crossed them, then set the books down in his lap so he could maybe peruse one.
There was no way he’d be able to focus.
“The first one was okay,” Wayne said, “I read it just to understand what the hell Dick was talking about. I think the third one was my favorite, but it’s been a while.”
“How old is Dick?” Jason asked. He had a guess, considering he just moved out, but it was good to know for sure.
“Eighteen,” Wayne said, confirming Jason’s suspicions.
He wouldn’t be surprised if Dick was newly eighteen, too. And that’s why he moved out.
Because who left for college in June? No one. Was Dick even out of school yet?
Did Dick even go to high school?
“Where is he going to college?”
“Hudson University,” Wayne answered, smiling brightly. The bastard was proud of him, wasn’t he? “He intends on studying business.”
Jason had never heard of Hudson University, but if pressed, he’d guess it was in New York. Because, Hudson River. Duh.
He looked back down at the books in his lap, and started running his fingers across the edge of the top book, letting the pages make a flipping noise as he dragged it up.
Dick… Dick really did get to just leave. Sure, New York was just one state up, but it was probably at least several hours away. And Bruce was proud Dick had left.
If Jason played his cards right, he was sure he could be like Dick, one day. He could. He just needed to get way better at being friendly. Do stuff with Wayne like Dick did. Like… watch movies. And, and, legos.
Why was it out of all the things Jason could do, that was what made his skin feel all squirmy?
Wayne shifted, so he was facing Jason more, and said, “I’ll call him later, see when he’s coming to visit so you can meet him.”
“He doesn’t have to come meet me,” Jason mumbled. He didn’t want to be the reason Wayne made Dick do anything. Especially not when he just got away.
“I’m sure he’ll be mad at me, if I put off telling him about you much longer,” Wayne said, “and as soon as I tell him about you, he’ll want to come meet you. Especially if you’re here for a while.”
Jason looked up and saw Wayne smiling at him softly. So he just nodded. Nodded, then asked, “You said I’ll be here for a few years?” He supposed Gordon could move him to another family, later. But he kind of doubted any of that would happen. And if he could prove Wayne he was worth keeping… Jason wouldn’t have to worry about learning another house. Again.
“Maybe,” Wayne said, with a shrug, “I don’t know. It depends on how quickly things move with this case.”
“What case?” Jason asked, furrowing his brow. What was Wayne even talking about?
Wayne raised an eyebrow at Jason, as if he were the one being stupid, and said, “This human trafficking case against Donny Falcone and anyone else that gets implicated in it.”
Human what? The hell was he even talking about? Jason thought Donny was just arrested for pimping out kids. Prostitution is a crime committed against a child, Wayne had said. So Donny was the one going down for what Jason did.
Or… well. What Donny had Jason and the other boys do. So he figured that made sense. He was a pimp, and pimps were illegal.
“It all depends on whether they need you. If they do, then you’ll likely be with me longer. But if they don’t, then it’ll be safe to move you to a foster family sooner.”
“Need me for what?” Jason asked.
He didn’t like the sound of that.
He didn’t like the sound of that at all.
“For testifying,” Wayne said, and Jason was so right.
“No way man,” Jason said, maybe a little too loudly, “I’m not a snitch!” Everyone knew what happened to snitches.
And it was not stitches.
If he could just melt away and stay out of the mob’s line of sight, they’d forget all about him and leave him alone! But if he went testifying.
Fuck no.
“Jason,” Wayne started, and Jason could just tell he was about to say something about helping or you have to.
Well no he didn’t have to! He would do literally anything for Wayne, but like hell was he going to testify against Donny just because he told him to. He doubted Wayne would do worse to him than what the mob would, if he fucking testified.
“I’ll tell them what you do,” Jason cut in, before Wayne could even try to argue he had to. He would, too. There was probably at least one lawyer or cop that wasn’t corrupt there, and they’d arrest Wayne. Especially with the FBI involved.
Wayne wasn’t expecting Jason to threaten him, apparently. Because he sat back, like Jason had slapped him, and stared.
Very calmly, though, Wayne asked, “What is it I do?”
“I don’t know yet!” Jason said, a little hysterically, “You weren’t even home last night!”
With a loud, suffering sigh, Wayne closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. After a moment, he ended up placing his hand on the side of his face, his thumb under his chin and his finger up near his eye. And he just stared at Jason, for another long moment.
“Okay,” he finally said, “I don’t know how to convince you of this.”
Convince him of what?
“Look,” Wayne continued, “I understand why you’re afraid and why you don’t trust me, and no one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to do—“
“Yeah, right,” Jason cut in, before his brain told him to shut it. He was just asking to get smacked.
That was better than testifying!
Wayne ignored him, though. Didn’t seem fazed at all, and pressed on with, “—but even if I was home last night, nothing would have been different.”
Jason rolled his eyes.
“You would have slept, alone, in your room, completely undisturbed. Just like you did. And if I’m home tonight, the same thing will happen, because I will never hurt you.”
“What do you mean ‘if’ you’re home,” Jason asked. Was Wayne seriously bailing again? He would highly appreciate knowing what the hell was expected of him sooner, rather than later.
As nice as the break was, the fucking anxiety of not knowing was killing him.
“I, well,” Wayne stammered, “I go out most nights.”
“What? Where?”
With another shrug, Wayne said, “Parties, dates, clubs, it varies.”
He was a playboy, Jason supposed. He just hadn’t considered that meant Wayne was never home at night.
Could Jason actually trust his nights to be quiet…?
That… that wouldn’t be so bad. And if he could convince Wayne to send him to school…
There would only be a window of time with Wayne each day.
“But regardless, Jason, it doesn’t matter. Because nothing is ever going to happen. You are safe in my house, okay?”
“I’m still not testifying,” Jason said, crossing his arms. There was no way he could convince Jason to do that.
“You might not need to,” Wayne said, “but I meant it when I said you won’t be forced to do something you don’t want to. We can discuss it later, if it ever comes up, okay? They might have enough on him to not need your testimony.”
Or the mob would break him out, first. Or the DA would drop the case, because the Falcones paid him off. Or they’d find some other technicality to get him off on, before the charges are even brought.
Like what happened with most the mob members who ended up in jail.
Wayne sighed, then pat at the couch cushion between them a couple times. “Okay, all right kiddo. I need to get some work done, so I’ll be in the study. Feel free to come get me if you need me, okay?”
“Sure,” Jason said, following Wayne with his eyes as he got up and crossed the room.
Again, there was no way Jason would go bothering Wayne. Any moment he didn’t have to spend with him he would not be spending with him.
“All right,” Wayne said again, at the doorway. He paused there, for a moment, just staring at Jason. Then shook his head and left the room without another word.
Jason pulled the books up to his chest, and focused on staying calm.
If Wayne was really gonna leave him alone again most the day, then he could at least go get his backpack, and then go to his room and read.
He just wished shit made fucking sense.
Notes:
Oh look it's 3am oops. I've been writing on this since, like, 6pm. 😐 So this one took a minute. LOL I'm not at all out of scenes I've got drafted (I've legit got 15 more chapters at various stages of drafted...), but I AM at a spot where I need to figure out what happens between now and the next scene I have drafted so that's fun. Hopefully I get another chapter out as quickly, but we'll see! It's weekend again and I start back in person at work next week.
Thanks for reading guys!! I'm going to try to answer more comments later today. Thanks for leaving them. ❤️
Chapter 13
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason understood absolutely nothing.
The next few days passed in relative peace. He slept in his room each night, on the couch, and was never once bothered. In fact, if Jason was in his room, no one bothered him. Not Bruce, not Alfred. They were pretty adamant Jason not skip meals, but if Jason was in his room when a meal was ready, they didn’t even come get him for it. Alfred heated him up a plate later, when he did come out of his room, instead.
It was insane. Jason didn’t understand a thing.
Wayne made himself scarce, too. Jason saw him, like, three times total in the three days since he’d been bought. Or, ‘brought home,’ since Wayne got all huffy when Jason said the word bought.
Whatever.
Jason considered testing how long they’d leave him alone by staying in his room all day long on the fourth day, but that didn’t last long. He finished reading Through the Looking Glass that morning, and by lunch time he was starving, so he found himself wandering into the kitchen, anyway.
Besides, if he wanted Wayne to like him and keep him, purposely avoiding him was a dumb route to take. He’d much rather it be Wayne avoiding him than the other way around.
“Ah, Mas-“ Alfred started, before he smiled and corrected to, “Jason, it is good to see you today. I am preparing Bruce a panini for lunch, what would you like on yours?”
With a shrug, Jason climbed up on one of the stools to watch how Alfred made paninis. So far he’d liked everything Alfred made him, so he had no true preference.
“I am preparing Bruce a prosciutto caprese, does that sound good to you?”
Alfred also tended to make fancy food, so Jason really had no preference. Because he had no idea how to even ask for fancy food. “I don’t know what that is,” he admitted, after Alfred smiled at him patiently.
“It is prosciutto, tomatoes, mozzarella, and parmesan, toasted together into a sandwich,” Alfred said, as he pulled out all the bread he needed to make a couple.
Jason recognized most of what Alfred said, but did ask, “What is prosciutto?” So far Alfred had been awesome about teaching Jason things he didn’t know. Never once had he laughed that Jason didn’t know something.
Alfred was awesome, honestly.
“It is dried ham,” Alfred said, as he pulled out a slice of what must have been the prosciutto, and tore Jason off a little piece.
“Oh,” he said, after he’d tasted the ham. It was, indeed, ham. But definitely fancier. “That’s good, yeah.”
“Wonderful, then I will prepare you a prosciutto caprese, as well.”
“Thanks.” Jason rested his head down into his hand, as he just watched Alfred work. It only took a minute for Wayne to appear in the doorway, too, just like he usually did. Always on time for lunch.
“Good morning, lad,” Wayne said, as he stepped into the room and picked one of the stools not right next to Jason.
“It’s noon,” Jason said, trying his best to keep his face flat. Wayne usually frowned at him whenever he smiled, so he was trying not to smile at him.
Wayne was one weird dude, that was for sure.
“Okay,” he said, “Then good afternoon, lad. Did you sleep well last night?”
Jason merely shrugged. He’d slept just as well as he ever did.
“If you need anything for your room,” Wayne said, “Let me know. We can get you different blankets, or a fan, or nightlight, or whatever you need to sleep better.”
“We might even have some of those things already,” Alfred added, “There are dozens of blankets all over if you want different ones.”
“I’m fine,” Jason said. He actually really liked the blanket he had. It was very cozy. It, along with his bear, meant he actually slept rather soundly. With the door shut, that was. And maybe on the couch…
He needed to try and sleep in his bed again. What if Wayne walked in one night and found him on the couch? What would he say?
More than likely he’d flip his shit.
So, yeah. Jason should really try to sleep on the bed again. Maybe with his bear it would be easier, now.
Because a fucking stuffed animal made any damned difference…
“That’s good,” Wayne hummed, as he leaned forward and snatched the newspaper from the center of the island. The room went quiet again as he started reading, so Jason rested his head back down and just watched Alfred work.
Jason really did like the peace.
It took Alfred about five more minutes to make their sandwiches, and when they were done he added a generous serving of chips to the plate, and slid both across the counter to Jason and Bruce.
“There you are,” he said, “now what can I get you to drink?”
“Some iced tea would be good,” Bruce said. Jason merely shrugged, so Alfred pulled out two glasses and poured them both iced tea.
Once he sat the glasses down in front of them, and Jason thanked him, he left the fucking room.
Just.
Left.
And Jason decided sitting there quietly was not what he was going to do. Silence around Wayne was so fucking uncomfortable.
“I read the Chamber of Secrets yesterday,” he said, after taking a bite of his panini. Which was delicious, of course. Everything Alfred made was delicious.
Wayne looked up, and looked mildly impressed as he asked, “The whole thing?”
Why were they always fucking surprised he could read? “Yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes a little, “it’s not that long.” In fact, he’d read a lot of Oliver Twist, too.
Wayne hadn’t been kidding about the free rein of the library thing, because no one stopped him when he kept going back and looking through the books. Jason was tempted to just bring a dozen or so to his room, so he’d always have options when he finished what he was reading, but he hadn’t done that yet.
He probably could, though.
“Did you like it?” Wayne asked, so Jason merely shrugged.
“It was okay.” Definitely not his favorite.
“I’ll admit,” Wayne said, nodding as if he agreed, “I liked the movies better than the books.”
Jason looked back up from his half eaten panini and tried not to smile. “Really? No one ever says things like that.”
“Yeah, I know,” Bruce said, grinning a little, “Dick is horrified at me for that, but it is what it is.” He paused, long enough to take a bite of his food, then said through a half-full mouth, “We can have a movie night sometime, if you want. Watch each movie once you finish the book.”
“That’s fine,” he said, shrugging again. He knew Wayne wanted to do kid stuff like that with him. He didn’t understand why Wayne wanted that, but whatever.
If that was how he got his rocks off, whatever.
“Jase,” Wayne said, through a sigh, “if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I’m not going to force you to spend time with me.”
“No, it’s fine,” Jason said, his voice almost convincing as he looked back at his food, “I want to.” Maybe he didn’t want to spend time with Wayne, but he wanted Wayne to like him and want to keep him, and if it took acting like his kid to do that, then Jason could do that.
Which was another reason why hiding from him was a stupid plan and he shouldn’t have even entertained the thought for a second.
And, sure, sitting on a couch watching a movie with him might be far less comfortable than sitting at the island, chatting over lunch, but it would be fine. Even if Wayne got all handsy, it was gonna happen eventually. He might as well not make it painful for himself by refusing all of Wayne’s advances.
“All right,” Wayne said, with clear doubt in his voice, “but hey, one thing we absolutely need to do is get you in with the doctor.”
Jason snapped his attention back to Wayne and demanded, “What? Why?”
He hated going to the doctor. Shots and blood draws and poking and prodding and no.
Fuck all that.
If he never had to see another doctor for the rest of his life that’d be great.
At least he’d probably never have to see Donny’s doctor again… That guy was a major asshole and Jason hated him.
“You need a physical,” Wayne said calmly, “just to make sure everything is okay. Run some tests, check your levels, nothing serious.”
Oh. Run some tests.
Jason finally understood.
Wayne didn’t want to catch anything, and that’s why he wouldn’t come near him. Jason didn’t blame him, catching stuff sucked, but he was pretty sure he was clean.
He’d been clean last time the doc came and visited, at least.
And when the boys caught anything permanent, well… Donny didn’t keep them around.
The kind of clients that hired Donny’s boys were not cool with catching HIV for the price they paid.
“But I’m clean,” Jason tried. That was another upside to being permanent with Wayne. Not seeing a ton of clients each week meant he probably never had to worry about catching shit again, unless Wayne himself caused it.
“Excuse me?” Wayne asked, giving Jason a confused look.
Like he didn’t know exactly what Jason meant. Obviously Jason would figure out exactly what Wayne was after, with this whole doctor thing.
“Donny got us tested regularly,” he said, “I was clean just three weeks ago.”
Wayne looked pained, and said slowly, “That’s… good.”
“I guess I coulda caught something since, but probably not. I feel fine.”
“Have you,” Wayne started, than paused to clear his throat, “Have you caught anything before?”
Yep. Jason was right. He just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t catch shit.
Smart, he supposed.
With a shrug, Jason said, “Nothing antibiotics couldn’t fix.”
“Okay,” Wayne said, slowly as he nodded a little absently, “That’s uh. Okay. Dr. Thompkins is just going to do a physical and make sure everything is okay, so we know what’s going on. All kids get physicals.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Jason said, trying to turn his attention back to his food, “I get it.” At least now he knew the time line.
He could handle that.
“Okay,” Wayne said, “I’ll call her after lunch and see when she can see us.”
“That’s fine.”
Yep. If everything started making fucking sense, he’d be able to handle it just fine, and finally something was making sense.
After lunch, Wayne disappeared into his study, so Jason camped out in the library and started reading the third Harry Potter book.
But it only took fifteen minutes for Wayne to appear in the door, letting him know that Dr. Thompkins can see us this afternoon.
He must have paid a pretty penny to get an appointment so quickly… Jason had never heard of getting appointments that fast. Which meant he was getting impatient about not being able to do shit with Jason, yet.
So he could probably expect his break to end that night… or in however long it took to get the test results back, he supposed. Jason actually didn’t know if lab results could come back faster for money, or if it was, like, a process regardless.
“We’ll leave in three hours,” Wayne said, and Jason merely nodded.
Three more hours of guaranteed peace. Jason could deal with that.
And maybe spend it collecting up books to store in his room…
That seemed like the best use of his time.
- - -
The doctor’s office was in Gotham proper. Not only was it in Gotham, but it was in Crime Alley.
Which kind of explained why Wayne had picked his Volkswagen to drive them, and not one of the cool cars. It still wasn’t a cheap car. Wayne probably paid, like, 40k for it, but it was nothing compared to all the 80k+ cars he had in his garage. Or the ones that cost closer to half a million…
But driving expensive cars into Crime Alley was just asking to get your car jacked. Or, at the very least, your tires stolen. A Volkswagen would be left alone, most likely. So Jason understood.
He’d still been a little disappointed though, when Wayne led him to the Passat.
“I’ve been seeing Dr. Leslie since I was a little boy,” Wayne said, as he led Jason into the office.
Which still didn’t explain why they were in Crime Alley, but the office was called the Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic so maybe that did explain it.
‘Doctor Leslie’ was an old woman, Jason quickly learned. An old woman that could give Bruce crap, just like Alfred could.
Because when Dr. Leslie asked, “So what are your concerns, today,” and Bruce opened his mouth, she immediately shut him up with a sharp, “I was asking Jason, if you don’t mind.”
“Uh,” Jason stammered, from where he was sitting on the exam table. Wayne sat in one of the chairs and Leslie sat at her computer, smiling at him, “Well. He wanted me to get a physical, and stuff.”
“Do you have any concerns,” she asked again, “Are you in any pain, have any symptoms, anything like that?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Okay,” she said, as she started clicking at the computer, pulling up what looks liked a form or something to fill out, “I’ve got to ask you a bunch of questions for the computer, please answer them honestly.”
“Sure.” Jason was rarely honest about anything, but all her questions had to do with smoking and drugs and alcohol. Jason could proudly say no he didn’t do drugs or drink. He’d had cigarettes, a few times, but he didn’t smoke often. Or regularly. Donny knew Jason hated drugs, so he usually didn’t even bother giving him to client who wanted their boy to shoot up with them, or whatever. Because he knew Jason would throw a fit and refuse, and no amount of beatings would fix it. And since very few clients liked that sort of thing, it didn’t really matter.
But even just answering that yeah, he smoked sometimes made Wayne frown hard. And when he answered I don’t know, to questions like What shots have you gotten? Or Have you ever had chicken pox.
She started asking him harder and harder questions, too. When she asked ‘do you feel safe, at home,’ Jason wondered why asking such a question was even helpful.
With Wayne was sitting right there, obviously he wouldn’t say anything but “Yeah.”
Wayne sighed, however, when he did, and Jason shifted on the table a little. What the fuck did he want? Jason to say no, I don’t feel safe because Wayne gets mad at stupid times and he wasn’t sure when the other shoe was finally gonna drop?
Doctors had to call the cops. He knew that. If Dr. Leslie was a real doctor, that was. Donny’s doctor obviously didn’t have to call the cops, because he never did. Not even when he was setting the arm of one of the boys when Donny fucking broke it.
Which was super illegal and something a normal doctor would be forced to report. Even if social services did more harm than help, in pretty much any situation.
“Bruce,” Dr. Leslie admonished, “be patient.”
“I’m being patient,” he argued. But his tone was still all exasperation, and Jason was glad he wasn’t the only one who was picking up on it.
Even if he didn’t want the doctor to go reporting Wayne for whatever reason.
“No, you aren’t,” she shot back, “And it’s not helping. Why don’t you sit in the hall, so I can speak to Jason alone.”
“Don’t you need an adult in the room,” Wayne said, a little weakly.
But Dr. Leslie said, “Not if the guardian consents.” She gave Wayne a glare, as she did, so he just nodded and turned to Jason.
“Are you okay talking to her alone?”
Why wouldn’t he be okay with that? Wayne was not his parent. He did not need him in the room, to make him comfortable, or whatever.
With a shrug, Jason said, “Yeah, whatever,” and watched as Wayne nodded and stood up.
“Okay. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
I won’t, Jason thought, but didn’t say. He tried not to think too hard about how his shoulders relaxed, a little, when the door shut behind Wayne.
“Okay, honey,” Dr. Leslie said, “I know Bruce can be a bit overbearing when he’s around.”
“He’s fine,” Jason said, with a shrug. He just wished he knew what the fuck always set him off.
If Jason could figure that out, he’d honestly be able to say ‘yeah, I feel safe.’ Because he’d know how to be safe.
“Listen, Bruce told me about how he met you and the kind of… work you did. We’re going to need to run a full screen for STIs, and all that.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jason cut in, but she just smiled and kept going.
“But it is perfectly okay for you to not feel safe in his house, all right dear? If you don’t feel safe, you can tell me that. I would be surprised if you did feel safe in his house, so soon after him getting custody of you.”
Jason crossed his arms across his stomach and averted his eyes, a little. “I’m fine,” he finally said, “He hasn’t done anything bad.”
Except for the whole, buy him thing. But even that, arguably, had been a good thing. Net positive, or whatever. Because Jason hadn’t had to work in several days, and likely would never have to work as much as he had been, before.
“That’s good,” Dr. Leslie said, “But if he ever does do anything bad, or anything to make you feel unsafe or uncomfortable or scared or anything, you can tell me that, too. My number one priority is the safety of my patients, and that includes you, okay?”
Right, because she’d turn Wayne over to the police after seeing him since he was a little boy. Jason totally bought that.
She went ahead and continued on with the physical, with Wayne still standing outside. When she had him take his shirt off, he found himself thankful she’d kicked him out…
Not that he should care, since Wayne would eventually see him, anyway, but he was just thankful not to have lustful eyes staring at him while he was being looked at by a doctor.
“If you’re uncomfortable, tell me,” Dr. Leslie said. She was looking at his back, and inspecting what, he had no idea.
He was pretty sure he didn’t have any bruises, at the moment. But maybe she’d found one, he had no idea.
“I’m okay,” he said. Because he was. With Wayne out of the room.
“Okay, I’m going to listen to your lungs now. My stethoscope should be warm.”
Ah. So she’d been warming up the stethoscope, then.
The rest of the physical went on like that. She looked him over head to toe, and talked him through the entire thing.
She was actually really nice, and Jason felt himself a ton more relaxed by the end of it. Even though he usually hated doctors, and hated having to let them look at him…
“All we have left to do is the blood draw, and that’ll happen down the hall, okay?”
“I don’t need any shots?” he asked, before his brain could object that reminding the doctor might mean she’d remember he needed shots…
“We’ll wait on those until we can determine what you’ve already had. If we can’t figure that out, we’ll make a plan in a couple months to get you all caught up, okay?”
Jason pulled his shirt back over his head, then nodded once he had it pulled down on and properly.
“Otherwise, you look perfectly healthy. I’d like to see you put on a few extra pounds, but assuming your bloodwork comes back okay, I don’t see any problems.”
“We did have a doctor taking care of us,” Jason mumbled. Although he was glad he didn’t have, like, cancer or whatever. Or whatever it was doctors discovered at check ups.
“That’s oddly responsible of the Falcones,” she hummed, “but I’m sure Bruce is going to take great care of you, and if he doesn’t, you tell me. I’ll find a way to fix it, okay?”
“Right,” he said. The hell did that even mean?
Although he’d probably find out what she meant, if he ever did have bruises for a check up…
He doubted Wayne would be that irresponsible and take Jason to the doctor with fucking evidence on him. It wasn’t like Willis was ever that stupid…
Dr. Leslie finished typing up on her computer, then turned the screen off as she said, “Okay. I’ll see you again in a few weeks, most likely. How about we walk down to the nurse’s office and I’ll pass you off to her. She’ll take care of your bloodwork.”
“Sure,” Jason said, as he hopped up and followed Dr. Leslie when she started leaving the room.
Wayne was standing outside, leaning against the wall opposite of the door. When it opened, he jumped, a little, then smiled at Jason.
All Jason could do was smile back.
He was glad Wayne hadn’t got to see him during the exam, but all he was doing was delaying the inevitable.
And now he was just one step closer to fun time. Once Wayne had the proof in his hands that Jason was clean.
It was fine, though. That’s what he kept reminding himself, as Dr. Leslie led him and Wayne down the hall, toward the nurse’s office.
Everything was totally fine. At least this doctor was way nicer than Donny’s had been. And might actually care about his wellbeing, and not just his monetary value to the mob.
That was one more positive thing to keep in mind. He wasn’t just a means to make money, anymore. He actually cost money, now.
Yeah. Everything was fine. And once it started making sense, it would be even better.
At least, he hoped…
Notes:
Hi guys~~~ I finally am writing again, after accidentally taking a week break. Oops. I joined my local nanowrimo discord, and I've been doing sprints with them this weekend, so that's where this came from. :D 700-1200 word bursts, it's been pretty fun. I actually have the next chapter done, too, but I'll hold on to it until tomorrow evening, probably.
Thanks for reading my story, and leaving such lovely comments. ❤️ you all.
Chapter 14
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“All right, sweetheart,” Dr. Leslie said, once they reached a small room where a nurse was sitting at a desk, putting together a needle, “Nurse Rose here will take good care of you. We just need a few vials of blood so we can make sure everything looks good and you’re just as healthy as you look.”
“Okay,” Jason said wearily.
He hated getting his blood drawn.
Hated needles in general…
But at least he’d worn a short sleeve shirt, and wouldn’t have to take his shirt completely off for the blood draw. Again.
Nurse Rose looked up and smiled at him, so Jason tried to return it as he stepped further into the room. “Jason, right? Come sit right over here,” she said, gesturing to a chair next to the desk.
When Jason nodded and crossed the room, Dr. Leslie turned to Wayne and said, “Bruce, can I speak to you for a moment?”
“Sure,” he said, “I’ll be right back, kiddo.”
Jason merely shrugged. It wasn’t like he cared.
“Okay, dear,” Nurse Rose said, once she finished pulling out all the things she needed. The needle. The vials. A little alcohol pad thing, piece of rubber… Jason took a deep breath and tried to stop looking as she rolled her chair near him.
“Which arm would you prefer?” she asked, and Jason just shrugged again. He didn’t care, and he wanted this over with.
“Then let’s look,” she said with a smile. Rose took his right arm into her hands and had him stretch it out so she could look at the inside of his elbow. She tapped at it a couple times, then repeated the process on his left arm. “Is left arm okay?”
“Yeah, I don’t care,” he said, maybe a little shortly.
He needed this over with.
The longer it dragged out, the more he kept looking down at the needle, the harder it got… He maybe didn’t do well with needles.
Like.
Ever.
Donny had gotten him to stop freaking out every time. Or, stop throwing a fit and fighting, every time….
But Donny wasn’t there, threatening him into sitting still.
Nurse Rose smiled, despite his attitude, and pulled her tray close so she had access to all her little tools.
Jason closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing, when she wrapped the rubber around his arm and tied it. It wasn’t like it hurt, or anything. It was just a little tight.
And it wasn’t like needles really hurt.
Honestly.
He could think of a dozen things that hurt way worse than needles that Jason took like a champ. Why Jason started tapping his foot, then, for a fucking pinch, he didn’t know. There was no reason to be freaking out. It was just a damned needle. All it would do was prick him, and then she’d take a bunch of his blood.
He had this done all the time.
Really.
“It’s okay,” Nurse Rose said, “Just take a deep breath, okay?”
Jason did. He was.
She ripped open the little alcohol wipe packet and cleaned Jason’s elbow. It was cold and smelled strongly.
And didn’t help Jason’s nerves at all.
“Okay, I need you to be still, can you do that?”
Jason nodded, then swallowed thickly. He forced his leg to stop shaking, and opened his eyes so he could watch, but was a little horrified to find his vision a little blurry.
There was no reason for tears to be prickling at his eyes.
Donny wasn’t even there to beat him if he wasted the doctor’s time. No reason to be getting upset or scared or anything.
Hell, Wayne wasn’t even there to see how he was acting.
“Oh honey, it’s okay,” Nurse Rose, when she looked up at Jason’s face, “There’s no reason to be scared.”
“I’m not scared,” Jason said, a little weakly. If she could just do it, he’d get over it and it’d be okay.
His fear of needles was stupid. It wasn’t even like all needles were bad.
Just the kind that were filled with drugs…
And he was fairly certain the ones the doctors had weren’t filled with drugs.
The nurse pat at Jason’s arm and said, “It’s okay if you are, it’s perfectly normal. Lots of kids are afraid of needles.”
“I’m not,” Jason said again, but he sounded even less convincing that time.
Because his voice fucking broke.
Why the fuck was he crying over a blood draw? It was the least bad thing that was going to happen to him in the next 24 hours.
Probably.
Rose smiled again as she stood, then crossed the room over toward the door. She stuck her head outside and said, “Hey, Clara. Can you go get this young man’s father? He’s with Leslie. Thanks.” She turned back around and said, “We’ll wait for Dad, okay honey?”
“He’s not my dad,” Jason mumbled. And thank God for that.
He was glad Bruce Wayne wasn’t his dad. Because the mere thought his dad would do what Wayne was gonna do…
His dad would probably kill Wayne, if he knew Wayne had bought him, actually.
If only his dad wasn’t in jail, and had fucking been there…
“I’m sorry for assuming,” Nurse Rose said, without missing a beat, “We’ll wait for your adult. Will that help?”
With a shrug, Jason scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand. He’d probably behave better if he had Wayne there threatening him into behaving.
Although he kind of doubted Wayne was gonna come in and threaten him. It wasn’t like Nurse Rose was Wayne’s personal doctor…
The doctor that saw him at Donny’s house was one the mob employed for just that. Checking out the whores of the mob… And doing whatever else was needed for the mob members, when they did illegal shit and got hurt and couldn’t go to the actual hospital.
Nurse Rose wasn’t employed by Wayne, so it wasn’t like he could threaten his life in front of her.
Or maybe he could, Jason had no idea how this whole thing worked. Maybe Wayne did own them.
A minute later, Wayne walked into the room and, sure enough, he looked at Jason with his kind stupid smile as he asked, “Everything all right, Jay?”
“Yeah,” he replied, scrubbing at the side of his eye one more time as he did, “I’m fine.”
Wayne didn’t buy it. He frowned, a little, and walked closer so he could kneel right next to Jason’s chair, opposite the arm Rose was about to stab. “Afraid of needles, huh?”
“No,” he said, completely unconvincingly, “I’m fine. Just want it over with.”
“Okay,” Wayne said, nodding at the nurse, who sat back down and pulled out the needle. Wayne held his hand out, as if asking do you want to hold my hand, so Jason shook his head.
He did not want to hold Wayne’s hand. That would not help at all.
“A little pinch,” Nurse Rose said, as she grasped onto Jason’s arm with one hand and brought the needles closer.
“Hey,” Wayne said, before Jason could react more than have his eyes fill back up with tears, because they were fucking traitors and wanted to keep crying about this, “There’s something you need to think about.”
“What’s that,” Jason asked, a little shakily, trying to avert his attention to Wayne and not Nurse Rose.
Wayne smiled at him when they made eye contact, then said, “What do you want for dinner?”
How was that something he had to think about?
“I don’t care.”
“We could go anywhere,” Bruce said, still knelt down right next to Jason. He was actually sitting lower than Jason was, in his seat, so it was a little weird to be looking down at him. “There’s a good sushi place up the road I like, but we could also go get burgers or something if you’d prefer.”
With a sniffle, Jason shrugged his free shoulder and said again, “I don’t care. Anything’s fine.”
Nurse Rose pulled out the first vial, and switched it out with the next one, and it took all of Jason’s strength not to pull away from her as she was doing so. The needle wasn’t even hurting. He was overreacting, for sure.
“Hm,” Wayne said, pulling Jason’s attention back to him, “I saw a commercial that Burger King has Pokemon toys. Is that something you’d want?”
Jason scowled. “I don’t want a kids meal.”
“Why not?” Wayne asked, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “Not even for a pigachu thing?”
“Pigachu,” Jason asked scornfully. He didn’t know much about Pokemon, he’d never played that game, but sometimes the other boys watched it on TV. He certainly knew enough about it to know it was Pikachu.
“You’re so old, who doesn’t know it’s Pikachu?”
Literally everyone knew it was Pikachu.
Wayne smiled a little more, and said, “No, there’s no way. Pigachu makes much more sense.”
Jason scowled and asked, “What? How?” Pigachu sounded stupid.
“Pokemans are based on animals,” he said, and there was no way he was being serious.
Right?
“Pokemans? You’re fucking with me, right? Pikachu isn’t even a pig, you idiot.”
“Sure it is,” Bruce said, outright grinning now. He was definitely fucking with him. There was no way he was that infuriating naturally.
Bruce pulled his phone out and held it so Jason could see it, then opened his web browser and legitimately googled Pigachu.
“See, look,” he said, once the results popped up and a few drawings of pigs colored like pikachu were at the top, “Right there. Pigachu.”
“Obviously you’ll find drawings someone did if you google pigachu, you freak,” Jason said, then pointed at the top of the search results and added, “but right there it says ‘did you mean Pikachu.’”
Wayne tapped on the pig drawing and said, “Pigachu, right there.”
“Are you purposely insufferable? How does anyone put up with you?”
Jason looked back down at his arm, when he felt pressure there, and saw that the nurse had pulled the needle out, and was holding a piece of cotton to his elbow.
He hadn’t even noticed she’d filled the other two vials…
“All done,” she said, with a bright smile, “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Can you hold this in place?”
With a nod, Jason placed his finger over the cotton ball, and held it in place while the nurse pulled out a box of bandaids.
“Pick a bandaid,” she said, as she pulled a few out and splayed them out for Jason to see. They were all solid colors, so he pointed at a red one.
It didn’t really matter what color his bandaid was. He didn’t care. But it was way easier to just pick one without complaining.
Plus. Red was his favorite color…
Once she put the bandaid on him, she let him get up and said, “Great job, honey,” and legitimately handed him a tootsiepop.
Like he was a little baby.
Jason looked at it with so much scorn, it made Bruce laugh. So Jason turned his scowl on him, too.
“Don’t be like that,” Wayne said, as he led them out of the nurse’s office and toward the front desk, “You got a chocolate one, those are the best.”
“No, the blue ones are the best,” Jason grumbled, but he did open the lollipop and start eating it. He hadn’t had a tootsiepop in years.
And he’d far rather eat it then, rather than later… there was no telling what later would hold for him.
At the front desk, Wayne wrote a check for the appointment, even though Jason was fairly certain it was a free clinic…
But maybe it was only free for poor people, he didn’t know. Or maybe Bruce way paying them off for seeing him and keeping what he was for a secret, that could be possible, too…
He had no idea.
Nothing was making sense. Even when he thought it was starting to, all the little pieces still did not fall into place properly.
Because once they got out to the car, Wayne didn’t mention a word about when lab results would get back, or suggest they actually go back home or anything Jason was expecting of a dude who had paid so much money for him, and had yet to take advantage of that…
In fact, he asked, “So have you decided what you want for dinner?”
“I don’t care,” Jason mumbled, after he pulled his lollipop out of his mouth. He’d assumed Wayne was just saying stuff to distract him, not actually suggesting they eat out. Which was half the reason he was eating his lollipop.
Why wouldn’t he want to just go home?
Then again, eating out fit into Wayne’s whole thing of wanting Jason to act like his actual kid…
He put the wrapper back on his lollipop and set it down on the seat next to him, then just stared at it.
Apparently Wayne really wanted to know what Jason wanted, because he said, “Well, there are lots of options. Do you have a favorite type of food?”
How did Dick deal with acting like Wayne’s kid? He kind of really wanted to know that. Every time Jason tried to remind himself to be friendly, his stomach started flipping around.
Doing shit with clients was way easier, because they rarely wanted more than Jason to be all flirty. They didn’t give two fucks about Jason himself. Like what his favorite anything was.
Except maybe his favorite things to do with them was.
Which the answer to that was nothing. But that was obviously a bad answer.
“Not really,” he said, in answer to Wayne. While he did have foods he preferred, he figured going the route he went with clients was probably best, anyway, so he added, “Whatever you like is fine.”
“Okay,” Wayne said, a bit slowly, “How about this. Tell me something you don’t like, so I can be sure to avoid that.”
Fucking Jason’s mind helpfully supplied. Which likely wasn’t going to help.
What was a food he didn’t like? He’d never really been one to turn down food.
“Kids meals,” he finally said.
“Yeah, I’ve gathered that much,” Wayne said, with his stupid not-smile on his face again. That was how he smiled in private, wasn’t it?
Kinda weird.
“How about pizza? Do you like pizza?”
With a shrug, Jason said, “Yeah.” Even if Jason was picky, who didn’t like pizza?
“Good, I know a great place closer to the house. Even Alfred likes it, and that says a lot, because Alfred hates pizza, usually.”
Apparently Alfred didn’t like pizza. That didn’t surprise Jason, considering Alfred usually made fancy food.
He kind of wished Alfred had come with them. Maybe with Alfred there, his stomach wouldn’t be revolting against him, the longer he sat in silence with Wayne driving. Alfred could tell him about Hard Times, and he’d have something to think about that wasn’t trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to be acting for Wayne.
Everything was so much easier at Donny’s…
“Jason,” Wayne said, after Jason wrapped his arms and sank down in his seat a little, watching all the cars they were passing on the interstate.
He didn’t say anything else, so Jason looked up and saw how he was glancing back at him through the rearview mirror. “Yeah?” he finally asked, when Wayne still didn’t say anything.
But his eyes weren’t, like, gazing at him or anything. So his attention was just weirding him out, more than anything.
After another second, during which time Wayne looked back at traffic, he finally said, “You know, it’s okay if you don’t feel safe. I don’t—“ he paused, then frowned as he tapped at the steering wheel, “It doesn’t matter what my feelings on that are. I understand that you don’t feel safe.”
“I’m fine,” Jason said, a little unsure. Had Dr. Leslie gone and told him he didn’t feel safe? Jason hadn’t told her that, so it was dumb if she had. He’d told her he was fine, too.
Because he was.
Or, would be. Once everything finally settled and he knew what the fuck he was supposed to do.
“I’m glad you’re fine, but that doesn’t mean you feel safe,” Wayne said. He looked back at Jason, as if waiting for confirmation, but Jason didn’t know what to say to that.
He didn’t know how to make Wayne think he felt safe, since saying so didn’t do anything. Why did Wayne even care, anyway?
“I know the mob can’t get me,” Jason ventured, hoping maybe that’s what Wayne meant? He did feel mostly safe from the mob getting at him.
That could change, obviously, but he was fairly certain, at the moment, he wasn’t in danger there. The mob had way bigger problems, if Batman really was on a warpath after them. Which, based on the news articles Jason had seen in the paper, he was.
Some random whore that’d been kidnapped from them was likely the least of their worries.
“Good, good,” Wayne said, nodding as he checked his blind spot so he could switch lines, “That’s good. And I’m never going to hurt you, ever, either.”
Jason nodded, and said, “Okay.”
Wayne sighed, like he always did when Jason didn’t say the right thing. But if Jason lied Wayne would sigh, too, so it was just a lose-lose scenario for him.
At least he hadn’t actually flipped his shit on Jason yet. Maybe that’s what he meant by ‘not hurt’ him. Perhaps hitting kids was his line. Jason would be perfectly fine with that.
“You’ve probably heard that line a hundred times, huh?” Wayne eventually said.
Jason just shrugged. When Wayne kept waiting on Jason, he said, “I don’t know what you want me to say.” Yeah, he heard ‘that line’ a zillion times. Yeah, it was almost always a lie. What was he supposed to say? Why were they even having this conversation?
“I want you to say whatever you want to say. I’m really not going to hurt you in any way, for any reason, all right?”
What the fuck had Dr. Leslie even said to him? Was it her fault he was talking about this? Or was he just unhappy with Jason getting all nervous around him…
Fuck.
He wouldn’t be getting fucking nervous or whatever if Wayne just made it clear what the fuck he wanted. And when.
“Just,” Wayne finally said, as they pulled off the interstate, at the exit he knew the Manor was off of. Eventually. Like, fifteen miles up the road, that was.
Near the interstate was where all the shopping was, and probably the pizza place.
Wayne tapped at the steering wheel again, then continued, “Just tell me if there’s anything you need me to do, to help you feel safer, okay? I want you to feel safe.”
Jason merely nodded.
How did he tell Wayne to just tell him when he wanted whatever he wanted?
He didn’t. Because Wayne would just get all flustered and say “I’m not going to hurt you,” or whatever. Like he had the first day, each time Jason tried to get him to answer that question.
So instead, Jason swallowed and forced a nice smile on his face, and said, “I like supreme pizzas. With lots of black olives.”
It did the trick, because Bruce smiled brightly, like Jason had just made his fucking day by admitting he liked something, the freak. “Then we’ll get a supreme with extra olives,” he said, as he pulled into the parking lot of what looked like a pizza place, “This place makes awesome supreme pizzas.”
“Cool.”
Maybe if Jason just took Wayne at his word, and just said whatever he ‘wanted’ to say, he could find a way to stop being so fucking nervous all the time. He could always readjust his approach later, if Wayne turned out to be lying…
Really, there was nothing more he could do, anyway. But enjoy his pizza and stop worrying about everything.
Notes:
I love the headcanon that Jason's afraid of needles. So bam. lol
I don't have the next chapter done like i did this one (I actually wrote 1k new words for it this evening lol) but I know what it's about. We're about to start hitting minor time skips (like a day here, day there, maybe a week every once in a while) like what happened with the last chapter. Each minute isn't quite so interesting anymore, now that Jason's falling into a routine.
I know a lot of you are frustrated (in a good way) with Jason's slow progress, but don't worry. We're going to hit a major (ish?) breakthrough soon, followed by another and another. He'll get there, don't worry. :)
Chapter 15
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next three days passed by with no incident.
Wayne got Jason’s test results back on the third day, and was happy to announce to him that he was 100% clean. Bruce looked far more relived than Jason had even been expecting him to be, when he shared that news with Jason.
Excited was what Jason expected, maybe not full on relief.
“Leslie said she wants you to make sure you’re eating enough, and if you do that, you won’t have to see her for a few months,” he said, like it was all excellent news and Jason should be celebrating.
Then again, to Wayne it was excellent news. And very relieving. Because it meant Jason wouldn’t make him sick.
“I can do that,” Jason said, as he wrapped his fingers around the book he was reading. Just waiting for Wayne to make his move.
“Great,” he said instead, “Try not to skip meals, and if you’re ever hungry outside of meal time, help yourself to the pantry. Or ask Alfred to make you something.”
He could, for sure, help himself to the pantry. Ask Alfred to make him stuff? Maybe not.
Not unless he was, like, starving. And had missed a meal or something.
But he could make sure to avoid that. If it meant not going to the doctor very often.
“So now what,” Jason asked, when Wayne didn’t say anything further.
Like, okay let’s go upstairs, or whatever.
Wayne looked down at his watch, and said, “I’ve got a meeting at WE in an hour, so I have to get ready for that. Alfred’s out in the garden if you need him.”
“Oh.”
When Wayne just left, Jason found himself wandering aimlessly around the manor, completely confused about everything.
And then that night, when Wayne didn’t so much as do anything beyond tell him “good night” after dinner, he felt completely and totally lost.
What the fuck did Wayne want?
Jason was clean. He was there. What was he waiting for?
He lay awake all night, trying to puzzle it all out.
But his stupid brain wasn’t coming up with any plausible solutions.
Why the fuck would Bruce Wayne pay a zillion dollars for Jason, then go through all the trouble of making him permanent, just to… not do anything?
Not do anything, ever? He had a hard time believing he really had picked up a little boy and kept him for ten years in a big gigantic mansion all alone with just a butler to witness stuff, and done nothing.
Then, within a month of said little boy growing up and moving out, he went out and picked himself up the first black hair, blue eyed boy he could find, and wanted nothing from him, too.
Rumors might be rumors, but they were usually based on something.
And if the entire city of Gotham thought he was a pedophile, well.
The only solution he could come up with, was perhaps Wayne was waiting for Jason to like him.
And, like, be willing, or whatever.
So when Wayne didn’t bother him at all on the fourth day, either, Jason decided to take it into his own hands.
Wayne went out that night, like he always did. Jason had no idea where to, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found by 11pm, so Jason decided to just wait for him in his bedroom.
Most nights Wayne did go back to his room. The time varied each night. He’d been back as early as midnight and as late as four. So Jason ignored his stomach being rude to him, and forced himself past the threshold of Wayne’s room.
Then he just waited there. Laying on the bed, with his limb splayed out as he watched the fan spin around on the ceiling.
He hadn’t worn anything special, just the pajamas he’d put on that night. But obviously Wayne wasn’t into clothes, or he would have already bought Jason more of the same stuff Donny had for them.
But that was fine. Everything was fine.
That’s what he kept telling himself, all the way until he heard Wayne’s footsteps, sometime just before 2am.
“Jase?” Wayne asked, when he noticed Jason and stopped in the doorway, “What are you doing?”
Jason swallowed, and forced his voice to be calm as he said, “Waiting.”
Wayne paused there, for a moment, as he shifted his weight enough Jason could hear his pajama pants swish. Finally, he asked, “For what? Me?”
“Yeah.”
He’d been waiting for over a week for him to make his fucking move and get it all over with. He just… he just wanted it over with.
“Okay,” Wayne said slowly, still standing back in the doorway, “What do you need from me?”
What did—Wasn’t it obvious?
“I—“ Jason started, only to pause and recollect himself as he sat up. He couldn’t sound like he was about to cry. That wouldn’t help. “I need this game to end,” he finished, his voice still sounding a little pleading, but at least not too dramatic.
“What game, lad?” Wayne asked gently.
“This one,” he exclaimed, throwing his arms up dramatically, “This one where you—you, I don’t know! This game. I’m here, okay? Just like, stop pretending and get it over with.”
Wayne frowned, hard, and slowly stepped into the room. He closed the door, and stood there for a moment, letting his head rest against the closed door.
Jason had to take a deep breath to keep himself calm. This was what he wanted.
He needed this to happen so he could fucking move on and stop freaking out all the time.
So… so…
Why the fuck was his heart hammering so hard? Or tears pricking at his eyes?
This was what he needed to happen.
Finally, after a long minute of silence, Wayne turned around and slowly approached the bed. Jason leaned back up against the headboard, and put all his concentration on not crying. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t.
But then Wayne said, “Jay,” and Jason had to clench his teeth to keep himself from bursting into tears right there.
He wasn’t supposed to call him Jay.
Jay was what his dad called him when everything was okay.
Jay was what his mom called him, when she was clean and happy and proud of him. He had only happy memories associated with Jay.
Jay was not supposed to come out of the mouth of his client. Clients weren’t supposed to even know his name, much less let it use it during this.
“Buddy,” Bruce said, a little softer this time. Jason felt the edge of the mattress dip, just a little. Not enough for it to be him climbing up, though, and only then did Jason realized his vision was blurring all around the edges. He had to blink, hard, to clear it enough so he could look over.
“I’m really not going to hurt you,” Bruce finished, from where he’d pulled a chair over and sat down, right next to the bed, his arms folded across the mattress where he’d rested down his head.
Why did he always say that?
“I know,” Jason said, resisting the urge to pull his knees up to his chest and hug them. He knew what that made him look like. “I believe you. It won’t hurt.”
“No,” Wayne said, but Jason cut him off before he could keep going.
Mostly because he’d started crying, and he couldn’t help it.
“I don’t know what you want,” he whined, “You bought me, and, and, you keep not. And— I don’t know—”
“Jay,” Bruce said again, the one word so filled with anguish it just made Jason devolve further into his own tears.
What the fuck was his game?
“Please,” he cried, “I don’t know what you want. Do you want me to beg?”
“No,” Bruce said, firmly, “No, God Jason, no.”
“Then what? Just tell me what you want.”
“I want,” he said, before clearing his throat and starting over, “I want you to believe me when I say I’m not going to hurt you.”
“But I do believe you,” Jason exclaimed, trying to make his sobs stop, to no avail, “I believe you.” Obviously Wayne wasn’t going to be the kind to force himself on him. He understood that.
He sniffled, hoping he was done crying. But then another sob hit, so he pulled his legs up close and hugged them with one arm, so he could rest the other on his knees and hide his face a little. Looking scared and little be damned.
Wayne sat there for a few seconds, just studying Jason. Finally, he asked, “Then what do you think I mean by that?”
“You won’t be rough?” Jason asked, a little unsure what Wayne was fishing for. But Wayne looked pained, even worse than the first day they’d met and he kept looking like Jason was kicking his puppy, so he tried, “Or hit me?”
It didn’t make it any better.
“No, Jay,” Bruce said, but paused so he could bury his face in his hands. He took a long breath in, then let it out slowly.
Jason scrubbed his eyes, and hoped he wasn’t about to flip his shit on him.
Finally, he moved his hands so he could see Jason, and said very calmly, “No. I meant I won’t touch you at all. Not sexually, not ever.”
Just when Jason had gotten himself to stop crying.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” he cried. Bruce had bought him. And spent so much money on him already. And Jason was a whore. This was his job.
“Every person,” Bruce said, his voice gentle and warm as he spoke, somehow not betraying even the ounce of anger Jason knew he had in him, “Every last one of them who has ever touched you like that has hurt you, and I won’t be like them.”
“It doesn’t always hurt,” Jason tried, but it didn’t stop him from devolving further into his tears as he buried his face into his arms.
Bruce sighed, so Jason shifted enough that he could peek at him, but Bruce didn’t look particularly angry.
Just. Like he always did. When he sighed.
Tired, maybe.
“It kills me when you say stuff like that,” he said, when he caught Jason’s eyes, “It makes me want to track down every last person who has ever hurt you…” he took a deep breath and let it out through his nose, his jaw clenched tightly.
He was actually furious, wasn’t he?
And yet… somehow. It wasn’t a scary anger.
“Or maybe,” Bruce finally continued, after he’d taken another deep breath, “Maybe just go break into Gotham General and beat Donny some more.”
Jason choked on a laugh, as he sat up to clean his face off with the hem of his shirt. His crying had made his face all gross. “Donny never touched me,” he said, his voice still all watery. He hadn’t totally stopped crying.
“Really?” Bruce asked, doubtfully.
So Jason nodded, with a shrug, “He was into girls.”
“That,” Bruce said, “uh. That’s not any better. But besides, he exploited you. He deserves all the beatings he gets.” After a pause, Bruce added with a little more conviction, “He deserves to be dead.”
“I still don’t understand,” Jason whined. He was done crying.
He was.
Totally.
Bruce looked back at him, and asked gently, “What?”
How… Why did Bruce need this spelled out for him??
“I look just like Dick,” he said. Just like him.
But Bruce furrowed his brow, and really looked at Jason.
Like he hadn’t even considered that.
“Huh,” he said, “Yeah, I can see that. Your face is a bit different, though. Your jaw is more defined. And your hair and eyes are different, too.”
“You,” Jason started, but paused so he could sit up better, “You really didn’t notice?”
“No,” Bruce said, smiling in an almost grimace, “Uh, sorry. I guess I don’t pay attention very well.”
So… Jason wasn’t his type?
Because if Bruce hadn’t even noticed, it meant he didn’t care.
And… and…
“But I thought,” Jason tried, but he couldn’t get anything else out, because he’d started crying again.
This time, though. This time he felt so much fucking relief.
Was Bruce really not making any moves because he wasn’t going to?
“Then,” Jason forced out, “Then why take me? Why take Dick?”
If he really wasn’t into kids, and didn’t need one to get his fix, then why the fuck spend so much money on a couple? That weren’t even his?
“To protect you,” Bruce said simply. Like that was an actual thing people did for children that didn’t belong to them. “To protect both of you, from people like Donny Falcone. Or the Court of Owls. Or Tony Zucco.”
Jason sniffled a couple times, and asked, “Who’s Tony Zucco?”
“The man who killed Dick’s family.”
“Oh.” Jason didn’t know Dick’s family had gotten murdered.
He… wasn’t sure how he thought Dick was with Wayne. Murdered family was a pretty sucky way to end up with him, though.
But, if Bruce really didn’t touch him… maybe it was okay?
Was Jason honestly going to buy this, though? He couldn’t figure out what the game was, if Wayne was lying.
What would be the point? Wait for Jason to trust him, and then make his move?
That made no sense. Jason had literally just offered himself.
“Jase,” Bruce said, leaning down on his arms a little so more of his weight was on the mattress. He was still sitting in the chair, though. And actually no where near Jason. Like, four feet away, because the bed was so big.
“I promise you can trust me.”
“I—“ Jason started, but faltered. “I… want to,” he finally admitted.
But… he just. He didn’t understand.
And.
And what if Wayne was lying? And in a week he dragged Jason to his room and—
“That’s okay,” Bruce said quickly, just before Jason could start crying again, “That’s good, even. I’ll take want to, because I really do just want to keep you safe and protect you. That’s the only reason you are here, the only reason I threw money at Donny.”
“But that makes no sense,” Jason whined, “You make no sense. Why would you just…”
“Hey, that’s okay,” Bruce cut in again, when Jason failed to find the words he wanted. “It’s okay, I don’t expect you to trust me. I want you to, but I don’t expect it and I understand that you don’t. I will still keep my word, no matter what. And one day I hope my actions help you come to trust me.”
Was that the game? Just work to gain Jason’s trust?
But even that made no sense! None! Because why would he work to earn trust, just to immediately destroy it?
“Jase, kiddo,” Bruce said, very softly once Jason had started crying again, despite his best efforts.
“Take your time, I’m not going to make you trust me. I will earn it, fair and square. If I ever do earn it.”
Jason scrubbed at his eyes again, and looked back at Bruce to see him staring at Jason with so much conviction and determination, he couldn’t help but listen.
“And I completely understand if you are never able to trust me. So many other men in this city have made it hard for you to have trust in a man.”
“Yeah,” Jason cried, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He couldn’t trust clients. He could never trust a client. And until ten minutes ago, Bruce was a client.
Or.
Jason didn’t know.
“And lad,” Bruce said, patting an outstretched hand at the mattress near Jason’s feet until Jason looked back up, “if you ever do come to trust me. If you ever give me that gift, I promise to treat it like the precious thing it is. I will cherish it and protect it by never doing anything to break it.”
“I—“ he started, but had to stop when all he could do was cry. He buried his face back into his knees and covered his head with his arms. He couldn’t deal with this. It was way too fucking much.
He wanted nothing more than for Bruce to be telling him the truth.
Nothing.
But if he believed this shit, and then Bruce turned around and pulled some shit…
Jason wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get through that.
There was only so many times he could pick himself back up and piece everything back together.
“Take your time, Jason,” Bruce said again, “Take as long as you need.”
By that, Bruce apparently also meant Jason could cry as long as he needed, because it took him a good five minutes to fully regain control of himself. And the entire fucking time, Bruce just sat there. Patiently.
It was only when Jason finally scrubbed his face clean again with his shirt and tried to offer a smile, did Bruce ask, “Okay?”
“Okay,” he said, with a nod.
“All right, then. I’m glad we had this talk. If you still want to sleep in here, that’s fine. I’ll go sleep in a guest room, but my guess is you’ll be far more comfortable in your own room.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, thickly, as he started to scoot to the foot of the bed, so he could hop off.
He wouldn’t sleep a wink in Bruce’s room. At least in his room, he knew no one would come bother him.
In Bruce’s room…
Who knew.
“Good night, kiddo,” Bruce said, when Jason’s feet hit the ground and he started toward the door, “I’ll see you at breakfast.”
Jason turned around, when he reached the door and started to open it. After sniffling one last time, he nodded and said, “Yeah. Night, Bruce.”
Bruce smiled brightly, and let Jason walk right on out of the room. And down the hall.
Because, supposedly, he’d always let Jason just walk away.
He really hoped Bruce was telling him the truth. Because he might actually be okay living there, if so.
Notes:
I made myself cry. 😅
Originally, I was going to have Dick show up a little sooner and have Jason meet Dick before this, but then I decided this scene made more sense beforehand, so here. Also I was going to have Jason tease Bruce more by calling him "Boss" all the time, but whatever. They really needed this scene to happen before progress could happen. Hopefully y'all like it as much as I did when it was still in my head. 😂
Chapter 16
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sleep found Jason fairly easily, once he’d curled up on the couch in his room and stopped crying. But that was probably because he was exhausted.
In the morning, when he woke just before ‘breakfast time,’ he debated going downstairs for several long moments, but decided he’d rather not.
Seeing Bruce that morning wasn’t something he was eager to do. Not after crying his eyes out in front of him. And though Bruce had been super fucking patient about it, Jason just couldn’t deal with whatever reaction Bruce would have, now. Even if that reaction was something disgustingly nice like asking ‘how are you feeling this morning?’
So Jason took his sweet time getting up so he could take a shower and get ready for the day. By the time he was dressed and everything, it was an hour past breakfast. Which should have been plenty of time for Wayne to eat his breakfast and get on with whatever it was he did all day.
Hide in his study, or whatever. Or maybe he’d go to work. He did that sometimes, too. Jason liked it when he went to work, because it meant he wasn’t even home.
Although, if he were being real… Then maybe it wouldn’t matter if Bruce was home.
Downstairs, Jason found the kitchen blissfully empty. Not even Alfred was there, so Jason went about fixing himself a bowl of cereal.
Bruce had said he could help himself to the pantry. And sure, the milk was in the fridge, but he highly doubted Bruce was gonna be all legalistic about it.
In the pantry he found three different options for cereal, and all of them sucked. But he picked the frosted shredded wheat, since at least it had the frosted part. The other two looked like plain cornflakes and some health food cereal with lots of nuts and shit in it. Jason couldn’t even identify what everything in it was. Hadn’t Alfred and Bruce ever heard of Cheerios?
But frosted shredded wheat wasn’t the worst cereal in the world, so Jason climbed up on one of the stools at the island and started eating.
“Good morning, dear boy,” Alfred said, when Jason was half way through his bowl.
He jumped, slightly, then turned so he could see Alfred and smiled. “Hi, Alfred.”
“I did not mean to startle,” Alfred said. He walked into the room and over to the fridge. “Did you want anything else with your cereal? Some fruit, perhaps? Or orange juice?”
Jason shrugged, as he took another bite. “I’m okay.”
Alfred smiled and pulled out a pitcher of tea, then went about pouring a glass of it. “Do you have any plans for the day?” he asked, once he put the tea back and sat down across from Jason.
With another shrug, Jason said, “I dunno. Read more, probably.” It wasn’t like he had anything else going on, anyway. What kind of plans could he make?
“Well, I was going to make cookies today. Would you like to join me?”
“Like, help you?” Jason asked, trying not to perk up too obviously. He’d never cooked before. Not anything beyond ramen, that was. Making cookies would be so cool.
“If you would like,” Alfred said, sipping at his tea, “I would quite enjoy the help.”
With a grin, Jason nodded and said, “Yeah. That’d be so cool.” So so so cool.
He never got to do cool shit like that at Donny’s.
“When would you like to make them?” Alfred asked.
So Jason hurried down his last two bites of cereal and said, “I’m ready now.”
With a soft chuckle, Alfred nodded toward Jason’s bowl and said, “Put your dishes away, and we’ll get started.”
They decided to make chocolate chip cookies. Mostly because Jason couldn’t think of any other type of cookie when Alfred asked, but since chocolate chip were the superior cookies, it didn’t bother Jason one bit.
“Have you ever made cookies before?” Alfred asked, as he started collecting up a bunch of things from all over the place. Bottles and containers of powders and liquids. A jar of chocolate chips. A dish of butter.
“Nu uh,” Jason hummed, as he tried to guess what each ingredient was. There was obviously flour and sugar, but he couldn’t figure out what the brown powder was. Or the little jars of white powders.
“Well then, how about I teach you.”
First, Alfred had Jason measure out the butter and sugars. Apparently the brown powder was brown sugar, and Jason had to use a spoon to smash it into the measuring cup while he was measuring it out.
He dumped each ingredient into a fancy electric mixer, and watched as Alfred turned it on and set it to beat the sugars together with the butter.
“We need to let that run for a few minutes. In the meantime, why don’t you crack the eggs we need into this bowl,” Alfred said, placing a little bowl down in front of Jason, and pulling the basket of eggs over so Jason could reach them.
Jason picked one of the eggs out of the basket, which were blue. Not all of them were, but there were quite a few blue eggs. He didn’t know eggs could be anything but white.
After staring at it a moment, he looked back at Alfred and admitted, “I don’t know how to open an egg.”
He’d seen people do it on TV a bunch of times, but he’d never tried himself. And he was scared he’d smash it and make a gigantic mess, and waste the egg.
“Tap it against the edge of the bowl,” Alfred said, while he was digging through a cabinet for cookie sheets, “then pull it apart at the crack.”
Jason stared at the egg skeptically, then tapped it against the edge of the bowl.
And nothing happened.
“What?” he asked, looking back at Alfred for help.
Alfred smiled and set the cookie sheets he’d dug out up on the counter, and crossed the room to Jason. “Like this,” he said, taking an egg from the basket and cracking it open. He did exactly what Jason did, smacked its against the edge, then used his thumbs to pull it apart.
He made it look so easy. But then Jason tapped his egg against the bowl again, and nothing happened.
“Harder, lad, you want to crack it.”
So Jason tried again, hitting it harder. But it still didn’t crack. “I don’t want to smash it,” he said, trying one more time.
Alfred stepped closer, and held a hand out, letting it hover over Jason’s. “May I?” he asked. When Jason nodded, he grasped Jason’s hand and showed him how to do it.
“We get these eggs from a local farmer,” Alfred explained, as he showed Jason just how much force was needed, “so they are much stronger than the store bought eggs. It will take a lot of force to ‘smash’ them.”
“So, now I just… open it?” Jason said, trying to look at where his thumbs were to try and pick it apart like Alfred had done. Or, pull it apart, all without getting little bits of the shell to break off and get into the egg. He was so focused on that, he wasn’t paying attention to where the egg would land...
Alfred said, “Over the bowl,” just as Jason managed to open the egg… and cause it to spill right onto the counter. A good three inches from the bowl he was supposed to be putting the eggs in.
“Oops.”
“It’s quite all right, lad,” Alfred sighed, as he opened a drawer and pulled out what looked like a metal scraper, “This is why you work over a clean countertop.”
“So you can make a mess on it?”
“So you do not risk soiling the ingredients you do drop,” Alfred said gently, as he scraped up the egg and dropped it into the bowl with the other one, “Master Richard was quite adept at spilling ingredients every time he assisted, too.”
There would be a next time? Jason would be allowed to help more?
“Did he help cook much?” Jason asked, hoping the answer was yes. Because he kind of really wanted to learn how to cook.
“Not often,” Alfred said. He set the scraper down near Jason and went back to pulling out the cookie sheets, so Jason picked up another egg and went to crack it. “He much preferred to eat all the ingredients while he watched, instead.”
Well, that was still a cool option, too. Eating tons of chocolate chips and chatting with Alfred. And if Alfred kept being nice to him, he’d definitely be okay with hanging out with him like that.
“So Dick was like, a real kid here and stuff.” A real kid like Jason could potentially be. Maybe.
“Yes,” Alfred said, a touch amused, “he was a real child. I believe he is coming to visit sometime in the next few days, so you will get to meet him and confirm he is a real person.”
Jason rolled his eyes. He hadn’t thought Dick was fake. Why the fuck would Bruce make up a child and name him Dick if he was just trying to convince Jason he wasn’t a pedophile.
Dick’s name being Dick was still points against him.
“I mean, like, Bruce legitimately just… took a kid home and let him grow up here.” And then he did normal things. Like cook.
That was how Jason learned how to make ramen, after all. His mom showed him. Ramen and sandwiches and beans and pasta were all things Jason could make because of his mom.
And then Dick grew up and went to college.
There was nothing Jason wanted more than to grow up and go to college.
“Yes, he did,” Alfred said.
“Why?” was one thing Jason still did not understand. If not for sex, why did he just… take little boys home?
Alfred stopped the mixer and pulled the beater out, then scraped down the sides with a spatula as he said, “He needed a home, and we had one to offer.”
“But people don’t just do that,” Jason protested. If adults with homes to offer just… offered them to orphaned children, there would be no orphaned children.
“Of course they do,” Alfred said, like Jason were saying nonsense, “Fostering and adoption are both doing exactly that.”
“Foster parents just do it for the money,” Jason grumbled. His foster parents had been absolute shit. 100% absolute shit that kept track of how much he ate to make sure they were still making money off him, and always getting mad at him for no fucking reason. Bruce did the get mad thing, but at least he didn’t get mad with his fist yet.
“You telling me Bruce needed money?”
No way Bruce Wayne needed the money. And considering he’d told Jason to ‘help himself’ to food and had already spent a ton of money on him, with the clothes and such, he knew Bruce wasn’t paying a bit of attention to how much money he spent.
Cause Bruce was rich. And money didn’t matter to him.
Alfred confirmed his assumption when he said, “He received no money for Master Richard’s placement.”
“Then why take him,” he asked.
Alfred put the beater back down into the bowl, and turned it back on. “Pour the eggs in one at a time,” he said, before answering, “I believe Bruce saw himself in young Richard that night they met.”
They met at night? That wasn’t suspicious at all.
“How’d they meet?” Jason asked, anyway.
“Master Bruce did not tell you?”
“No?” Jason said, as he dumped the last egg in. Why would Bruce have told him that?
It wasn’t like they talked.
Not much, at least.
But Alfred told him the story, and according to him, Bruce and Dick met in an actual circus. Because Dick was a trapeze artist, or whatever.
Like. An actual person from the circus.
And Dick’s whole family fell to their deaths because some assholes rigged their trapeze so it’d fall while they were all on it. Dick hadn’t jumped out and joined them yet, so he was the only one to survive. And Bruce watched the whole thing.
Which sounded pretty awful, actually. Jason had never witnessed a murder, thankfully. But he could imagine how scary it was. And considering Bruce had also watched his parents get murdered, they did have stuff in common.
Jason wasn’t sure if he bought that was enough to make Bruce want to raise Dick for ten years, but his existence made more sense, at least.
“Bruce saw the opportunity to help a child the way he needed help,” Alfred explained, “I do not believe he thought about it before he did it, and then once it was done, he committed.”
“Then why would he take me?” Jason asked. Yeah, Jason’s mom was dead, but she hadn’t been murdered. And Jason hadn’t witnessed her death, just found her afterward. And his dad was still alive, so he wasn’t technically an orphan.
Bruce and Jason had nothing in common. Absolutely nothing.
“With you,” Alfred said, “he felt he had to help. I do not believe he could live with himself, had he not.”
Jason’s chest tightened, the more he thought about it. He wasn’t sure what to do with any of this information.
It sounded… it all sounded too good to be true. Between Bruce’s words the night before, and now Alfred saying all this…
Perhaps. Perhaps Jason’s initial read on Bruce had been right. He was just a fucking idealist, naive and stupid, doing shit that was going to get him killed one day.
Like stealing Jason away from the Falcones. Or Dick out from under lots of people.
“He’s a real bleeding heart,” Jason mumbled. He supposed there could be worse things…
Like pedophile.
But it wasn’t necessarily a good thing, either.
Alfred smiled proudly, though, and said, “Yes, he is.” Alfred was fucking proud Bruce was such an idiot.
“It’s gonna get him killed,” he grumbled. Being proud of stupidity was dumb. Sure, Alfred could be happy Bruce wasn’t a mob leader, or whatever, but doing shit that threatened to get himself killed seemed counterproductive. If Alfred raised Bruce, wouldn’t he want him to stay alive?
“How do you figure?” Alfred asked, like it weren’t fucking obvious.
“He was lucky Batman got Donny and started fucking with the mob before they found out about him stealing me,” Jason said, scowling. He still didn’t understand how Bruce had escaped that. Hadn’t Officer Asshole told on them?
Why wouldn’t he have gone and told on them?
Then again, Officer Asshole might not have been a member of the mob. Maybe he was just a client…
Jason didn’t honestly know.
The corner of Alfred’s lips twitched as he said, “I suppose he was.”
“He’s playing with fire, pulling that shit.” If Officer Asshole hadn’t told on them, and none of the cops that saw them were connected to the mob, and none of the social workers Gordon talked to, Bruce was really fucking lucky.
All the stars must have aligned for him to pull this stunt and have gotten away with it so well.
Sure, it’d been not even two weeks, but if the Falcones wanted Bruce Wayne dead, he’d be dead. He’d left the manor plenty of times already.
Every single night, in fact.
“Not to worry,” Alfred said, as he picked up the flour canister and placed it in front of Jason, “Master Bruce is quite skilled at playing with fire.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay.” Because that made fucking sense.
“Measure out the rest of the dry ingredients,” Alfred instructed, pointing back down at the recipe in front of Jason, “and sift them together.”
After Alfred showed Jason what sift them together meant, Jason measured out a ton of flour, then a little bit of baking soda, baking powder, and salt for the cookies.
As he was sifting, Alfred stood next to him and watched his work, then said, “But lad, I am glad you have realized we mean you no harm.”
All Jason could do was shrug. He really hoped he could trust Bruce’s words, at least.
There was nothing he could do, if he were lying, though. So he might as well move on like he wasn’t, and just hope for the best.
Right?
That sounded like the best path for his fucking sanity, at least.
“I still think Bruce is an idiot,” Jason finally said, once he was completely done preparing the flour mixture. All he had left to do was mix it into the dough and add the chocolate chips, if he’d read the recipe right.
Alfred tsked, then said, “Bruce is a very intelligent man, but I would agree with you.”
Jason only grinned.
If he knew anything for certain, it was that Alfred was pretty awesome. He really hoped Alfred let him cook with him more often.
Notes:
Did i write 500 words about Jason learning how to crack an egg? Uhhhhhhhhh. Maybe. 😅 But Alfred & jason bonding is 🥺 so yeah. I stand by it. lol (forgive me, it's somehow 2:25am and I am Tired, therefore make 0 sense. I also did not proof this, so just ignore the errors I'll fix them tomorrow when my brain is working again.)
Anywayyyyy, thanks for reading yall. <3
Chapter 17
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The final thing Jason had to do was add the flour to the cookie dough.
“Pour it in a little at a time,” Alfred said, when Jason picked up the bowl of flour to dump into the running mixer, “and let it incorporate.”
Jason probably should have listened to him better.
Because when he dumped the flour in, half the bowl at once, the mixer was super mean and kicked the flour back up out of the bowl… and all over the counter and Jason.
“That is why you go slow, lad,” Alfred sighed, as he walked over and shut the mixer off.
“Sorry,” Jason said, setting the bowl down so Alfred could scoop up what spilled out and place it back in the bowl. He looked down at himself and saw his dark blue shirt was sprayed with white. Brushing it off did nothing but spread the flour around, so Jason sighed.
At least it wasn’t one of Donny’s shirt. So far Wayne hadn’t done anything when Jason spilled things on his clothes, and Jason was kind of thankful for that.
He was a bit messy, after all.
Alfred smiled at him, as he reached across the counter in front of Jason, to brush all the flour toward him with his hand. “It’s quite all right, lad,” he said.
“I can still keep helping, right?” Just because he ruined his clothes a lot and no one cared didn’t mean Alfred would want him to keep making messes in the kitchen.
Even if Dick used to do the same thing.
Dick was Bruce’s son. Jason was not.
“Of course,” Alfred said, as if he hadn’t even considered kicking Jason out of the kitchen. Which was great.
More proof Alfred was awesome.
“Now,” he said, handing Jason the bowl of flour back, “go slow this time.” He handed Jason one of the scoops he’d used to measure out the flour, and turned the mixer back on. “Just put the flour in one scoop at a time, that should give it enough time to incorporate without spilling out.”
Jason nodded, and started scooping the flour in, as instructed. And sure enough, he was able to finish without making another horrible mess.
Once all the flour was in, Alfred turned the mixer off and pulled the bowl out and handed it to Jason.
Then he had Jason mix the chocolate chips in with his hands.
It was so cool, actually. Reminded him of playing with play dough, as a child.
The final step was to roll the cookie dough into balls, and place them out on the cookie sheets Alfred had prepared, all lined with some sort of rubbery liner. Which still reminded him of the play dough.
Honestly Jason had no idea cooking could be so much fun.
Alfred did not let Jason put the cookies in the oven. He cited the fact that the oven was hot, and even though Jason told him he was almost thirteen, it didn’t dissuade him.
So Jason let Alfred put the cookies in, and he set the timer for eight minutes.
“How do we clean up,” Jason asked, turning back to the huge mess he’d made on the counter, with all the bowls and stray flour and stuff still all over the place. He knew Alfred used a dishwasher, but he didn’t know how to use it. So he wasn’t sure what he needed to do. Just putting the bowls in the sink felt rude, even though that’s what Alfred had him do with his plates and stuff.
“Why don’t you leave that to me,” Alfred said. Before Jason could protest, he pointed down at Jason’s shirt and said, “Why don’t you go get cleaned up, lad. You ought to change that shirt, and wash the flour off your face.”
“There’s flour on my face?” Jason asked, trying to scrub his face clean with his hand, but all that did was spread the cookie dough grease on his hands to his face…
Alfred merely smiled.
“Oh, while you’re up there,” Alfred said, just as Jason turned to go wash up, “Could you do me a favor?”
“Yeah,” Jason said slowly. What kind of favor, though?
“Do you mind putting your dirty laundry down the laundry chute?”
Oh. Yeah, Jason could definitely do something like that.
Well, he could do anything asked of him, but this was something that wouldn’t suck to do, at least.
There was just one small problem. “What’s a laundry chute?” he asked. He could infer, just from the word chute, but he wasn’t sure where it was… or what it looked like.
Alfred smiled as he started stacking up the bowls Jason had used. “It is the wooden door next to Master Dick’s bedroom door,” he said, “if you open it, it reveals a chute that will drop your clothes into a basket in the laundry room, so I can wash them.”
“Oh. Sure.” Sounded easy enough.
“Thank you, lad. Ordinarily I would retrieve the hamper myself, however I do not wish to intrude on your space.”
And Jason was thankful for that. And also mad at himself for being thankful Alfred never went into his room.
“That’s okay,” he said, “I can do it.”
It wasn’t like it mattered. How was his room any more safe than any other room in the house? It wasn’t. So it was stupid he felt safer in there. Or, at least a little more relaxed and private.
If Wayne wanted to get him, he could do that anywhere. But he hadn’t even wanted him when Jason offered himself…
“Don’t forget to include the shirt you are wearing.”
“Okay,” Jason agreed, as he left the kitchen.
Up in his room, Jason made sure to scrub his hands and face clean of all the cookie evidence. Alfred had been exaggerating when he said Jason had flour on his face. There was, like, one tiny little smear. Jason had made it way worse with his cookie grease hands.
But with his face and hands clean, he quickly switched his shirt out for a new one, and found himself kinda glad Alfred was gonna wash his clothes. Because he was running out of shirts he liked. All that was left in the drawer, now, was one single shirt. Sure, he had that whole drawer full of more shirts, but they were all crappy polos. Or on the tighter side.
And, yeah, he could wear any of them just fine, he just preferred not to wear them. Tight shirts always made him feel like he was suffocating. At Donny’s, he didn’t make a stink out of them, because at least they were better than tight tanks. Or no shirt. But since Bruce kept being adamant that he wanted Jason to wear what Jason wanted to wear, well. Jason was going to take advantage of it. For as long as Wayne allowed.
Although if Bruce really wasn’t interested in kids, then maybe he actually didn’t care how Jason dressed. And wasn’t looking at his body, anyway.
Jason could handle lustful eyes and stares. He could handle anything. But the thought he wouldn’t have to handle it…
With a shake of his head, Jason tried to refocus on his task. There was no reason to dwell on what the fuck Bruce meant by everything he said. Jason would find out, eventually. Either Bruce would keep not touching him or looking at him, or he wouldn’t. And thinking wasn’t going to change that.
He dragged his full hamper out into the hall, and down it to where he was pretty sure was Dick’s room. If he remembered right, Dick’s room was the one across from Bruce’s. And sure enough, not far from the door was a small square wooden door in the middle of the wall.
When Jason opened it, he found an opening about a foot deep, that led straight down into a lit room below, where there was, indeed, an empty basket sitting.
“That’s pretty cool,” Jason murmured, as he started shoving his clothes into the chute, handful by handful.
What did the chute look like on the other side? It had to be a pretty weird wall, to have a random spot stick out six inches or so beyond the rest of the walls. Unless the wall was just a foot thick, for some reason.
Curiously, Jason pushed the door to Dick’s room open, just so he could peek at the wall and see. He wasn’t gonna snoop or anything.
Too much.
When he turned on the light, he saw that Dick’s room wasn’t deep enough for the chute to share a wall with it, after all. But there was what looked like a closet door, so maybe the closet shared a wall with it.
But Dick’s room itself looked… nothing like what Jason was expecting.
It was decorated. Like, a lot. There were posters on the walls, and things everywhere. Books and toys and, and… knick knacks.
Dick must have been a huge superhero fan, too, because there were a ton of little superhero figures all over the place.
He wasn’t snooping, though. No. He was looking for the laundry chute. So Jason went and opened the closet door, then flipped on the light because Dick’s closet was a huge walk in.
Well, not huge, huge, but it was bigger than Jason’s. And had way more than enough room for clothes.
Who even had so much clothing they had to fill up a big closet all for themselves?
Not Dick, apparently. Or, maybe, he just hadn’t left most his clothes behind.
Jason found the laundry chute’s wall, just where he thought it’d be. It did, indeed, jut out further than the rest of the wall, but it was easy to miss, since there was a rack of clothes covering it up pretty well.
Most of the clothes Jason could see were, like suits and stuff, though. He was a little curious to see if Dick had any of the more… showing off type clothes he’d expect of a plaything.
But no.
It really was just a bunch of suits. Like, tuxedos and slacks and collard shirts and ties and shit. And a huge long row of school uniforms, too. For Gotham Academy.
Apparently Dick went to Gotham Academy.
That was exactly what Jason expected from Bruce Wayne’s kid.
Not Bruce Wayne’s whore.
Which… was a little relieving.
Jason wandered over to the uniforms, and pulled at the sleeve of one of the coats. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers. It was a little stiff, but not so much that it’d suck wearing it.
He wondered if Bruce would send him to Gotham Academy. He had mentioned something about school…
But Jason had just expected, like, the local public school. Somewhere free. Why would he waste money on the education of a prostitute?
No one ever expected prostitutes to do anything with themselves, anyway. It tended to be one of those careers that, once you’re in it, you’re in it forever.
That was why Jason had planned on leaving Gotham. And getting far away, to somewhere no one knew him. Just so he could start over and pretend he’d never worked this stupid job in his life.
Gotham Academy, though. And Bruce said Dick was majoring in business.
Was he going to follow Bruce in his footsteps? And run a company?
Or was it all for show? Jason supposed it could all be for show, that was definitely still a possibility. Bruce only sent Dick to school, and then college, all to convince everyone else he wasn’t fucking Dick.
Jason looked around at the clothes again, and was at least happy to see nothing too tight or revealing looking. None of the costumes and shit he was used to.
Nothing looked particularly comfortable in Dick’s closet, though. It was all fancy shit, but that could be because Dick took all the comfortable stuff with him. Jason sincerely hoped that was the case, and he wasn’t forced to wear fancy shit all the time.
He was just about to cut out the light and leave, when a black something in the back of the closet caught his eye. It was shoved back behind all the tuxedos, and it looked nothing like the rest of everything, even though it was the same color. It looked super soft, not stiff and starched.
In fact, it wasn’t stiff at all. When Jason walked over and felt the sleeve, he felt that it was actually thick knit cotton fabric. And when he pulled at it, to see more of it, he couldn’t help but grin.
It was a hoody.
Dick had a hoody.
Or… he had one.
Because clearly he’d taken all his actual clothes with him, and left this one behind. And that meant he didn’t want it.
Bruce had said Jason could take things from other rooms…
Jason pulled it off the hanger, and turned it around so he could see the front. While the majority of the hoody was black, the front had a huge splash of yellow on it, and Jason rolled his eyes.
Of course it’d be a fucking Batman hoody. What was with Dick and his superhero shit? Alfred had purchased Jason a couple superhero shirts, but not many. And none of them were Batman.
Which was fine, because Jason didn’t really like Batman.
Except… Batman was kind of the reason the mob wasn’t going after him anymore. And he’d gone and rescued all the other boys, like little Nick. Which wasn’t a bad thing, probably. Jason should probably be thankful and shit to him, even if he’d waited too fucking long and hadn’t been there to get Jason out, first. So, he should at least not hate Batman.
Besides, the Batman hoody was the only one in the whole closet, and beggars can’t be choosers and all that, so Jason pulled the hoody over his head and had to cover up his mouth, so he wouldn’t start laughing with his delight.
Because the hoody absolutely dwarfed him.
It was a men’s small, he’d seen on the tag, but Jason was very very small, so it went half way down his thighs, and the sleeves a good several inches past his finger tips.
And it was the exact opposite of tight. He could breath in it so easy.
Jason never wanted to take it off.
Donny would never allow Jason to wear something like it.
But would Wayne…? Nothing of Jason could be seen it in. Nothing but his face and the lower part of his legs. Clients like to see… him. More of him.
If Bruce was telling the truth, and he honestly did not care and was not interested, then he should let Jason wear it.
And if he told Jason to take it off… well, then he’d know.
Right?
Right.
Probably.
Jason shook his hands, so that the sleeves would fall down further. Once his hand was visible, he pushed the sleeves up, and grinned when they were too large to really stay put easily. The hoody was perfect. It reminded him of the one he had when he was little. Several sizes too large so he could grow into it. Big and warm and cozy and perfect.
There was no way Jason was putting it back. Wearing it sounded like a way better plan than doing nothing, because it would make the game end sooner. If there was a game. Bruce wouldn’t be able to explain away a reason for wanting to see Jason’s body, after all.
Satisfied, Jason cut the closet light out and made his way out of Dick’s room, before he could snoop around some more. Dick probably wouldn’t notice a single hoody missing he hadn’t cared about enough to take with him in the first place. But if Jason went stealing other shit from his room, he’d probably definitely notice.
That was rule number one of stealing. Take little things here or there. Things that wouldn’t be missed. Dick would notice his decorations and stuff missing, most likely.
Since the cookies were probably done, Jason dragged his hamper back to his room, then bounced downstairs, hoping Alfred hadn’t hid them all away, or whatever.
When he reached the kitchen, he found Alfred pulling another batch out, and setting the cookie sheets up on the oven before he loaded in two more sheets full of cookies.
The batch they’d made was making a ton.
Alfred looked up, then cocked his head at Jason for a second. “Are you cold?” he finally asked.
Jason refused to look down at the hoody, or even acknowledge that he was wearing it.
He hadn’t even considered Alfred would tell him to take it off…
“No,” he said, “I’m okay.” Which was absolutely true. He wasn’t hot, either, despite the thickness of the hoody.
With a slight smile, Alfred said, “As long as you’re comfortable, sir.”
Jason made a face, at the whole sir thing, but didn’t comment further on it, and simply said, “I am.”
He was more than comfortable. More comfortable than he’d been in years.
“I’m glad,” Alfred said warmly, “Would you like a cookie? They are still warm.”
“Yes, please,” Jason said, grinning wide. That was exactly what he wanted.
And as Jason ate far too many cookies than was probably healthy, he could feel his shoulders relax further. Alfred wasn’t making him take the hoody off, or even commenting on it further, and he was being nothing but kind and friendly.
Hopefully Bruce would be the same way. Or, at least, just let him keep the hoody. He didn’t care if Bruce was friendly.
He just wanted to keep the hoody.
Notes:
I've been looking forward to this scene since the start. 🥰
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 18
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After his morning with Alfred, Jason found his way to one of the little dens to watch TV. He was actually feeling a little sick, due to eating way too many cookies.
Way too many. Like. A dozen. At least.
He wasn’t sure why Alfred let him do it.
But they were so good, and Jason didn’t regret it. He just didn’t like that his stomach was feeling all queasy.
An afternoon on the couch, watching mindless TV would fix it, though, he was sure. So he curled up on the couch and found a random channel to watch.
He ended up watching a house hunter show, where the couples were moving to random ass countries for sketchy sounding reasons and buying giant as fuck houses and stuff. While squabbling over things like ocean view.
It was weird, and Jason didn’t understand it. But he was too lazy to uncurl and get the remote again. He was curled up, his legs pulled up into his hoody while he hugged his knees close, his head resting on the arm of the couch. Really, he was like a little ball, and so so cozy.
So that was how he stayed, for a good two hours, watching stupid shows on HGTV. Right up until he heard Bruce’s footsteps come down the hall and stop at the doorway, behind the couch.
Jason curled up a little tighter. Peaceful day over, he supposed.
“Hey, Jason,” Bruce said, still somewhere behind Jason, “Alfred said you had a stomach ache.”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled. Because he was. His stomach hardly hurt anymore, anyway.
Bruce hummed, and walked further into the room as he said, “Too many cookies, huh?”
Jason should not be freaking out as much as he was. His heart rate had picked up, and he was doing everything he could to stay calm and still. Bruce said he didn’t want anything the night before, so he shouldn’t be worrying he wanted something now.
Why would he change his mind?
Then again… why wouldn’t he?
He kind of wished he hadn’t been wearing the hoody, just so he didn’t have to find out if Wayne was going to take it away.
“Yeah,” he forced out, putting a faint smile on in hopes Wayne didn’t catch on, “It was worth it, though.”
With a chuckle, Bruce finally stepped into the room, and right up behind the couch. Albeit, the opposite end of the couch from where Jason was lying.
He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but paused and really looked at Jason. And just… stared. For a minute. His face completely unreadable.
Jason resisted the strong urge to shrink down into the hoody, so he couldn’t see out of it at all. He knew he shouldn’t have worn it.
Was it better to live in a delusion that Wayne wasn’t interested and didn’t care, or to see reality for what it was?
“Uh,” Bruce finally stammered, as he shook his head, as if clearing away his thoughts, “If you’re cold, we have blankets. Hang on.”
Bruce walked around the couch, and to the end table between a couple armchairs, that were angled perpendicular to the couch. He pulled a blanket out from a basket under the table, then brought it over to Jason.
Jason sat up and pushed an arm back out of his sleeve so he could take the blanket as offered, a little dazed. “I’m not cold,” he said, staring down at the grey woven blanket in his hands.
It was actually a very heavy, comfortable feeling blanket. He might just curl up in it, anyway. Even if he wasn’t cold. Because he wasn’t. At all.
“Oh,” Bruce said, “Well, you can use it if you do get cold. We have blankets all over the place, feel free to use any of them.”
“Okay,” Jason said, slowly.
Wasn’t Bruce gonna tell him to take the hoody off?
Or… comment on it at all?
Bruce shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then asked, “What are you watching?”
What was even happening?
“Um,” Jason stammered, “House Hunters, I think.”
“That show can be amusing,” Bruce hummed, “May I join you?”
“Sure,” Jason said, nodding a little absently. What the fuck was happening?
Or… or. Maybe this was just Bruce and his desire to ‘bond’ with him, or whatever. Spend time with him like he were his actual kid.
That was fine. That was totally fine. Jason could handle that.
He totally could.
“You can say no,” Bruce said, still standing behind the couch, several feet away from Jason.
Why did Bruce always say that?
Saying ‘no’ was, honestly, a terrible idea. He knew he could tell Bruce to ‘fuck off.’ Obviously he had the freedom and ability to do that.
But freedom to say something didn’t mean he was free from consequences. And so far nothing bad had happened in Wayne’s house. So he wasn’t about to ruin it over telling Bruce to fuck off when all he wanted to do was watch TV with him.
“It’s fine,” he mumbled, turning his attention back to the TV. He was tempted to curl up in the blanket, even though he wasn’t cold at all.
With a nod, Bruce crossed the room to the farthest away armchair, then sat back and started watching the show.
“These folks always have such strange priorities,” Bruce observed, about ten minutes into the next episode.
Jason nodded, so Bruce continued, “They never pay close attention to the rooms they’ll use daily, and instead focus on the patio, or how easy it’ll be to throw a dinner party.”
“Yeah,” Jason agreed, “I’m pretty sure they just pick actors and make them act stupid.”
Bruce huffed a silent little laugh, and said, “That would not surprise me. There’s a couple of those house flipper shows where I’m fairly certain they manufacture the drama, but who knows.”
With a shrug, Jason did finally unfold the blanket and stretch out under it. If Bruce wasn’t gonna say nothing about the hoody, then it probably didn’t matter.
Which was… a relief. Kind of.
Unless Bruce was just waiting until Jason relaxed more to make him take it off. Ease Jason into the house…
Nope. Jason wasn’t thinking about any of it. At the moment Bruce wasn’t doing shit, so he wasn’t going to worry about shit happening later.
Probably.
If he could convince his brain to focus on the TV.
Jason pulled the blanket up to his chin and managed to pay attention for the rest of the episode. After a few minutes, Bruce had pulled his phone out and was paying more attention to it than the show or Jason, so it wasn’t even difficult to ignore him.
But after they’d sat there for a good half hour, kind of ignoring each other, Bruce cleared his throat and said, “Dick is coming to visit.”
“So you keep saying.” How many times had they told him that? Like fifty-three. And yet, still no Dick. Even though it’d been a week and a half. Jason didn’t blame him for not being eager to come back home.
Which was just more points against Bruce, actually.
Bruce nodded and said, “He isn’t sure if he’ll be free tomorrow or the day after, but he’ll come down and visit as soon as he is.”
“Get free from what?” Jason asked. He was still snuggled up under the blanket, but he’d at least turned his face so he was kind of looking at Bruce while he talked.
“He likes to keep busy,” Bruce explained, “volunteers way too much, makes plans with friends, all sorts of things.”
“Like you with your dates?” Jason asked. It was kind of funny, if Dick did take after Bruce in that. Bruce somehow kept busy, and Jason didn’t even understand it. All his busy happened at night, though, since he was usually around the house during the day. Either working in his study or on the phone or something.
So, well, that probably counted as ‘busy’ too.
Jason didn’t mind him being busy. It kept him from using Jason as a time killer.
Bruce smiled, a little fondly, as he said, “Yeah. Like me and my ‘dates.’ But much better.”
“Okay,” Jason said, a little dismissively. He wasn’t even sure what that was supposed to mean.
“Dick is looking forward to meeting you, though,” Bruce said, holding his phone up so Jason could see the texting screen, as if to say ‘see he said it right here.’ Even though Jason couldn’t read it from where he was lying.
“That’s cool,” he said, turning his attention back to the TV.
He wasn’t quite sure if he was looking forward to meeting Dick.
- - -
Bruce watched TV with Jason for another hour, until he excused himself to ‘get some work done.’ He made comments here or there about the shows they watched, but he didn’t try to make Jason talk much. Or really do anything.
Which was nice.
Jason wasn’t sure how long it was going to last, but he could enjoy it while he could. Bruce being nice and keeping his distance and not wanting shit from Jason.
If there was anything he looked forward to in meeting Dick, it was maybe asking him if Bruce could be trusted. Whether Dick could be trusted wasn’t something Jason had determined yet, but he was hoping the answer to that would be ‘yes.’ Since Dick had been a kid in Bruce’s house, and all that.
But he’s an adult now, his brain helpfully reminded him. If eighteen could count as ‘adult.’
Bruce skipped out on dinner that night, telling Jason to ‘have a good night, kiddo. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ before he left. Off to who knew where.
He couldn’t quite find it in himself to care. A quiet evening without Bruce sounded nice.
And it was. Alfred ate dinner with him, and then played chess with him after, so Jason did have a good night.
Sleep that night found him quickly. He did take the hoody off, just because he knew he’d get too hot wearing it while asleep, but he shoved it in his now empty backpack and hid it in the closet, so hopefully it wouldn’t vanish on him over night.
Not that he expected anyone to enter his room without him noticing. He was simply being cautious.
But of course, in the morning, he woke up completely undisturbed.
He hadn’t even woken when Bruce got home, which was weird. He always woke up when Bruce walked down the hall, even though he never went past his room and towards Jason. His stupid brain just panicked every time and woke him up, just to listen to Bruce go into his room as always.
That night, however, either Bruce hadn’t gone to his room, or his brain had decided there was no reason to raise the red alert.
Jason wasn’t sure which he hoped it was.
Nothing had happened, though, so he tried not to worry about it too deeply as he took his morning shower and changed into some of the clean clothes Alfred had washed the night before. Happily, he put the hoody on last, and made his way down to the kitchen, ready to eat some breakfast.
“Perfect timing,” Alfred said, as Jason entered the kitchen, “I have just finished breakfast and was about to serve it. Master Bruce is in the dining room already.”
“Okay,” Jason agreed, giving Alfred a smile before he headed toward the dining room.
So Bruce was home. That was fine.
Nothing was gonna happen with Alfred right there, anyway.
And he hadn’t said anything about the hoody the day before, so hopefully….
With a breath, Jason pushed the swinging door open and crossed over into the dining room, but then froze there. Staring at Bruce.
At… super beat up Bruce.
He looked… so bad. He had a huge bruise on the side of his face, right under his ear and blossoming across his jaw. Then his left arm was wrapped up, like he’d fucking sprained it, or something. Jason couldn’t see if he was all stabbed up, just because he had long sleeves and pants on, but his right leg was elevated, sitting on top of a pillow on an empty chair.
Who the fuck beat up Bruce Wayne?
Had he got jumped by the mob???? Jason would not be surprised by that.
But why wasn’t he dead if that were the case?
“Morning, Jay,” Bruce said, as he took a sip of his coffee, then turned his attention back to the tablet he had balanced on his wrapped forearm.
Like… like he didn’t look like death warmed over. Like it was a normal fucking Saturday.
“Uh, hi,” Jason stammered. He took a few more steps into the room and asked, “Bad date?”
Bruce grinned, just for a split second, before the smile melted away again, back into his normal smiles are illegal look. “You could say that.”
“Must have been one big guy,” Jason said, still refusing to get any closer and sit down. Although his caution might have been unwarranted, since Bruce seemed pretty upbeat. Despite clearly having the shit beat out of him not long ago.
No fucking wonder he didn’t go upstairs. With his leg hurt, climbing stairs was probably a bitch.
“I crashed my motorcycle, actually,” Bruce said, with another sip of his drink.
That…
Jason didn’t believe that for a second.
The bruise on his face was clearly a fist print. Clearly.
He’d seen people beat up before. He knew what it looked like. And Bruce was what it looked like.
“Why are you lying,” Jason asked, scowling a little. Bruce said he wanted to earn Jason’s trust. How the fuck did he think he was gonna earn his trust lying to his fucking face?
If the mob beat him up, didn’t Jason deserve to know about it??
“What makes you think I’m lying,” Bruce said, calmly.
It just made Jason scowl harder. He wasn’t fucking stupid.
“Do you owe someone money? Did they beat you up” he asked, unable to keep the touch of scorn from his tone. Although, why the fuck would a kazillionaire like Bruce borrow money in the first place. “Or, did the Falcones find out it was you that busted them?” Officer Asshole could have easily gone and told on him.
Easily.
“Have you ever seen him drive a motorcycle?” Someone asked, from the doorway behind Jason.
“Fuck,” Jason swore, as he jumped hard. He spun around to see… Dick.
He was 89% certain it was Dick. He looked just like all the pictures all over the place, just… older. Longer hair.
Jason turned his scowl on the intruder and said, “It’s rude to sneak up on people.”
Dick rubbed the back of his neck and offered Jason a smile. “Sorry,” he said, “But, seriously, Bruce can’t ride a motorcycle. He can barely ride a bike, so yeah.”
“Then why do you own a motorcycle,” Jason said, turning back to Bruce. He still didn’t buy it, though. Fist print.
“I don’t anymore,” Bruce said with a shrug, “that thing is totaled now.”
“Anyway,” Dick said, clearly trying to change the fucking subject, “Hi, Jason. I’m Dick.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I figured.”
“Okay,” Dick said, with a frown. Then he looked down at Jason’s hoody and furrowed his brow. “Uh, is that my hoody?”
“No,” Jason said, shoving his hands into the pocket. It was not Dick’s hoody.
Anymore.
“Dick,” Wayne said, low and a little warningly. Jason hadn’t heard him use that tone, yet, and it kind of made his spine stiffen a little.
But Dick wasn’t even fazed, because he completely ignored it and said, “I’m pretty sure that’s my hoody.”
“Well, it’s not,” Jason said, taking a few steps backward, toward the door to the kitchen. Alfred wouldn’t let Dick jump him, he was sure.
Although, Bruce didn’t seem eager to let Dick jump him, either. So maybe it was fine.
Dick raised an eyebrow, and asked far more clam than Jason expected, “So if I go look in my closet, my hoody will still be in there?”
Jason shrugged. “How should I know?” Maybe Dick had another hoody in there. He didn’t know.
“Dick,” Bruce said again, this time a little harsher.
It just made Dick scowl as he parroted back, “Bruce,” in the same exact tone.
Apparently Dick wasn’t afraid of Bruce. At all.
That was… an interesting development.
Bruce motioned with a finger for Dick to come to him, so Dick rolled his eyes and did just that. He leaned down close when he got near, and Bruce started talking to him quietly.
But not quietly enough, because Jason could fucking hear them.
Seriously, what was with Bruce talking about Jason right in front of him?
“Let him have it,” Bruce said, in such a tone that Jason would have interpreted as ‘this is an order, do not back talk me.’
Evidently, Dick didn’t interpret it that way, because he whispered back, “But Bruce, that’s my hoody.”
“I know, but you left it here,” Bruce responded.
Exactly. Dick left it behind. Finders keepers. It was Jason’s now.
No way in hell was Jason giving it back.
Dick wasn’t the boss of him, Bruce was. And if Bruce said he could keep it, well then he was fucking keeping it.
“So?” Dick argued, his voice still very quiet. But, again. They were in the same fucking room. “I left all sorts of stuff in my room. That doesn’t mean you can just give it away. It’s my room.”
“I didn’t—“ Bruce started, but Dick cut him back off.
“Can’t you get him his own? Mine doesn’t even fit him.”
“It doesn’t fit you, either,” Bruce pointed out, and Jason actually hadn’t noticed that. But, yeah. Dick did look bigger than a men’s small.
“I can buy you a new one if it’s that big a deal,” Bruce added.
“Bruce,” Dick whined, “That’s the first Batman thing we found, remember? I left it here for safe keeping.”
“I know, but—“
“You can’t just buy a new one.”
“Dick,” Bruce snapped, quietly, “It makes him feel safe. Please let him have that. The clothes the Falcones made him wear were horrendous, things like what male strippers wear. If he feels—”
“I can fucking hear you,” Jason said, crossing his arms and scowling at the both of them. Fuck them, it didn’t make him feel ‘safe.’
Like.
Okay not entirely.
Fuck him for even knowing that. Jason did not appreciate being psychoanalyzed.
And how the hell did Wayne even know what Donny made him wear? It wasn’t like Donny had him dress in any of the costumes for him.
“Sorry,” Dick said with a sigh, and he at least looked a little sorry, “but you can’t just steal my stuff.”
“Finders keepers,” Jason shot back, “Besides, Alfred said I could go into any room not locked, and Bruce said I could keep anything I find. And I found this, so I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Dick clenched his teeth at that, but Bruce shot him a warning look and said, back in his low warning voice, “Dick.”
“I know,” Dick seethed, through his teeth, “Fine. You can keep it. But it counts as your birthday present from me.”
Jason nodded, and had to work to suppress the smile his lips were begging to show, at that. He hadn’t honestly expected to be allowed to keep it.
And if Bruce fought Dick on Jason’s behalf…. Well he probably wasn’t gonna take it away himself, anytime soon.
Right?
“But Jay,” Bruce said, “From now on, please don’t enter Dick’s room without his permission, okay? Just like he is not allowed in your room without your permission.”
“Sure,” Jason agreed. He didn’t want any of Dick’s shit, anyway. Who wanted a bunch of superhero figures? Like, whatever. Jason had the only thing worthwhile in Dick’s room, already.
The swinging door to the kitchen opened, and Alfred walked through, pulling a cart filled with all the breakfast stuff he’d prepared.
“Well then,” he said, as he stopped at the table and started placing things in their appropriate places, “Why don’t you lads take a seat before this food gets cold.”
“Thanks, Alfred,” Dick said, absolutely beaming at Alfred. Apparently completely over his pissy mood. He took a seat next to Bruce, then looked at Jason and asked, “Have you had Alfred’s pancakes yet?”
“No,” Jason admitted. Mostly because he skipped breakfast half the time, anyway, and just ate cereal later.
“Then you are in for a treat,” he said, motioning with a hand for Jason to sit across from him, “come on.”
Jason finally let himself smile as he went to take his seat.
He really wasn’t sure what the fuck to think of Dick. One second he was all mad and pissy, but then the next he was smiling and being friendly.
Kind of like how Bruce could teeter between emotions like a fucking seesaw.
But Bruce had yet to do anything to Jason, when mad, so maybe Dick took after Bruce in that way, too.
Maybe.
He’d have to wait and find out, he supposed.
At least the hoody was officially his. He could be happy for a long time knowing that the hoody was his.
Notes:
I wrote Dick and Jason meeting like three times. But this is obviously the version I went with. I LOVED reading everyone's theories about why Dick left the hoody, and how this would all go. Haha It was fun, especially since no one guessed the real reason. :D (Also, I went with the ORIGINAL way Dick left home. He just.... went to college. Like 18 year olds do. :) Isn't it lovely?)
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 19
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Breakfast was weird.
Dick kept chattering at Jason the whole time. The whole time.
Maybe Dick wasn’t like Bruce… Jason was used to eating in peace, with just Bruce there.
But with Dick it was absolute endless chatter. And Jason felt obligated to try and keep up.
“School doesn’t start until September,” Dick had explained, when Jason asked what college was like, “I moved up early because my friends and I wanted to get settled and do some traveling.”
Jason didn’t think that made much sense, but what did he know? Dick was rich. Maybe that’s what rich kids did. They could afford to travel and shit. Kids from crime alley couldn’t afford to eat, of course they didn’t do shit like travel.
On their summers off. Before college.
It was almost like he was in a foreign country.
He looked down at his half eaten pancakes, and pushed the pieces around in the maple syrup. Alfred had made him roll his sleeves up, so they wouldn’t get all syrupy. He’d threatened to take it away to wash it, if he did that, so Jason was quick to roll the sleeves up as neatly as he could.
“What do-“ Dick said, but the rest of the sentence was all garbled, and Jason didn’t catch it. When he looked up, he saw Dick with his mouth full of pancake.
Bruce shot him a look over that, so Dick swallowed and smiled sheepishly.
“Sorry,” he said, then repeated, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Oh.
Jason… Jason didn’t know.
Something.
Alive.
Capable of paying his own bills.
Not a prostitute.
That was about as far as he’d gotten. He’d always thought he could figure that out as he got older, and figured out what the options were.
With a shrug, Jason poked a piece of pancake with his fork, and slowly ate it.
“That’s cool, I didn’t know what I wanted to do at twelve, either.”
“Do you know, now?” Bruce asked, which just made Dick grin wider.
“Nope.”
That was what rich kids could do, he supposed.
“I’m studying business, though,” Dick said, “I figure it could be useful for lots of things, no matter what I decide to do.”
“Wayne Enterprises is always there,” Bruce said, but the way Dick rolled his eyes, Jason got the feeling that was a thing between them. Like, an argument or discussion they’d had a zillion times.
Dick seemed… at ease around Bruce, though.
At ease and not scared at all.
Jason wasn’t sure if it made everyone more trustworthy or not. If Dick was just Wayne’s kid, then it probably was better news for him.
Throughout the rest of breakfast, Dick kept asking him inane questions, one right after the other. Jason didn’t always answer them.
Some were easier, like ‘what are you reading right now,’ but others were more like ‘what’s your favorite color’ or ‘favorite subject in school?’ or ‘favorite flavor of jolly rancher?’
He didn’t get where the fuck Dick was even coming up with the questions. Or why he even wanted to fucking know.
Why did he care what his favorite anything was? Jason didn’t even know what his favorite of lots of the things were.
But every time he shrugged in respond, Dick would just smile and move to another question.
It was crazy. And Jason definitely missed quiet meals with just Bruce.
Or, better yet, none of them. Just him and his bowl of cereal.
The very second Jason finished off his last bite of pancakes, Dick asked, “Have you explored the gardens yet?” and Jason had to resist the urge to sigh.
Loudly.
Dick was gonna make him hang out with him all day, wasn’t he?
Bruce smiled, a little, into his coffee cup as he kept reading away on his tablet. Sort of ignoring them, but obviously not entirely. Not if he was getting amused by Jason’s annoyance.
Well fuck him.
“No,” he said, instead of sighing and telling Dick to ‘fuck off,’ like he wanted. Because he had to remind himself, he wanted to talk to Dick. To figure him out and see if he could possibly believe a single word Bruce ever told him.
And he doubted Dick was gonna stick around long.
Jason sure as fuck wouldn’t. If he were Dick.
“Would you like to?” Dick asked, a little eagerly, “We’ve got some cool stuff out there.”
“Like what?” he asked. He’d looked out at the gardens, from his room, which did face toward the back of the house, rather than the front. But he hadn’t seen anything ‘cool,’ other than maybe the various benches and stuff scattered about the flowers and bushes.
It was neat they had basically a little park right in the back yard, but he wouldn’t go so far as to get excited about it.
But maybe that was the city kid in him talking, the one who’d never been around greenery much. Or outside in general. Not in the last three years, at least.
Outside in Gotham sucked anyway. Smoggy and gross and smelly. Maybe he should go outside more, now that he was well outside the city limits and had access to what real nature was like.
Or… real nature carefully cultivated to look pretty. To Alfred.
“There’s a tire swing,” Dick said, “And a trampoline. And a whole shed full of toys.”
What was with them and toys?
But he’d still go outside, if only to see what outside was like. “I don’t care,” he mumbled.
“Come on,” Dick said eagerly, “Put on some shoes and I’ll show you.”
Jason sighed, but went up to his room and picked out a pair of sneakers Alfred had bought him. Alfred had actually got him, like, seven pairs of shoes. Why did he need so many shoes? He hadn’t even worn any of the new shoes the one time he needed them, to go to the doctor. He’d just worn the shoes Donny had given him.
Bruce didn’t let him out of the house. Which was understandable.
But going outside to ‘play’ sounded like something he’d wear his new sneakers for, so he put them on and grumbled, all the way back downstairs.
What the fuck was with the Waynes wanting Jason to act like a little kid? Bruce wanted him to play with toys, and now Dick wanted him to play outside.
It was ridiculous.
But at least it wasn’t bad, he supposed…
Dick smiled brightly when Jason trudged back to the patio door, and opened the door for them to just… go outside.
Because no one cared.
They wandered around for a few minutes, while Dick led them past the gardens and over a little hill.
He showed Jason the tire swing, but Jason didn’t feel much like swinging on it, so he just shook his head when Dick offered to push him on it. He also didn’t want to jump on the trampoline, when prompted. Or play with any of the toys.
Really, running around and doing anything like that just sounded absolutely exhausting. And Jason wasn’t up for any of it.
“That’s fine,” Dick said, when Jason refused the fifth proposed activity, “come on, I know a cool spot to sit and chat where we can just enjoy the sun.”
By cool spot, Dick literally meant the grass.
Granted, the grass was soft and cool to the touch, but it was still just grass. Jason sat down on it, regardless, criss cross so he could pick at the blades. And poke at the lady bug he found crawling around on one.
“I feel like I’ve asked you a zillion questions,” Dick said, as he sat down on the grass, then stretched out so he was lying on his back, his head resting on his hands, “Do you have any questions for me?”
Jason cut his eyes up briefly, from the lady bug, but looked back down at her just as fast, and started picking blades of grass out one at a time, tearing them up with his fingers before dropping them back all around the ladybug.
Sure, he had questions. But should he ask them? Or even what?
It’d be easy to ask if Bruce was a gigantic liar. But would Dick even tell him the truth? Could he trust Dick was telling him the truth?
Just because Dick was a kid when Bruce took him didn’t mean shit. He’d been with Bruce for ten years. That was plenty of time to get brainwashed. Or at least get accustomed to the lifestyle Bruce could provide, and just… deal with anything that came with it. Jason knew he could figure out how to deal with everything, if it meant he got his college paid for. He wouldn’t be happy. Especially not without any place to hide from it all, like he could do in Donny’s house, in the dormitory, but he could deal. And just hang in there until he turned eighteen and booked it off to college.
In California. As far away from Wayne as he could get.
And if Dick did have to deal with things, and had just pushed along for all the money and comfort, he was probably happy Wayne picked up a new kid. So he didn’t have to do shit anymore.
The little lady bug flew off, so Jason gripped a whole fistful of grass right where she’d been and yanked it up. Some dirt came up with it. Dirt and roots and all, and he felt mildly bad for messing up the pretty yard. When he was pulling individual blades, it wasn’t noticeable. But now there was a hole in the yard.
So he tried to place it back down and pack it in, but it didn’t look right.
“Seriously, Jason,” Dick said, when Jason kept messing with the grass, trying to make it go back into place.
Jason wracked his brain for things to ask, and finally came up with, “How long are you visiting for?” That was something Dick hadn’t shared about himself, already.
He knew the guy’s favorite flavor of ice cream, already, for crying out loud. He’d kind of exhausted the obvious questions.
Although none of the ‘obvious’ questions were quite what he wanted to ask.
Dick frowned, like that wasn’t what he wanted Jason to ask, but recovered quickly and said, “A few days.”
“That’s cool,” Jason said, with a nod. He wasn’t sure what Dick wanted him to ask.
Unless he wanted to talk about whether Bruce was a pedophile…
“But I’ll make sure to come back as often as I can, okay?” Dick added, offering Jason one of his bright smiles.
Jason couldn’t help it. He asked, rather rudely “Why?”
Dick only shrugged, and said, “You’ll be living with Bruce for at least a couple years. I’d like to get to know you.”
‘But why?’ Jason thought. Why on earth would Dick want to know the new whore Bruce had taken in. Even if Dick was just Bruce’s previous toy and he was happy Bruce got a new one, it didn’t mean he owed Jason shit.
“You don’t have to,” Jason mumbled, looking back down at the grass he’d semi-succeeded at patting back down into place.
“Yeah,” Dick said, like it was no big deal, “but I want to. You seem like a cool kid.”
Jason offered a tiny half smile, while his stomach did some weird twisty thing. But, not in a bad way. In a… warm way. He pulled his knees up and wrapped an arm around them, not sure how to properly respond to that.
No one had ever just… wanted to get to know him. Only because he was a ‘cool kid.’
Maybe a ‘pretty’ boy. Or… or. stuff. But never just because… he was a kid. Whose time wasn’t currently being bought.
Except by maybe Bruce. Sort of. Although his paid week had already passed.
And nothing ever happened…
“Did,” Jason started, before he’d given his mouth permission to speak. He faltered, and tried to backtrack.
He didn’t want to ask.
But Dick prompted, “Did what?” very gently, so Jason hugged his knees tighter and blurted it out.
“Did Bruce ever fuck you?”
Dick had asked. He had literally asked. But Jason couldn’t watch his reaction, so he shut his eyes and—
“No,” Dick said, quickly but firmly.
Jason didn’t dare open his eyes and look over. He didn’t want to see if Dick was lying. He didn’t want to… he just wanted… he wanted it to be true. He wanted to believe it, so, so bad.
But…but he couldn’t.
“Really, Jason,” Dick said, back in his gentle voice that was so fucking soothing it made Jason actually open his eyes. He looked and saw Dick sitting up now, looking dead serious as he added, “He never touched me.”
His stomach was doing a funny thing again. It felt like the grass had gotten inside him, and was now sprouting around in his stomach, making everything thick and cold.
He swallowed, then said, “You said that awfully fast.”
“Yeah,” Dick conceded, with a shrug, “but honestly? I knew you were going to ask me.”
Jason’s shoulders dropped and his stomach bottomed out. “So Bruce told you.”
Bruce had told him and warned him and could he even be trusted?
“He did, yeah.”
For all Jason knew, Bruce was making Dick reassure Jason.
But that didn’t make fucking sense, either. If Bruce wanted Jason, he would have taken him, when Jason offered. He wrapped his other arm around his knees and squeezed tightly. Why couldn’t everything make fucking sense?
“He just wanted to make sure I didn’t make you uncomfortable by, like, trying to hug you or whatever.”
Jason had to furrow his brow, a little, at that. Why would hugging him make him uncomfortable? There was half a dozen things Dick could ask Jason to do that would make him uncomfortable, long before Jason thought of hugging.
Then again, Bruce seemed to avoid even brushing up against Jason, even accidentally. Like he thought Jason didn’t want to be touched at all.
Which… was… was…
Weird.
Everything about Bruce was weird.
“But you know none of that means my answer is a lie. Bruce never once touched me, just as he will never touch you. He actually hates pedophiles.”
“So he said,” Jason grumbled, resting his head down on his knees, “But everyone thinks he is one.” And that had to mean something.
Rumors didn’t come from no where.
“Only because of the bias against single men taking in children,” Dick said dismissively. Like the rumors didn’t even bother him.
Jason huffed, “Well there’s bias for a reason.”
“Perhaps,” Dick said, “Perhaps not. It’s easy to be more pessimistic about it when all you’ve known are the creeps of Gotham.”
That….
Okay fine, that was a point, he had to admit. Jason had only known the worst men of Gotham most his life. His dad was okay, but his dad was his dad.
“Alfred never touched Bruce,” Dick pointed out, “and he raised Bruce. Then neither Alfred nor Bruce ever touched me, and they raised me.”
“Why should I believe you?” Jason shot back, “You could just be trying to make me comfortable enough for Bruce to make his move.”
Although that didn’t explain why Bruce turned him away…
Dick gave him a flat look and said, rather dully, “Jason. Do you really think I’d come back here if Bruce abused me?”
“I wouldn’t,” he said. But that didn’t mean Dick wouldn’t. Not if he liked the money Bruce threw at him.
Spending the summer traveling.
He’d become accustomed to the lavish lifestyle, and wanted to keep it.
Jason knew the second he left and never came back, he’d be cut off. That was how those sort of relationships worked. Stop offering yourself as repayment, and the money stops coming.
“Exactly,” Dick said, “I’m eighteen now. If I wanted, I could just leave and never come back. I have friends who would take me in, I don’t need him to survive. But I have no reason to do that, Jason. He and I have our differences, and we fight sometimes, but family does that.”
Jason repositioned his chin on his knees. He definitely knew a lot about families fighting.
He hoped Dick and Bruce didn’t fight like his dad fought his mom. Or with him…
“He’s like… an older brother, almost, to me,” Dick continued, “He’d never hurt me. And he’ll never hurt you.”
At that, Jason looked back up at Dick, and saw him just sitting there. Casually leaned back on his hands as he stared off into the distance.
“I thought he was your dad,” Jason said, slowly. Dick looked over and raised an eyebrow at him, so he added, “He calls you his kid.”
“Yeah,” Dick said, a smile tugging on his lips, “Kind of older brother, kind of dad? Like, an older brother that raised his younger brother.”
How did that make any fucking sense? Didn’t Bruce adopt Dick? He was fairly certain you couldn’t adopt a person to make them your younger brother. For that, Bruce’s dad would have to adopt Dick.
… Alfred? Would have to adopt Dick? Was that how that worked?
The confusion must have shown on his face, because Dick said, “You know we’re only fourteen years apart, right?”
“Oh.” No, he hadn’t known that. But he probably should have figured it out, because he knew Bruce wasn’t like, super old or anything.
Which meant… Bruce was actually really young when he took Dick in. And from Jason’s experience, pedophiles tended to be… older. A lot older than the kids they liked.
Did that mean Bruce really didn’t…?
Dick shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever he is, I love him. And I know he loves me. Like family does. He would never hurt me, he just doesn’t have it in him.”
Jason took a shuddery breath in.
“He doesn’t have it in him to harm any child, especially sexually,” Dick said, apparently unaware that Jason’s mind was reeling, “I think he’d rather kill himself than do that.”
Kill himself? Jason hugged his knees even tighter, to the point of pain, just trying to hold himself together and not start crying. He couldn’t handle this.
He really really really wanted Dick to be telling him the truth. Because either Dick and Alfred and Bruce were all on a team, trying to make Jason relax so Bruce could jump him when he least expected it, or… or they were telling him the truth.
And he couldn’t figure out why Bruce would want to lure him into a false sense of security. That made no sense. He was already willing. It was literally his job.
Maybe with a kid like Dick, who hadn’t been a whore before Bruce met him would have to be lured in, but not Jason.
But Dick wasn’t even acting like Bruce’s personal toy. Jason had seen how those kinds of kids acted. It was aloof and distant, just like Jason always acted when he was doing shit for people. Dick was not aloof and distant.
“Really, Jason,” Dick said, gently, “if Bruce had any less of a moral compass, I think he’d go on a rampage and kill every pedophile he could find. Not be a pedophile himself.”
“You’re sure?” Jason asked, and he hated himself for how his voice broke. He didn’t want to start crying.
He couldn’t start crying.
He’d cried way too fucking much in the past week and a half.
“Yeah,” Dick said softly, “And if he were a pedophile, I promise I’d get you out of here. I would not let you stay with him.”
Jason huffed and pressed the palms of his hands into the corner of his eyes, trying to ground himself. “Yeah right, no way the security system lets you do that.”
Bruce had been clear. Jason would not be allowed off the property unless he allowed it. Like when he brought Jason to the doctor.
Which just counteracted everything Dick just said to him. Why would Bruce keep him prisoner if he wasn’t a prisoner? No matter how well treated that was?
Dick looked at him like he’d said a dumb thing, and said, “Sure it would, I don’t know why it wouldn’t.
“Bruce told me how it works,” Jason said, a little defensively. He was not dumb. “It prevents people it doesn't want to cross the property line from crossing. It won’t let me leave if Bruce wanted to keep me here.”
Dick rolled his eyes, in an exasperated manner. Somehow, Jason knew it wasn’t directed at him. “I promise you he did not set it to keep you from leaving the grounds.”
“How do you know?”
“How about I show you?” Dick responded, grinning a little. When all Jason did was roll his eyes, he added, “No, really, want to get some ice cream? I think we should get ice cream.”
“Is…” it okay with Bruce, Jason almost asked, but caught himself. Because asking Bruce permission wouldn’t actually answer the question. Cause then obviously he just turn it off so Jason could pass through.
Or come up with some asinine reason Jason shouldn’t leave the estate.
“Come on,” Dick said, hopping to his feet. He offered Jason a hand, but Jason shook his head and got to his feet himself. He wasn’t a baby.
Dick bounced on ahead, toward the side of the manor and said, “Maybe we can go to the mall and get you your own hoody.”
“I like this one,” he grumbled, clutching at the front of his hoody, as if Dick could just steal it from by him thinking about it.
“Yeah, I know. I said you could have it. We can get you another, though, so you can wash that one sometimes.”
“Oh.” They went the short way around the house, because apparently they weren’t even going inside to get, like, anything.
“I think a Superman one would be funny,” Dick said, just as they were passing by the house to the front of it, where Jason could see the garages.
“Why funny?”
Dick led him right passed the garages, though, and still further around the house to where the front driveway was. “Bruce hates Superman merch.”
“Wouldn’t that make him mad, then,” Jason said slowly. He didn’t want to make Bruce mad on purpose.
That made Dick laugh, though, as he said, “You’ll quickly learn that Bruce’s anger is meaningless. He’ll grumble, but do nothing about it.”
“I don’t want to make Bruce mad…” And make him take Jason’s hoody privileges away. He’d still be able to wear the shirts he liked and stuff, probably, but he really didn’t want to lose the hoody. He’d do anything asked if it just meant he could keep it when not performing.
Dick smiled and shook his head with a quiet laugh. “Thats fine. I’ll get you a Green Lantern hoody when you’re ready to press Bruce’s buttons.”
Did Bruce hate his Flash pajamas? Jason had worn those several times, already. Since he’d only slept in them and so they weren’t super dirty. So far Bruce hadn’t said a word about them, other to comment on how cozy they looked.
Why would Alfred get him clothes Bruce hated, though?
They finally reached Dick’s car, which was just parked outside the front of the house. Dick unlocked it with the key from his pocket and hopped in, but Jason had to pause and admire it a second, before he followed suit and got in the passenger’s seat.
Because Dick drove a Porsche. Bruce had, apparently, bought Dick a Porsche.
And it was so beautiful.
The beauty of the car did not distract him long, though, because as soon as Jason fastened his seatbelt, Dick took off. Right toward the manor’s gate.
When Dick stopped to enter the code to open the gate, Jason asked, “What’ll happen if the security system does block me out?”
“It’s not going to, I promise.”
“But what if it does?” he pressed, “Am I gonna get squished, cause the car will be let through but I won’t? Will your car crash?”
Jason didn’t want to die just because Dick was stubborn and wanted to prove a point. He knew how physics worked. And physics did not let a body slide through metal.
Dick looked over, once he’d finished opening the gate, and said, “Jason, no. Look. It’s not set up to keep things in, okay? Only out. And it absolutely will not squish anyone, even if it was set to keep someone out. Bruce would never set something up that’s going to kill people, okay?”
Jason huffed, but before he could even protest that more, Dick stepped on the gas and went right through the gate. Fast.
He didn’t even have time to shout ‘stop’ before they were out on the main road, speeding off toward town and away from the manor.
Because the security system had done nothing. Not even the gate had shut, until after they’d passed through it fully.
“See?” Dick said, grinning, “Told you. Bruce’s not gonna touch you and he’s not gonna kill you. You’re really just his foster kid he’s taking care of and protecting until it's safe for you to be adopted out, or something.”
And as they spend off toward wherever the mall was, Jason couldn’t think up a way to dispute that. He wasn’t sure he believed it yet, but he had to admit, the security system had simply let him pass.
Why would Bruce just let him leave if he really had been bought? He didn’t know. It made no sense.
None of the pieces were fitting together.
Notes:
Well that was a long chapter. The new chapter of The Best things is similarly long.... I'm just putting it through the beta process before I post it, which is why it's late. It'll come out in the next couple days, though, don't worry. :)
Thanks for reading. <3
Chapter 20
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“What’s your favorite kind of ice cream?” Dick asked, about two minutes into the drive to wherever they were going.
Jason sank down in the seat, wishing he could turn into a puddle Dick couldn’t talk to. He kind of regretted agreeing to go, if it meant another hour of a what’s your favorite interrogation.
But Dick waited patiently for his answer, as he continued focusing on the road and driving, so finally Jason grumbled, “I don’t know.”
Why would he even have a favorite ice cream flavor? Ice cream was ice cream. He’d never had a flavor he didn’t like. It was all good.
Dick frowned as he looked over at Jason, then frowned a little harder. “Sit up,” he said, pointing at Jason’s neck, “if we get in an accident the seatbelt will break your neck.”
Jason rolled his eyes dramatically. Maybe he wanted the seatbelt to break his neck.
Except… he didn’t, because that sounded painful, and the very last thing he wanted was to be bedridden. Or stuck in any sort of cast. Or dead… So he sat up, grumbling the whole time.
“Really, no favorite flavor?” Dick asked, back to smiling, “Mine’s mint chocolate chip.”
Yep. Jason regretted going. A scowl settled on his face as he crossed his arms and just glared out the windshield. How did he ask to just go back to Wayne Manor? Dick wanted to prove he could take Jason off the estate without trouble, and that point had been proven. Now Jason wanted to go to his room and read a book alone for a while.
“That’s okay,” Dick said, after a moment, “We can discover your favorite together, how’s that sound?”
“Today?” Jason asked, a touch incredulously. He didn’t want to get sick from ice cream. He hadn’t had ice cream in a long time. He couldn’t remember eating it since Donny got him, at least. So it’d probably been years, and if all the cookies the day before had made him sick, there was a very high chance a bunch of ice cream would be way worse.
“No, not today,” Dick said, laughing a little, “Over a bunch of ice cream outings. I’m not that far away from here that I can’t come see you once a month or so.”
“Oh.” Maybe that wouldn’t be bad. If Dick stopped interrogating him all the time.
It’d give him a break from Wayne, too.
Not that… he’d need a break. If everyone was telling him the truth.
Why would Dick agree to come back once a month, only to get ice cream with Jason, if he were lying about how Bruce treated him…?
Because… right?
The car slowed down, as Dick turned left into what looked like a drive in restaurant. Jason wasn’t sure if he liked they weren’t actually getting out of the car and going somewhere in Gotham.
On the one hand, walking around Gotham was just asking to get picked up by the mob, and Jason didn’t want that. They’d either kill him, sell him, or put him to work again, and none of those options sounded good.
Bruce wasn’t making him work, so Jason would much rather stay with Bruce. Even if he was lying and was into kids. Because at least it wasn’t a handful of clients a night, every night forever.
And, if the mob did get Jason, they’d probably just kill Dick. And Jason didn’t want Dick to get killed.
But on the other hand… Jason didn’t really feel out and free from Wayne Manor, sitting in Dick’s car.
“Okay,” Dick said, after he’d parked the car in one of the ordering spots. He pointed to the board next to his window and added, “All the ice cream flavors are listed right there. I really like their lemon custard flavor, but they make a mean peanut butter, too.”
Peanut butter ice cream? Jason gave Dick a skeptical look, then leaned on the center console so he could read everything on the board. There were like two dozen flavors listed, a couple crossed out with permanent marker, and two more added in, handwritten under the printed list.
Jason hadn’t heard of almost any of the flavors. His mom bought them rocky road once, so he knew what that was. But usually she got butter pecan, the rare times she could afford to splurge on something like a pint of ice cream. Then at school, they usually had vanilla or chocolate, the rare times they had ice cream parties.
Dick offered him a smile, from where he’d sat back in his seat so Jason could see around him, and said, “There’s no wrong answer, pick whatever you want.”
Yeah, but how could he order something without even knowing what the fuck it meant? Like what did moose tracks mean? Surely there wasn’t moose in the ice cream. Or what was monster cookie, or raspberry blast? What made it blast?
The longer Jason scrutinized the menu, the more he felt Dick getting impatient. Even if Dick wasn’t looking at him impatiently, or anything. Just… sitting there. Doing nothing.
So Jason said, “Butter pecan,” finally, just to get it over with. He did always like it when his mom bought it.
“Perfect,” Dick said, grinning again as he rolled down the window and pressed the order button. After a second, someone started talking to him over the little intercom thing, and Dick ordered them two cups of ice cream, one butter pecan and one death by chocolate.
“What’s death by chocolate?” Jason asked, once Dick finished ordering.
“It’s chocolate ice cream with lots of chocolate stuff in it, like chocolate chips, fudge chunks, chocolate covered almonds. Uh, I think there’s little candies in it, too?”
“Oh,” Jason said, nodding, “yeah that’s a lot of chocolate.”
When Dick pulled out his wallet and turned his attention to finding money, Jason unbuckled his seatbelt and sank down into the seat again. Dick couldn’t tell him he’d die if he did anymore.
“Want your window rolled down?” Dick asked, after he flicked a $10 bill into the cupholder between them and put his wallet away.
Jason didn’t care, so he just shrugged and adjusted his hoody so the neck was sitting a bit more comfortably. Dick took it as a yes, and rolled his window down. More likely, Dick just wanted the breeze to go through the car, like it started to do once his window was down.
It actually felt way better with the breeze. It was pretty warm outside…
“So,” Dick said, a couple minutes later, “What grade you are in?”
“I don’t know,” Jason mumbled, pulling his hood up as he sank into the hoody more. He could probably do the math and figure it out, but it probably didn’t matter. It wasn’t like a school would let him just skip right head to whatever it was, anyway. 7th or 8th grade.
All Dick did was frown at him, so Jason scowled and said, “I dropped out in 3rd grade, okay?”
“Oh,” Dick said, almost sad.
Fuck him. What did he think, Donny sent them to school during the day? What kind idiot would he be if he did?
Prostitutes did not go to school. They slept during the day and worked at night and that was it.
Jason’s random homeschool books probably didn’t keep him all caught up, especially since Donny just brought him what he found at thrift stores and stuff. So Jason had done random ass subjects, jumping all over the grades.
“So is Bruce sending you to Gotham Academy, then? Or homeschooling you to catch up?” Dick asked, “I remember doing a lot of tutoring before I started at GA, when I first moved here. It’s a big change, homeschooling, or, I guess, no schooling to Gotham Academy.”
“I don’t know,” Jason grumbled.
“He hasn’t talked about it yet?”
“No,” he grumbled. But Bruce hadn’t talked about much. Not much other than to keep telling Jason over and over again he wouldn’t have to sleep with him, or whatever.
“That’s—“ Dick started, but paused when a girl on roller skates came over to the Porsche, with their cups of ice cream in her hands.
Dick handed her the $10 and told her to keep the change, and then took their ice cream and a couple spoons and napkins from her.
He handed Jason his scoop of ice cream, which was actually like half a pint of ice cream, there was so freaking much. There was absolutely no way Jason would be able to finish it without getting sick, he just knew it.
“There’s still a few months until school starts,” Dick said, after he’d taken a bite of his chocolate monstrosity, “so there’s plenty of time to figure out where you’re going and stuff.”
With a shrug, Jason took a bite of his own ice cream. It was a pretty caramel color, and had a ton of pecans mixed in. And, it tasted even better than he remembered. No wonder his mom always picked it out, it was fantastic.
“Do you want to go to Gotham Academy?”
Jason looked up, a slight smile still on his face from trying the ice cream, and said, “I don’t know.” Because he really didn’t.
Would he even get in at Gotham Academy? If he were the bosses at Gotham Academy, he wouldn’t let some uneducated prostitute kid in. Didn’t fancy schools like that care about, like, test scores and shit? There was no way Jason could do good on a test.
“It’s a really good school,” Dick said, around bites of ice cream, “The kids are kind of… awful, though.”
Well duh, they’re rich kids, Jason thought with a huff, as he turned back to his own ice cream. He’d had a few bites, and he knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to finish.
Rich kids were honestly the worst. Well, Jason didn’t know that for sure. He’d never met rich kids. But rich adults were the worst, so it followed that they’d be awful as kids, too.
Dick chuckled, a little, and explained, “They do this thing where they say something like a compliment, but really it’s an insult. It’s kind of infuriating.”
“Like what?” Jason asked. Would he be able to tell he was being insulted?
“I’m impressed, Richard,” Dick said, in a high pitched voice, “For someone homeschooled, you are quite friendly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason asked, scowling. That didn’t even make sense.
“Exactly.”
Jason frowned down at his ice cream, and sank down a little more. Had it got out yet that Bruce had bought a child prostitute? Gordon had said the news would catch wind of it eventually, and Jason hadn’t seen a newspaper in a while. Had they been hiding it from him? He hadn’t even tried to check himself, since if the paper wasn’t on the table, he didn’t think to read it. And the paper had been on the table in a week…
Was everyone gonna know? Did they already? If he didn’t dress like a whore or wear the makeup or whatever, no one could tell. Because he just looked like a normal kid.
But if everyone knew Bruce’s new ‘foster kid’ was really a whore… it didn’t really matter.
“Bruce doesn’t get it,” Dick grumbled, “He grew up in it, you know? It’s like, his world. He thinks that’s just how socialization is.”
Nodding, Jason took another bite of his ice cream. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. Did Bruce participate in the assholery? He kind of doubted it.
“But hey,” Dick said, “If you ever need to vent about it, or whatever, you can call me.”
Jason looked over and him and raised an eyebrow. Call him? Why on earth would he do that? Or how?
“Yeah, or if you need a break from Bruce or something, just let me know.”
Ha. Right. He rolled his eyes, because Bruce would just be there, listening to him on the landline telling Dick how awful he was and begging for rescue.
Sure.
“No, really,” Dick said, defensively, “you can call me whenever. Even if it’s just to ask me another question like earlier.”
“With what phone, Dick,” Jason asked, rolling his eyes again as he looked back at his ice cream. He hadn’t even eaten half of it, and it was starting to melt.
Dick furrowed his brow and asked, “You don’t have a phone?” As if he hadn’t even considered not every person on the planet was born with a cell phone in their hand.
Not even Jason’s parents had had cell phones. They cost way too much. So why the fuck would he, a twelve-year-old have one? Donny sure as fuck wouldn’t have even trusted any of them with phones.
“Oh, we have to fix that.”
Why?
“I don’t need a phone,” Jason grumbled. He didn’t want to be in debt even more than he already was, just with all the crap Bruce had bought him already. Bruce and Alfred.
And sure, so far they hadn’t made him work it off like Donny or some of his clients did, but it wasn’t a guarantee that that was how it would always be.
Jason hated being in debt.
“Of course you need a phone,” Dick said, like there was absolutely no questioning it, “You should definitely have a phone, holy crap. I can think of a billion reasons you need a phone.”
“Like what?” So whoever paid for it could demand blow jobs? No way.
“Well, for one, you could text me.”
That wasn’t worth it! Jason thought. Not worth it at all.
Although, Bruce did say he wouldn’t have to do any of that shit…
“Two,” Dick said, “it means everyone can keep in touch with you, especially while you’re at school or something. Or, you know, you could call the police if Bruce ever did anything.”
Jason looked up, maybe a little too sharply.
Dick threw and hand up and said quickly, “He’s not going to, but I mean, it can be there as an option. To make you feel more safe and secure.”
“Right,” Jason said, rolling his eyes, “Cause the police are gonna arrest Bruce Wayne. The dude that owns half the city.” The half that the mob didn’t own, that was.
“Commissioner Gordon would arrest Bruce himself if he thought he was abusing children.”
“Whatever,” Jason grumbled. Dick was kind of naive, too, if he seriously believed in the police force like that.
The ability to discretely contact the police didn’t do shit for making Jason feel safe.
He tried to eat a few more bites of his ice cream, although with each bite he was feeling more and more sick. It was good. So, so good, but it was so much sugar.
Dick didn’t say anything else, until a minute later when he suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Speak of the devil,” he said, as he slid his thumb across the screen and held it up to his ear, “Hey Bruce.”
Jason cut his eyes over, and tried not to stare, but if Bruce had found out they escaped, there was no telling how mad he was. Dick obviously noticed, because he leaned up against the center console, so his ear and phone were much closer to Jason, and clicked the volume control on the side of the phone, so Jason could catch the tail end of whatever Bruce had said.
"—You,” he said, in a questioning tone, although far less angry that Jason had been anticipating. More curious, than angry.
Which was unexpected. But maybe that was just how Bruce did it. Didn’t act like he was angry until he was ready to punish, or something.
Did… did Bruce punish? No one had talked much about that. He’d said a bunch he wouldn’t hurt Jason, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t punish him, if he thought necessary. And leaving the property without permission was probably a problem.
“You really just noticing?” Dick asked, grinning wide, “We’ve been gone, like, half an hour.”
Bruce sighed, and asked, almost defeated, “Why did you leave the grounds?”
“Uh, to get ice cream,” Dick scoffed, “Why else?”
“Dick, you can’t just bring Jason out into Gotham—“
“I can, actually,” Dick interjected, completely cutting of whatever Bruce was about to say.
So… was Dick the one in trouble?
Jason wasn’t sure he was okay with that, either.
“You’re not his warden,” Dick added.
“What?” Bruce said, clearly started by how his voice went a little higher, “No, I’m not— that’s not what I meant. It’s not safe for him in Gotham, he’s a witness in a high profile case against the mob, Dick, in case you forgot.”
Dick rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly as a show for Jason, as he said, “I didn’t forget, okay? We aren’t in Gotham. Have you seriously not tracked my phone yet?”
Bruce hesitated, for a long second, and finally said, “I promised Jason I wouldn’t track him.”
“Wow,” Dick said, laughing a little, “I didn’t know that was something I could ask of you.”
“Dick…”
“I’m kidding, geez. I know you stalk me because you love me. But seriously, we aren’t in Gotham. We’re at Dave’s Drive In in Bristol. Didn’t even get out of the car, okay? No mob will be getting us here,” Dick moved his arm over toward Jason as if to elbow him, but didn’t actually make contact with Jason’s arm, and added, “Right, Jason?”
“Uh,” he stammered, “Yeah.” The mob didn’t come out to Bristol much, anyway. Jason had only ever been to Bristol when on away jobs with clients who lived there.
Bruce sighed very loudly, and sounded very put out by the whole ordeal. But he didn’t sound pissed or anything.
Dick only grinned wider, and said, “And, you know, actually I really wanted to take him to the mall, so you should come join us.”
“Dick…” Bruce sighed, but Dick wasn’t having any of it.
“Shh, I wasn’t done. Jason needs another hoody.”
“I thought you were letting him—“ Bruce said, but Dick cut him off.
“Yes, but I wanna get him a second one.”
“Okay, but we can order that—“
Again, Dick cut Bruce off and said, “Also, you have to buy him a phone.”
No he didn’t, Jason wanted to shout. He didn’t need a phone. He didn’t want a phone. But Jason found his voice to be frozen, while Bruce responded.
“A phone?”
“Yeah,” Dick said, in exaggerated frustration, “I gotta have a way to text my little foster brother without adults snooping on us. So. Phone.”
Foster brother?
He hadn’t even thought about that. If Bruce was his ‘foster dad,’ then he supposed it did go to reason that Dick was his foster brother.
“Oh,” Bruce stammered, “I don’t know… “ he took a second, clearly thinking it over, before he added, “Okay, yeah. That’s probably a good idea. Then we could text him when dinner’s ready, and such.”
That… was an upside. Maybe he would stop skipping meals on accident, because he got caught up reading and lost track of time, and no one ever came and knocked on his door. Which he highly appreciated.
He knew it was their house and they could barge into his room whenever they wanted, but he really liked that they didn’t…
“Yeah, exactly,” Dick said, “Wanna meet us at the Bristol mall in twenty?”
“Sure,” Bruce said, “But don’t get out of the car until I’m there. I’ll bring a disguise for him.”
Dick looked over at Jason and rolled his eyes almost fondly, and said, “You’re so paranoid, fine.”
“Okay. Park by Barnes and Noble and I’ll meet you there.”
Barnes and Noble the new bookstore…
Jason… Jason kind of really wanted to go to a new bookstore. He’d only ever been to used bookstores in his life, the rare very few times he’d been to bookstores. Donny had taken him a couple times, usually as a way to apologize for a particularly awful client, although Jason knew it was always more like Sorry about that but I won’t keep it from happening again if they pay well. Pick out a couple books so you’ll keep your trap shut about it.
Bruce, though… Bruce said he would buy Jason whatever books he wanted, all he had to do was ask. So. Would he bring Jason into the bookstore? And let him pick out a new book?
Although with the amazing library at Wayne Manor, Jason didn’t see himself needing new books for many, many years.
If ever.
After Dick had said goodbye and hung up the phone, he took one more bite of his ice cream.
And Jason wasn’t sure what to do. He was done with his ice cream. The last thing he wanted was to get sick in Dick’s beautiful car, or in a bookstore. Or while hoody shopping. But he also felt bad not finishing it, since Dick had paid for it and everything.
But Dick must have picked up on it, because he pointed at Jason’s cup and said, “You done?”
“Yeah,” Jason said.
“Cool, I’ll finish it off for you, if you want.”
Gladly, Jason handed the cup over to Dick, who scarfed down the ice cream in two large bites.
“Wanna try death by chocolate,” he asked, offering Jason his cup, “I’ve got a bite left.”
Jason was curious, so he said, “Uh, sure,” and accepted the cup.
And, just as expected, it was way too chocolatey for his tastes. By like. A million. It was too rich and too sweet.
It was good, of course. The chocolate was delicious, but incredibly overwhelming and Jason didn’t see the appeal in cramming so much chocolate into ice cream.
“So which do you like more,” Dick asked, as he took the cup back and tossed all their trash into the little trashcan next to the car, “butter pecan or death by chocolate?”
“Butter pecan,” Jason said, without having to think too hard. It was the obvious choice.
Dick grinned widely as he put his key into the ignition and started the car. “Awesome. I think we should make a bracket. Butter pecan beats death by chocolate. We’ll get two different flavors next time.”
“Like march madness?” Jason asked, furrowing his brow a little. Why would they take ‘finding his favorite’ ice cream so seriously?
“Yep, exactly.”
Jason rolled his eyes, but had to rest his face into his arm, propped up against the door so he could hide his smile. It sounded really dumb, but in a fun sort of way.
“Come on, buckle up,” Dick said, “I want to beat Bruce there so we can call him a slowpoke.”
And that wouldn’t make Bruce mad? Jason thought, as he sat up properly and fastened his seatbelt. Although Dick seemed to enjoy making Bruce mad. Or… exasperated, at least. If the phone conversation were any indication.
That was a mindset Jason didn’t understand. At all. Making adults, especially big adults like Bruce, mad on purpose was just asking for trouble. An absolute terrible way to live life.
But Dick seemed pretty happy, regardless, so maybe…
“You know,” Dick said, after they’d been driving for a few minutes, “Bruce really isn’t someone to be scared of.”
Jason looked over, but didn’t say anything in response. He knew Dick truly believed that.
Which meant in ten years of living with him, Bruce never did anything to make Dick afraid of him.
Which… was a thing. A thing Jason didn’t know how to deal with.
He’d never met a big guy like Bruce who wasn’t scary sometimes. All big guys talked with their fists, when angry.
Right?
“You’ll see, eventually,” Dick said, when all Jason did was continue to stare.
And Jason… Jason kind of hoped so.
If Dick were being real, Bruce sounded almost… pleasant to live with.
That being the case wasn’t something he would have ever hoped for, not in a million years.
But… it was possible…
Notes:
I have failed at responding to comments like I said I was gonna try to do. Sorry 😖 But I love your comments, so thanks for leaving them anyway. 🥰
Chapter 21
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
They beat Bruce to the mall by about five minutes, parking in the very back of the lot, right in front of Barnes and Noble as promised. Dick was very proud of that fact, if his stupid grin when Bruce parked beside them was any indication.
“We look like we’re doing a drug deal,” Dick said, once he rolled down Jason’s window so Bruce could lean in.
Bruce rolled his eyes and passed Jason his ‘disguise.’
A pair of glasses and a baseball cap.
Because apparently Bruce was typical celebrity.
How the fuck did glasses and a baseball cap hide his identity? They didn’t. But Jason put them on anyway.
The glasses were weird. Jason had assumed they were just sunglasses, but they weren’t. They were those weird transition glasses, that turned into regular glasses away from sunlight, because they had dimmed a little in the shade of the car.
“How do they feel?” Bruce asked, when Jason looked up and around.
Why did Bruce just have kid sized glasses laying around? The kind without any prescription in them? Just… plain glasses?
“Fine,” Jason said after a moment. They didn’t make his head hurt or anything, so that was probably the right answer.
Jason pulled the hat back off and readjusted the size, so it fit a little more snug, and decided he was probably as ‘disguised’ as he would be.
“Relax, Bruce,” Dick said, a bit soothingly, “It’ll be fine.”
When Jason finally looked up at Bruce, all he saw was Bruce frowning. Bruce, with his clean looking face…
“Didn’t you have a bruise?” Jason asked, scrutinizing Bruce’s face. He knew for a fact he had a bruise on the right side of his face, along the jawline.
But now… there was nothing.
Bruce’s hand shot up to his face, but he stopped himself before he actually touched his face.
“You’re wearing makeup?” Jason asked a touch incredulously. Why did he even know how to use makeup that well?
“Yeah,” Dick said, cutting Bruce off before he started speaking, “Bruce is a klutz and hurts himself all the time. It’s way easier than having some asshole snapping a picture and plastering it all over the papers, speculating on what happened, when really he just fell off a horse, or whatever.”
“Motorcycle,” Bruce said, stepped back from the car as he rubbed at his neck, “I crashed my bike this time.”
Yeah, and Jason’s mom fell down the stairs. Right.
But who was beating up Bruce Wayne? It wasn’t like he was married or anything. And Jason usually knew where Alfred was, while Bruce was out. Plus, there was no way it was Alfred beating him up.
“Come on,” Bruce said, motioning with his hand for Jason to get out of the car and follow. Apparently Dick had already got out, and was standing next to Bruce, smiling wide.
At least it was Bruce getting beat up, Jason thought, as he got out of the car. Had it been Dick lying about and hiding away injuries, Jason would have way more to worry about.
He did not like getting beat up.
But, then again, he’d known Dick for less than one day. It was very possible…
“Have you ever been to this mall?” Dick asked, skipping to be by his side as they walked toward the mall entrance, Bruce following along behind them.
Jason shook his head. He’d never been to any mall. Not the giant, indoor type, at least.
“Well, it’s huge,” Dick said, excitedly, “and has a lot of neat stores. Do you like salsa? There’s an awesome salsa and hot sauce store that lets you try anything they sell.”
That was neat, he supposed. But he didn’t particularly care, so he shrugged. Salsa was fine. He could take it or leave it.
“Dick,” Bruce said, slightly admonishingly, “let’s keep it simple today. I don’t want to be out longer than necessary, and setting up a new phone will already take a while.”
“Fine,” Dick sighed, dramatically.
So no bookstore then, Jason thought, as he shoved his hands into his hoody pocket. Which was fine. He didn’t really want to be at the mall anyway. The faster they got it over with, the better.
“But one day I’m bringing Jason to the mall without you, and we will eat all the free samples.”
“Once it’s safe and Jason wants to,” Bruce said, his voice sounding like he was smiling. Although Jason just knew if he turned around and looked, his mouth would still be in a flat line.
“So what first?” Dick asked, just as they reached the doors to Barnes and Noble. Jason thought they’d go toward the main mall entrance, instead, but they didn’t.
But he also knew the store would have an entrance to the greater mall, so maybe they were just walking through Barnes and Noble.
That was good enough for Jason.
“Since we’re here,” Bruce said, opening the interior door and holding it for them to walk through, after Dick had done the same with the exterior door, “Let’s start here. Then get the hoody, then hit the Apple Store. I don’t want to carry around an Apple bag longer than necessary.”
Here? Jason thought, trying not to smile. He really wanted to look around.
“He’ll need a case,” Dick said, as they stopped near a table of nooks. Jason had no idea what nooks were, but looking at them was pretty neat, “Should we go to Best Buy?”
“I have half a dozen extras at home, he can use one of those until whatever he picks out online comes in.”
They were like, electronic books. Using one probably wasn’t as nice as holding the book in his hands, but he could see the benefits. He could carry, like, ten books on it all at once. If he finished one book, he could start right in on another without having to bring extra books.
“Okay,” Dick said, “There’s a couple new books I had my eye on, I’m gonna go see if they have them.”
Jason tapped on the screen of the nook, to see what it would do. But nothing happened.
“Those are just display,” Bruce said, startling Jason from where he’d stepped over to stand right next to him, looking down at the nook, “If you want to try one out, I have an old kindle at home I don’t use. It’s the same thing, just from Amazon.”
“I was just looking,” Jason said, shrugging. He looked around, then, and saw Dick had wandered off already.
Meaning. Jason was stuck with Bruce.
Which was fine. Totally and completely fine.
“Want to look around?” Bruce asked, holding a hand out as he gestured to the rows and rows and rows of books for sale, beyond the table.
The store was massive. Like. The size of a grocery store, it was so large.
So yeah Jason wanted to look around.
Bruce smiled one of his stupid little smiles when Jason nodded enthusiastically, and said, “Go on then. If you find something you want, just pick it up. I’ll get it for you.”
Jason wanted to ask what the catch was, but if he were being forced into getting a phone anyway…it probably didn’t matter. He might as well get something he wanted out of the deal, too.
Whatever the deal was going to be…
There was always a catch when it came to expensive shit, Jason knew that. But he also knew Wayne wouldn’t fucking tell him what it was, either.
He looked around for a moment, a little lost at where to start. The store was fucking huge. But he decided the fiction section was probably the best place to start, so he went to the left, to what looked to be fiction. He’d seen history above a couple bookshelves to the right.
Bruce followed him, walking a couple steps behind him, and Jason had to take a breath and try not to get annoyed.
Obviously Bruce would follow him around. He was afraid the mob would snatch him. It was just to protect him, he reminded himself, not to make sure he didn’t run away.
It wasn’t like Jason had anywhere to run to, anyway. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to try.
Jason wandered down the new releases and best sellers aisle, and was a touch overwhelmed by all the options. And the lack of organization.
The books were just kind of… everything. Fiction, nonfiction, self help. Politics.
Just.
Everything.
He had no idea where to even begin.
“You’ve read a lot of books the past couple week,” Bruce said, after Jason had stared at the same shelf of books for a full minute.
“Yeah.” He was almost to fifteen books. It would have been more, but sometimes he hung out with Alfred instead. Which wasn’t a bad thing.
“Has any particular genre piqued your interest?”
Not really, Jason thought as he shrugged. He’d been jumping all over the place. So far he hadn’t hated anything, per se. Maybe not fully enjoyed a few things.
“Alfred said you seem to like classics.”
“Yeah,” Jason agreed, with another shrug. Quite a few of the books he’d put on his ‘favorites’ list were considered ‘classics.’ But Wayne Manor already had all the classics. Right?
“Hm,” Bruce hummed, sticking his hands into his pockets as he looked around the store. He was tall enough he could see over the shelves. He seemed to find what he was looking for and smiled, just a touch more. “Then come look at these.”
Jason followed dutifully as Bruce lead him through the maze of shelves over to another table, hidden away up against the wall, closer to the other entrance to the store.
“I’ve always thought these were some beautiful books,” Bruce said, as he gestured to the whole table full of classic “collector’s edition” books.
And Jason had to admit… they were beautiful. Very ornate, and he loved how they all matched each other, even though they were a ton of different, very different books.
There was Dune. Jane Austen. The Count of Monte Cristo. Little Women…
Really, a bunch of things, some Jason had read, some not.
“Go on, pick a few out,” Bruce said, when all Jason did was look at all the titles, circling the table so he could read them all.
“The library already has these,” he said. Even if he hadn’t read them all, he had seen all of them in the library.
“I meant for your room,” Bruce said, “To start your own collection.”
His own collection?
It was one thing to purchase books for the library that Jason could read, but to buy books specifically to occupy the shelves in his room? New books. That cost $25 each?
“Three, Jason,” Bruce said firmly, when Jason still didn’t make any move to pick up a book, “Pick three out and I won’t push you to buy anything else here. Although if you want more things, I will happily purchase them for you.”
But what is the catch, Jason wanted to ask. He didn’t, though, and just took a deep, steadying breath as he looked back through the titles.
He could pick three out. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen anyway. He could at least put three pretty books on his shelves and look at them.
And remember the price he had to pay…
It took him several minutes to decide, but he finally settled on three anthologies, so it didn’t fully feel like spending $25 for a single book. The Charles Dickens anthology was three of his novels, while the Jane Austen one was seven. And the Sherlock Holmes, a series he hadn’t read yet, was sixty stories. So, overall, the price wasn’t super outrageous.
Kind of…
“Do you want me to carry them?” Bruce asked, once Jason had finally picked all three books up.
He looked up, and furrowed his brow. The books were big, yeah, but not that big. Jason could certainly handle them, probably a lot easier than Bruce could, at the moment.
“Your arm is broken,” he said, hugging the books a little closer to his chest. He wasn’t gonna listen to Bruce bitch about how Jason made that worse, by not carrying his own damn books. He… didn’t know if Bruce would do that, but he’d rather not find out.
“It’s not broken,” Bruce said evenly, “just sprained. I don’t even have it wrapped anymore.”
Which was just another stupid thing that would make the sprain worse and last longer, but Jason wasn’t going to criticize Bruce about it.
When all Jason did was stare, Bruce sighed and said, “I can still carry three books.”
Yeah but so could he, Jason thought. What he said was, “I’ve got it.”
Bruce huffed a quiet little laugh and said, “Okay, then let’s go find Dick.”
Dick, in the end, found them. He had two books in his hands, but Jason didn’t recognize either cover, and he didn’t want to bother Dick into letting him see what the titles were.
At the register, Bruce swiped his card for all five books, but the nice lady put the books in two different bags, so Jason and Dick could each carry their own books.
Even though Bruce offered to carry all of them.
“Okay,” Bruce said, once they left Barnes and Noble through the mall entrance, “What kind of hoody do you want?”
He shrugged. As long as Bruce let him wear it, he didn’t care. So, not a Superman one.
Bruce kept saying his opinion on Jason’s clothes didn’t matter, but that didn’t mean Jason was going to pick clothes that Bruce specifically hated.
“J.C. Penney has superhero stuff,” Dick said, squinting at one of the signs way down the hall, that pointed to where all the stores were, “but there’s a sports fan shop downstairs that has pretty much all the major teams.”
Jason shrugged again. He didn’t care.
“I’m sure there are plain hoodies somewhere, as well,” Bruce added, as if Jason would care at all.
He didn’t.
“Oh yeah,” Dick said, nodding and pointing at a clothing store across the hall, “Gap has plain ones.”
“Right,” Bruce said, “Which sounds best, Jay?”
The longer they talked, the higher Jason’s shoulders inched upward. He really wanted to pull his hood up, but he was afraid doing so would get them kicked out of the mall. Stores and shit didn’t like when punk little kids hid their face too much.
“Gap is right here,” Bruce said, “Let’s see what they have. If you don’t like any of them, we’ll try somewhere else.”
“Okay,” Jason said. But again. He didn’t care. As long as he was allowed to wear it, he didn’t care what it looked like.
Well, that wasn’t true. As long as it wasn’t skin tight or see through, he didn’t care. He kind of doubted Bruce would buy him something like that, anyway.
Or that it would be sold at a shopping mall in Bristol.
Jason followed Dick around, as he led their search for hoodies. At first, all they could find were hoodies that said “GAP” across the front. Jason didn’t care, but Bruce grumbled something about how paying to advertise a company was stupid.
But in the back, they found a little shelf that had plain colored hoodies, tucked away and neatly folded in stacks. Jason reached out and pulled a sleeve free on one so he could run the fabric between his fingers, and he smiled very slightly.
It felt just like the one he had as a little kid and still lived with his parents. Soft and thick and warm. That particular one was even the same shade of red.
When he turned the price tag over, however, he froze.
Because it cost sixty-five dollars.
For a hoody.
No wonder his mom had bought his several sizes too big. For sixty-five dollars, he had to get several winters out of it.
“Don’t look at the price tag,” Bruce said, making Jason jump. He’d forgotten he was being followed. Which was stupid. He needed to stop getting lost in his own thoughts and forgetting where he was. Or who he was with, more specifically…
“If you like it,” Bruce continued, “I’ll get it for you.”
But it was sixty-five dollars.
That was more than what a lot of his clients paid for an hour of his time. And a lot of times, they only bought half an hour. It was very easily three clients to pay off the one hoody. That, plus the books, plus the phone…
Jason toyed with the drawstring on his hoody, and tried to slow his heart-rate back down. He was being ridiculous.
Bruce… Bruce wasn’t making him pay it back. He said he wasn’t.
So Jason shouldn’t be adding up all the things Bruce was buying him and freaking out over how many clients it took. Because it didn’t matter.
Right?
How could it not matter?
All Bruce had actually said was he wouldn’t touch Jason…
Bruce took a couple steps forward, then knelt down right next to Jason, so he was right at eye level with him. “Do you like this one?” he asked, pulling the hoody Jason had been touching off the shelf.
Jason cut his eyes over at Bruce, but didn’t answer. Yes, he did want the hoody. But he didn’t want to know what Bruce wanted in exchange for everything. His bag of books was feeling heavier and heavier with every second, and he hadn’t even seen the price tag on the phone.
Phones had monthly bills, too.
The hoody, plus the books, plus the phone, plus everything else Bruce had already bought for him, all means Jason was already so far in debt. And without seeing clients, he didn’t know how he was going to make up for it. How he was going to pay it all back.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Bruce asked, softly, his voice near a whisper.
Jason took a deep breath, and shook his head.
“Nothing’s wrong?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.
Of course he didn’t believe him. Jason didn’t believe himself.
“No” he whispered, “it’s—it’s too much.” He didn’t want a hoody anymore. He was fine with the Batman one. Just the Batman one.
Bruce looked down at the hoody in his hands, and found the price tag on the sleeve. After he flipped it over and read the price, he looked back at Jason and said, “It’s okay, Jason. I can afford this.”
“But—“ Jason started to protest, but snapped his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to…
Bruce just looked at him patiently, though, and didn’t seem the least bit upset that Jason had tried to back talk him.
No adult ever was okay with back talk.
What the fuck was wrong with Bruce Wayne?
“You,” Jason said, clenching his free hand into a fist so tight, his nails started to dig into his palm. His eyes were burning, and Jason did not want to start crying. At the fucking mall. In front of Bruce.
Again.
“You’re spending so much on me,” he said, “What—“ do you want in return, he couldn’t finish.
Not without letting go.
And he couldn’t let go.
“Yes, Jason,” Bruce said, gently, “That’s my job as your foster parent. To buy you the things you need. Remember all those papers I signed at the police station?”
The ones that distracted him so Officer Asshole could corner him? Jason nodded.
“They had me promise to buy you the things you need and to care for you. As far as I can tell, you need books and you need clothes and you need a cell phone.”
But no one just bought things for someone without expecting something in return.
“Donny,” he started, but had to pause to take his glasses off and scrub at one of his eyes. The burning had got so intense, he almost couldn’t keep himself under control.
“What did Donny do?” Bruce prodded, still in his gentle fucking voice, sounding like he cared the world about it and wanted to fix everything.
Which was all it took.
“He-“ Jason cried, “I had to—“
Why the fuck was he crying over this? He never cried about it. It’s just how it was.
What was wrong with him?
Bruce scooted a little closer, so he was mere inches away from Jason, but still somehow not touching him at all, and whispered, “It’s okay. Did he make you repay him?”
Jason nodded, and set his bag of books down and put his glasses in his pocket so he could press his balled up sleeves into his eyes. He had to quit crying. If he started making noise, it would just make a scene and he didn’t want people questioning why a fucking twelve-year-old was crying in the middle of the damn mall.
Dick walked up to Jason’s other side, he knew, because he could hear Dick’s converse squeak as he approached. He leaned over and said, just as softly as Bruce had been talking, “Jay, I’m the one buying you the hoody, anyway. And it’s a gift. I don’t want anything in return.”
“And I want nothing in return for anything I buy you,” Bruce added, “It’s my job as foster parent to provide for you, it would be wrong of me to ask for things in return.”
That never stopped people before, Jason thought bitterly. Even his own dad had made him steal shit, to ‘carry his own weight’ as he got older. Or run errands. Or even stupid shit like get him a beer from the fridge. There was always a price for things.
So why were the Waynes any different?
“I promise, Jason,” Bruce soothed, “We just want you to be safe and happy. There are no strings attached.”
Jason nodded, but he didn’t move his hands quite yet. He was still working on not crying.
“Okay,” Bruce said, exhaling a little roughly as he stood to his full height, “how about we check out and take a break.”
“Ooh,” Dick said, right back to cheerful, “Let’s get pretzels.”
Pretzels, Jason thought, as he laughed a little through what he hoped were the last of his tears. How was Dick even hungry?
Dick grinned, when Jason finally scrubbed at his eyes and looked up at him.
“What size?” he asked, taking the hoody out of Bruce’s hands, “The one you’re wearing is a small, but I always thought it fit more like a medium. This is an extra small, I think it’ll fit you better.”
Jason looked down at the hoody he was wearing and said, “I like,” but had to pause to hiccup, a little.
“Ah,” Dick said, before Jason recovered and finished his sentence, “Got it.” He folded and put the hoody in his hands back, then dug through the pile of red hoodies. He found a small and pulled it out, then unfolded it and held up up to Jason. “This one?” he asked.
The hoody looked smaller than his Batman one, but it still looked plenty big enough to be comfortable. It was definitely at least three sizes too big for him. So he nodded.
Bruce reached down and picked up Jason’s bag of books before Jason could protest, and led them over to the checkout.
When the total rang up to over $70, Jason had to look away. Even though Dick was the one who swiped his card for it.
They promised they wanted nothing in return. Jason wasn’t sure if he believed them, but he really had no choice but to try. Crying about how maybe bad things could happen was stupid. He should save it for when bad things actually happened.
And then maybe not cry at all. He’d survived years with Donny not crying about miserable shit, it was stupid to be crying over a hoody now.
“Come on,” Dick said, once the cashier handed him the bag and receipt, “We need pretzels and soda.”
Yeah, he thought, as he followed Dick to some vending machines while Bruce went and ordered them some pretzels, even though Jason said he wasn’t hungry, he should try to enjoy the not bad things happening.
It was fucking stupid to be crying when literally nothing bad had happened yet.
Especially since there was a real possibility nothing bad would ever happen….
A small one, but a real one.
So far Dick and Bruce had been nice. If it stayed that way, well. Jason could see himself being happy.
Happy and safe, just like Bruce said he wanted.
Jason wanted that, too…
Notes:
Me: hm, is it too soon for Jason to be thinking about considering starting to trust Bruce?
me @ me: CAIT IT HAS BEEN 70K WORDS NO IT'S NOT TOO SOON🙃
Chapter 22
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason spent about ten minutes picking at his pretzel and slowly sipping at the Dr. Pepper he’d picked out from the vending machine. Dick had scarfed down his pretzel, and Bruce ate his pretty quickly, too, but not in three bites like Dick.
Which just left Jason sitting there, picking the salt off and eating it one tiny bite at a time.
“You don’t have to finish it,” Bruce told him, and he believed it and all. He figured Dick would probably polish it off, so it didn’t go to waste. But it also wasn’t like they were doing anything in particular, either.
Just sitting there, in a tucked away little area of the food court to “take a break.” And Jason was fucking tired and kind of liked just sitting there.
Dick filled the silence with stories of his travel, updating Bruce on all the neat places he’d been so far this summer.
But Jason mainly tuned him out. Dick and Bruce interacted so… strangely.
Like… like. They were comfortable around each other. Good friends, even. Dick kept picking at Bruce, saying things like he knew it would annoy Bruce, but every time it happened, Bruce just grumbled or rolled his eyes.
He never got angry. At all.
And Dick seemed to love it when Bruce rolled his eyes, because every time he grinned in response.
It… it was something else. The idea that Bruce really was just a well-meaning idiot that played with fire in trying to ‘rescue’ Jason, after having done the exact same thing with Dick left him feeling… weird. It made his chest all staticky.
How on earth was any of this real?
Was it real?
Jason… Jason didn’t know. He wasn’t sure.
He picked another piece of salt off his pretzel and put it in his mouth, letting the little rock melt away on his tongue. The sharp flavor was nice. Something to concentrate on that wasn’t his mind picking apart every single word Bruce had ever said and trying to make sense of it.
“You okay, Jase?” Dick asked, placing his hand on the seat back behind Jason, several inches behind him since Jason was slumped forward, leaning on his arm on the table, “You really don’t have to eat the pretzel if you don’t want it.”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled back before picking up the edge of his pretzel to take an actual bite.
He also wasn’t quite sure what to think of Dick himself. He was so… nice.
Nice for no fucking reason. Friendly. He’d brought him away from the manor, bought him ice cream and a hoody, and even argued with Bruce in order to keep him away from the manor for a little longer. And get him a phone. Probably, at least, since that hadn’t actually happened yet.
Dick had no reason to be so nice to Jason, and yet there he was. Did he feel bad? That Jason was stuck with Bruce now, and he’d gotten away?
Probably not. He’d said himself he wouldn’t come back if Bruce had ever touched him. And Alfred said Bruce never touched him, and Bruce said Bruce never touched him.
And how could he be so comfortable with Bruce, if they were all lying and he had? Jason could act pretty good, and flirt and banter with his clients and shit just fine, making them all think he liked them and liked it, but that was because he didn’t have to live with them.
It was easy to be on for an hour or two, or a night.
But his whole fucking life?
Maybe, if it was the only way to survive. But he sure as fuck wouldn’t purposely try to make them mad, and disobey them just cause.
“We can go home,” Bruce said, after another minute had passed. Jason hadn’t even realized, but they’d both gone completely silent. When he looked up, he saw two faces looking at him with fucking concern.
Which was dumb. Sure, he’d cried earlier, but he wasn’t gonna fucking do it again.
He was never gonna cry ever ever again, if he could help it.
“Bruce, you have to get him a phone,” Dick whined.
“I will,” Bruce said, slightly exasperated, “but we don’t have to do that in person. I can order it online, if Jason is done shopping.”
“I don’t care,” Jason said, maybe slightly a little exasperated himself. He didn’t want a phone, didn’t want Bruce to drop like another thousand dollars on him, but he supposed he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, either.
Plus, he kind of liked the idea of having one. Even if just for the reasons Dick said. So he could text people instead of having to see them in person all the time. Like Alfred, to know when dinner was ready.
Or Bruce, he supposed. If he had to.
“Dick could also bring you home and I can go get your phone myself,” Bruce said, “I would like for you to have some choice in the matter, but if it’s too much you don’t have to be there.”
“It’s not too much,” Jason grumbled. He needed to get used to everything, probably. And what kind of a baby was he, if he went running home with his tail between his legs all because he got upset shopping.
Bruce was gonna buy him a phone regardless, so he might as well be there to see it and know how much it was costing.
Not that… that apparently mattered. Supposedly.
He sat up, a little, and pushed his pretzel over toward Dick.
“You done?” Dick asked. When Jason nodded, he grinned and finished the pretzel off, just like Jason anticipated he’d do.
“All right then,” Bruce said, as he stood up and collected up all their trash, “Let’s get moving.”
When they got to the Apple store, which was bright white and super fucking pretentious looking, some dude walked up to them and ‘checked them in.’ Because apparently that’s what happened at rich people stores.
Bruce told him they were after, “Whatever the newest iPhone is, we’ll be adding a line to the family plan, for him,” and motioned toward Jason.
It didn’t faze the dude at all that they were apparently buying something that cost a grand without doing any research or even knowing the proper name of it.
Because, again, rich people store. Apparently that was how rich people shopped.
It was insane.
“That’s great,” the guy said, as he started tapping at his tablet, “How about we set you up at the display over here, so you can try each one of them out while you wait.”
“Excellent,” Bruce said, as he shepherded Jason on over to where the dude was leading them.
Jason shrank into his hoody, a little, while the guy was pointing out the iPhone SE, and pulled the collar up with his chin, so it was resting right below his nose, half of his face inside it.
“This one comes in three colors,” the guy said, as he pointed at three phones, one black, one white, and one red, “and it is our smaller model. It should be much easier for your son to handle than the iPhone 11, but if you want to see those instead, they’re right over there,” he pointed at a display a table over, then continued, “We’ll have someone out to assist you with the purchase as soon as they’re available.”
“Thanks,” Bruce said. Once the guy smiled and walked back over to the entrance, to help other people, he turned toward Jason and asked, “So what do you think, Jase. Do you want one of these, or one of the bigger phones?”
“I don’t care,” he mumbled, as he readjusted the hoody’s collar to be over his nose. But Bruce frowned at him, so he shook his head and let the collar fall back to where it was meant to be.
“Hm.” Bruce picked up one of the phones, the red one, and turned it over. The phone pulled on a wire, that was attached to the table, most likely to prevent people from lifting it. Made way more sense how they could just keep expensive ass phones sitting on a table. Even if they were in Bristol, sticky fingers would easily walk off with them, otherwise.
Dick leaned up against the table, on the other side of Jason from Bruce, and said, “I do think he’s right, the littler phone will be easier to hold. It will fit in your pants pockets, too, while the bigger phones probably wont.”
“That’s fine, I don’t care,” Jason snapped. He just wanted to get it over with.
“Okay,” Bruce said, still frowning, but Jason didn’t know how to make him not frown. And he just wanted to get it over with so they could leave. “We’ll get one of these. Red is your favorite color, right?” He held the display phone out for Jason to take.
“Yeah,” Jason said slowly, as he reached out for the phone. Had he told Bruce that? When Dick asked that morning, he’d just shrugged. Because it was his, like, forty-fifth question and he’d been over the conversation. But he didn’t remember Bruce ever asking him for his favorite color.
The red of the phone was nice, he had to admit, once he had it in his hand and started looking at it. And he could hold the phone just fine with one hand, so the dude was right there.
“Do you like it?” Bruce asked, so Jason just nodded.
It was fine. The price on the screen said it was only four hundred dollars, too. Which was way better than what he’d been expecting. Still a lot of fucking money, but not more than a month of rent, either.
Bruce smiled, slightly, and said, “Perfect, then we’ll get that one.”
“Great,” Jason mumbled. He sat the phone back on its little stand thing, and shoved his hands into his hoody pocket.
Dick stood up and asked, “Want to come look at the cases and such, Jay? While Bruce waits to purchase the phone?”
“Good idea,” Bruce said, “I don’t have any cases for this size phone at home. Get him a screen protector, at least.”
“You got it.”
Jason suffered through the entire thing, following Dick around to the small little displays on the walls, all around the store. In the end, he was forced into buying a glass screen protector, which sounded fucking stupid to him. It was a piece of glass they were going to put on the screen, apparently. Because screens broke easily so they had to spent $30 extra dollars to break that piece of glass instead. Dick also made him pick out a case, and in the end he got a red one that said it could protect the phone from drops and stuff. In total they were gonna spend another $100 on the phone.
He wanted to be sick.
His brain kept tallying up all the purchases they were making for him, and all he could think about was how could Bruce possibly not want anything in return.
Bruce was rich, he kept reminding himself, money meant nothing to him. So. So. It shouldn’t matter.
Plus, Bruce had already paid a shit ton of money just to have Jason. So… it didn’t matter?
Even though… Jason had never once in his entire life met a person who didn’t care how much money they spent on someone else…
And Bruce had probably spent well over 15 thousand dollars, already.
Yep. He was totally going to be sick.
Instead, though, he just sank down into his hoody a little more, and followed Dick silently back over to Bruce, who was chatting with an employee, the new phone sitting on the table in front of them, still inside its box.
“Jay,” Bruce said, once they got back over, “there you are. We’re about to get it set up.”
In total, it took about half an hour to get from the phone in the box, to in Jason’s hands, fully activated and ready to go. They put the screen protector and case on it on the spot, and Jason was assigned a number and everything.
It was neat, he had to admit. But by the time they were done, Jason was so over being at the mall. And just wanted to go home and curl up in his room, and maybe take a nap.
By himself.
Far away from both Bruce and Dick.
Thankfully, they did go on home after. On the car ride there, however, Dick talked Jason’s ear off, recommending a ton of different games to download and play. Jason did find a couple of them, because apparently the games were free, and then started browsing through the app store himself.
Some of the games required other people to play with, like the scrabble knock off, but Dick said he’d play it with Jason, and if he wanted, Bruce or Alfred would play it with him, too. But he could also play it online with random strangers, which sounded way better.
Although he wouldn’t mind playing with Alfred…
Other games, like one where he was supposed to plant flowers and shit to fight zombies, were one person games, and actually looked pretty fun.
And once at home, Dick started up a scrabble game with him and let Jason go on to his room by himself, his new hoody and books in tow, as long as he promised to play his turn.
Which was exactly what Jason did. He played his one turn, and then fell asleep in one of the armchairs in his room, snuggled down into his batman hoody, happy to ignore everything at least for a while longer.
- - -
Jason woke several hours later, when his phone dinged really loud and vibrated, from where it’d fallen between Jason and the back of the armchair. And by woke, he actually jumped. Almost hard enough to fall off the chair.
Thankfully, the phone was perfectly fine. He needed to be more careful about where he set it, because like hell did Jason want to break the phone, or even the stupid overpriced piece of glass on it. Because he was going to try his best not to go further into debt with Bruce.
Just in case.
Clicking the screen on, Jason found a text from Bruce, which read, ‘Dinner’s ready, if you want to join us.’
Jason unlocked the phone and navigated to the messages app, just as another text came in.
‘We’re having baked chicken with veggies.’
With a sigh, Jason got to his feet and started trudging downstairs. He wasn’t supposed to skip meals, and his stupid phone told Bruce he’d seen the text message.
Getting a phone was a major mistake, he already knew it. Now instead of just hiding away in his room when he didn’t want to talk to any of them, they could text him. And they’d know he saw the text and was ignoring them.
And what would Bruce do? If he knew for a fact Jason was ignoring him and disobeying the whole ‘don’t skip meals’ thing on purpose?
Jason groaned, as he pulled his hood up and tromped down the stairs. He hated this.
Hated it.
But there was nothing he could fucking do about it.
Except go to the dining room, and deal with it.
It wouldn’t even be bad. Jason could handle eating meals with Bruce every day. He could. As long as Bruce really didn’t touch him.
If…if they were all being for real, and Bruce really wasn’t a pedophile…
Jason could handle pissing him off every once in a while, right? Or. Or he could just not piss him off, and eat food with him and do whatever else he wanted. Because. Jason could handle it. He could.
He lived with his dad, after all. And his dad was so fucking easy to set off. He’d been living with Bruce for almost two weeks, and Jason hadn’t actually set him off once. So it was likely rare that it would happen.
Plus, Dick wasn’t afraid of Bruce.
At all.
“Glad you could join us, lad,” Bruce said, when Jason walked into the dining room and took his seat, across from Dick. He had his stupid not smiling smile on his face and just looked so fucking happy Jason had come down.
But…
Not in a ‘good, that little bastard better do what I say’ sort of way.
More like he was just… happy Jason came down. Dick, too, had a bright smile on his face
Yeah, Jason thought. He could handle it all. So far, he was okay. And there was a chance it would stay that way, too.
And not just a small chance, anymore, either.
But, like. A big chance. Fifty-fifty, if he had to put odds on it.
It… it was the highest chance everything was okay in his life, he thought. Which was a little weird to think about.
Some rich guy went and bought him, or. Bought a week of his time and then flat out kept him and… it might be okay.
Was that even possible?
Jason kind of really hoped it was… he was tired of not being okay.
Notes:
I had been doing this project for Nanowrimo, which is why updates were coming so often last month. I slowed down significantly once november was over, and now I have my furlough from work coming up, which I'll spend at home with my parents (over christmas for a couple weeks) so I don't know how many updates will happen this month. In January I plan on doing another nano-style month, but focusing on The Best Things instead, because I'm so far behind on that fic.
So yeah. I'm glad you guys enjoyed the fast update schedule last month, but it probably won't keep up. I'll continue working on it, though. I've got exactly a week before I start my drive home, and I hope to get at least one chapter more out this week, but we'll see. Maybe I'll get two! (Then I have no idea how many, if any, I'll get done while home. It's so hit or miss for me, whether I get writing while visiting my parents.)
Thanks for reading and commenting. ❤️ you all.
Chapter 23
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Hey,” Dick said, just as Jason was finishing up his dinner and was about to escape back to his room, “Want to play a game after dinner?”
Jason faltered. No was the answer. He did not want to play a game.
But… Dick was only there for a couple days. And he’d come specifically to see Jason. So it was probably really rude to say ‘no’ and ditch him and hide in his room the rest of his visit.
Even if that’s all Jason wanted to do.
And what would Bruce do, if Jason blew Dick off like that?
He didn’t feel like fighting, so Jason shrugged and said, “Sure.”
“Bruce?” Dick asked.
Jason had to suppress his desire to scowl. He didn’t want to play with Bruce. He didn’t have the energy to do anything with Bruce. Had he known Bruce would join them, he would have said his stomach hurt and gone and hid in his room more. Bruce would probably let him, if he thought he was sick.
But Bruce shook his head and said, “I’ll come join you two later, I have something to finish up first.”
Hopefully he’d get caught up in his work and forget. That’s what Jason was hoping, as he followed Dick toward the living room that had all the board games.
“What game do you want to play?” Dick asked, as he started looking through the shelves of games. But Jason merely shrugged. He didn’t even know what most the games were, so he couldn’t even begin to choose one.
Dick had probably played all of them with Bruce, for whatever reason that was. Either because Bruce just… liked playing games with him. Or because Bruce liked pretending Dick was his kid. Jason wasn’t sure which it was, anymore.
Jason flung himself down on the couch, right in front of the coffee table where he assumed they’d play and crossed his arms. He didn’t know which Bruce he preferred, either. Because Jason didn’t know how to just… play games. With Bruce. For fun. How would he even do that, without pissing Bruce off to no end? If he had no way to… please him. He didn’t know how to deal with him, otherwise.
“Okay,” Dick said, as he started digging through a basket of card games, “Have you ever played Uno?”
He hadn’t, but it ended up being easy to learn. Dick sat on the floor across from the coffee table, so Jason could stay on the couch, and it ended up being not terrible.
Dick kept the conversation light, and didn’t hound Jason for information about himself, too. Which was great.
But eventually playing Uno got boring, so Dick put the cards away and flipped on the TV.
Watching TV wasn’t awful. He’d done that with Bruce once already, and it hadn’t been bad. Bruce talked a little, but not much. Couldn’t talk much when trying to pay attention to the show or movie, after all…
Or that’s what Jason thought. Because he grew tired of ‘TV,’ too, when Dick didn’t quit asking for Jason’s input every time he changed the channel. ‘Do you like this show, how about this one, what do you think of this one?’
Jason hadn’t even heard of any of the shows Dick kept picking, so he didn’t have an opinion on any of them. But every time Jason shrugged, Dick changed the channel and tried to find something else.
“Come on,” he finally said, after they’d gone through at least fifteen channels, “there’s got to be something you like to watch on TV.”
“I don’t really watch TV,” Jason admitted, as he curled up a little tighter on the couch. Dick had moved to an armchair, and Jason was highly considering getting a blanket out like Bruce said he always could.
“Really?” Dick asked, as if he’d never heard of a person who didn’t watch TV. “Why not?”
It wasn’t like Jason never watched it. He’d watched it twice so far, since moving to the manor. But then again, that was a lot, compared to how often he normally watched it.
“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging, “I never felt like fighting the other boys for the remote.” He wasn’t the smallest kid in the house, but it was close. And he never felt like getting beat up or trying to beat someone else up, all over a stupid remote. It wasn’t worth it at all.
“Other boys?” Dick asked.
“At Donny’s house. There was one TV and nine of us,” Jason said, a little critically. Hadn’t Bruce told Dick where he came from?
Or maybe Bruce had just told Dick all about how Jason was a whore, and what kind of shitty clothes he had to wear, and nothing else.
“Oh,” Dick said, “Then what did you do to pass time?”
Jason shrugged. He read. Or did his schoolwork. Or watched the other boys play video games, since that was often what the TV was used for, anyway. But it wasn’t like Dick actually cared. Or needed to know any of that.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” Dick said, after the silence stretched for a moment, “There’s plenty of things to do around here, and you won’t have to fight anyone for the TV. Especially since we’ve got more TVs than people here.”
“Yeah,” Jason agreed. And so far, the couple times he’d used the TV, no one had tried to change the channel on him. Bruce agreed to watch whatever crap Jason had been watching, and even seemed to enjoy it.
Although Jason wouldn’t have objected to Bruce changing the channel. He didn’t care, anyway, what he watched.
“Want to watch a movie?” Dick asked, after flipping through three more channels and finding ‘nothing’ for them to watch.
With another shrug, Jason said, “sure,” and finally got up to get a blanket out of the basket. If they were going to watch a movie, he was definitely going to curl up under a blanket.
“Bruce said you’re reading through Harry Potter,” Dick said, scooting over to the tower of DVDs that were on either side of the TV, “how far have you gotten?”
“I’m in the fourth book.” He hadn’t been reading them too eagerly, or anything. There were so many other books that were more interesting. But literally everyone on the planet had read Harry Potter, it seemed like, so Jason was trying to finish the series.
“Awesome, want to watch the first movie then? I really like the movies, I think they are some of the best book adaptations done.”
“That’s fine,” he said, shrugging. Bruce had wanted Jason to watch the movies. Did it count, if he watched them not with Bruce?
Jason’s hopes were dashed, however, when not even ten seconds later Dick turned around and smiled brightly. “Hey, Bruce,” he said, and Jason jumped and looked back at the doorway, where Bruce was lurking like a creepy stalker.
“Hey, boys,” Bruce said, stepping into the room. He looked at Jason and held something black up in his hands and asked, “Can I show you how to use this?”
“Sure?” Jason asked, furrowing his brow. What even was it? And why did Bruce even ask? If he wanted to do something, he should just do it.
Bruce’s shoulders slumped, a little, but he walked up to the couch, behind Jason, and leaned over next to him so he could show Jason the thing in his hands.
“This is the Amazon Kindle I told you about,” he said, as he held it out for Jason to take, “it’s like the Nook but hooked up to Amazon instead. I have a subscription with their unlimited reading thing, so that’s why I prefer it over the Nook.”
Jason finally took it, after Bruce prompted him again.
“It’s a touch screen,” Bruce said, after he reached over and pressed the power button, on the bottom of it. The little device popped to life, and a bunch of book covers showed up on the front page. But, in the weird black and not-white coloring that was the same as the Nook.
Kinda cool, Jason had to admit. Because it reminded him of a page in a book. It was probably pretty easy to read off of, too, because of that.
“So you can drag your finger across to swipe to the next screen of book,” Bruce said, as he demonstrated just that, “or tap to pick one. You can also find more books in the store, or do that from your phone and it’ll automatically be sent to the Kindle.”
“That’s cool,” Jason said, watching as Bruce opened the store for him.
Bruce kept going on, showing Jason how to use all the Kindle’s features, like the one that turned the screen’s light on, meaning Jason could read it in the dark. Which was actually pretty fucking awesome and made him actually like the device. Bruce apparently also made Jason his own Amazon account, so he could pick out his own books and didn’t have to ‘deal with’ the stuff Bruce read mucking up the recommendations. He handed Jason the account info on a piece of paper, so he could log in on his phone, too.
Overall, it was pretty cool. He could definitely see himself using it.
“Okay, well, it’s all yours,” Bruce said, patting at the cushion right next to Jason.
With a nod, Jason mumbled, “Thanks,” as he kept flipping through the popular fiction books that were available to him for free, with whatever subscription it was Bruce added him to.
“My pleasure, kiddo. Let me know if there’s anything else you want, okay?”
Right. Jason swallowed, and nodded once. Because Bruce wanted him to want things, and wanted to get them for him.
And supposedly wanted nothing in return for any of it.
At least with the Kindle, it had already been laying around the house, it sounded like. So it wasn’t like Bruce spent more money on it.
He hoped.
“Want to watch a movie with us?” Dick asked, once Bruce stood back up and got out of Jason’s space.
Not that he’d ever been super close, or anything. Or had even touched Jason. He’d just been far closer than he’d been since the first day. Before he decided to go with the whole, ‘I’m not gonna hurt you thing.’
Or.
No. He’d always been claiming that.
Right?
Cause he actually pushed Jason away from him, when Jason tried to flirt like Donny wanted…
It took a second, but Jason realized Bruce had been looking at him, so he swallowed again and looked up. Just to see Bruce looking at him scrutinizingly.
“Do you want me to watch a movie with you two?” he asked, still staring down at Jason.
With a shrug, he turned his attention back to the Kindle, trying to find a few more books to download. He didn’t really care whether Bruce attended. As long as he left Jason alone and let him stay curled up under the blanket, that was.
“You can say no, if you don’t want me here,” Bruce said. As if Jason would actually say ‘no go away you creep.’
Again. It didn’t bother him. As long as Bruce didn’t touch him, because he wasn’t ready to act. He could do it, if he had to, but he hadn’t had time to prepare. And it’d be easier if he could prepare.
But Bruce kept swearing he didn’t want anything.
“It’s fine,” he said, clicking next page on his Kindle.
Bruce sighed, though, like he always fucking did, and said, “Jay, it’s really okay to say ‘no.’”
“I know, I heard you,” he said, maybe a little snappishly, with a roll of his eyes. Why did Bruce feel the need to harp on that? He got it. He just didn’t see the point in saying ‘no’ and pissing Bruce off by kicking him out of his own damn living room. Jason could fucking deal with whatever, he could. No matter what Wayne really wanted.
“Okay,” Bruce said, but he was frowning.
Did Bruce not want to watch the movie? And was trying to use Jason as the excuse to leave?
But Bruce had specifically said he wanted to watch Harry Potter with Jason…
Bruce sat down in an arm chair, on the opposite side of the couch from where Jason was sitting. Just like he’d done before, when he watched TV with Jason.
Which Jason appreciated.
Dick finally found the movie he was looking for, after mumbling about how Alfred had rearranged everything, and put it into the DVD player. “Oh,” he said, just as a preview popped up on screen, “Wait a minute, we need popcorn for a movie. I’ll go get that.”
On his way out of the room, he tossed Bruce the remote, who caught it flawlessly despite having no warning at all. And wasn’t his arm hurt?
“Are you going to read during the movie?” Bruce asked, a smile tugging at his lips when Jason looked up again from his Kindle.
He hadn’t… really thought about it. But maybe… If the movie was boring. Or he found a book interesting enough.
“Uh, I can put it away,” he said, though, closing the cover over the screen. Because Dick and Bruce probably wanted him to pay attention…
“No,” Bruce said, quickly, “that’s not what I meant. I just— I thought it was amusing. I’m very glad you like reading so much.”
Jason nodded, slowly, because he had no idea what to do. Go back to his Kindle? Or try to pay attention to Bruce and whatever-the-fuck he wanted?
Bruce, apparently, was the right answer. Because he sighed, again, and said, “Jason…”
He waited. Because Bruce was clearly thinking about what he wanted to say, and Jason could feel the hairs on the back of his neck start to stand. He didn’t know what he’d done, or why Bruce was upset, or anything.
At least he wasn’t spitting mad, and just seemed… upset. Disappointed? Maybe? Jason couldn’t tell. It was hard to figure out when Bruce’s face looked the fucking same most the time.
“I’m sorry I’m terrible at this,” Bruce finally said, just making Jason furrow his brow in response.
Because.
What?
“I keep saying the wrong thing and making you uncomfortable, completely on accident,” he continued, “I just… I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be happy.”
All Jason could do was nod. Because… okay?
But Jason was fine, so he didn’t get why Bruce thought he was uncomfortable.
He was actually quite comfortable, in his batman hoody and wrapped up in the thick, fuzzy blanket he’d pilfered. Perfectly content.
“I also know you don’t trust me,” Bruce said, after a moment had passed in silence, “and like I said before, I completely understand and am not upset by that. So if you don’t want me in here with you, I understand, and I will go away. I will always go away if you ask, no matter what.”
Right, Jason thought, as he sank down on the couch a little more, and opened back up his Kindle. Because a dude would really be fine being told to ‘fuck off’ in his own house.
“So do you want me in here?” he asked. And Jason just rolled his eyes.
“It’s fine,” he mumbled.
“I am serious Jason, I will leave if you want me to. I will not be upset or mad about it.”
“I said it's fine,” Jason snapped, “you can stay. I don’t care.” What the fuck was Bruce’s problem?
One, Jason really didn’t care. As long as Bruce didn’t do shit to him, he didn’t care at all. Jason could totally handle watching a damn movie with him. But two, why the fuck would Jason refuse something so damn simple? And risk making him mad?
Even if he said he wouldn’t be mad…
Jason’s dad had said that plenty of times. ‘Just tell me, I won’t get mad.’
Like hell. That was always a fucking trap.
“Okay,” Bruce finally said, “then I’ll stay. But if you want to kick me out later, you still can, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” Jason mumbled. He wasn’t gonna kick Bruce out later, either, but whatever.
Dick got back a couple minutes later, with three bowls of popcorn he passed out to each of them, then went and sat in the chair next to Bruce. Which was cool, Jason appreciated having his own bowl so he didn’t have to go sit near anyone else and share, and the couch to himself so could stay laying back against the armrest, his feet up on the cushion beside him so he could rest his Kindle on his thighs.
He still wasn’t going to kick Bruce out, especially since he wasn’t fucking doing anything. But maybe that didn’t matter.
Bruce said he wanted Jason to be comfortable, and Jason was comfortable. Perfectly content to sit there, reading some random book about made up superheroes he’d found, that was totally a rip off of Superman, and completely ignoring the movie he was supposed to be watching. And being ignored by the adults in the room.
What else could he want?
Notes:
We were supposed to get a snow storm today starting at 4pm, so my work sent me home early and my church told me not to come help out since I had a long drive and they didn't want me risking it. Then.... it didn't even start snowing until like 45 minutes ago (at like 10pm). So. Whatever. The afternoon/night off meant I got this chapter done. :D And I have tomorrow as a telework day, so maybe I'll get more writing done! I don't know, we'll see. I have a lot to do to prepare for my drive on Saturday, and, ya know, actual telework to get done. My project is due Friday. lol
But if this is my last update before Christmas, Merry Christmas y'all. And if it's not, I'll just repeat that later. 😂 I hope you all have a lovely holiday. Thanks for reading. ❤️
Chapter 24
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next morning, Jason woke up with plenty of time to get ready for the day, before breakfast.
He kind of hated himself for it, though. Because he didn’t really want to go eat breakfast with Dick and Bruce. After spending most the day with them the day before, he was kind of tired of it. But since he was up, and he knew they’d just text him or whatever to tell him to come downstairs, anyway, he put on his new hoody and dragged his feet all the way to the kitchen.
“Jason,” Dick exclaimed, once Jason stepped into the kitchen, ‘I brought some contraband with me, want some for breakfast?”
Before Jason could even ask what the hell he meant by contraband, Alfred sighed, rather loudly, and said, “I will be happy to prepare you a plate of real food, should you prefer that, young sir.”
“Lucky Charms is real food, they sell it at the grocery store and everything,” Dick said, shaking a box of cereal in Jason’s direction.
They also sold shit like fire wood and bleach at the grocery store, Jason thought. But he didn’t want to start anything, and Alfred already looked annoyed enough. It’d probably get worse if Jason picked a fight with Dick over something stupid.
“I don’t care either way,” Jason said, with a shrug after Dick had poured himself a bowl and looked back up at Jason questioningly. He’d never had Lucky Charms before. His mom thought they were ridiculous, and usually didn’t buy the name brand stuff anyway.
“I am preparing a fresh pot of oatmeal,” Alfred said, turning back toward the stove to check on the pot, “you are welcome to a bowl of it. However, if you would prefer cereal, I will put the left overs in the fridge and we will eat it later.”
Which was probably pretty true. Alfred had made muffins the week before out of the leftover oatmeal from breakfast. He’d probably do something cool like that again.
Or Jason would eat left over oatmeal the next morning, he really didn’t care.
“I guess I’ll try the cereal,” he said, after another moment. Dick grinned, and grabbed Jason down a bowl and poured him some. He handed Jason the bowl and grabbed the bottle of milk from the fridge. After each of them had put some milk in the cereal, they went into the dining room, where they sat alone.
Bruce wasn’t in there.
Which, Jason wasn’t complaining about, of course. He just hadn’t expected Bruce to not be there. He was always there, unless he had some reason to miss a meal. Like work or whatever.
But he never had work during breakfast.
“I think Lucky Charms are one of my favorite cereals,” Dick said, as he took his seat next to where Bruce usually sat. Jason sat down across from him, like Dick had prompted him to do the day before. “I never buy it, though. Too much sugar.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, as he finally looked down in his bowl and kicked around the pieces with his spoon. Logically, he knew Lucky Charms had marshmallows in the cereal, but he wasn’t expecting the marshmallows to be so… dense? He was expecting the normal marshmallows bought in bags at the store. Not hard colored things.
“I’ve never had Lucky Charms,” he admitted, as he scooped up a spoon of the cereal part to taste. As it turned out, it wasn’t that great. The sweetness was ridiculous, and the actual cereal part wasn’t nearly as good as like Cheerios or Captain Crunch or whatever his mom usually bought.
“Oh yeah?” Dick asked, “What do you think of it?”
“I don’t know.” So far he wasn’t a huge fan.
“The marshmallows are the best part,” Dick said, as he took a huge bite of his own cereal, all the pieces all mixed together.
Jason picked out a marshmallow and ate it by itself. It was kind of gross, too, if Jason was honest. “It’s weird,” he said, as he ate another, “it has a weird crunch.”
“Yeah, it’s great.”
“The cereal part is gross.” Overall, Jason wasn’t a huge fan.
“Yeah, a bit,” Dick admitted, “What kind of cereal do you like?”
With a shrug, Jason ate another bite of the cereal, letting the pieces mix up. “Cheerios I guess. The honey ones.”
“Ooh, yeah,” Dick said, nodding, “I like frosted Cheerios, too. Or those apple cinnamon ones, ever had those?”
Jason shook his head. That did sound good, though.
Alfred walked in while Jason kept working at his cereal, with a couple glasses of orange juice and two bowls of fruit. He set one down in front of Jason and asked, “Would you like some oatmeal, lad? If you want something sweet I might be able to add a spoonful of brown sugar on top.”
“That’s okay Alfred,” Jason said, “I’ll just eat the cereal.” It wasn’t that bad.
He certainly wouldn’t choose it on purpose again.
“Very well,” Alfred said, “let me know if you change your mind later. I will be preparing Bruce a bowl, it is no trouble to fix you one as well.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding. He picked up his orange juice and took a sip, so Alfred smiled at him and went back to the kitchen. Probably to finish up Bruce’s breakfast, or whatever.
“Where is Bruce?” he asked, after a second had passed. It was super weird that he wasn’t there.
Usually he was already in the kitchen or dining room when Jason came down for breakfast, when Jason came down in time. And the rare couple times he wasn’t, he was never far behind Jason.
So where was he? Jason knew he was home. He and Dick got back at the same time the night before, around 2am.
Which was another thing. Why the fuck did they go out and come back together?
If Bruce really was going on ‘dates,’ why would he bring Dick? His supposed son-slash-brother? Who he supposedly never fucked?
Made no fucking sense.
Unless they went on some sort of double date…?
But son. Who would want to go on a double date with their dad?
“Probably still asleep,” Dick said, through a mouthful of cereal.
“But he never sleeps through breakfast.” Ever.
Jason kind of wished he would, sometimes.
“Yeah, but he never gets enough sleep so I told him last night to skip breakfast, cause I’d be here to eat with you.”
So… Bruce purposely woke up just to eat with Jason?
Bruce thought Jason needed someone to eat with him?
He fucking didn’t. He liked being left alone.
And why the fuck was Dick out with Bruce, anyway?
With a slight scowl, Jason asked, “Where did you go last night?”
Dick looked up from his cereal and said, “Out with a friend, why?”
“With Bruce?”
“No, I wasn’t with Bruce,” he said, looking a little confused.
“What?” Dick asked, when all Jason did was stare blankly at him.
Did he think Jason was stupid? Why did they both lie to him?
They were both good actors, too, weren’t they?
“You and Bruce left at the same time and got back at the same time.”
“We didn’t, actually,” Dick said, so fucking casually Jason would have totally bought it, had he not already known at least Bruce was a magnificent actor, “I got back before him and watched an episode of Law & Order, then when he got home he told me to go to bed so I did.”
Yeah right, Jason thought. That was awfully convenient.
“Ask Alfred,” Dick exclaimed, “he saw me.”
Jason faltered, for a moment. Alfred probably would lie to him, too, if they were all lying.
But it was possible…
“You aren’t lying?” Jason asked, his eyes narrowed, almost daring Dick.
“No,” Dick exclaimed, “I saw my friend Barbara and got home before Bruce.”
“Oh.”
Bruce had never actually told him who he was with or anything. Always just dates.
Then again, he was a playboy… did Bruce even know the names of his dates? Wouldn’t surprise Jason if he didn’t…
Besides, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if they were all lying to him.
Nothing, probably.
It wasn’t like he could do anything. Even if they weren’t the type to flip their shit on him, like they kept claiming. If they were the type, he’d just earn himself a beating.
So far nothing bad had happened, and it really made absolutely no sense for Bruce to be playing the long game with him, trying to lure him in or whatever. Gain his trust and shit.
Silence lapsed while Jason finished off the rest of his cereal. Once he started slurping up the rest of the milk, Dick asked, “You got any plans for today?”
Jason shrugged, and turned his attention to the bowl of fruit. Did he ever have plans? He didn’t really have a purpose, anymore… if he really wasn’t working anymore.
“What do you normally do all day?” Dick asked.
All Jason did was shrug again. The fruit was a few different berries mixed together, and very delicious. Way better than the Lucky Charms, and probably was good on top of the oatmeal
“Hm,” Dick hummed, “We should find something to do. Bruce doesn’t really want you out and about in Gotham.”
“Yeah.”
Jason didn’t want out and about in Gotham, either. Just in case. He did like the mob not being able to get him. And he also didn’t want them spending more money on him for no damn reason.
Although he definitely didn’t have a problem with reading in his room all day. He wasn’t going to be bored.
Especially not now that he had a phone. He’d find plenty to entertain himself, he was sure.
“You play any video games?”
Jason shook his head. He’d been allowed to play a couple times with the other boys, but usually just so they could laugh at how bad he was.
“Then let me introduce you to Pokemon.”
“I know what Pokemon is,” Jason drawled, “The other boys watched that all the time.” They didn’t have the Pokemon games, though. Apparently the Xbox or whatever it was they had wasn’t the right system for Pokemon.
“I meant the game,” Dick said, between eating his entire little bowl of fruit in two huge bites, “We have both Sword and Shield for the switch, even Bruce liked it.”
“How?” Jason snapped, “He doesn’t even know what Pokemon are.” Did he not pay attention?
“Sure he does,” Dick said, laughing a little, “He played all the way through Sword.”
“He called Pikachu ‘pigachu,’” Jason said flatly. Bruce must just be an idiot, then.
Or purposely annoying.
Dick must have agreed with the later, because he rolled his eyes and said, “He’s full of shit.”
Jason grinned, and ate the last bite of his berries. But then he scowled. Because Bruce was just being annoying just to distract him. Like an asshole. Jason was not a baby that needed to be distracted from needles.
Though he had to admit, it had helped…
“Come on,” Dick said, as soon as Jason set his spoon down into the bowl. He picked up Jason’s dishes and stacked them into his own, and stopped in through the kitchen to put them all in the sink on their way to wherever the Pokemon games were.
Apparently the game system he’d messed with on his first day in the manor was the ‘switch.’ Because Dick pulled the device right out of the dock it was in, clicked it on, and plopped down on the couch, motioning for Jason to come sit next to him.
“Let’s get you a profile set up, so you can play on your own save files,” he said, as Jason took a seat next to him.
Jason watched as Dick flipped passed his and Bruce’s ‘profiles’ and went to create a new one. Once on the set up screen, however, he passed the device to Jason and told him to do everything the way he wanted.
Which was pretty neat. He was able to pick his own picture, out of a bunch of different ones, and ended up choosing some cool Easter Island head-looking guy wearing a red hat.
“We have that game too,” Dick said, once Jason had chosen it.
“It’s a game?” Would he get to be the cool head guy? It had a mustache and sunglasses, too.
“Yeah, Mario Odyssey, in one of the levels those things walk around and you get to take them over and play as them for a minute.”
Jason nodded. That would be pretty cool to do, too. Maybe he’d have to try it later.
“Okay,” Dick said, once Jason had his profile set up, and walked Jason through starting up the Pokemon games. He ended up picking ‘Shield,’ and naming his character “Jason,” even though he had considered naming it something actually cool. But Dick was sitting right there and he didn’t want him laughing at him.
Overall the game was actually not terrible. He got to pick between three different Pokemon to start, and picked the little fire bunny.
“That’s pretty funny,” Dick had said, when he first picked Scorbunny, “Bruce picked Grookey and I picked Sobble.”
“Well you both picked stupid,” Jason said. The bunny gave his character a fist bump when Jason picked him, so he definitely made the right choice. It also kicked the ass of the green monkey thing his ‘friend’ picked in the game, which was the Grookey Bruce apparently picked.
Dick settled down next to Jason, leaning over Jason’s shoulder a bit, but not really crowding him much either, and watched mostly quietly while Jason worked through the first half hour or so of the game.
It was pretty peaceful. Way better than the interrogation Dick had subjected Jason to the day before. Way better.
But while Jason was working on catching a few new Pokemon, at Dick’s suggestion, Dick shifted and looked away from the screen and up at Jason. “You have cereal in your hair,” he said after a second.
Jason rolled his eyes and said, “I do not,” as he picked a pokeball, to catch the little lighting corgi named Yamper he’d found.
“You do so, I swear,” Dick shot back.
His pokeball shook twice, but the stupid dog broke free. Jason ran a hand through his hair, trying to knock the supposed cereal out of his hair.
How the fuck did he get cereal in his hair in the first place?
“Still there,” Dick said, and Jason could swear he was mocking him.
“Then get it out, you asshole,” Jason snapped, as he made his bunny, named Scorch, tackle the stupid dog again so he could attempt to catch it when it was weaker. “You probably put it there.” Jason sure as fuck didn’t put cereal in his own hair.
“Why would I put cereal in your hair?” Dick asked, still not getting it out.
“Why would I put cereal in my hair?” he snapped back.
Dick still didn’t pick the cereal out, so Jason shook his head violently.
“Nope, still there.”
Jason scowled. “You gonna get it out or just stare at it?”
“Can I?” Dick asked.
“Why couldn’t you?” he asked, as he threw another pokeball and tried not to hold his breath for the damn thing to actually get caught.
Dick shifted, moving a little further away from Jason, and said, “I just didn’t want to touch you without permission.”
“Oh my God,” Jason groaned, rolling his eyes hard, “it’s just my hair. I don’t care.” Why the fuck would he get upset about that? And who asked ‘hey can I touch your hair’ anyway?
Literally no one.
“So I can touch your hair?”
“Yes, Dick,” Jason snapped. But his pokeball did catch the dog, so he refocused on picking a name for him. Maybe ‘Bolt,’ like from the movie.
“Okay,” Dick said, and he finally reached up and pulled something from the back of Jason’s hair. Whatever it was was really stuck in there, because it pulled Jason’s hair a little as Dick got it out. “It’s a marshmallow,” he said, showing Jason it once it was free.
“How the fuck did a marshmallow get in my hair?”
Dick shrugged, and leaned forward to put the marshmallow on the coffee table, while Jason moved on in his game. His stupid little ‘friend’ named Hop led him to some house with an old lady.
“It’s called consent,” Dick said, after a moment, during which time Jason had not been paying attention to a word the people on his game were saying. He should have maybe been paying more attention, because he had no idea what Dick was talking about.
“What is?” he asked, as he actually looked down and read. But they were talking about the Pokédex, so he still didn’t get it.
“Getting permission,” Dick explained, “it’s called ‘consent.’”
“I know its definition,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. That was not what he was asking.
“Okay, good,” Dick said, “Was just making sure.”
He was making sure Jason knew the definition? “What does it have to do with anything?” he demanded. His game people were talking about different things Pokemon could do, and nothing to do with whatever the fuck Dick was talking about.
“Because, people should always get your consent, even if it’s just a hair ruffle. Consent is important. That’s why I asked if I could touch your hair.”
Oh. He was still harping on that. Jason rolled his eyes even harder.
“And you can tell me or Bruce or Alfred if someone ever doesn’t get your consent, okay?”
“If they touch my hair,” Jason asked sardonically. Yes, he was going to do that. If the lady cutting his hair doesn’t ask for explicit permission to touch every single strand, he was going to demand her arrest.
Dick nodded seriously and said, “Yeah, or anything else that makes you uncomfortable. Bruce will make sure it stops. And, he’ll do everything he can to make sure it never happens in the first place.”
“Kay, great,” Jason mumbled, ready for Dick to just shut up. He wasn’t sure exactly he was going on about, but if he was really talking about sex, then Jason already knew Bruce wasn’t gonna let randos do shit to him. Bruce said it was illegal and a crime and seemed pretty serious about it, so obviously he wasn’t gonna let it happen.
And as long as he and Dick weren’t lying about what their relationship was, Jason was maybe starting to probably buy it all, too. They were lying about something, but he couldn’t think of a logical reason why Bruce would lie about what he wanted from Jason.
But, then if Dick was just talking about touching his hair, to remove random pieces of cereal, then he was just an idiot.
Then, as if to prove that he was an idiot, Dick grinned and asked, “So, can I ruffle your hair?” and all Jason could do was groan.
“I don’t care if you touch my hair,” he said, when Dick honest to God waited for an answer, “You may touch my hair, so stop asking, you freak.”
“I just want to make sure,” Dick said, as he reached up and did ruffle Jason’s hair. A little roughly, Jason thought, but it wasn’t bad. “If you ever want me to stop, just say so.”
“Okay,” he sighed, loudly, “now hush I gotta go join the gym challenge.”
Dick smiled and said, “Let me go grab my Switch, and we can do some raids together.”
“Some what?”
“Keep playing through,” Dick said, as he hopped up, “it’ll explain them in a minute. I’ll be right back.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jason mumbled. At least Dick had stopped making a big deal about his hair. Jason would rather play the game, too.
It wasn’t a half bad game. He was going to kick Leon’s ass, though, the guy who kept going on and on about how he was the ‘champion’ of the whole region. If the story didn’t lead down the path where Jason got to be the new champion, he was going to have problems with the game developers.
Dick wasn’t half bad, either, he had to admit. Maybe a little weird, but so far he’d been super nice. He probably wouldn’t mind having him as a ‘foster brother,’ for however long he was.
Notes:
Hello~~~~~~ it took four days to finally get this out. Mostly because my family likes to interrupt me when I'm trying to write. 😂
I'm supposedly doing a nano-style January for The Best Things (which will start when I get home this weekend, probably Monday-ish for when I start writing. We'll see. My goal is to write as much as I can and update as I do. This fic won't update at all during that time, if I'm able to change my mind over to it. We'll see. My headspace has been jumping between this fic here and an original novel idea. lmao. But I'll spend the weekend rereading what I've written for the best things and hopefully that brings me back to it.
I hope everyone had a good couple weeks. Happy new year!!! Thanks for reading and commenting and such. ❤️
Chapter 25
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dick and Jason kept playing Pokemon for an hour, running around and fighting lots of really big, really strong Pokémon so Jason could collect up a lot of awesome looking Pokémon.
It was almost 11 before Bruce appeared in the doorway, looking more asleep than Jason had ever seen him.
“Morning, Bruce, sleep well?” Dick asked, briefly looking up to smile at Bruce before he went back to searching for another Pokémon for them to fight together. They were searching dens, looking for them, but since Jason was a ‘noob’ his game didn’t have strong Pokémon yet. So Dick had to find them all.
“Hrn,” Bruce grunted, as he stepped further in and stood behind the couch, where Dick and Jason were playing.
Jason’s shoulders stiffened a little, when Bruce leaned over and looked down at Jason’s screen, scrutinizing how Jason was picking out which Pokémon he wanted to use on the raid. It was a fire type Pokémon they were fighting, so he wanted a water Pokémon. Obviously. Dick only had to remind him of that like four times already.
“Pokemon?” Bruce finally asked, as he leaned back, further away from Jason.
“Yeah,” Jason exhaled, resisting the urge to reposition on the couch so he was facing Bruce, instead of Dick. But that would be awkward and obvious and he didn’t want Bruce getting pissed over something stupid.
“Yep, we’re doing raids,” Dick said, as chipper as ever, “Wanna join us?”
“Hnn,” Bruce hummed, as he rubbed at his face with one of his hands, “No. I have some work to get done today.”
“Sounds awful,” Dick said, grinning a little, “If me and Jason find a shiny, you’re gonna regret it.”
Bruce rolled his eyes, so Jason asked, “What’s a shiny?” He’d never heard of such a thing.
“Pokemon colored wrong,” Bruce said, before Dick could answer, “that’s all they are. They’re the wrong color, and apparently people grind for hundreds of hours to get just one.”
“Yeah, cause they’re awesome,” Dick said, as he finally started their next battle.
Jason turned more on the couch, putting his back completely against the armrest, just so he could give Bruce a critical look.
Because pigachu.
Bruce was a gigantic liar.
“What?” Bruce asked, when he saw Jason staring.
“Pigachu,” he said accusingly, “Dick said you’ve played all the way through Pokemon and was just pretending to be an idiot.”
In response, Bruce did one of his stupid not-smiles, his eyes crinkling with it as if he was grinning wide.
Dick laughed and said, “No, he is an idiot. He just knows what Pokemon are really called.”
“Yeah,” Bruce said, shrugging, “It’s a neat little game. Are you enjoying it?”
“It’s all right,” Jason mumbled, pulling his knees up closer so he could rest the Switch on them.
Nodding, Bruce leaned over Dick’s shoulder and started watching their battle that way and nearly hummed, “I will say, that Hop character was infuriating.”
“Right?” Jason exclaimed. He’d already told Dick as much. Twice. “I’ve beaten him like three times and he keeps saying he’s gonna be champion. How can he be champion if I keep beating him? So far, I’m the undefeated one, not him! He sucks!”
When Jason looked back up, he saw Bruce staring right at him, a different sort of smile on his face. It wasn’t his smiles are illegal thing. It was… softer. Happier? And.
And Jason wasn’t sure how to take it.
It made his stomach churn, a little. But not because… not because it was a creepy smile. When men smiled at him… when. Clients smiled at him, it was so much more… admiring. Lustful? Their eyes always boring into him, looking longingly at him. But Bruce…
Bruce looked fond.
Fond.
What the fuck was happening?
Jason sank further down into his hoody, letting the collar come up to just below his nose as he focused back on his game.
“All right,” Bruce said, reaching out and ruffling Dick’s hair, roughly enough Dick pulled his head away and whined, “Alfred is heating up some breakfast for me, I’m going to go eat that before he gets huffy about it going cold again.”
“Okay,” Dick said, brushing his hair back into place with his fingers, “Come back later and play with us. We can transfer your save file to the lite or something, we’ll figure it out.”
“No, I’m going to do my work,” Bruce said, as he stood up and started to leave the room, “Someone has to pay the bills around here.”
“Oh please,” Dick said, rolling his eyes dramatically, “Like you have to work to pay the bills.”
“You boys have fun,” Bruce said, completely ignoring Dick with that same fond smile on his face, “I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Bye,” Jason mumbled. Once Bruce was down the hall, Jason sat up and crossed his legs, letting the hoody’s collar fall back down around his neck. “Is this Bruce’s?” he asked, holding the Switch up a little while he picked his next attack.
“Sort of,” Dick said, shrugging, “It’s not his in name or anything, but I have my own and until you got here he was the only one who ever played it. Which was very, very rarely. He’s not gonna miss it if you play it.”
“Oh,” Jason said, as he threw a pokeball to catch the cool centipede thing they’d caught, “Then why does he have it, if he never plays it?”
“So I can make him play with me,” Dick said, smiling mischievously, “It’s fun to kick his ass on Mario Kart and stuff.”
“He lets you? Just to lose?”
Dick’s grin widened. “Yeah of course. He secretly loves it.”
“Huh,” Jason said, nodding absently. He supposed that made sense…
It was just more proof, though. That Dick was his son.
Because that was something parents did. When Jason was little, his mom would play board games with him whenever he asked, and she wasn’t busy. Had they been able to afford video games, she probably would have played those with him, too. Because she liked spending time with him. Sometimes his dad even played with him, if he was in a good enough mood.
“You and me can play online together, when I go back to New York,” Dick said, back to his hunt for another good Pokémon for them to fight.
“That’s cool,” Jason replied.
Dick looked up at him and said, “If you want.”
“Sure,” he said, with a shrug. He wasn’t sure how much he was going to play, but it was pretty neat. Being able to play a game with someone in a completely different state.
And pretty nice of Dick. To want to spend more time with Jason. When he had all his friends to entertain him, instead.
“And Bruce will play with you, too,” Dick added, “if you want him to. But you’ll have to ask him, because he always seems to think he’s being annoying when he suggests spending time together.”
Jason swallowed, and pretended to be very focused on picking a Pokémon to fight an ice guy. He… he didn’t know if he was gonna do that.
It would be good, to ‘spend time’ with Bruce.
Since that was what Bruce wanted from him.
A pretend son.
Or. He didn’t know. Someone to be like Dick?
“You can play it by yourself, too. There’s a bunch of games on there, feel free to play any of them.”
“Okay,” Jason agreed.
He’d have to see.
It was cool, having another thing to occupy his time.
- - -
The rest of the day passed in relative peace. Bruce did, indeed, join them for lunch, but he and Dick spent the entire meal talking back and forth, both letting Jason eat his own pasta in silence. Then, once Bruce was done eating, he excused himself again to ‘get more work done.’
Jason liked it when Bruce had ‘work’ to do.
Dick very did not.
But Dick still came up with things for he and Jason to do all afternoon, somehow. He showed Jason the manor’s gym, and showed off for a while, doing all sorts of cool flips and shit all over the place. Because circus.
He even offered to teach Jason how to do a front flip, which sounded neat but also kind of exhausting.
Jason did do one hand stand, just to show Dick he knew how. But… it ended in Jason falling over. Because his stupid hoody slid down his body and bunched up around his head, blocking his vision and trapping his arms.
He fell hard, right onto his back. They were on mats, of course, so it didn’t hurt. Much. But it was enough to make Jason just lay there for a minute, cursing his own stupidity for trying such a thing in a gigantic hoody.
“Sorry,” Dick said, once Jason pulled the hoody back down, off of his face. He’d stepped over and was leaning over Jason, looking super fucking concerned, “I was afraid grabbing your legs would freak you out.”
Right. Dick had just let him fall, then.
“Whatever,” he mumbled, as he rolled away from Dick and onto his stomach to get up.
He didn’t care that Dick didn’t catch him. But it woulda been nice…
Would he have freaked out?
He—
Shit. Maybe.
Dick took another step back and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he huffed. He brushed his hoody off, even though there was nothing to brush off, since the manor was somehow kept dust free. Alfred was a witch, probably, with how clean he kept everything. “Can we do something else?” He didn’t want to take the hoody off, and if they were gonna keep doing gymnastics he’d have to.
That or just tell Dick to catch him…
No.
And otherwise he’d probably really hurt himself. And he didn’t want to hurt himself. Being stuck in a cast was not on his bucket list, no way.
“Sure,” Dick said brightly, as he honest to God did a cartwheel over to where he’d put his phone down at, “What’d you have in mind?”
Read, he thought, as he shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. Dick was leaving tomorrow. He didn’t have to be a… jerk. And tell Dick to fuck off.
Or. Rather. He shouldn’t be a dick and tell Dick to fuck off. When Dick had specifically come out to meet Jason.
Dick chuckled and motioned with his head for Jason to follow him out the room. “You know, you’re just like Bruce.”
“Am not,” Jason grumbled, scowling at the back of Dick’s head.
Jason was nothing like Bruce.
Bruce was a pedophile that…
Or.
Well the jury was still out on that one, but Bruce did buy Jason. Like Jason were an object that could be bought.
There was no way in hell Jason would ever do something like that. Ever.
If he ever had the opportunity, he’d save kids from everything. It kind of sucked being a whore for the mob. Or for anyone. And by being a customer, Bruce was creating the demand, and where there was demand, the mob would rise up to meet it.
So yeah. Even if Bruce really didn’t want anything from Jason, he still participated in the transaction.
Dick looked back at Jason and huffed another laugh. “Can I ruffle your hair?” he asked, grinning wide as he slowed down so Jason could catch up.
Jason blinked, then scowled harder. “Stop asking me that,” he said, “I already said I didn’t care.” It was his hair.
At least that was all he wanted. All any of them had wanted, thus far…
“Okay,” Dick said, as he did ruffle Jason’s hair, pushing around his curls until all of them were scattered the wrong way.
Maybe Jason shouldn’t have let him, he thought, as he shook his head and made the hair all fall back to its natural position.
“And yes, you are just like Bruce. He likes his alone time, too. And your scowl rivals his. I bet you glare just as well.”
Bruce didn’t glare. Jason had yet to see Bruce glare.
Why the fuck would Bruce glare?
Dick turned to the left, when they came to a fork in the hall, and Jason actually recognized where they were, finally. Since the gym they were in was apparently an old ballroom, and Jason hadn’t been over to that part of the manor yet.
Because the manor was fucking gigantic.
But they were in the hall where the main family living area was, including the library.
Which is where Dick led them.
“Can I read with you?” Dick asked, “I promise to be quiet and actually let you read.”
“Uh,” Jason stammered, “Sure?” Was he for real? What would he get out of reading with Jason?
Just… being with him? Why—
“Awesome. I’m going to reread Harry Potter,” Dick said, as he bounced over to where those books where. Apparently… excited? To just read with Jason?
What even was Dick Grayson?
Jason picked up his kindle from where he’d set it to charge, on one of the tables, and settled down into an armchair to start reading.
And that was what they did. For the rest of the afternoon. Without being bothered by anyone or bothering each other.
It was actually quite peaceful.
Jason thought he definitely didn’t mind having Dick Grayson as a ‘foster brother.’
- - -
After dinner that night, Jason found himself sitting in the living room again, playing Pokemon. Dick had taught him how to get on the internet and do raids with random people all over the world, so that was what he was doing. It was pretty awesome. He could still fight the strong Pokémon, despite only having four badges himself, without having to bother Dick or Bruce and make them help him.
He could definitely see himself finishing the game.
Bruce came and sat with him, after about half an hour. He’d asked permission, of course. Like he always fucking did, the weirdo, but Jason had just shrugged.
It was his living room, after all. Jason could have gone and hid in his room, probably. If he really didn’t want anyone to find him.
Would Bruce get mad if Jason stole his Switch and kept it in his room? Did it count in the put it on your shelves rule?
But Bruce had flipped on the news and was sitting in one of the armchairs, a foot up on an ottoman as he watched. Actually, Jason was pretty sure he was asleep. Because he was slouched down, his hands folded over his stomach with his eyes closed.
Probably definitely asleep. Just like old guys did in the evening. Jason’s dad used to fall asleep on the couch, after work each evening. And even Donny would do that, sometimes. Take a random nap in the living room, even with all the boys running around.
They knew better than to be loud and disrupt him, though. Jason knew how Donny or Dad would have reacted to being woken, so he kept his trap shut and let Bruce sleep in peace.
That is, until Dick wandered in another half hour later, apparently completely unconcerned over whether he woke Bruce.
“Hey Jay,” he said, almost loudly.
Bruce didn’t jump, but Jason did see him twitch, slightly, in his peripheral. He opened his eyes and sat up.
And.
Did nothing else. Looked over at Dick and Jason then back at the TV he clearly hadn’t been watching.
“Hi,” Jason eventually said, when Dick just hovered behind him, grinning wide. What did he want now? They’d spent all day together.
“I’m so glad you like that game,” Dick said, leaning over the couch to watch as Jason was exploring the grass on the road he’d been traveling. He’d gone back to the storyline, now that he had a lot of really cool, really strong Pokémon.
He just shrugged. After he finished the game, he wasn’t sure if he’d keep going. But in the meantime, yeah. He was enjoying it.
Especially then, when he kept picking fights with all the trainers he could find, and one-shotting their stupid pathetic Pokémon.
“The place I volunteer at called and said they really need help tomorrow,” Dick said, after he’d watched Jason battle a couple people.
“You’re headed back, then?” Bruce asked, and somehow Jason had sort of forgotten Bruce was there.
Jason didn’t jump at his voice at all.
Nope.
Okay a little, but he shifted in his seat, so maybe no one caught it. He wasn’t even sure how he could forget.
“Yeah,” Dick said, smiling a little at Jason when he looked up, “it’ll be easier to go now than to try and get past the city during rush hour tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Jason said, turning back toward his game. That was cool. Dick was gonna have to leave eventually, anyway. And the knowledge that tomorrow he could spend most the day in his room again, just reading…
Yeah. He was totally cool with Dick leaving.
Even if he’d turned out to be not bad to hang out with.
“I’ll text you,” Dick said, reaching over and ruffling Jason’s hair again. Jason was almost convinced Dick just liked making Jason’s curls flip all over the place, at that point.
“Yeah, okay,” Jason said, exasperated, as he pulled his head away and tried to straighten his hair back, not even taking his eyes off his game the whole time.
“What?” Dick asked. His voice was some cross between annoyed and defensive, so Jason looked up to see him in glaring match with Bruce.
Because. Apparently Bruce did glare.
It was kind of a little scary looking…
And he stood up, too. From his chair.
“You literally got him the phone so I could text him,” Dick added.
“No, not that,” Bruce said, his voice more on the angry side than Jason had heard yet.
“Then what?” Dick demanded. Bruce just cut his eyes over at Jason, then back at Dick, so Jason sank into the couch a little more.
What had Jason done?
He kind of wished he wasn’t right between them, too. So he could just slip out and escape, before they started fighting.
Were they gonna start fighting? Did hitting Dick count as not hurting him, in Bruce’s book?
Bruce had said he didn’t hit Dick, too, right……? Why was Bruce even mad?
“Oh,” Dick said, a second later with a quiet little huff, “No. Bruce, Jason said I could ruffle his hair. He doesn’t mind.”
That…
Were they for real? That couldn’t be—
“Dick,” Bruce sighed, like he still didn’t like the fact Dick had touched Jason’s hair.
What the fuck.
Why was this even a thing?
“I did tell him that,” Jason said, defensively. Trying not to scowl at Bruce, but failing. Because seriously. What the fuck was this? Bruce wasn’t honestly gonna fight Dick over touching Jason’s hair.
Was he?
“Yes,” Bruce said, “but—“
“But what?” Jason snapped, “Don’t like to share your toys?” What else could be the explanation?
Jason doesn’t let Bruce touch him so no one was allowed to?
He wasn’t even not letting Bruce touch him, so what the actual fuck? Bruce just hadn’t tried yet.
“Jason, you are not—“ Bruce started, but Jason cut him off.
“I told him it’s fine. Why are you making a big deal out of it? It’s just my hair.” And if Bruce were telling the damn truth and didn’t want Jason that way, why the fuck did he care at all?
“Yes. No,” Bruce said, furrowing his brow. Clearly confusing himself just as much as he was confusing Jason.
Jason just scoffed, and sank down into his hoody more. Letting the collar of it come up around his chin. If he could curl up into it entirely without making Bruce mad, he would.
Would Bruce get mad? Dick was still standing behind him, would Dick help him?
“That’s not the point,” Bruce finally said, with a tired sigh.
“Then what is the point?” Jason exclaimed, “You keep saying you don’t wanna fuck me, but then you get pissed off if someone else even puts a finger on me. Make up your damn mind.”
Why would Dick help him? Especially now? Jason had just managed to redirect Bruce’s anger on himself. If Jason were Dick, he’d probably be relieved…
“Jay,” Dick said, softy as he tapped his hand against the cushion right next to Jason’s shoulder. Whatever else he was going to say got cut off by Bruce, though.
“What? Jason, no. My mind is made up, and I will never change it. Okay? I did not bring you here to harm you.”
All Jason did was roll his eyes, but Dick cleared his throat pointedly, and Jason was pretty sure he was yelling at Bruce with just a look.
“I did not bring you here to… touch you. Sexually,” Bruce said, slowly and almost painfully, grimacing as he did.
“Uh huh,” Jason said, as he clutched the Switch closer to him. He’d covered his crossed legs with the hoody, and kind of wanted to just curl up into it completely, but then he’d have to put down the Switch. And really he’d much rather get distracted in the game again, letting his rabbit Scorch kick the ass of all the pathetic trainers.
Instead he was fighting his eyes, as they kept trying to fill with tears. And he didn’t even know why.
He didn’t care what Bruce wanted. He didn’t.
Bruce sighed, again, and sat back down in his chair. After he ran a hand across his face, he said, “I don’t want Dick even ruffling your hair, because you aren’t capable of consenting.”
“What? Do you have to consent for me as my owner?” Jason asked, bitterly. Trying to embrace the bitter over the strong desire to cry.
He was so sick of crying in front of Bruce.
“I am not,” Bruce started, but Jason cut him off again. He couldn’t listen to it.
“You fucking bought me, Bruce. And you won’t let me— you keep—“ he finally set the switch down and swiped angrily at his face with the sleeve of his hoody, “I don’t know what you want. You make no sense.”
Nothing made sense.
Bruce was pissed off and angry but he hadn’t, like, started fighting either of them. Dick acted like he’d argue with Bruce all day without being scared at all, and Dick was way smaller than Bruce.
And.
He kept not touching him. If he wanted it, he would have done it by now.
But Bruce kept lying to him about stupid stuff. All the time. Even if he was keeping his word. Because he kept not touching him, and he didn’t even want Dick ruffling his hair, and he didn’t want him out in public where he could get kidnapped again and, and-
Worst of all, Jason believed him. And if he was fucking lying about all that, too. He—he.
He couldn’t handle it.
Jason wrapped his arms around his knees, and buried his face into them. Inside the hoody, because no one cared that he had it on, and hid in it. And he had to hide somewhere.
The warmth radiating out from inside somehow made him start crying harder, as Dick started humming something behind him. His voice didn’t quite rumble the way Bruce’s did, but it was still deep and strong sounding. Jason focused on quieting himself, so he could hear was Dick was saying, and all it was was things like, “It’s okay, Jay. You’re all right.”
No he wasn’t.
“Jason,” Bruce said, very softly. His voice was coming from right in front of Jason, so he peeked out of his hoody to look at how he had knelt down in front of Jason, and was just sitting there. Looking super fucking concerned and not angry at all. “Jay,” he repeated,” buddy. Have I hurt you yet?”
“No,” Jason said thickly, shaking his head a little.
“And I promise I never will.”
“Then,” Jason started, hating so much his voice squeaked with the word, “Then why get mad—“ but he couldn’t finish. He couldn’t finish because his stupid brain wanted to keep crying about this.
About how it made no fucking sense that Bruce didn’t want him, but then also didn’t want anyone else to so much as look at him without Bruce’s permission. Did he see Jason as property or not?
“Because,” Bruce said, but paused. He sat back, on the heels of his feet and looked like he was really thinking about it. Trying to come up with the exact right words to convince Jason of whatever.
It just made Jason’s stomach roll.
“You are my foster son,” Bruce said finally, nodding seemingly to himself, “and as your foster parent, it is my job to protect you.”
“Yeah, but from Dick?”
“From anything,” Bruce said, nodding more definitively, “From everything that causes you pain or makes you uncomfortable or upset or anything like that.”
“Dick ruffling my hair doesn’t,” he croaked, as he scrubbed his face clean with his sleeve. Dick ruffling his hair didn’t make him cry. Bruce did.
Maybe Bruce could go away forever, then.
Bruce nodded again, and said, “Okay. That’s good. I’m glad. But if it ever does—“
“Why is this such a big fucking deal?” Jason whined, pressing his hands into his eyes because they wanted to start up again. “You guys are nuts.”
He just wished they’d stop. Stop making a big deal out of stupid shit. He didn’t know how to take any of it and he was so sick of it. So sick of crying.
“Because,” Bruce said again, before he sighed, almost angrily. It made Jason tense.
He wanted to go to his room. He wanted to hide somewhere far, far away, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because there was no place to hide, anywhere. Ever. He was trapped with a person who couldn’t make up his mind what he fucking wanted. And made no damn sense, ever.
But Bruce pressed on, and explained, “Right now, you don’t believe ‘no’ is an acceptable answer.”
An acceptable answer to what? was all Jason could wonder. Because ‘no’ was perfectly fine sometimes. It just depended on what they were talking about…
“And because you don’t believe ‘no’ is an acceptable answer,” Bruce continued, “it means none of your yeses are true yeses.”
What kind of fucking stupid logic was that? Jason scowled hard, his gaze met with Bruce’s sad one, which just made Jason scowl harder.
"If you don’t believe ‘no’ is an option,” Bruce said after another second, “it means you feel pressured or forced to say ‘yes,’ which means you are saying ‘yes’ under duress.”
“I’m sorry, Jay,” Dick said, as he leaned back over the couch again, right next to Jason, “I shouldn’t have pushed it.”
“You didn’t,” Jason snapped, “I’ll tell you to fuck off if I want to.” He would, too.
It just hadn’t been worth it, yet. He really didn’t mind Dick’s company. Or the hair ruffle.
Because it was just a fucking hair ruffle.
Had Dick wanted… wanted… Jason would have minded. He would have. And he would have protested, too. Maybe.
“In this house,” Bruce said, his voice taking on a hard edge that made Jason snap his attention back to him, “you may always say ‘no.’ To anything. It is always an option.”
“Okay,” he agreed, nodding mutely.
“For any reason,” Bruce reiterated.
Jason got it. “I said okay.” He was pretty sure Bruce would regret making that rule, the second Jason actually said no, but he got it.
With a sigh, Bruce stood up and pat at the couch next to Jason as he said, “That’s all right. We’ll work on it.”
Work on what? Bruce didn’t even know what he was saying.
“You really want me to say no to shit?” he snapped, sitting up more so he could glare at Bruce.
Bruce sat back down in his chair and leveled Jason a serious look as he said, “Yes, Jason. If ‘no’ is the answer you want to give, I want you to give it. When you do, it will be respected every time.”
Right. “So, if,” Jason started, still glaring at Bruce. Daring him to eat his words. “If you tell me to come down for dinner, I can say no?”
“Yes,” Bruce said, after only a brief hesitation.
“Yeah right,” he scoffed, “And you won’t be mad at me for skipping meals? You said I’m not allowed to skip meals.” There was no way Bruce was creating rules that contradicted each other.
“I meant don’t skip food,” Bruce clarified, “You don’t have to sit down with me and eat, just make sure you do eat enough food throughout the day. We can even let you keep stuff in your room, if that’s what you want. Crackers or granola or something.”
“Okay, fine. What if Alfred tells me to set the table?” He’d asked Jason to set cups and forks and shit out a few times. He was supposed to listen to Alfred and be good for him. Telling him ‘no’ would be breaking that rule.
“You can say no,” Bruce agreed.
“And what if you ask me to sleep with—“ Jason started, but Bruce cut him off with a scowl.
“I will never ask that.”
“Fine,” Jason huffed, “but what if one of your ‘friends—‘“
“Jason,” Bruce cut in, so harshly Jason kind of maybe flinched a little. Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before he continued much more calmly, “I will never ask you to do that for me or any of my ‘friends.’ Ever. But yes. You absolutely may say ‘no’ if someone asks you for that. In fact, I want you to say no to that. By law, you are not old enough to consent to sex, therefore no adult can ask you for it, legally. And if they do, I want to know, so I can turn them over to Gordon.”
“You’d turn your own friends over to Gordon,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. Like he would believe that.
“Bruce doesn’t have friends,” Dick said, grinning cheekily when Bruce shot him another look.
Obviously Bruce had friends. Since he went out with them all the fucking time. And threw parties and shit.
He was probably friends with all the other rich dudes in Gotham. He was probably friends with a lot of Jason’s clients.
Former… clients…
“If they’re pedophiles, yes, absolutely,” Bruce said seriously, “I would also stop considering them my friends. I don’t want to be friends with pedophiles.”
Jason hoped he never had to meet any of Bruce’s friends. He didn’t want to face his former clients, or even make Bruce face the fact that a lot of his friends were ‘pedophiles.’
And make Bruce prove if he was telling the truth. And really cared about all that. Because why would Bruce side with some kid he barely knew over people who had been his friends since forever?
“Can,” Jason started, but paused as he looked down at his hands, balling the sleeves of his hoody up into them.“Um. Can I say no to talking about stuff?”
“Yeah,” Dick said, at the same time Bruce said, “Yes, of course.”
“Okay,” he exhaled, still not looking up from his balled up fists, “I don’t wanna talk anymore.”
Jason chanced a peek up at Bruce, just to see Bruce smiling so fucking big and bright and, and. Happy. Jason could feel his cheeks heat up, just a little.
Bruce really got off on being told no, huh?
“I’m going to bed,” Jason mumbled, as he got up and grabbed the Switch off the couch next to him. Since no one protested as he rounded the couch, he figured they didn’t care about that, either.
Which was good. Cause Jason actually wanted to play the game some more. In his room. Where no one would bother him.
Dick was still standing behind the couch, so Jason paused next to him before he left the room, looking everywhere but at him and said, “Uh. Bye Dick. Thanks for the hoody an’ stuff.”
“Don’t mention it,” Dick said, grinning wide again, “I’ll see you next time, okay? Probably in a couple weeks, but I’ll text you in the meantime.”
“Okay,” Jason agreed, nodding as he turned to finally leave.
“Good night, lad,” Bruce said, just as Jason passed the threshold of the room.
He turned, just enough to see Bruce still sitting there, not looking at all like he was mad Jason was walking off.
In fact, he looked pretty damn happy about the whole thing.
“Night,” Jason mumbled, finally walking away from the room and toward his own.
And as he closed his bedroom door and curled up on his own couch to start playing his game some more, he finally felt himself relax a little more.
Because. Bruce had been happy.
Happy… Jason told him to shut up. And then got up and left.
What even was Bruce?
His… foster dad?
Jason took a deep breath and held it, trying to force himself to refocus on his stupid game. He was tired of thinking about it. And crying about it.
It was what it was, and there was no point in working himself up again. If Bruce were for real, then great. Jason would just have to wait and see…
And maybe test him out a little, in the meantime. It would be better if he flipped out sooner, rather than later.
Yeah. He could definitely do that.
Notes:
Im back!!!!!! I love this story so much lol. Maybe that's why I just wrote over 5.5k words for a single chapter. 🤦🏼♀️.
My goal is to start updating all my major WIPs. I've actually made some serious progress on the next chapters of a few of my longfics, but we'll see. THIS story just has my heart right now.
Thanks for reading, you guys, and putting up with the January hiatus.
Chapter 26
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason woke to a text notification, like he was sure would become the norm.
Stretching, he sat up on the couch and fished his phone out from where it’d gotten tangled up in the blankets to find, sure enough, a new text message from Bruce.
Breakfast is ready, it read. But nothing else.
Not a come downstairs, or even a lame reminder about how he didn’t have to go downstairs. Because Bruce’s rules were meaningless, apparently. If he was allowed to say no to everything.
There was no way that was gonna last long. Bruce was gonna regret it so fast and change his mind, Jason was sure.
But since he hadn’t revoked that rule yet, Jason clicked his phone screen off and rolled back over on the couch, pulling his blanket up over his head to sleep for another hour or so. It’d probably take a lot more than skipping breakfast to push Bruce over the edge.
-
Jason woke again and hour and a half later, when the sun peeked through his curtains just right to shine directly into his eyes. He checked his phone again, and saw there were no new texts from Bruce. So he must not have cared Jason didn’t eat breakfast, true to his word. With a shrug, Jason sat up fully and stretched out his cramped muscles. His pillow fell off the couch as he did, like it did all the time.
“Stupid pillow,” he grumbled, as he got up and kicked his blanket off, letting it fall to the floor, too. If he slept in the bed he wouldn’t have that problem. “Stupid bed.”
After brushing his teeth and slipping his nice, clean Batman hoody on over his pajamas, Jason made his way downstairs, happy to find a completely empty kitchen. Cereal was calling his name, and he was glad to get to eat it alone.
Finally.
He liked Dick and all, but to not have to deal with him was a nice change of pace. Or… return to pace. Whatever.
Relaxed, Jason pulled out a bowl, spoon, and the glass of milk from the fridge. Jug? Was it a glass or a jug? All he knew was it was one of those fancy containers of milk, unlabeled and glass. Alfred probably got it from a local farm, or something, it was that fancy. No Walmart for him, apparently.
When he walked into the pantry, to choose between the gross cereals Bruce ate, Jason had to blink at the brand new container of cereal. It was identical to the others. The same plastic box, where the cereal had been dumped out, because apparently there was something wrong with storing cereal in their original boxes.
It probably messed with the aesthetic of Alfred’s pantry, actually. His pantry filled with clear containers filled with things, some stuff labeled, others not.
Jason had to bite down on his lip, to keep from smiling. Because the new cereal container had Cheerios in it. Honey Nut Cheerios. It was a little creepy, actually, that he’d told Dick he liked cheerios the day before, and now it was in the pantry. But he wasn’t gonna not eat them.
Cheerios were way better than frosted shredded wheat.
Way.
He climbed up on one of the island stools, and kicked his feet as he ate his bowl of cheerios. It’d been forever since he had the real kind. Donny always got them some knock off version, which came in a giant bag and tasted like sawdust. His mom couldn’t always afford to get the name brand cereal, but she tried her best, and Jason always appreciated it.
Would Alfred get him Captain Crunch, if he asked? The peanut butter kind was his mom’s favorite cereal. That and Fruity Pebbles. Would Alfred get Fruity Pebbles?
Maybe he could ask, he thought, as he poured himself a second bowl and splashed some more milk on top of it. He’d already slurped up the rest from his first bowl. Alfred said he wanted Jason to tell him his preferences. Maybe he’d care about cereal preferences?
Or maybe he’d just say something like ‘cereal is not real food’ and tell Jason to attend actual breakfast.
It could honestly go either way.
Once Jason finished off his second bowl, and convinced himself eating three bowls was too much, he put his dirty dishes in the sink, and put the cereal back where it belonged. He could always have more cheerios in the morning, probably. If Alfred really wanted him to have things he liked, then maybe he could have cheerios whenever he wanted forever.
Or. Until whenever this all ended.
Jason took to roaming the manor, some. He wasn’t sure where Bruce or Alfred were, but he did hear a TV blaring from the main living room, down the hall.
“…third ring discovered in Gotham. The FBI arrived this morning, after Batman brought it to the GCPD’s attention…, ” the TV was saying, “Commissioner Gordon will be having a press conference at the top of the hour.”
Pulling his hood up, Jason wandered closer to the door, and poked his head in. Just enough that he could see what the dude on TV was even talking about.
Inside, he saw Bruce laying on one of the couches, playing on his iPad. He also had his foot propped up on a pillow, with an ice pack over it. Did he hurt it again? If he did, that wasn’t fucking surprising considering he’d been acting like he hadn’t hurt it ‘crashing his bike.’ Working through the pain only made shit worse. Maybe he’d just hit the limit, and finally given in.
Or he could have hurt it again. ‘Crashing his bike.’
“Hey Jason,” Bruce said, causing Jason to jump.
Which was dumb. But he hadn't thought Bruce had noticed him, considering his back was mostly to him.
Bruce twisted in his seat, and offered Jason a slight smile as he asked, “How are you today?”
“Fine,” Jason said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He hadn’t meant to get Bruce’s attention. He just wanted to know what the FBI and Batman were working on.
“…this happening right under our noses,” a lady was saying, in an interview with the news host, “Forty children, so far, Brian, many of whom were trafficked years ago. The question we need to be asking: why did no one notice?”
The headline at the bottom of the screen was “Third Child Sex Ring Busted by Batman.” Jason swallowed. Batman was still working on that?
“Yes, this is horrifying,” another person said, “how could the city fail these children so badly?”
Because… because the city was in on it, Jason thought.
Fail these children.
Why would Batman still be on the case? Why… did he care? Even if he found all the the underage prostitutes in the city, it wasn’t like the mob wouldn’t just come up with new ones.
The whole system was rigged. There were lawyers and judges and cops and, and. DAs. All in the mob’s pockets. It wasn’t like finding all the kids was going to fix anything.
It might fix stuff for those kids… maybe. Jason wasn’t even sure if stuff had been fixed for him. There was no telling where the other kids would go, and if their ‘foster families’ would be any good.
“Do you know how many houses the Falcones had?” Bruce asked, when all Jason could do was stare.
Slowly, Jason shook his head, still unable to tear his eyes away from the information scrolling on the screen. Press conference at 10am, it read, Commissioner Gordon and FBI Liaison Kevin Carrion to speak.
“Batman has found three so far,” Bruce said, as if Jason couldn’t fucking read.
Jason looked over at Bruce, just long enough to scowl at him. And see how he’d sat up a little more so he could face Jason better.
“None of the mob is talking,” Bruce added.
“‘Course not,” Jason snorted. Why would anyone talk?
Bruce sighed, and smiled a little tersely as he said, “Snitches get stitches, huh?”
“No,” Jason said, with a roll of his eyes. Why did people always say that. It was so far from true. “Snitches end up in the river, along with their whole family.”
“You’re safe here,” Bruce said, as if that even mattered.
Or had to keep being repeated.
“Yeah, I know.” The mob probably had way bigger problems than Jason, though. If so far Batman had taken forty kids from them.
Bruce just kept looking at him, expectantly. As if just by reminding him the mob couldn’t toss him in the river would suddenly make him talk.
He couldn’t tell what he didn’t know.
“I really don’t know anything,” he said, scowling again, “You think they tell their whores much?”
“Don’t call yourself that,” Bruce snapped, so harshly Jason flinched. And wiped the scowl right off his face, before Bruce could tell him to drop the attitude, brat.
Why was Bruce even mad? Jason hadn’t said anything he didn’t already know.
“Jason,” Bruce said, pinching his nose and looking away. He took a deep breath, and said again, much more calmly, “Look. I didn’t mean to scare you. Just. Don’t call yourself a ‘whore,’ okay?”
So was Bruce not mad?
“But it’s what I am,” Jason ventured. Bruce had like a dozen dictionaries in his library, Jason could even show him.
“No,” Bruce started, but Jason cut him off.
“Fine. Was.” Because Bruce swore up and down Jason was done with that work. So, then, technically, he should have said it in past tense.
It was a little surprising Bruce didn’t seem to care, at all, that Jason was back talking, too.
Then again, Bruce liked when Jason told him ‘no’ and gave him lip. He needed to stop forgetting that.
“No, Jason,” Bruce said, firmly, but still not in a mean voice. It still made Jason a little antsy. But then Bruce said, “You were a victim of human traffick—“
“I don’t want to talk about this,” he cut in. He had heard enough of the stupid news people talking about human trafficking and sexual abuse and victims.
And Jason didn’t want to deal with it.
It was work. A job. It sucked, and Jason hated it, and he didn’t want to do it, but that’s what work was. No one liked their job, and there were only so many things kids could do. When he was bigger, he would have more options, but that was pretty much his only option at his age.
He certainly didn’t want to listen to Bruce go on about it.
Jason didn’t want to talk about it, at all, actually. Ever.
Yeah. He never wanted to talk about it again.
“Okay,” Bruce said, though, his whole face turning neutral as he turned back toward the TV, “Want to watch something else?” He picked up the remote, and held it out toward Jason, adding, “I can read the recap later.”
Without his permission, Jason’s hand reached out, just a touch, before Jason took the hand back. Did he want to watch TV?
Bruce… Bruce said he didn’t have to talk about stuff. And… Bruce wanted Jason to spend time with him.
And. It wasn’t like watching TV with Bruce had ever been bad.
With Bruce’s bum ankle, he wasn’t likely to do shit, anyway. Not that an ankle could stop him, but still.
“Uh, sure,” he finally said, shuffling the last few steps over to Bruce, to actually take the remote. He quickly moved to the exact opposite side of the living room, and curled up in an armchair to start flipping through the TV guide.
There wasn’t much on. It was 10am on a Monday, of course there wasn’t much on.
But the History Channel was running something about the presidents around the turn of the 19th century, and it sounded interesting enough. He didn’t know hardly anything about all that stuff. History wasn’t a subject he’d had much opportunity to study.
Bruce huffed a short laugh, so Jason looked over. But he wasn’t looking at Jason, or anything. Just smiling that same stupid fond smile he’d had before, and was messing with his iPad again.
Whatever.
Jason didn’t know what he was fond about, and he didn’t care. Didn’t want to know. He pulled his hoody over his knees, and sank further down into the chair, letting his hoody eat him right up. Pretty much the only part of him not inside the hoody was his eyes.
Which was perfect.
Why even have a hoody if he wasn’t gonna be comfortable?
They sat in silence for a long while, Jason content to hear all about the time period known as the Constitutional Era, and the major things each of the presidents did, and Bruce over there. Doing whatever the fuck it was he was doing. Playing on his iPad, or something.
Finally, though, the credits starting rolling on Jason’s documentary, and it started talking about how up next was an entire miniseries, played start to finish…
It was entirely about John Adams. And was gonna last the whole day.
Jason wasn’t sure he wanted to learn about one single dude all day long.
Or even watch TV that long.
But Bruce cleared his throat and said, once Jason looked up, “Dick pointed out that you and I haven’t talked about school yet.”
Shifting in his chair, Jason said, slowly, “Yeah…” Sure, Bruce had said stuff like ‘when you go to school,’ but it always sounded like it would happen later. When Jason wasn’t with Bruce anymore.
If that were even a possibility. He didn’t see any logical reason Bruce would let a kid he paid a shit ton of money for just… leave. To live with a foster family, of all things.
“It doesn’t start until September,” Bruce said, “but it’s probably a good idea to start figuring it out now.”
Jason nodded, as he started picking at his fingernails, inside his hoody pocket. Trying his best to stay calm looking. Calm and uninterested.
He wanted school.
He wanted school so bad.
But… but he wanted it to be Bruce’s idea. To send him to school. Because. Maybe then he wouldn’t take it away. If he knew Jason wanted it, he might take it away.
Bruce pressed on, “There are quite a few options. Dick and I both went to Gotham Academy. It is a great school, but it’s in Gotham proper, and the kids aren’t the best…”
Jason cut his eyes over at Bruce, and mumbled, “That’s what Dick said.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to be in Gotham proper, either. Where the mob was.
Even if the school had amazing security, which Jason was sure it did.
With a nod, Bruce said, “There’s also the local public school. It’s actually a great school, and I think you’d get an excellent education there.”
“Okay,” Jason said, nodding a little. He could go to the public school. He’d love to go to the public school.
Just. School.
If he went to school, he’d have a better shot at going to college, and then getting out of the hellhole known as Gotham.
“But there’s also a few other private schools in Bristol you can choose. You should look at them, too, before you decide.”
“Will they…” Jason started, but trailed off. Obviously they wouldn’t.
Bruce raised an eyebrow, then prodded, gently, “Will they?”
“Uh,” he stammered. He should just say it, right? It wasn’t like Bruce didn’t know. “I dropped out in third grade. Are they gonna make me redo third grade?” Or would they even take him? Private schools could refuse kids, he was pretty sure. It would be so easy for them to be like, ‘no, we don’t want some uneducated whore going here, he’ll ruin our GPA.’
“No,” Bruce said, and he furrowed his brow and seemed to think for a moment, “You should be in the eighth grade this year, so you’ll be placed in the eighth grade. Then you’ll have tutors to help you catch up. It depends on which school you choose, exactly how that works.”
“Oh.” So he was gonna have a special tutor and all the other kids would know he was some uneducated whore who didn’t know anything past third grade.
Well. They were probably gonna know that, anyway. People could probably just tell, looking at him or something.
“Or, we could do some placement tests ourselves and homeschool you to catch up, first.”
Jason sat up, a touch, and looked back over at Bruce. “Like, soon?” he asked, “Or did you mean in September?”
He would be fine with homeschooling, if that’s what Bruce wanted, he thought, as he looked back at his knees, hidden by the bat symbol on his hoody. He’d especially be okay with it if Bruce did real homeschooling with him. With, like, a curriculum.
But… going to real school…
Real school would just be better.
Bruce smiled, one of his rare actual big ones, as he clicked his tablet off and pulled his leg off the pillow, so he could turn around and sit up completely properly, with his feet on the ground and everything. “We can start today, if you want.”
“Really?” Jason hated how excited his voice sounded, but Bruce just smiled wider, so maybe he wasn’t gonna change his mind.
Hopefully.
“Of course.” Bruce pushed himself to his feet, and limped his first couple of steps before he started putting more weight on his hurt ankle, then said, “Come on, the computer’s in my study.”
After only the briefest hesitation, Jason got up and followed a barely limping Bruce down the hall, to his study. And refrained from telling him he was just making his ankle worse, pulling shit like this.
Jason had yet to be inside Bruce’s study.
A man’s study, was like… the very last place Jason ever wanted to be in his entire life. Ever. Well, that and bedroom. But same idea, really.
And Bruce’s study was exactly what he was picturing. A cozy room, or. Cozy as far as the manor went. The room was bigger than Jason’s kitchen and living room combined, when he was growing up.
But still, it was a decent size with every wall covered in shelving. Books everywhere. A big desk on one side, with a large, leather seat behind it, and a leather couch with two matching armchairs, all set around a coffee table on the other side.
Pointing at the couch, Bruce said, “Take a seat,” as he rounded the desk and opened up one of the cabinets on the other side.
Jason couldn’t see what Bruce was doing, digging around in the cabinet, but he sat down on the couch as ordered. Drumming his fingers against his knee, still clothed in his plaid pajamas he’d worn the night before, Jason kept looking around.
Right in the middle of the wall, between the desk and seating area, was a massive grandfather clock.
That didn’t even work. Because it wasn’t ticking, and the arm wasn’t swinging, and the time wasn’t moving.
It must have been worth a gazillion dollars, or something, and impossible to fix. Because if it wasn’t, why on earth would Bruce even have it?
“Okay,” Bruce said, as he stood up with a laptop and charger cord in his hands, “This is a couple years old, but it should work fine for its purpose.”
He sat the computer down on the coffee table right in front of Jason, then went about pulling a surge bar out from behind the armchair nearest the wall, so he could get the laptop’s cord to reach it.
Then, he sat down.
On the couch.
Right next to Jason.
And Jason focused really hard on keeping his breathing steady, and okay.
Because he was fine, and everything was fine. And if Bruce was gonna let him start school, he was fine with anything.
Bruce completely ignored him, though, and leaned forward, over the laptop as he pressed down the power button until it finally popped on.
He spent probably ten minutes mumbling at the computer, as he set it up. He named the profile Jason, so apparently the computer was now Jason’s.
Jason had a computer. And not just any computer. An Apple laptop. He knew enough to know those were expensive.
He kind of already knew Bruce’s level of rich was ridiculous. But he’d never really thought through that it was, ‘I have a relatively new expensive laptop just laying around, have it,’ level of rich.
Probably should have. If he was the kind of dude to drop 10k on some kid he didn’t know just ‘cause.
Had Bruce really not been planning on renting a kid that day? Did he just have 10k on him? For no reason?
“Okay,” Bruce finally said, once the computer had welcomed him, and he’d navigated to some school’s website, “So here are some placement tests you can take. We used these same ones on Dick, and I liked how well done they were.”
“Sure,” Jason said, curling the cord of his hoody around his finger. Bruce was still sitting so close, but he didn’t seem to… notice? He was like six inches away, and didn’t even seem to care.
It’d been years since a man sat so close to Jason and didn’t…
“I’ll get these printed and you can take them,” Bruce said, snapping Jason’s attention back to him. Bruce still wasn’t looking at him, though. He had his head rested in his hand, and was still clicking away at the computer.
He navigated to the elementary school section of the website, and started printing out each grade level. As he was clicking through the menu, toward the middle school section, the printer on one of the shelves, near the desk, came to life.
And it started spitting out a lot of papers.
When Bruce started printing off the middle school tests, too…
There was no way Jason was gonna pass any of those. He was gonna fail them all.
“This is an online school,” Bruce said, as he opened up the set of eight grade tests, and clicked print on the Reading Comprehension section of it, “it’s an option to you, as well, if you wanted to do online school.”
All Jason could do was nod. Nodding made his hood tighten, a little, since the drawstring was still tangled up on his finger, but he didn’t care.
Neither did Bruce, apparently, because he didn’t even look over as he said, “We can also do a physical curriculum, workbooks and such, to catch you up. You were doing workbooks at… Donny’s, right?”
Jason looked down at the string in his hand, and had to physically drop it to prevent himself from putting it in his mouth.
Like a toddler.
“Yeah. Kind of,” he said, setting his hands down on his knees to make them behave.
Bruce looked over at him, and waited. Clearly wanting Jason to elaborate, so Jason added, mostly mumbling, “Uh. They were just, whatever Donny found. It wasn’t, like… structured or whatever.”
Nodding, like it was exactly what he was expecting Jason to say, Bruce said, “That’s still better than nothing.”
“I guess.” He was still gonna fail all the test, though. He just knew it. Jason balled his sleeve up into his hand, and rested his face against it as he watched Bruce navigate to the test answers, and set them all to print, too.
There was just… so much. And all just for determining where he was.
But finally, once he had everything printed off, Bruce got up and walked over to the printer. He pulled all the papers out, and started sorting through them, creating lots of little piles on his desk as he did.
“Both options have pros and cons,” Bruce eventually said, when he was half way through the papers.
“What?” Jason asked. He had to pull the cuff of his hoody out of his mouth, because he had started to chew on it.
Because, again. Toddler. He was a toddler. That’s what his dad would say. Yell at him for ruining his clothes by chewing on the collar, or the cuff, or the drawstring, and accuse him of being a baby, unable to keep shit out of his mouth that didn’t belong there.
Bruce didn’t seem to notice, though. And if he did, he didn’t care.
“Homeschool or online school,” Bruce said, still sorting away at the papers, “With online school you’ll have access to tutors who can help you. It will also have videos and instant feedback on your progress, for a lot of the stuff. And if you do workbooks, Alfred and I will help you and grade your work. We’ll also help you with online school, of course. If you want us to.”
So… If he did online school, Bruce wouldn’t be the one grading him? Was that what Bruce was saying? He wouldn’t have to sit next to Bruce everyday, watching him go over his schoolwork?
“You can think on that, you don’t have to decide right now,” Bruce said, as he sorted out the last two pieces of paper into their piles.
“Okay,” Jason agreed. He would think about it. Maybe he could see how bad Bruce was, when he graded the placement tests, and saw how behind Jason was.
Bruce straightened up the piles, and picked half of them up, shoving them into a folder that he slipped under his arm.
“All right, lad,” he finally said, as he rummaged through his desk drawer until he pulled out a mechanical pencil. He held it out, as if handing it to Jason, even though Jason was on the opposite side of the room, but then he set it down next to the first pile of papers and continued, “Do as much as you can. I have each subject in grade level order. If it gets too difficult, you can stop there. You don’t have to attempt every grade.”
Slowly, Jason rose to his feet and said, “Okay.” He shoved his hands into his pockets as he crossed the room, careful to walk way around Bruce as he approached the desk chair, where Bruce had pulled it out for him.
“And don’t worry about getting things wrong. Don’t think of this as a test to pass or fail, just an assessment, to gauge where you are. Getting things wrong is perfectly okay.”
Jason nodded again, as he slipped into the chair and stared down at the first pile of papers. It was the reading comprehension. He could do reading comprehension, right? He read novels all the time. And not juvenile fiction. Real, grown-up fiction.
So he could do it, right?
Maybe not with Bruce standing over his shoulder.
“All right,” Bruce said, as he tapped the desk a couple times, “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in the den when you’re done, is that okay?”
Was that okay? “Yeah.” That was great.
Because Jason finally let out a breath, when Bruce, sure enough, left the room. Then walked down the hall, his off-kilter footsteps fading out. Leaving Jason all alone to do the tests in solitude.
“You can do this,” he whispered to himself, as he picked up the pencil and started reading the instructions on the first test.
Third Grade Reading Comprehension. He could totally do this.
And… he could. Because the more Jason read, the more he realized how… easy it was.
It was so simple. And so was the fourth grade, and fifth, and sixth.
In fact, he plowed right through all the tests Bruce had printed off. He kind of wanted to try the high school tests, too. Maybe he could find those himself, on that website, and print them out…
Or he could find the website on his phone, that night. And take them just on the phone.
Because Bruce was expecting him to come find him once he was done. And he still had the math to do.
Math was probably going to be a lot harder, but that was okay. If he only had to catch up in math, and probably science and maybe a little in history, that wasn’t nearly as bad as having to learn everything and learn how to read better and all that crap.
As Jason started going through the math tests, and didn’t encounter anything confusing until the fifth grade, he had to hide his smile in his hand.
Because.
He really was gonna go to school. And catch up.
It was possible.
And if he could catch up, and go to school for all of high school, well.
College really was an option, wasn’t it?
Notes:
:) Jason smiling gives me life.
Also, I'm not really in the mood to handle nitpicking on my writing, so please don't. I get its not meant to be rude and stuff, but I just can't handle it. I know there's probably inconsistencies, thats the problem with writing a book a chapter at a time over several months and publishing as I go. I'll eventually catch it all myself, while doing read throughs. (same goes for grammar mistakes and such.)
But thank you so much for reading, I hope you guys are enjoying the story as much as I'm loving writing it. ❤️
Chapter 27
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason finished up the tests after spending about an hour working through them. He spent the majority of that time on the reading comprehension, since he didn’t get very far with the math.
The math ended up being a lot harder, the further in he got. On the sixth grade test, it started mixing in letters, which was easy enough to figure out when it wanted to know what ‘x’ meant, in the equation 4+X=10, but when it started mixing together addition, subtraction, and fractions into the same equation, he wasn’t sure how to figure it out. The seventh grade math was even worse.
Like what on earth did parenthesis mean in math? Or the tiny little numbers in the corner? And how was he supposed to figure out what X was when it was part of a fraction, that also had subtraction inside the fraction?
He used to be good at math, when he was little and in school. He wasn’t the fastest at the minute math worksheets, but he was usually among the fastest. Now, though, he couldn’t even figure out sixth grade math, and was hopelessly lost with the seventh grade stuff. He didn’t even attempt the eighth grade paper.
It wasn’t like he was supposed to know the eighth grade stuff, anyway. That was the grade he was going to be starting.
And Bruce said he could quit when it got too hard, so that meant he was expecting Jason to find it too hard, right? He wasn’t gonna get mad when he saw how little Jason knew, and how far behind he was?
Jason really hoped so, as he gathered up all his completed tests and pushed away from the desk. Bruce was expecting him to go find him, so that’s what he had to do. He was perfectly happy to get out of Bruce’s private study, too. It wasn’t quite so bad, with Bruce not in there with him. But he really didn’t want to spend more time than necessary in there.
What if Bruce changed his mind? And came back? Jason had been in enough private studies to know what went on in them.
Only some of it was actual work.
With a deep breath, Jason forced himself to his feet and made his way down to the den. He was trying to believe Bruce.
He was.
And… Bruce preparing him for school was a point in his favor… right?
Because. Who sent their plaything to school? No one Jason had ever heard of.
Then Bruce wanted him to say ‘no,’ when Jason wanted to say ‘no.’ To anything. He still highly doubted that was gonna last long, but no one who wanted control over someone would ever say that, right? Usually clients wanted complete and total control. But Bruce was just… giving Jason control.
Well. Jason wasn’t, like, free to leave and shit, but it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go.
With his dad in prison, and his mom dead, there was literally no one out there who cared about him. And if he tried to fend for himself, or go to the cops for help, he’d just end right back up in the mob’s hands.
Or, well. He’d end up dead, probably. The mob probably was freaking out over Batman busting all their houses.
But otherwise, outside of where he was allowed to live, Bruce was letting him do… whatever. Whatever he wanted. Read all day, or play games. Eat food whenever. Hide in his room, or some random spot in the house. Wear whatever he wanted. Sleep whenever he wanted. Even bought him a phone, with access to the internet. And like. Other people.
Bruce had given him control… of everything.
Jason had to pause, in his walk down the hall. Because his eyes were starting to blur, and he didn’t even know why. He swallowed hard, forcing down everything, and took a second to just breathe.
The last thing he wanted was to cry in front of Bruce, for like the third day in a row, or whatever.
Take a deep breath in, he told himself, as he closed his eyes. There was literally nothing to be crying about. Nothing.
Hold the breath for five seconds. Then again, he hadn’t cried over anything worthy of tears, lately. He just kept crying. For no damn reason!
And exhale, he thought, as he let the breath out slowly. He was going to school. He should be happy. Not standing in the hall, between the study and the den, crying like a little baby.
School was enough to snap him out of it.
After two more long breaths his vision had fully cleared, so he pushed forward into the doorway of the den.
Bruce was there, of course. Back sitting on the couch, with his foot elevated again. The TV was playing the news again, but this time the volume was much lower. Jason had to really focus to hear it, he’d turned it down so much. And as soon as Jason stepped into the room, Bruce hit pause.
Because apparently the news could be paused?
“All done?” Bruce asked, as he turned toward Jason. He was also messing around on his iPad again, but flipped the cover over the screen, and set it down when Jason nodded.
Bruce held his hand out, so Jason finally stepped all the way into the room and passed over his stack of tests.
He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself, when Bruce picked up the folder he’d put all the test answers in on the coffee table. Bruce was still sitting sideways on the couch, so it wasn’t like he could sit next to Bruce… even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. Seeing what Bruce was correcting could be helpful, but the longer he stayed within Bruce’s reach, the more his skin started to crawl. A little prickly sensation all down his back and arms.
Why did his skin do that? It wasn’t like Bruce was doing anything. Squeezing his fingers inside his hoody pocket did nothing to help, except make his fingers hurt, so Jason took a breath and walked over to his armchair to sit down there, cross legged, content to just watch Bruce from across the room. Jason could look at everything he did wrong after Bruce was done, right? Probably.
Bruce kept nodding as he worked his way through the reading comprehension tests. He had a pen in his hand, but so far hadn’t made any marks on the paper.
“Hm,” Bruce hummed, as he flipped to a new page.
What did hm mean?? Jason thought, as he drummed his fingers against his knee. He didn’t want to think too hard about everything. He was pretty sure he did well on the reading comprehension, so Bruce not making marks was expected. Right?
But what did hm mean?
It only took a couple more minutes for Bruce to flip through all the reading comprehension tests, still not making a single mark on any of the pages. So either Jason did really well, or really badly and Bruce hadn’t seen the point in marking everything wrong.
Then Bruce started the math, and finally the marks started. Even though Jason was expecting it, it still made his stomach churn. Bruce wasn’t frowning, but he knit his brow, as he worked his way through the pages, making more and more marks as he went.
Unlike with the reading comprehension, he wasn’t even looking at the answer sheet. Did he just know the math that well? Could he look at the equation and just know the answer in his head? That was… that was super impressive, if so. He didn’t know Bruce was smart like that. Jason had to work through math on paper, to figure it out. And even then he couldn’t figure it out, most the time…
Alfred did say Bruce was a ‘very intelligent’ man, though. Even though he also said in the same sentence Bruce was an idiot.
But Jason supposed it was possible to be both an idiot and intelligent. Like, book smart and people dumb. Or the other way around.
The more Bruce marked up his paper, the more nervous Jason felt. Was he even gonna be able to catch up? Could he really do several years of math in just a couple months? Or was he gonna be behind for the rest of his life? No college would take him, if he was so far behind in math…
He pulled his knees up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around tightly. He needed to stay calm. Freaking out before Bruce even told him what the damage was was stupid.
Finally, Bruce hit the point where Jason gave up, and nodded his head at it. Jason assumed he must have been expecting that, because he made a lot of marks on the last couple of pages he’d attempted. There was no way he got a single problem right, on those pages. Jason looked down at his hands, and braced himself for whatever Bruce was gonna say. If Bruce said there was no way he could catch up, he would not start crying over it.
He wouldn’t.
But then Bruce set the papers down on the coffee table and said, “You’re a smart kid, you know that?”
It caught Jason so off guard, he couldn’t respond for several long seconds. He hid his face, a little, behind his knees as a smile formed on his face. Finally, he shook his head. Because it was the exact opposite thing he’d been expecting Bruce to say. Maybe ‘well I can tell you tried,’ at the very best. But not ‘you’re smart.’
His mom and dad used to tell him he was smart, when he was little. But considering his dad sometimes then called him an idiot or asked if he was stupid, every time Jason did anything he didn’t like, he always figured it wasn’t really true. Just something they said. Because they were his parents, and it was, like, their job to say things like that.
“Well, you are,” Bruce said. He tapped on the stack of tests and continued, “You nailed these tests, your reading comprehension is completely up to grade level, and my guess is it’s far beyond it.”
“Yeah, but the math,” Jason said, looking back away from Bruce. He’d absolutely bombed on the math, he knew it.
“You’re at a sixth grade level for math,” Bruce said, nodding a little, “If we focus on math, I think we’ll get you caught up in no time.”
“But what about science?” Or history? Or… or… like, he didn’t know. Art. There was more than just reading and math at school, right? Writing? The tests didn’t check to see where his writing skills were. Sure he could read fine, but he hadn’t written any reports since third grade, and back then it was really just worksheets he filled out. Not actual reports and essays and stuff. He wasn’t even sure how to write an essay.
“I think with science and everything else, you can jump right in this year,” Bruce said, “We can get you a tutor, or I can help you out when you come upon concepts that require some building blocks you’re missing. Really only math and reading require everything be learnt in order.”
“Oh.” So, so… this was really happening? Bruce was really going to help Jason catch up? ‘In no time?’ He felt like he was in a dream. Some weird, really happy dream.
How was this even real? Happy things did not happen to him. Happy things were for dreams and fiction, not real life.
Jason looked down at his knees, and picked a piece of lint off his pant leg as he whispered, “You’re really sending me to school?”
Bruce shifted on the couch, turning so he was sitting up and his feet were on the ground. He leaned forward and nodded seriously as he said, “Of course, Jay. Not only is it the law you get an education, but I personally think education is vital. I want you to have every opportunity in life to make something of yourself, and for that you need an education.”
Bruce wanted him to make something of himself? Like. Grow up and be something? Something that required education?
“Like what?” Jason asked, trying to swallow down the swell of emotions he felt at that.
“Well, I don’t know,” Bruce admitted, leaning onto his arms, resting on his knees. He furrowed his brow for a second, then shrugged, adding, “Anything you want to be.”
His mom used to always say that. He could be anything. He’d never fully believed it, though. How could some alley rat be anything?
When his mom died, he’d kind of proved all that right. Because he became a whore.
He was pretty sure both of his parents would be disappointed in that outcome.
His dad used to have plans for him, when he was little. He’d always say stuff like he could grow up and go to college and be something better than a thief, or a thug, or some gutter rat. Like a doctor. He always told Jason he was going to grow up and be a doctor.
But then he went to jail for life. And wasn’t there to keep him from having to become a whore.
Although his dad made so little money, on his own, Jason probably would have had to work, anyway, once Mom died.
But now Bruce was supporting him, so maybe…
“My—“ Jason started, but stopped and sank back into his chair, slouching so his face was completely behind his knees. Bruce probably didn’t care what his dad used to always say. He should just be whatever Bruce wanted him to be, probably. Even if he said anything, he probably did have a preference.
But then again, Dick didn’t know what he was doing, so maybe he really didn’t….
“Your?” Bruce prompted, gently, when a full minute had passed and Jason hadn’t finished the sentence.
After a deep breath, Jason said, slowly, “My dad used to say… he thought I could be a doctor one day. When I grew up and went to college.”
Bruce leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms as he did. Jason chanced a peek over his knees, and saw Bruce smiling one of his real smiles, as he said, “He’s absolutely right. If you want to be a doctor, we can help you realized that goal.”
“You’d help me?” Beyond, like, just finishing grade school?
“Of course. Do you want to be a doctor?”
Jason paused. “I—I don’t know,” he said, because he didn’t. He had no idea what he wanted to do as an adult. He just knew what he didn’t want to be. After another second, he hugged his knees tight again and whispered, “I just don’t want to be a whore.”
That made Bruce sigh. Jason squeezed his fingers tight, from where he’d been holding one hand in the other, his arms still wrapped around his legs. Bruce kept saying he didn’t want all that from Jason, but Jason hadn’t told him he didn’t want it yet, had he?
But if Bruce were telling him the truth, then he should be happy, right?
Why was he sighing?
“Jason,” Bruce said, after a second, “I hate that you use that word. That that’s how you see yourself, but I promise you, you never have to do that sort of thing ever again. I would sooner die than let someone touch you ever again.”
All Jason could do was nod.
Nod, and sink further back into the chair as he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. His chin had started wobbling, and the very last thing he wanted to do was cry. He was so, so, so sick of crying.
Of always feeling like he was on the edge of crying.
Wasn’t this a happy thing? Wasn’t this a smile thing? Bruce just said he never had to work ever again, right? In the context of growing up and doing something more.
He should be happy. Not crying over this. If he kept crying over all this shit, Bruce would probably think he didn’t want all the things he said he wanted.
It took him a minute, during which time he crossed his arms over his knees and buried his face in them. He wasn’t really crying. Just. His eyes were watering a lot, and he sniffled a little. Bruce left him alone the whole time, didn’t say anything about it, which was good. Jason really didn’t want him taking back what he said.
More than anything, he wanted everything Bruce said to be true.
And so far… so far it all seemed like he was being real.
He’d do anything to make it all be real.
Finally, though, Jason got himself back under control. He scrubbed his face clean with one of his sleeves and finally sat up, but completely avoided looking over at Bruce.
Which was fine, because Bruce wasn’t particularly watching him, either. He was back on his iPad, doing whatever it was he did. After Jason sniffled one last time, and turned in his chair so he was leaning against one of the armrests, his legs resting against the other, Bruce cleared his throat.
“I want to… propose something to you,” he said, once Jason looked over, “You don’t have to give me a yes or no answer today, okay? I want you to think about it, and then you can decide yes or no for yourself, and I’ll respect whichever choice you make.”
Jason froze, and curled his fingers into his pant legs, as his eyes threatened to start leaking again. Bruce just said he didn’t have to work. He just said.
He’d promised.
“Do you understand that?” Bruce pressed, “You don’t have to answer now, and you can say yes or no, either one. Both are correct answers.”
It took taking a deep breath, and holding it for a second before he let it out, bu finally he was able to whisper, “I understand.”
Saying ‘no’ was something he could do. Probably. Maybe.
It depended on if it was worth it.
“Okay,” Bruce said. Jason closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for whatever it was Bruce wanted.
But then Bruce said, “I think you might benefit from therapy,” and all Jason could do was furrow his brow.
“What do you mean?” he asked, as he looked over at Bruce quizzically. Didn’t crazy people go to therapy? Did Bruce think he was crazy?
He wasn’t.
At least he wasn’t proposing sex…
“Therapy is something confidential,” Bruce explained, meeting Jason’s gaze with a serious one, “between you and someone who is completely removed from everything. He or she will have nothing to do with your care, and will be someone you can confide in.”
Jason didn’t need someone to confide in? Confide what in them? He’d never had someone to confide in before, why would he need it now?
“They’d help you work through things,” Bruce added, “Like if you’re upset about something, and you can’t figure out what it is, they’ll help you figure it out."
Why would he be upset about something and not know?
But… then again. He did keep crying… and he didn't even know why he was crying half the time. He just did. Stuff that never made him cry before, too.
Stuff he should be happy about…
Bruce ran a hand through his hair, and rambled on, “And they will never, never tell me anything you’ve said. It will be completely confidential between just you and them. The only thing they ever have to report is if you are a threat to others, like you tell them you’re going to kill someone, or they find evidence of abuse happening against you. Like if you told them I hit you, which I will never do, they would be someone you could tell that sort of stuff to and they’d help you. They’d have to help you.”
Okay, Jason thought. If Bruce would ‘never’ do that, why did he need someone he could tattle on him to, then?
And why the hell would Jason go tattling on Bruce for just hitting him? Foster care was way worse than taking a beating every now-and-again.
Hell, he’d take his dad over anything that had happened once he got tossed into foster care, three miserable years ago.
“You’ve been through so much, Jason,” Bruce said solemnly, when Jason still didn’t answer him, “I think therapy might help you work through it all.”
“But you said I don’t have to talk about stuff,” Jason said, hastily. Was that what he wanted? Jason to talk about… about his job? And the mob, and all the things he knew?
“You don’t,” Bruce agreed, nodding, “You don’t have to talk about anything with them you don’t want to talk about. It will be up to you what is discussed.”
“Oh.” Then what was even the point? So he could talk about all the times he cried? He didn’t want to talk about that. He wanted to forget it ever happened.
“I want to see you grow up to be happy and healthy, and I think therapy would help you achieve that.”
Jason tangled his fingers together, where they were resting against his thighs. He didn’t really know how to respond to that. Or even if he should. Bruce said he didn’t have to have an answer yet.
“But that’s just what I want,” Bruce continued, “What I want doesn’t really matter, not near as much as what you want.”
“What I want?” Jason asked.
Bruce smiled, what he probably thought was reassuring when Jason looked over. It hit more like sad, though. “Yeah,” he said, “What do you want out of life?”
“I…” Jason started, turning his attention back to his fingers. He started picking at a hangnail as he mumbled, “I don’t know.” All he knew was he wanted to be alive, as an adult. And college.
He wanted college so, so bad.
“Therapy could help you figure that out.”
“Oh.” So someone would just… talk to him? About what he wanted to do when he grew up? And help him… figure it out?
Seemed weird, but…
Did he even need to figure it out? If he was with Bruce for real, it meant he had until he was eighteen to figure it out, right? Not just until he got too big to be interesting to clients. He was so short, that probably wouldn’t have happened at fourteen, like some kids, but it was likely going to be before he turned eighteen.
But if all this was real…. And Bruce was sending him to school. He still had five years of school left. And just over five years until he was eighteen.
And even Dick said he didn’t know what he wanted to do. He was eighteen, and already in college! And Bruce didn’t seem overly concerned he didn’t know.
So why would he go to therapy just to talk about all that?
Because Bruce wanted him to.
And Bruce also said he could say no. Because what Bruce wanted didn’t matter, he said. Only what Jason wanted.
“I want,” he started, but paused. He cut his eyes over at Bruce, and saw an encouraging smile, so he closed his eyes and forced out, “I know I want to go to college.”
“Yeah?” Bruce said, and he sounded so happy Jason kind of wanted to cry again.
Because apparently he just wanted to cry about everything.
Instead, he nodded his head and refused to look back over.
He’d never even told Donny he wanted to go to college one day. Donny probably would have laughed in his face. The workbooks were just busy work, he was sure Donny thought. Something to keep him occupied, and to maybe help him get a GED one day, so he could, like, work at a grocery store or something.
He didn’t want to see if Bruce doubted that was even possible. Whore kids did not go to college, even if it was his dream. They just didn’t.
“Well then, I want to do everything I can to help you get there,” Bruce said, “And I think something that would really help you get there is therapy.”
“Okay,” Jason whispered, swallowing hard. He wasn’t sure how therapy would help with that at all, but he’d do anything. Anything. And if Bruce was promising college…
“Okay,” Bruce repeated, “you think on it, okay bud? Take all the time you need to answer that. In the meantime, do you want to go over some options for math? The sooner we start, the more caught up you’ll be in September.”
“Yeah,” Jason exhaled, pressing his hands into his eyes one more time as he took a deep breath. He’d love the distraction of schoolwork. Love it.
Maybe then he would stop crying over nothing every five seconds.
“Why don’t you go grab your laptop,” Bruce said, once Jason had uncovered his eyes and sat up fully, “it should have a good charge by now, but grab the power cord, too, okay? You can keep it wherever you want.”
Jason nodded, saying, “Okay,” as he pushed himself to his feet. His laptop. That he could put anywhere. Like in his room.
He’d never owned a computer before.
A phone and a computer.
“I’ll show you all the options on it, so you can do research on them yourself and choose something to start tomorrow, okay?”
Bruce really was giving him all the control…
How was any of this real?
As he made his way back to Bruce’s study, alone, because Bruce didn’t follow him, he decided to push all of those thoughts completely out of his mind. Because who cared how it was real? All that mattered was that it was.
Notes:
Did ya cry? Cause I cried. Jason makes me cry every time he cries 😭 (and he cried way more than i anticipated in this chapter lmao)
Thanks Batbirdies and Randomfandomwoman for reading over the chapter for me. ❤️
Chapter 28
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Bruce walked Jason through all the different options he had for school, pulling up half a dozen websites as he went. There was honestly a lot to process. Some of the ‘tabs’ on his internet browser were for actual online schools, because apparently there were different kinds of online schools, and some of them were websites for workbook-based curriculums. Then, there was even a computer based curriculum that wasn’t online school.
Honestly there were so many options, it was a little overwhelming.
But before Bruce could ask Jason what he thought about it all, Alfred walked into the den and said, “If you boys could take a break, I have lunch ready.”
Lunch ended up being chicken pot pie, which was pretty weird. Jason had never heard of it, but it was a cute little bowl thing, with a really thick chicken soup baked under a crust of some sort.
Alfred made both him and Bruce their own little bowls, and it was delicious.
And even though Jason was in the dining room alone with Bruce, he didn’t even care. Because Bruce messed around on his phone the whole time, and left Jason alone to think.
Jason had a lot to think about.
Bruce had spelled out the pros and cons he could see for all the options Jason had, and Jason had thought up a few more of his own.
If he did workbooks, he could pick out his curriculum himself. There was apparently a homeschool store in Gotham Bruce would take him to, and he could flip through the workbooks before they bought them. Or he could read about the different programs online, and choose from there. And since he’d been doing workbooks for a few years, he knew how to do them.
Granted, with those, if he got stuck, he just… stayed stuck. Donny was rarely in a mood to help him out, and none of the other boys had any more of an education than he did. If he got stuck now, Bruce would help him.
Which… was a con. Because then Jason would have to find Bruce probably every day, and have him check his work. Bruce had been nice so far, with the placement tests and such, but there was no promise he’d be nice about schoolwork progress.
What if he got frustrated Jason wasn’t catching on to stuff? And realized Jason couldn’t be a doctor and wasn’t worth putting time and effort into? What if he realized Jason was only good for—
No.
He wouldn’t change his mind just because he figured out Jason was stupid.
But it was possible he’d realize it wasn’t worth teaching Jason, and just give up and ditch Jason to figure it all out on his own. Or he’d be all moody like Donny always was, and quit offering to help.
Which, now that Jason had access to the internet, that might not be devastating… he could just look it up online.
If he did online school, though, he’d have a teacher. And teachers couldn’t give up on him, right? ‘Cause they were being paid. It was their job to help him understand stuff.
Or they could get frustrated with him, too. And just be all snippy and unhelpful.
Online school had videos, though, Bruce had said. There were videos with lessons, so if Jason didn’t get something, he could just watch the video over and over again, and it would be almost like having a teacher explain a concept over and over until it clicked.
That, plus since Jason was allowed to take his computer to his room, online school was pretty tempting. He could do all his work from his bedroom and never have to see anyone if he didn’t want to.
Yeah. That was definitely the best choice.
Probably.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Jason looked up at Bruce, who was reading something on his phone as he absently pushed around the last few bites of his chicken pot pie in the little bowl. It made Jason relax just a touch, because Bruce really wasn’t paying attention to him, at all.
In fact, Bruce didn’t even notice Jason looking at him, so Jason cleared his throat and said, “Uh, Bruce?”
“Yeah, bud?” Bruce said, snapping his attention to Jason almost instantly.
“Um,” he stammered, looking back down at his own chicken pot pie. He’d eaten most of it, but had picked around the peas. He was going to eat them all in one bite, so he only had one bite of gross, instead of every bite being gross.
But now he didn’t want eat them at all.
Or see Bruce’s reaction to basically telling him I don’t want you to be my teacher.
Jason took a deep breath, and rushed out, “I think I want to do online school,” just as he scooped up his last non-pea bite.
As Jason was putting the last bite in his mouth, Bruce said, brightly, “Great. Which one did you want?” and Jason paused, spoon right in front of his mouth and everything.
Because.
He didn’t know. He’d sort of forgotten he had to pick one.
Bruce must have been a mind reader, because he said, “The one you took the placement tests from is a true online school, it is what they do. They operate year round and let students work at their own pace, so they won’t plan out your week for you, unless you want that. They can create schedules, if that’s what you need to keep motivated. You’ll have a teacher assigned to you for each subject. They will have a lot of other students, too, so it’s not quite like having a private tutor, they are splitting their time between many students, but it will be someone available to you as needed.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, nodding a little. Having a teacher was what he wanted.
“If you want another option,” Bruce continued, “I know of several that are basically just the curriculum, and there aren’t any teachers assigned to you. They rely heavily on video lessons, and then have parent guides so Alfred or I can help you out if you need extra support.”
Which just sounded like doing workbooks…
“I think,” he said, setting his spoon back down into his bowl as he took another deep breath, “uh, the first one.”
“Perfect,” Bruce said, “I think that’s the best option for you, too. We can get you signed up for that now, are you done eating?”
“Oh, uh no. I still have a little…” Jason stammered, looking down at all the peas left in his bowl. Peas mixed into the soup or gravy or whatever it was called, all the chicken and veggies were mixed into. It was honestly so gross looking, even though the gravy tasted good.
Bruce leaned over, so he could look into Jason’s bowl, since Alfred always sat Jason right next to Bruce, with only the corner of the table between them. “Don’t like peas?” he asked.
Was it that obvious? Jason hesitated, and pushed the peas around in the gravy a little. He really didn’t. The flavor was fine, he supposed, but the texture was disgusting. He’d rather eat asparagus than peas. And asparagus tasted like soap.
Finally, though, Jason shook his head. Telling Bruce that probably wouldn’t result in him being forced to eat peas every single night. Alfred was the one who fed them, anyway. And Alfred seemed eager to feed Jason stuff he liked, not hated.
Plus, if Bruce decided to punish Jason or whatever by making him eat peas, who cared? He was fine with eating food he didn’t like. At least they were feeding him.
Jason scooped all the peas up, ready to just force them all down quickly, when Bruce said, “Do you remember what you’re allowed to say? To anything?”
“No?” he asked, looking up at Bruce a little skeptically. He definitely didn’t forget.
Just wasn’t fully convinced Bruce meant it.
“That includes to food you don’t like,” Bruce said, gesturing toward Jason’s bowl, “If you don’t want to eat it, you do not have to eat it.”
“Oh.” Jason looked back down at the peas, and felt mildly bad not eating them.”But it’ll go to waste.”
Donny kept them pretty well fed, but his parents usually could barely afford food, even with what his school always sent home with him. Not eating food was never really an option. Even when the school sent home cans of peas. Either he ate the peas, or he starved.
Starving was never an option. His dad never let him skip eating food if he was served it.
“Jason,” Bruce said, slowly, “It’s a dozen peas. It won’t hurt anything to compost them, but if it really bothers you, I will eat them for you. You do not have to eat food you don’t like. You do not have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Right,” he mumbled, pushing the peas around a little more. It was just a dozen peas. And it wasn’t like him not eating them would hurt anyone. Or make another person starve…
With a deep breath, Jason pushed the bowl away from himself and said, “Okay.” He didn’t push it toward Bruce, though, because he didn’t want to make Bruce eat peas, either. Especially since Bruce didn’t even finish his own pot pie.
“So are you done?” Bruce asked, as Jason picked up his glass and drank the last bit of lemonade.
“Yeah.”
Bruce smiled warmly and said, “All right, good job,” as he gathered up Jason’s dishes and stacked them on his own, “Then let’s go get you signed up for school.”
Jason followed along easily, his hands tucked into his hoody pocket, flipping his phone over and over inside as Bruce led him through the kitchen to drop the dishes into the sink, then back to the den. The entire way, Bruce limped, clearly trying to baby his hurt ankle.
In the den, Jason paused in the doorway, watching as Bruce picked up Jason’s laptop from the coffee table and sat down on the large couch. “Come here,” Bruce said, patting at the cushion next to him, “I want you to see what I’m doing.”
“Sure,” Jason said, shuffling over toward the couch. He paused, for a second, then change his trajectory to behind the couch, next to where Bruce was sitting. Jason was short, but he was plenty tall enough to lean over the back of the couch comfortably on his elbows and see everything Bruce was doing.
Plus, it meant he didn’t have to sit next to Bruce. Where he could just pull Jason over onto his lap.
Which he probably wouldn’t do. But if all he really wanted was for Jason to see what he was doing, and not to be able to… do whatever with Jason, then he shouldn’t have a problem with how Jason was standing.
Right?
Must have been right, Because Bruce looked back at Jason and offered one of his tiny little smiles, before he opened up the web browser and navigated to the school website.
He talked Jason through the whole signup process. Bruce apparently already had a ‘parent’ login, because of Dick or something, so he showed Jason what the parent side of everything looked like as he registered Jason as a new student.
It was a little weird to see Bruce’s name be listed as Jason’s parent. But, if it meant he got to do school, he didn’t care.
Plus, foster parent was a thing. That Bruce supposedly was.
The sign up required a lot of information, including Jason’s Social Security Number, which Bruce just knew, off the top of his head.
“Numbers are easy to remember,” Bruce had said, when Jason asked ‘what the fuck,’ “If I see a string of numbers, generally I can remember them without much effort.”
“You’re so weird,” he grumbled, as he looked down at his hands, “That’s not normal.”
“It is if you practice it,” Bruce said, the corner of his mouth turned up. Apparently he found being insulted amusing.
With a scoff, Jason said, “What a weird thing to waste time on.”
“Okay,” Bruce said, as he sat up a little taller and pointed at the screen, “You’re all signed up. You’re officially a student of Cornerstone Academy. To login you click here…”
Jason paid close attention as Bruce walked him through every single button he might possibly need to use. There was a messaging system, within the portal, which would let Jason communicate with his teacher. If he was doing more than one subject, he’d have multiple teachers, but since Bruce had only signed him up for 6th grade math to begin, he would only have the one teacher. It also would let Jason message Bruce, for some reason, but he didn’t see the point there.
Bruce even said he’d prefer Jason find him or text him instead, since he didn’t plan on logging in very often, unless Jason wanted him staying on top of what Jason was doing.
And since Jason didn’t, he said, “That’s fine. I can just text you.” Or not. Because Jason had a teacher, so why would he go to Bruce for help?
Also, Alfred existed. Alfred was super nice. He might help Jason, if Jason ever needed help. Maybe.
It probably wouldn’t hurt to ask.
“Well then,” Bruce said, logging out of his own profile on the website, “If you need any help, you know where I am. I’m happy to help. There are also all the help guides that will walk you through anything you need to do on the website.”
“Okay.”
“Then have at it,” Bruce said, holding the laptop up so Jason could take it. He leaned over and grabbed the coiled up power cord from the coffee table and passed it to Jason too, “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Can I take this to my room?” he asked, even though he was pretty sure the answer was yes.
Sure enough, Bruce nodded, and said, “Of course. You can work wherever you want. Your room, the library, the kitchen, outside. Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Cool.” Outside sounded pretty neat, actually. On days when it wasn’t raining, like it was that day. But he’d have to keep that in mind.
In the meantime, he was going to work up in his bedroom. Where no one would bother him. He’d spent so much time with Bruce already.
Jason spun to leave the room, his computer safely held to his stomach so he wouldn’t drop it. Just before he left, however, he turned back to Bruce and said, “Thanks, Bruce. For, uh, school.”
“Of course, kiddo,” Bruce said. He had turned back around on the couch, so his leg was propped up on his pillow again, but he still twisted around to offer Jason a smile, “I’m glad you’re excited for school.”
With a nod, Jason smiled back, just a little. Because, yeah. He was excited for school. And even more excited that Bruce wanted Jason to go to school, and get an education. And to grow up to be something.
Anything.
As Jason skipped up the stairs, to his room, his smile only grew.
He was a student. Of a real school.
Him. Jason Todd. At age twelve, already a student again.
No matter what the heck was going on in Bruce’s house, Jason was kind of a little glad Bruce had bought him.
Okay. Kind of a lot glad. If only for this.
He was a student.
Notes:
Cornerstone Academy isn't a real school. Well, I'm sure there are schools out there called that, but I just changed the name of a real online school I loosely based it on. But anyway, a bit of a short chapter but that's just because the next scene is probably 2500 words on its own, and I didn't want to delay posting a chapter any longer, and this was such a good spot to split anyway. Hopefully I'll get another chapter up soon, but we'll see! I really need to give The Best Things some attention, even though I don't wanna. 😂
Thanks for reading!! ❤️
Chapter 29
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Upstairs, Jason found a neat little stack of school supplies sitting right in front of his door. Which was kind of amusing, that Alfred apparently set them right there.
He always set stuff for Jason right outside his room, even when Jason was downstairs. Which actually was the only time Alfred ever sat anything outside his door, since he’d yet to come near Jason’s room while he was in there.
The only time anyone had come into his room while he was there was on the first night, when Bruce brought him the toys to ‘play’ with.
Otherwise, it was always while Jason wasn’t there did anyone go near it. And then it was only to set stuff outside. Alfred had only gone into his room once, on that first day.
Had Bruce and Alfred talked? And decided they wouldn’t go into his room at all, ever? Bruce had said it was a rule Dick wasn’t allowed in Jason’s room. Did that apply to everyone?
Jason wouldn’t be upset about that, if so. Even though the door didn’t have a lock, and Bruce obviously could find him no matter where he was in the manor, if they were serious, and actually abided by a rule like that always…
It did make the room feel a little more safer. Even if it was fake safety. Maybe just for now safety. Safety until Bruce proved he was a liar about everything.
Safety just for now was still better than safety never, though.
Picking the stack of school supplies up, Jason pushed into his room and shut the door right behind him. The room had a desk already, and at first Jason had found it completely useless. Why would he need a desk? The library had desks, and there was already so many other places to sit in the room. But now he kind of appreciated it.
A desk was the perfect spot to keep his computer and school supplies. There was even a little pencil holder inside the cabinet on the desk, so Jason pulled it out and put all his brand new pens and pencils in there, right next to his little lamp. Alfred had also gotten him a pack of highlighters, but he wasn’t quite sure what he’d use them for. All his schoolwork was on the computer, but they still looked cool, so he set them out, too.
His computer’s battery was down below half life, too, so he took the time to run the power cord back behind the desk to the surge bar he found hidden back there, the cord poking out from behind the bookshelves next to his desk.
With his computer plugged up and his new supplies neatly put away, Jason took a step back to look at the desk. He hadn’t seen lots of desks in his life, thankfully. His parents obviously didn’t have one in their house, with no computer or need for one, and Donny might have had one in his rooms, but the boys weren’t allowed in his rooms, and no one dared break that rule. None of the rooms they worked in or lived in when not working had desks, because why would they? Then the only times he did see desks were at client’s houses. And even then not every client brought him to their office.
So, yeah. Jason hadn’t seen a lot of desks in his life, but he did know they usually had… more on them. More… things. His desk was looking pretty drab.
Looking around the room, his eyes zeroed in on the picture of his mom, sitting prominently on his dresser. He didn’t have a lot of decorations, anyway, but the picture of his mom was probably the perfect thing to keep on the desk.
He’d set it on the dresser originally so he could see it from the couch, as he slept. But his mom would want to see him go to school, he was sure. So she’d probably much rather watch him doing his schoolwork, than watch him be a coward and sleep on the couch every night.
His bear and his superman car were really the only other ‘decorations’ he had. He usually held onto his bear while he slept, so it wasn’t really a candidate for his desk, but the superman car definitely was. He liked to spin its wheels while he was concentrating, the couple times he’d opened back up the workbooks Donny got him and was trying to figure out what the heck it was talking about. The math workbook had been geometry, and a lot of it he ended up having to skip, it was just so hard. The literature one was way more fun, but he’d already finished it.
Twice.
So he wasn’t really learning anything from it.
Now, though, he had all of sixth grade math to learn, and people to help him! So maybe he wouldn’t need to spin the wheels to keep himself focused, but it couldn’t hurt to put it on the desk, too.
With the picture and the car and the computer and the pencils all put away, finally Jason sat down to start his work.
And… his stomach started to flip around, a little.
Which was dumb. Very, very dumb.
“Come on, Todd,” he mumbled, as he opened back up his browser and logged in. He’d done actual scary shit in his life, logging in and starting school was not actual scary shit.
Not at all.
Bruce had already showed him how it all worked. His teacher would be over email, so it was almost just like doing workbooks. Except he had the internet and videos to help him. And a teacher, reachable by email. Who couldn’t reach him physically at all.
With a deep breath, he pulled his legs up onto his chair to sit criss cross, then opened up his math class.
The first lesson wound up being really easy. Like, insanely easy. He didn’t even have to read over the lesson text or watch the video to know how to answer all the questions.
Mostly because it was all review of addition and subtraction. Which was ridiculous for sixth grade. Where were all the letters and dots and parenthesis and shit Jason had seen in the placement tests?
But he pushed on through and managed to finish four lessons in less than twenty minutes.
Four.
It wasn’t until lesson five did he have to stop and actually watch the video, mainly because he wasn’t completely sure he remembered how to multiply fractions correctly. He was pretty sure all he had to do was multiply across, but he couldn’t remember. Maybe he needed to find common denominators?
The video was super helpful, though. It wasn’t just some dude writing on a board while talking. While there was someone talking, the whole thing was animated, and very clearly showed how to multiply across and then simplify the fraction. Jason had figured out the answer to the first question on the worksheet before the video had even finished.
1/2 x 2/3 = 1/3
When his answer turned green after hitting ‘submit,’ Jason grinned.
School was so easy.
Before he knew it, he hit the exam for module one. The whole class was split up into ten modules, and apparently each module ended with an exam.
Jason blew right through the exam, too. At first, he was a little nervous, because it didn’t grade his work as he went like the lessons all did, so he had no idea if he was doing okay, but once he answered all fifty questions and hit submit, the entire page turned green, and at the top in big, bold letters it said he’d made a 100.
Of course, the math was all just review, but still. He wasn’t blowing everything up and proving he had to start school over entirely. Or was too hopeless to catch up by the time he started eighth grade. He had three months to finish sixth and seventh grade math. And maybe, maybe he could actually do it.
But when Jason opened up the next module, the very first topic made his stomach drop, just a touch. Because he’d never heard of them.
Exponents.
They made absolutely no sense. Or, well, They did make sense. Sort of. But in a weird way. He kept trying to multiply the big number by the little number, but that was not how it was done. If something was squared, it meant to the power of two which meant he had to multiple the number by itself. If it was cubed, he had to multiply it by itself, then that number by the first number again.
Jason took a lot longer working through the problems on that lesson. Thankfully all the problems were just squaring and cubing numbers. He wasn’t sure he’d get the right number if he had to do by the power of, like, seven.
Did they ever do by double digits? Twelve to the power of twelve? He hoped not. When he was little and learning the multiplication table, the twelves had been the hardest.
He now knew his multiplication tables all the way to 26, though. Mostly because it was a good distraction, when he needed to focus on something. Anything that wasn’t whatever was going on around him.
He’d been working on the 27s, most recently. But he probably didn’t have to do that anymore…
Now he got to learn exponents on online school. Alone. In his own bedroom. In a house occupied by people who kept saying they only cared about Jason as a person, not as a toy…
Because that’s what he was.
Jason leaned forward, resting his head on his arms after he clicked play on the next lesson video.
The video was another long one, and was largely review on the concept the last one taught him. Except this time, it was showing how to drag something out to the power of five. It was kind of hard to stay focused, actually.
He shifted his head on his arms, and cut his eyes over to his mom. The picture of his mom. She was younger in the picture. A lot younger. She’d been 26 when she died, but 18 in the picture, because it was taken on her wedding day. She wasn’t in her dress, or even standing next to Dad, but she looked beautiful and so happy.
She’d probably never been that happy again. Jason certainly had never seen her smile so brightly. Whenever she smiled, it was duller, somehow. Smaller. There weren’t exactly many reasons in her life to smile…
It was his favorite picture of her, because of it.
“I hope you’re happy now, Mom,” he mumbled, “but I miss you.”
Missed her so much it hurt, sometimes. Even though it had been over three years, now. And those three years had felt like a lifetime. He wasn’t even as old as she was in the photo, yet. Still just a kid.
“Everything here is so weird,” he whispered, turning his head so his ear was pressed up against his arm, his whole head resting sideways as he put a finger on the top of his superman car and started moving it, a little.
Nothing made sense the way he was expecting it to. Bruce and Alfred and Dick all made no sense.
But. If he just expected them to be nice, kind people instead of the same ol’ jerks he’d known for years… they sort of did make sense.
Could people even be like that, though? His dad used to tell him ‘people are selfish.’ It was stupid to trust anyone to do anything other than whatever was best for them. And how was it best for Bruce to foster some whore kid he found? Just to protect him from the mob?
“I just don’t know what to believe,” he whispered, pushing his car off a little harder, so it ran up against the wall and stopped there. He turned his face back into his arm and just took a moment. He really needed to be focusing on his lesson.
The video ended a minute later, though, and Jason didn’t sit up. He kept his face hidden, because he was pretty certain if he looked up, he’d see how blurry his vision was, and he didn’t want to deal with it. All he needed was a moment. Just a moment, then he’d be fine again.
Before his moment was over, however, his computer dinged, loudly. So loud he jumped, and sat up.
As it turned out, it was his computer notifying him of a new email. Sent directly to his JasonPTodd account, because he had an email address that was his name.
A real email connected to him.
Forever.
Jason scrubbed at the corner of his eye as he clicked on the little mail icon. The subject said he had a message waiting for him in the student communication center.
So Jason wiped his eyes clearer and took a deep breath as he found his way back to the school’s message system. Sure enough, there was a new message for him titled ‘Welcome!’ and when he opened it up, the first line read “Hi, Jason, My name is Ms. Griffen, I’ll be your teacher for sixth grade math.”
The message went on, as Ms. Griffen told him about who she was. She apparently lived in Colorado, and had been teaching with Cornerstone for ten years, which was a long time. And probably meant she knew how to teach the subject.
She also went on to ask him a few questions about himself, like if he’d done online school before. Apparently she could see that he’d just signed up for the school and was only taking sixth grade math, so she wanted to know what his education goals were, too.
He doubted she’d missed the fact he was almost thirteen and all the way back in sixth grade.
But maybe she didn’t care. She hadn’t said anything like why are you only in sixth grade, just asked, “What are your goals for your time with Cornerstone?”
Maybe other kids did exactly what he was doing?
So Jason found the little button to reply and started typing out a response.
He started with “Hi Ms. Griffen,” just like she’d done with the Jason part. It kind of made it look like a letter, in the same way they used to write letters in school, when he was little. They had written letters to Santa, in third grade. That had been one of the last lessons he remembered, because he’d quit going to school over the Christmas break…
Shaking his head, Jason refocused on his screen, and tried to think up what to say next. By answering the questions, he told himself.
I’m new to online school, he started, but even the one sentence took forever to write.
Forever.
Typing was so frustrating!
He’d seen Bruce type, and saw him use both his hands as they just flew across the keyboard. How did he do that?
Jason felt so slow, because he had to hunt down every single letter to type out a whole word. He’d used computers before. They had computer time at school, once a week, but he never remembered doing much typing. Once they made power point presentations, when he was in first grade, but there wasn't a lot of typing there. It was mostly pictures and word art, with single words.
It was probably something he’d have to practice. Bruce must, like, have the keyboard layout memorized? That would be the only way, cause they weren’t in any logical order as far as he could tell. Which made finding each letter impossible. He had to look over all the keys until he found the next letter.
But eventually he got his whole message typed out, and explained to her he hadn’t done online school and hadn’t been in school since third grade so he was really behind in everything. But he took placement tests, and his— he paused.
His what? What even was Bruce?
Owner? Jason snorted. That would freak the teacher out, he knew. It would be highly amusing, though, for her to email Bruce all worried about it, but he knew there was also the possibility she’d call the police. All the way from Colorado. And that probably wasn’t a good idea…
Finally, he settled on typing foster dad, because that was what Bruce kept calling himself. And it was technically true, per the paperwork and everything. So it was probably the safe thing to say.
So he explained that his foster dad thought he was ready for school in everything but math, and enrolled him at Cornerstone so he could catch up maybe by September. He wanted to be ready for eighth grade by September.
Jason read over his message a few times. The system checked his spelling for him, telling him to make September capital. Then he typed his name on the line under his message, just like his teacher had done, and hit ‘send.’
And he tried not to get caught up on the fact that he just sent a message to someone, in a whole different state, who knew who he was and where he lived. And Bruce had encouraged it. Enabled and encouraged.
“Maybe he is one of the few nice people on Earth?” he asked, looking back at his mom. His mom did used to tell him not to listen to Dad. There were kind people out there. Like Ms. Miller, down the hall, who used to watch Jason when Mom and Dad were at work. She never asked Mom for anything in return, and usually fed Jason, too. And played games with him, or helped him with his homework.
Bruce was… watching Jason. And feeding him. And had offered to play games with him, and watched movies and TV with him. Just like Ms. Miller. Sure, he wasn’t an old lady that never left her house, like Ms. Miller, but he was still… nice.
Why would he just… let Jason have the ability to talk to people outside his circle? Unsupervised? If he had ulterior motives? And wasn’t just being nice, trying to protect Jason just like he claimed, all the way back on day one?
Before Jason could process that, his computer dinged again, and a reply from Ms. Griffen appeared in his student mailbox.
He opened it and read it. She said she was very impressed by his progress already, that he’d finished an entire module and was making good progress in the second. He was clearly a smart kid and she had full confidence in him, but if he did run into a concept he didn’t know and started struggling, he shouldn’t be discouraged. Because that was what she was there for, she was happy to help him reach his goal in math and get as far as he could before school started in September. All he had to do was tell her if he got stuck, and she’d video call with him and help him work through it.
He wasn’t quite sure how a video call would work, but he responded by with ‘Cool, thanks.’ Because at least doing a video call with her sounded way better than finding Bruce and asking him for help.
Even if it was looking like Bruce was just a nice guy.
Ms. Griffen was all the way in Colorado. Jason would never have to deal with her again if she did give up on him for some reason. Or get mad at him. He had to live with Bruce for probably five whole years.
Besides, maybe Ms. Griffen wouldn’t give up on him, anyway… His old teachers never did. And she said he was doing well.
“You still think I can go to college, right Mom?” he mumbled, as he navigated back to his exponents lesson. If he didn’t get back to it, it wouldn’t matter whether he could or couldn’t. Because he’d never get there if he didn’t even try.
That was how Jason spent the rest of the afternoon.
And evening.
Because he ended up skipping dinner, almost entirely on accident. He saw a text from Bruce, because his stupid computer somehow got his texts, too, but he ignored it. Didn’t even open it. He’d read what it said when it appeared in the top corner, and then just left it alone. The little red circle on the text app was driving him nuts, but he didn’t want Bruce to see he’d read it.
Also, he didn’t have to go down for dinner if he didn’t want to. And he didn’t want to.
He wanted to keep working through his lessons. And he was almost done with the exponents module, so he wanted to keep focusing on it.
If he went and ate dinner with Bruce, Bruce would ask him how he was doing, too. And he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want Bruce’s thoughts or words in his head. Jason thought he was doing fine, and his teacher said great and impressive and he wanted those words in his head. Not whatever the fuck Bruce said.
He kept ignoring the time in favor of pushing on through his lessons. Getting through the exponents module took all evening, much longer than he anticipated, because even though doing the math for each question was very, it was also tedious. But it was almost 8pm when he finished the ‘final exam’ for it, and he thought about stopping there for the night, but the next module was titled Order of Operation and he wanted to know what that meant.
Reading over the first lesson for that module took way longer than any other lesson had thus far. He watched the video explaining everything three times before even attempting the first question on the first worksheet.
Which, the questioned ended up being easier than the lesson made it sound. All he had to do was follow the order he’d written down in his notebook, starting with everything inside the parenthesis first. Because that’s what parenthesis meant. Then he just followed the orders and bam. Right answer.
No wonder he got so many questions wrong on the placement tests. He didn’t do the math in this weird order.
Before Jason knew it, it was 10:30, and his stomach was absolutely growling at him.
“Okay, okay,” he murmured, when his stomach yelled out loudly again, “Shut up, I’ll go eat.” He closed the lid on his laptop and pushed his chair back so he could stretch out. He’d been sitting there pretty much all day, and was so stiff.
Also. It was stupid dark in his room. He hadn’t even noticed. But obviously the sun went down hours ago, and he hadn’t turned on the lights. All he had on was his desk lamp, which he’d turned on when he first sat down.
That, plus the moonlight shining in through his open windows was enough to navigate his room, over to where his light switch was. He took a few minute to use the restroom and change into pajamas, since it was so late. Bruce was probably already out for the night, and Alfred might have been in bed, but he didn’t want to get caught still in his day clothes, just in case.
Although would they even care? No one cared what he wore, ever.
Especially considering he still was allowed to wear his giant hoodies over all his clothes, no matter how hot it was outside.
Still, Jason hesitated at the door to his room, debating whether he should actually go downstairs.
Because… they might care that he was still up at 10:30. Bruce hadn’t given him a specific bedtime, but he did sometimes make comments about how late it was… and 10:30 was definitely later than he normally stayed up.
But, if he didn’t go downstairs, then he was breaking the only rule he had. Don’t not eat.
Jason slowly opened his bedroom door and looked out into the dimly lit hallway. Don’t not eat. If he didn’t go downstairs, he wouldn’t get food until breakfast. And he was hungry.
Maybe he could bring some snacks to his room? he thought, as he quietly made his way down the hall. Bruce said he could keep snacks in his room, so maybe he should find some and bring them back. That way he could eat something while doing his schoolwork, next time. Instead of skipping dinner and forgetting to eat.
He passed by Bruce’s room, and noticed the door was open and the light was on. But Bruce wasn’t anywhere Jason could see, as he passed by. So maybe he just left his light on, on accident. It was so late, he had to have been out already.
It didn’t matter, anyway. Because Bruce wasn’t gonna do shit to him. Probably.
The only rule Jason had involved making sure he ate. Which was the exact opposite of mean or controlling, actually. Food was an easy way to control a person, he knew. Donny certainly proved that when he wanted. Or his dad… a few times. When Jason was being extra annoying.
Everything… everything was adding up to Bruce just being a nice dude… Just a nice dude with a lot of money offering him all the protection he could… The protection and future he could.
Jason curled his fingers tightly around the railing, as he made his way down the stairs. His skin was turning all prickly, the weird sensation crawling up his back, and he wasn’t even sure why.
If everything was true, and everything was fine and okay… he should be fine. He should feel perfectly comfortable and happy.
So… Why didn’t he?
Why didn’t he.
Notes:
Ooooh, this bumped over 100k words with this chapter! Someone asked me the other day how long I thought it would be, and I would not be surprised if this fic goes over 200k words, but I honestly have no idea! I've got a huge chunk of story outlined coming up, but I've not got a clear end point in mind. I'm just letting Jason learn and grow and heal as he does, however long that takes. :)
Chapter 30
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason pushed down everything and made his way to the kitchen. It didn’t matter why he felt anything. Nope. Not at all. All that mattered was he got some food.
Get some food and take it back to his room, that was his mission.
The manor was weird, with a lot of the lights off. It wasn’t completely dark. The halls still had some lighting, but all the rooms were dark. He hadn’t yet wandered the house after Bruce left and Alfred went to bed. Just that one night where he waited in Bruce’s room. Which… no Jason didn’t want to think about that.
He hadn’t seen the manor so dark. It was a little weird, navigating past rooms he was used to seeing open and alive, even if they were usually empty. Even the kitchen, which was usually bright under the LED lights, was dark. Only the lights on the various appliances were shining, casting weird shadows around the room when Jason stepped into the threshold.
It felt forbidden, almost, to reach up and flip the lights on. Like the light was too much noise in the otherwise quiet house. But no one came running and no alarms went off when he did, so he stepped further in and decided to check the fridge, first.
Cereal was always an option, but Alfred probably put some left overs in the fridge, since Jason hadn’t eaten dinner. Besides, eating cereal for two meals in one day probably wasn’t a good idea. If anything made Bruce revoke his ‘you don’t have to eat with me’ rule, it would probably be Jason not eating enough ‘real food.’
Leftovers, as it turned out, appeared to be stuff to make salad. Because apparently they’d just had salad for dinner… which wasn’t super exciting. Because when Jason pulled the big bowl out of the fridge, all he could see were… leaves. Some of it was definitely lettuce, but he didn’t know what any of the rest were, since there were several different kind of leaves all mixed together. Next to the big bowl were several smaller containers, each filled with other types of vegetables that Jason knew Alfred put on salads, so he pulled all the containers out and carefully walked over to the island, trying his best to balance all five containers.
Somehow, he managed to put them all down without dropping everything, and turned his attention to finding one of the weird bowl-like plates Alfred always put his salad on. They honestly had so many different kinds of dishes. He was never quite sure if he was using the right thing, whenever he got his own dishes out. But so far Alfred hadn’t corrected him, so he probably was?
It took opening four different cabinets, but finally Jason found the salad plates, and he pulled one out as quietly as he could and brought it over to the zillions of containers. The last thing he wanted was to make a ton of noise clanking dishes together.
Obviously his salad needed the leaves, so he opened up the lid on them first. But he looked inside all the other containers before he decided how many leaves he wanted. But… he wasn’t quite sure what was in the other containers. None of it looked like the canned veggies he was used to.
The carrots were obvious, cut up into thin little slivers, and the little baby tomatoes that looked like grapes, too. He hadn’t known tomatoes came that little, until Alfred had put them on his salad a week before.
Everything else in the containers, however… There were cucumbers, he was fairly certain. Those were the circles with the light green insides with seeds. But he wasn’t entirely sure, because what if they were zucchinis? Alfred had cut up some zucchinis and baked them for dinner a few nights prior, and it wasn’t until Jason asked for more cucumbers did he inform Jason that no, these are zucchinis.
Why were there even so many kinds of vegetables?
Jason picked out one of the little circles and took a bite. It tasted like—
“Ah, I see you found dinner,” Alfred said, from the doorway behind Jason and Jason jumped, hard.
So hard, he knocked the plastic container full of cucumber slices with his arm, sending the thing flipping upside down and spilling the slices everywhere, all over the counter.
“Oh,” he said quickly, righting the container to put everything back where it belonged, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“
“My dear boy,” Alfred interrupted, as he rounded the island so he was in front of Jason, instead of behind. His voice was so soft and concerned, the exact opposite from the anger or annoyance Jason was expecting, Jason froze and looked up at him, wide eyed. “I am sorry,” Alfred continued, placing both of his hands on the counter, now directly across from Jason, “I did not mean to startle you. I should have announced my presence first.”
He wasn’t even mad about the noise?
Or… that Jason was even up? Obviously it was well past when Jason was supposed to be up, or everything wouldn’t have been off, right?
Jason looked down at the mess he’d caused, and went back to picking up the little slices, one by one. “I’m sorry I dropped them all,” he mumbled, trying to focus on cleaning up. His hand felt so jerky as he moved, but he hoped it wasn’t obvious. Maybe he only noticed because his heart was hammering so hard, making the jerkiness feel way worse than it probably was.
“Accidents happen lad,” Alfred said gently, “and it was entirely my fault.”
“Okay,” he muttered, trying to ignore the way his chest felt all stabby, at Alfred’s words, and finished scooping up the last few cucumbers, and dropping those right on top of his salad. At least Alfred wasn’t mad Jason almost ruined so much food.
And, in fact, Alfred seemed to feel bad for startling Jason…
Was it even possible to anger Alfred? He’d seen Bruce mad a bunch of times already, but never Alfred.
“I, uh, thought you’d gone to bed,” Jason said, after a second when all Alfred did was stare at him. His mustache twitched, as he frowned a little, making Jason quickly look away again. Maybe it was? Was he mad now?
With a sigh, Alfred moved over to the fridge and said, “I’m afraid years of waiting up for Bruce to return prevents me from sleeping now. I heard you come to the kitchen and wished to ensure you found something to eat.”
“Oh.”
Alfred opened the fridge and surveyed the contents, before he said, “Would you like some chicken for your salad? I have some in the freezer I can heat up for you.”
Jason shook his head. He was fine with just the vegetables. There was no reason for Alfred to cook anything at 10:30pm.
“Hm,” Alfred hummed, “Well how about some cheese? I have some shredded colby jack cheese left over.” He pulled out a zippy bag from one of the drawers and held it up for Jason to see.
Shrugging, Jason opened up the container of the unidentified green slices. He really had no clue what they were, so he picked one out and took a bite. It was crisp, for sure, and maybe a little bitter?
“What are these?” he asked, as Alfred walked closer and set the bag of cheese down in front of him.
“Bell pepper,” Alfred answered, “Would you like anything else? We have sliced almonds and croutons in the pantry.”
Why would he put almonds on a salad? That sounded super dumb. “What are croutons?”
“One moment,” Alfred said, as he walked into the giant walk in pantry connected to the kitchen. Jason took the moment to put the lids on all the little containers, and looked up when Alfred came back with a large, black zippy bag.
“Oh, I’ve had these before,” he said, because as it turned out, ‘croutons’ was what crunchy bread cubes were called. “I didn’t know they went on salad.”
They never had salad when he was growing up. But his mom would buy croutons to snack on. She’d eat a handful at a time, and usually let Jason have a couple. He never knew they had a name other than ‘crunchy bread,’ though. THat was what he’d always called them. His mom had said it too, he was fairly certain.
“If you like them, you should try them on salad. The texture complements salad quite nicely, I think,” Alfred said, as he opened the fridge again, “What type of dressing would you like?
Jason let go of a handful of croutons, right over top of his salad and looked over at Alfred. “You have different types?” So far, every single time they’d had salad for or with dinner, it’d always been some sort of vinaigrette, like raspberry vinaigrette. Jason didn’t hate vinaigrette or anything, but it certainly wasn’t something he’d pick on purpose. At school they used to have ranch dressing with their salads, which he’d liked just fine.
“We have raspberry vinaigrette, thousand island, ranch, and creamy french.”
“Ranch, please,” he said, because he had no idea what those other two were. But he liked ranch, so when Alfred passed him a bottle of it, he dumped a lot of it all over his salad, then added a handful of cheese to the top.
“Looks delicious, young sir,” Alfred said, pulling a fork out of the drawer and setting it in Jason’s bowl. Jason grinned, briefly, while he stacked up the containers to put back in the fridge.
“Let me,” Alfred said, reaching for the stack, “why don’t you eat.”
Jason pulled the containers closer to himself and started, “I—,“ but faltered. He didn’t want to make Alfred mad. He didn’t want to see what that would entail. So far he’d been in a good mood, even though Jason had made a huge mess.
But why would Alfred want to clean up Jason’s mess…?
Alfred paused, however, pulling his hands back away from everything and raised an eyebrow, as if saying well, say it.
“I can do it,” he said softly, picking up the stack of containers.
With a slow nod, Alfred said, “I don’t doubt you can.”
“I… want to. I got it all out, I should put it away.” He didn’t need Alfred doing everything for him, either. Even if it somehow wasn’t making him mad.
“Oh,” Alfred said, blinking a bit. After a second, he smiled warmly and added, “Then don’t let me stop you, lad. I only wished to help.”
“Thanks,” Jason mumbled, averting his gaze. As he picked the containers up and brought them over to the fridge, he felt his cheeks heat a little, because Alfred was looking at him like he looked at Bruce, whenever Bruce was talking about what he’d done at work, or whenever Alfred was talking about what Bruce did. Like buying Jason, because Alfred was still proud of that.
And now… Alfred was proud of him? For what?? Putting the salad stuff back up?
Did Bruce never do that? Because Jason could totally see that being the case. Especially since Bruce told Jason it was a rule that he could say no when Alfred asked him to do chores. Alfred did so much to help him when it was completely unnecessary, Jason felt it was probably super rude to tell Alfred no if he asked something simple of him.
While Jason was stacking all the containers back up inside the fridge, Alfred went over to one of the cabinets and pulled a glass out. “What would you like to drink?” he asked, just as Jason put the dressing and cheese back up, as well.
Shrugging, Jason finally went back to the island and climbed up on one of the stools to start eating. He was going to eat his salad in his room, but with Alfred there now he figured that probably wouldn’t fly.
“How about this,” Alfred said, walking over to the fridge, “Would you like milk or lemonade?”
“Um,” Jason hummed, while he looked down at his salad, “Lemonade?” Lemonade would probably taste better with the salad than milk. Maybe. He didn’t really care, anyway.
“Excellent,” Alfred said, as he pulled the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and poured him a glass.
Jason just stared as Alfred placed it down in front of him, and it took Alfred nodding at his plate and saying, “Go on, lad, I’m sure you’re hungry,” for Jason to pick up his fork and actually take a bite.
He just… didn’t fully understand anything. Alfred was so nice to him, and he really had no reason to be.
And as if proving Jason’s point further, Alfred started moving around the kitchen, turning on the oven and collecting up a bunch of things, all stuff he recognized from the few times he’d helped Alfred bake stuff. Flour. Cocoa powder. Sugar. Eggs and butter.
Alfred quickly cut the butter up and placed it in a bowl, then straight into the microwave, so Jason raised an eyebrow and asked, “What are you doing?”
“I thought you could use some dessert,” Alfred said simply, as if that possibly explained why he was baking so late at night.
“Dessert?” he asked, furrowing his brow. Why did Jason need dessert? They never had dessert, not really. Alfred let him have sweets, sure, but it was rarely after dinner, or even called ‘dessert.’ It was just… a snack. A treat.
“Yes,” Alfred said, smiling a little as he started measuring out the flour and sugar and stuff, “How do brownies sound?”
“Good.” Jason couldn’t help his smile, as he took another bite of his salad. He wasn’t gonna complain about random free brownies.
Jason watched quietly as Alfred continued mixing up all the ingredients for the brownies. When the butter was melted, he added it to the mix, humming some song Jason didn’t recognize while he did.
Alfred was always just so… happy. Happy to be doing whatever it was he was doing, and it was a little baffling. How did he find cleaning fun? Or enjoyable? He was a butler, so it was his job to do all those things, and he actually… enjoyed it? Jason had a hard time believing he was that good at acting. Jason couldn’t even act that well, and he’d managed to convince a lot of people he enjoyed stuff he hated. But he only had to be on for an hour or so at a time, a night. Maybe a weekend. Not all day every day for his entire life.
And why did he suddenly decide he had to make brownies, at 10:30 at night, all because Jason ‘could use’ them?
“What did I do to deserve brownies?” he asked, through a mouth full of salad. The crunchy croutons and cheese were a good addition to to the salad, he had to admit.
Alfred turned toward him and smiled warmly, even as he said, “I cannot understand you when you speak with your mouth full, lad.”
Jason’s cheeks heated again as he ducked his head, but since Alfred clearly wasn’t mad, that was all he did. Once he swallowed his bite, he mumbled, “Sorry,” and repeated his question.
“You, my dear boy,” Alfred said, turning back to his bowl to add the eggs, “always deserve a dessert.”
“But why?” Jason asked, trying and absolutely failing to stop his smile.
He still thought Alfred made absolutely no sense, but at least it wasn’t in a bad way. Not like Bruce. In fact, Jason was almost completely sure Alfred would never do anything to him.
Especially not considering he randomly made him brownies in the middle of the night, for no real reason.
Alfred seemed to think about his answer, as he dumped the brownie batter into a dish and put it into the oven. Only once he’d set the timer and placed the dirty dishes into the sink did he finally turn around and address Jason.
“I am quite proud of you, lad,” he said, like that were an actual answer to his question.
“For what?” Jason asked, his confusion leaking into his voice, “I mean… why?” What had he done? It was one thing for Alfred to look at him like he were proud, but a completely different one to just… say it. And apparently make him brownies over it.
Just… what the fuck?
“For being yourself,” Alfred said, as he pulled one of the island stools around the counter so he could sit across from Jason, “I am quite happy to know you.”
“Oh,” Jason said, now absolutely flabbergasted. He didn’t get why Alfred would be happy to know some random kid. Some random kid who was a whore of all things, but he did smile slightly as he mumbled out, “Uh, I’m glad I know you, too.”
Before he could turn as red as the tomatoes on his salad, Jason quickly took another bite and tried not to look back up at Alfred. Because it was true, he was glad he knew Alfred.
Alfred was so… nice. If Donny’s house had had an Alfred, it probably wouldn’t have been so miserable.
Then again, if Alfred was at Donny’s house, Jason probably wouldn’t have thought he was so nice. Because then he would have been part of the mob. And no one who joined the mob was actually nice. No one who made the boys work was actually nice. They all acted nice, when the boys were doing as they were told, but every single one of them would flip their shit on them, the very second one of them stepped out of line.
So far, Alfred hadn’t even seemed upset when Jason did anything not perfect. Because Alfred, obviously, wasn’t part of the mob. And Bruce’s house was absolutely nothing like Donny’s, and none of them were anything like the mob. Because they weren’t the mob.
“I’m very proud of the progress you are making, as well,” Alfred added, while Jason kept slowly eating his salad, staring down at the last few bites left on his plate while he thought.
But he had to look up at that, and give Alfred a questioning look. Because what progress?
Progress in what?
But all Alfred did was smile warmly again as he reached out a hand to the middle of the island and tap, right in front of Jason’s plate. “Now then,” he said, “Bruce tells me you started school today. Tell me all about it.”
“Well,” Jason started, slowly, “I learned exponents today.”
“And how did that go?” Alfred asked with an encouraging smile.
And as Alfred’s attention never waned, even when Jason rambled on about his new teacher, answering all of Alfred’s questions about all the lessons he’d done, Jason’s smile only grew.
Because maybe Alfred did make sense. He wasn’t the mob, or anything like them. He was kind and encouraging and proud of a kid he was ‘taking care of,’ not of some whore that worked for his boss that he had to feed.
He actually reminded Jason a lot of his mom. She’d also been kind and encouraging and proud of him, no matter what he did. Even when it was something stupid like cleaning up his own mess, or completing a first day of school. Or being himself.
Jason wasn’t allowed to be himself around clients. That wasn’t what anyone wanted from him, or even what Jason wanted to do for anyone, but Alfred…
Alfred wasn’t his mom, obviously, but he was a lot like her. Jason could definitely be happy growing up with him around.
Notes:
I've actually rewritten this chapter a couple times, and had a stupid migraine the last couple days that slowed me down significantly 😡 but I finally got it out. :D
We're getting so close to a big arc im SO excited for so I'm probably honestly gonna keep just focusing on this fic because of it. But we'll see, maybe I can make myself post some to the best things, I didn't mean to let that sit for over a month. That was a total accident lmao. This story is just holding me hostage.
Anyway, as always, thanks for reading and commenting!! ❤️ you all.
Chapter 31
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The brownies had to bake for half an hour, meaning it was well after 11 when they were finally done. But the time seemed to fly right by, thanks to the steady stream of conversation Alfred kept up with him.
It was nice, actually. He and Alfred hadn’t spent a ton of time together, thus far. He’d let Jason help him bake a couple times, and had played chess with him a couple times more, but that was it. Jason had been spending a lot of time in his room, reading, maybe sort of avoiding everyone…
But maybe he didn’t have to do that. Not if they were gonna keep being so nice.
And Alfred’s company was certainly welcomed.
When the timer finally went off, and the kitchen was engulfed in the sweet smell of baked chocolate, Alfred got up and pulled the brownies out of the oven. “They need to cool for a little longer,” he said, however, once he set them up on a cooling rack, “They do not cut well piping hot.”
“That’s okay,” Jason said, shrugging. He wasn’t in any hurry to get back to his room. He hadn’t even done everything he’d meant to do, when he came downstairs nearly an hour before. Namely, he hadn’t picked out some snacks to bring to his room.
With Alfred there, now, it probably wouldn’t work to just walk into the pantry and take stuff, either. Although he wasn’t even sure the pantry had stuff to put in his room. Every time he’d been in there looking for breakfast, he’d never really seen a ton of snack foods.
“Hey Alfred?” he asked, before he could talk himself out of it.
Alfred turned, from where he was putting all the dishes from the sink into the dishwasher and asked, “Yes, lad?”
“Uh,” he stammered, looking down at his own hands as he continued, “Bruce said something about me keeping snacks in my room. Do you, uh—” He faltered and chanced a look up, over at Alfred.
But Alfred was still standing there, looking just as patient as ever. Jason looked back down at his fingers, and started picking at his thumbnail, digging out little flecks of dirt as he continued, “Do you think I could do that? For… when I’m doing my schoolwork?”
Jason didn’t even have time to hold his breath before Alfred was answering, “I don’t see why not. What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know.” He hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead. “Crackers or something?” Bruce had said that or granola, but he wasn’t quite sure what granola was.
Alfred turned back to the sink, and finished rinsing off the dishes as he said, “We can certainly get some crackers for your room. What is a type of cracker you like?”
“I—“ he started, as he unrolled his sleeves so they could cover his hands back up again. He always rolled them up to eat, so Alfred wouldn’t take the hoody away to wash it, because he got food on it.
“Uh. Goldfish?” he finally continued. Those counted as crackers, right? He always liked goldfish as a kid, and it was always his choice at Donny’s too, even over the chips that were kept stocked in the kitchen. “Or, uh, maybe the peanut butter sandwich kind?” When he was little, that’s what he’d have for lunch most days, during the summer. Unless Ms. Miller was watching him.
“I can most certainly purchase you goldfish and peanut butter crackers, my dear boy,” Alfred said, so fucking fondly Jason looked back over at him, to see Alfred smiling wide as he put the dishes in the dishwasher. “Now then,” he said, turning back toward Jason and somehow smiling even more when he saw Jason was looking at him, “If there is anything else you want, please don’t be shy. It will be my pleasure to buy you things you like.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, pulling the collar of his hood up, by his chin, to hide the tiny smile forming on his face.
“Speaking of,” Alfred said, as he pulled two clean bowls from the cabinet, “I believe the brownies might be cooled enough to cut.”
Jason smiled wider and sat back up, and watched as Alfred went not to the oven, where the brownies were sitting, but over to the freezer.
“What do you think of a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top?” he asked, pulling a tub of ice cream out of the freezer, “I’m quite partial to brownie sundaes myself.”
“That sounds awesome,” he said, nodding enthusiastically when Alfred looked over.
“Excellent.”
Alfred went about cutting up the brownies, with a giant knife Jason thought was definitely overkill, but what did he know? Maybe giant knives were necessary for cutting brownies. He’d never done so, after all. He opened his mouth, and was about to ask about it when he paused.
Because down the hall, he could hear the off-kilter footsteps of Bruce, limping from the main stairwell to the kitchen.
“Bruce is home?” he asked, a little hastily. Why was Bruce home? He was always out until at least midnight, but usually way longer. And it wasn’t even midnight, yet.
“Yes, I’m afraid I had to ground him,” Alfred said, almost gravely, his tone in direct contradiction with the amused smile he held on his face.
He wasn’t sure if it was Alfred’s tone and the fact he’d grounded a man in his 30s, or that he felt so jittery, but Jason couldn’t help it. He snorted, and quickly covered his mouth with his sleeved hands, to keep himself from laughing any further.
“You’re joking,” he said, through his hands.
Alfred turned toward him, in the middle of pulling a spatula out from the drawer and said, “Ask him yourself.”
“Ask me what?” Bruce asked, from just outside the kitchen. He limped into the room and stopped at the doorway, smiling at Jason a little awkwardly when Jason turned around. “Hey, Jay. Did you get something to eat?”
Jason nodded, dropping his hands back onto the counter as he started chewing on the inside of his cheek.
It felt weird, seeing Bruce in the middle of the night. Especially after he’d been enjoying himself so much with Alfred.
Would Bruce balk if Jason told him to go away? He did say Jason could tell him to go away.
“Good, good,” Bruce half grunted, as he dropped down on a stool, around the corner from Jason at the island.
Between the limping and the dramatics, his foot must have really been hurting him.
So why was he walking on it?
“I was just telling Jason about how I grounded you,” Alfred said, back to his light and teasing voice as he put a brownie in one of the bowls.
Bruce huffed, almost rolling his eyes as he asked, “Is that what you’re calling it?”
“What would you call it, sir?”
Leaning forward on the island, so he was almost resting his head in his arms, Bruce said, “It’s just a night off.”
“Mm,” Alfred hummed, as he opened the ice cream and went back to a drawer. For the ice cream scoop, Jason assumed. Once he had the scoop in hand, he pointed it at Bruce and said, “One that you will be repeating for a few days, until your ankle has healed sufficiently.”
Apparently Bruce didn’t agree, because he huffed again, this time a little more annoyed. But he didn’t say anything further. He didn’t seem… mad though? Just… annoyed with Alfred?
So Jason asked, hesitantly, “Is it broken?”
‘Cause broken ankle was gonna take way longer than a few days to heal.
What the fuck did Bruce even do that required he completely stay home because his ankle hurt? Crutches were a thing.
He wasn’t super thrilled about Bruce staying home every night for weeks, while a broken ankle healed.
“No, it’s just sore,” Bruce said, his face softening out when he looked at Jason. His annoyance was definitely for Alfred, because he turned back to Alfred and added, a little more tersely, “I’ve been nice to it today. It’ll be fine tomorrow.”
“And yet,” Alfred said, apparently completely unfazed that Bruce was annoyed with him, “You will stay home tomorrow night, as well.”
How was it that no one was scared of Bruce when he was mad? The dude was massive. Like. Super fucking ripped, as huge as a tank. But still, neither Dick nor Alfred got scared at all when Bruce got all huffy.
Both seemed to enjoy causing Bruce to get that way…
Bruce rolled his eyes, but turned back to Jason and smiled.
Because, again, Bruce could just flip off his moods. Like a switch.
“How is the online school going?” he asked, “Were you able to get started today?”
“Yeah, it’s good,” he said, wadding the ends of his sleeves up in his hands and looking basically anywhere but at Bruce.
Alfred was scooping the ice cream out into the bowls, and the scoops he was making were massive.
When Bruce didn’t reply, but just kept staring at him, Jason finally looked back over. Bruce’s face was open and encouraging, though, kind of like how Alfred had been doing earlier, when he wanted Jason to tell him about school, so Jason mumbled out, “Uh, my teacher seems nice.”
“That’s great! She gave me a call earlier to introduce herself, I thought she seemed quite kind, as well.”
She what?
Why… why would his teacher call Bruce?
“What did you say?” Jason nearly demanded, his eyes gone wide as he felt his face drain, just a touch.
He didn’t want her to know. He didn’t want her to know anything. The whole foster care thing was more than enough information for her.
Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t want anyone knowing about his past. Not if he could help it. He wanted to prove he could do more than be a whore, but if people knew…
They’d never give him a chance.
Bruce startled, and asked, “What?” hastily. He furrowed his brow, and after a moment said, “Nothing, I promise. Jason I would never tell anyone about anything you’ve been through. That is your story to tell, not mine.”
“You told Dick,” Jason exclaimed, leaning forward onto the counter, scowling at Bruce. The friggen hypocrite.
“I—“ Bruce spluttered, as he sat back, away from Jason. He blinked as his face went slack, and finally said, “Yes, I did. You’re right, and I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.”
Right. Because Jason was gonna believe him. He’d be easier to believe if he didn’t lie about pointless shit, like where he went at night, or how he hurt himself all the time. Or if he didn’t try to make promises to Jason he’d already broken.
Crossing his arms, Jason sat back in his seat and kicked at the wall under the island once.
“I’m sorry, Jason,” Bruce said, and fuck him he actually sounded sincere, “I promise I didn’t tell your teacher anything.”
“Then what did she want?” he grumbled, fixing his gaze to the wall to his left, in the opposite direction of Bruce. He didn’t want to look at his stupid fucking face, especially if he looked all nice or whatever.
“She wanted to tell me about how the program works, and let me know I could reach out if I ever had questions or concerns,” Bruce said, slowly, but picking up speed the more he spoke, “I told her I doubt I would have any concerns about your education.”
“Because I’m just taking math,” Jason grumbled. If Jason couldn’t handle taking only sixth grade math, then he was hopeless, anyway. And it didn’t matter whether people knew what he was.
“No,” Bruce said, firmly, “I told her I wasn’t concerned because you are such an intelligent, driven, self-motivated child, I wasn’t worried about you at all. You have such a bright future ahead of you, Jay.”
“Oh,” Jason said, deflating a little.
It… it was hard to stay mad, with Bruce saying shit like that.
But… wait? “You told her all that?” he asked, finally turning back to Bruce as he dropped his arms. Like, he’d said intelligent and driven and everything?
“Of course,” Bruce said, like he didn’t see why he wouldn’t say all that stuff.
Like… it was so obvious, there was no reason not to say it.
So… Bruce actually thought it?
He really thought… all of it?
That Jason was intelligent and stuff? He wasn’t just blowing smoke up Jason’s ass, when he kept telling him he was a smart kid?
He hadn’t been lying?
“I’m sure your teacher will reach that same conclusion soon enough, lad,” Alfred said, as he walked over and set a bowl in front of him and handed him a spoon, “You are quite intelligent, dear boy.”
“Oh,” Jason said, breathlessly as he clumsily took the spoon from Alfred. After a beat, he mumbled, “Thanks,” though he still felt dazed.
How had his entire world changed so drastically, in so little time? How had he gone from being some no-name whore kid to… to…
Whatever this was? Whatever he was, now?
A kid attending real school with a real teacher and… people… thinking he was smart?
“Is no brownie part of my being grounded,” Bruce asked, a slight hint of amusement in his voice that made Jason finally refocus his vision and look up.
Sure enough, Alfred had reclaimed his seat across from Jason, and was taking a bite of the second sundae he’d prepared. There wasn’t one sitting in front of Bruce.
Alfred finished his bite, almost like he was taking his sweet time just for the heck of it, before he said, “I do believe I made these for Jason.”
Jason smiled a ghost of a smile as he finally scooped up a little bit of ice cream and a little bit of brownie on his spoon.
The brownie was gooey and warm, with the ice cream just starting to melt where it was touching it. It looked fabulous.
“Oh you quit it with that look, Master Bruce,” Alfred admonished, half a minute later. When Jason looked up, he couldn’t figure out what look Bruce was giving.
“What look?” Bruce said, clearly feigning ignorance, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
What look had he given? Jason kind of wished he’d seen.
“You know what look,” Alfred huffed, as he set his napkin down next to his bowl and got up. He went about fixing Bruce a sundae, as well, as he grumbled, “You are much too old for these dramatics.”
“32 is too old for looks but isn’t too old to be grounded. Got it,” Bruce said, grinning a little at Jason as he did.
He looked so fucking pleased with himself.
What… what was even happening?
“Perhaps if you let your body rest when it needed it,” Alfred said, as he scooped some ice cream on top of the brownie in Bruce’s bowl, “you wouldn’t need to be grounded."
Bruce huffed again, even though he still looked more pleased than annoyed. And when Alfred set the bowl and a spoon down in front of him, Bruce said, “Thank you, Alfred.”
“Of course, my boy,” Alfred said, patting Bruce’s shoulder as he sat back down to keep eating.
Alfred and Bruce were so weird.
“So, Jason,” Bruce said, after they’d all eaten a few bites in silence, “How are you finding the schoolwork? Is it easy to understand?”
Jason nodded slowly, and tried to focus back on his ice cream. He didn’t fully want to talk to Bruce about it.
Even if Bruce seemed to actually think good things about him…
“That’s good,” Bruce said, between bites of his own ice cream, “But if you ever need help, you can always come to me and ask.”
“Me as well,” Alfred added, smiling warmly when Jason looked up at him.
“Thanks,” he stammered, mumbling into his bowl as his cheeks heated, just a little, just over them being so fucking nice, “Uh, but it’s been pretty easy so far. The—the lessons are easy to follow.”
“That’s great,” Bruce said, smiling wide enough Jason could hear it in his voice, “I’m glad to hear that. If you get bored of math, or burnt out, and want to do something different, let me know. They have a wide variety of classes, we can get you signed up for whatever you want.”
“Oh, cool.” He hadn’t even thought about taking other classes with the online school. Something like literature would be so cool, to have a real teacher to talk to about all the reading…
But then again. He didn’t have that much time before September. And if he were really going to real school then, he probably should get as caught up as he possibly could…
“Just let me know,” Bruce said, but thankfully let it drop after that.
In fact, the entire conversation dropped, as a fairly comfortable silence fell over them.
Jason propped his head up with his free hand as he took his time eating his sundae, until he was eating his last couple bites of soggy brownie, covered in almost completely melted ice cream.
It was still good. Really good, actually, even if a little warm. But he was so full, by the last bite, he wasn’t sure if he actually had room for it.
Plus it was really hitting him how late it was.
He used to stay up all night long, but now it was barely past midnight, and he felt like falling asleep right there, at the table. Even though he wasn’t even doing anything.
Absolutely nothing! And yet, his eyelids were getting so heavy.
But like hell would he actually fall asleep in the kitchen. Right next to Bruce. There was no way in hell.
Jason sat back up, running a hand over his face before he finally ate his late bite of brownie. Bruce and Alfred had long since finished theirs, but they kept sitting at the island, each of them messing around on their phones while Jason ate.
“Come on, Jay,” Bruce said, after Jason had finally set his spoon down, “It’s way past your bedtime.”
“I don’t have a bedtime,” he mumbled, but he did stand up like Bruce was gesturing for him to do. If he did have a bedtime, no one had actually told him what it was, which was basically the same thing as not having one.
“Your bedtime is whenever you feel tired,” Bruce said, as if that even made sense, “come on, I’ll walk you up.”
“Okay,” Jason said, after a deep breath. Bruce held out a hand, as if to set it on Jason’s back, but of course didn’t actually set it there. Just let it hover, several inches behind him.
Jason’s back still tingled, anyway, in that stupid creepy-crawly sensation that made him all antsy.
The faster he got upstairs and away from Bruce, the better. Assuming he was just being walked up to his room.
No. He was. He was.
“Good night, lad,” Alfred said, as he started gathering up their dishes, “Thank you for your company tonight.”
All Jason could do was smile at him, briefly, before he started walking forward, where Bruce was motioning for him to go.
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as they walked down the hall, and started squeezing together the fingers on his left hand with his right. There was no fucking reason to be freaking out, he kept reminding himself. Bruce wasn’t gonna do shit.
They were just walking up the stairs together. Past midnight. Nothing else.
Nothing.
“Careful,” Bruce murmured, when Jason swayed, ever so slightly on the stairs. He saw Bruce’s hand reach up again, and hover back behind him, as if he thought Jason was gonna fall or some shit.
With a huff, Jason let go of his left hand and grasped onto the railing, and stomped on up ahead, trying to get away from Bruce.
But, of course, Bruce just sped up, too, even though he was still limping with his stupid broken ankle.
‘Just sore’ ankle.
At the top of the stairs, Jason turned quickly toward his room. Toward… his and Bruce’s rooms, technically. Since he had to walk right past Bruce’s room to get to his.
Bruce hadn’t grabbed him yet, so Jason kept up the brisk pace, silently cursing himself for even leaving his room at night. He should have just gone hungry and ate two bowls of cereal in the morning. If only to avoid this.
But… but. Bruce swore.
Jason took a deep breath, as he crossed past Bruce’s door. He had a couple dozen steps left until he got to his door. It was fine. Everything was fine.
“Good night, Jay,” Bruce said, from a few paces behind him. Jason heard the knob to Bruce’s door jostle, before he turned and saw Bruce standing back in his own doorway, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” he exhaled, releasing a breath he hadn’t even noticed he was holding, “Yeah. Night, Bruce.”
Bruce smiled at him, slightly, and added, “Sleep well,” before he stepped all the way into his room and shut the door.
Everything was fine, Jason thought, as he turned back and finished the walk to his room, albeit a little slower. Bruce was still keeping his promise. Still keeping his promise and being nice and…and. Encouraging.
Jason stepped into his room and shut the door behind him, looking around his room. Where no one ever came to bother him, ever.
Everything was…
Was…
Okay.
It was okay.
And since everything was okay, he thought, as he looked over at his bed, he should be able to just sleep in his bed.
Right?
Because… nothing was gonna happen. He didn’t have to be on guard.
Even if he did, he’d wake up to the sound of footsteps down the hall, and then to his door opening, and then to someone crawling into the bed. So he’d be able to get on guard, if necessary.
But it wouldn’t be necessary. Because Bruce promised.
“Yeah,” he mumbled to himself, as he trotted over to the couch and grabbed his blanket, wrapping it back around his shoulders, like a cape. Once he was satisfied that it was secure, staying put with one hand, he picked up his bear with the other and shuffled over to the bed.
Unceremoniously, he fell face first onto the mattress, then finished crawling the rest of the way over to one of his pillows where he curled up, tightly around his mom’s teddy.
“It’s okay,” he told himself, as he shut his eyes. Bruce promised, and Alfred wouldn’t lie to him, he was almost certain. He wouldn’t. And Alfred promised, too.
Everything was okay.
That’s what he kept repeating to himself, for the ten minutes it took him to fall asleep.
Because everything was okay.
Notes:
I'm so proud of my baby. 😭
As always, thanks for reading/commenting/etc. Y'alls encouragement is so amazing, thank you for leaving it. ❤️
Chapter 32
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It wasn’t even 4am when Jason stomped over to the couch with his bear and blanket clutched in his arms and angry tears pricking at his eyes.
What the fuck was even wrong with him? He couldn’t sleep more than an hour without being woken by a nightmare. By the sound of someone coming down the hall. By the feeling of someone crawling up—
“Stop,” he hissed to himself, pulling his blanket up over his head as he burrowed further into the couch.
It was stupid.
He never had nightmares.
Never!
And yet, all it took was sleeping in his damn bed for one single hour for him to startle awake, in tears, over Bruce breaking his promises.
Bruce hadn’t broken his promise. Because Jason’s stupid brain was making it all up!
And when Jason managed to convince himself to get back to sleep, a whole hour later, he’d woken again rather quickly from the same damn dream.
Two bad dreams in one night. Two!
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a nightmare. They simply didn’t happen. Maybe when he was really, really little, and had nightmares about, like, zombies getting him. But not now! Not at twelve. And certainly not about what Bruce might or might not do to him.
Who even cared? He didn’t.
If Bruce did, he certainly wasn’t gonna cry about it. So why in the fuck couldn’t he stop crying now? Over just a dream of it happening?
“Stupid fucking bed,” he grumbled, between silent sobs. He rolled over, so he could press his face into his pillow and try to stop the tears.
At least he wasn’t making a shit ton of noise. Not that anyone was really around to hear. The last thing he wanted, though, was Bruce to actually come into his room. Even if it was just to ask why he was crying.
Jason cried a little harder, at that. Because Bruce really would just come in to ask why he was crying, wouldn’t he?
How on earth would Jason even explain? ‘The bed made me have nightmares.’ He’d sound crazy.
Who put such a huge bed in a kid’s room, anyway? If not because the adults like to fuck that kid? That made no sense.
For that matter, why would a kid’s room have a couch? Or a desk? Or a bathroom?
Rich people were fucking weird, he knew that much.
But… then again.
Normal kids probably didn’t have nightmares just because their bed was too big. That was certainly something wrong with him.
Was there something wrong with him…?
Would… would that be something a therapist could fix? Or… what had Bruce said? Help him figure out why he was upset about it?
Jason sniffled, and finally turned his face back out, letting the cool air of his room dry his tears a little.
Maybe therapy would do that?
“Even a therapist would say you’re stupid,” he whispered to himself, trying to make his brain fucking listen.
Because it was stupid.
But...could it hurt to try?
Maybe. He didn’t know.
Jason spent the rest of the night, restlessly tossing and turning on the couch. No matter how he lay, he could not get comfortable enough to fall back to sleep.
It didn’t, at all, help that every time he let his mind drift, even just a little, all he could see was his dream…
Finally, after what felt like forty years of him staring at the ceiling, doing everything he could possibly think of to distract himself, his phone dinged from where it was charging, on his dresser.
The sun had risen hours ago, and was just starting to peek up over the trees, so Jason knew exactly what the text would say.
Sure enough, after he rolled off the couch and trudged over to the dresser, he saw the little notification bubble from Bruce.
‘Breakfast is almost ready,’ it read. Right in line after a dozen other texts letting him know various meals were ready to eat. All left unanswered, and usually ignored.
The little cursor blinked, in the reply box, just waiting for Jason to type out whatever message he wanted.
Usually he skipped breakfast. He hadn’t actually eaten breakfast with Bruce in a while, because why would he? Spending more time with Bruce was never on his to-do list for the day, but obviously he wasn’t getting any more sleep that morning, no matter how hard he tried.
‘What did alfred make,’ he typed out. The letters were in the same dumb order as his laptop, so it took him a minute to do it, but he’d been practicing some when he looked stuff up online, so he wasn’t completely lost. He wasn’t sure where the question mark was, though. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d start flipping through all the little screens the keyboard had, but he was not in the mood.
“Whatever,” he grumbled, hitting the little blue arrow to make it send.
Almost instantly his blue bubble went from being delivered to read, and three little dots appeared on Bruce’s side.
‘French Toast,’ the message read, ‘with sausage and fruit salad.’
Staring down at the little text bubble, Jason let out a long-suffering sigh.
He loved French Toast.
Like. A lot.
Alfred had made it once before already, and had reheated it for Jason when he came down later that morning. Even left over it was still amazing.
Fresh off the stove had to be heavenly.
‘Ok’ he texted Bruce back. He’d go downstairs and eat the French Toast.
It wasn’t like he’d find sleep again, anyway.
Maybe later he could find some random hole in the manor to curl up in…? Like he’d tried the first day? If Bruce really didn’t use his tracking system like he promised, then he should be left completely alone. All day. He could bring his laptop, do some schoolwork, then take a nice quiet nap, far far away from where anyone would find him.
Jason grabbed his hoody off his chair, where he’d tossed it when he got too hot during the night, and slipped it on over his head as he trudged out of his room.
He shivered, as he walked past Bruce’s room, and reminded himself that it was all just a dream.
A dream that two months ago was his every night, so it was kind of dumb to be getting all upset about it.
Rubbing at his face with his sleeve, Jason made his way downstairs and tired to push all of that away. He’d go see Bruce and see Bruce not look at him like he would be fun, and everything would be okay again.
“Morning, Jay,” Bruce said, as Jason trudged into the dinning room. Bruce paused and took a long look at Jason as he sat down at the table, a couple seats away from him, and asked, “How’d you sleep?”
“Hrmph,” Jason grunted, crossing his arms on the table and setting his head down. Like maybe three hours of sleep was the worst night he’d had in quite a while. Since maybe his last overnight visit with a client.
Bruce frowned and asked, “Anything we can do to help?”
“Leave me alone,” Jason grumbled, hiding his face down into his arms. Maybe coming downstairs was a mistake.
He didn’t need Bruce asking what’s wrong and do you want to talk about it and whatever other stupid shit he’d say. Jason didn’t want to talk about it.
Not with Bruce.
Telling Bruce would probably get him all flustered and make him spew promises again.
“Okay,” Bruce said easily, concern still thick in his voice, although with a touch of a smile, now, “I’m right here if you need anything.”
“Hrmm,” Jason half hummed half groaned. He didn’t and wouldn’t need anything. Bruce not touching him was good enough.
Jason stayed there, trying to rest his sandpaper eyes as best he could for several minutes, just listening to Bruce tap tap tap away at his tablet from where he stayed sitting.Completely ignoring Jason. Or… at least leaving him alone.
Just like Jason asked…
Finally, the door from the kitchen swung open, and Jason heard the soft footsteps of Alfred come into the room, his cart he often transported food on rolling in right behind him.
“Good morning, Jason,” he cheered, as Jason finally sat back up, “Rough night?”
His face must have looked like shit if both Alfred and Bruce noticed immediately.
Jason merely nodded, as he sat back and started rolling his sleeves up.
“I’m dreadfully sorry to hear that,” Alfred said. He sat a plate piled high with three whole slices of French Toast, a few pieces of sausage, and a spoonful of fruit salad. After he’d set the silverware down next to the plate, he reached out and pat Jason’s elbow as he added, “Let me know if there’s anything you need, my boy.”
“I’m okay,” Jason mumbled, forcing a tight smile on his face, for half a second.
Alfred just squeezed his arm, briefly, before he let go and went about serving Bruce some food, as well.
The French Toast was, predictably, delicious. Jason dumped probably thirty gallons of maple syrup on it. Or, well. More like a third of the bottle Alfred set in front of him, all over the toast and sausage. The maple syrup at the manor was incredible. Something about being ‘real’ syrup, not that ‘fake stuff’ they sold at the store, or whatever it was Alfred had said, in British, when Jason asked about it.
By the time Jason finished off the last bite of his toast, he was feeling marginally better. He was still exhausted, of course, but at least the food was giving him a little bit of energy.
His brain, on the other hand, wouldn’t quit being mean to him. Because every time he looked over at Bruce, all he could see was—
Jason stabbed a piece of his sausage, making his fork make a loud clanking noise as he huffed angrily. Why couldn’t he just stop?
“Are you okay?” Bruce asked, tentatively, and Jason turned his scowl on him.
“You didn’t come into my room last night, right?” he demanded, tightening his hold around his fork. He knew the answer. Waking up had ended the nightmare.
Before… waking up wasn’t an option. If anything, falling asleep had always been the only way out…
Bruce’s eyes went wide, for a brief second, before a serious look fell over his face and he swore, “Of course not, Jason. I promised you, and I will continue to keep that promise for as long as I live.”
“Yeah,” Jason breathed, looking back down at his plate. He knew that. He knew it was just a dream.
The stupid images just wouldn’t go away though.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Bruce asked, hesitantly. Like he really didn’t want to talk about it.
He probably didn’t want to hear what dream him had done.
Jason shook his head, refusing to look over. He didn’t want to talk about it. At all.
Not with him… Never with him.
And just thinking about talking about it made him want to cry.
Right there. At the breakfast table.
There was definitely something wrong with him.
Definitely.
“Okay,” Bruce said softly, reaching his hand out toward Jason and patting at the table, “We’re always here, if you change your mind, okay?”
Jason nodded, and had to grit his teeth to keep from just crying anyway. Pushing his plate forward, out of his way, Jason crossed his arms and buried his face back into his arms and took a few deep, shaky breaths.
This was stupid.
He was fine.
Or. Well. He wasn’t fine. And he wasn’t even sure why.
Bruce was right there, and was still being nice. Alfred was in the kitchen and was also still being nice. Jason had no reason to be upset, everything was fine!
And now he was almost crying all because he had some bad dreams and Bruce offered to talk about it. Or listen to Jason talk about it. Even though he didn’t want to.
It wasn’t like Bruce could even fix it. Jason didn’t even know what was wrong! He didn’t know what was wrong, and Bruce had said it would take a therapist for him to figure out why he got upset.
“Do you—“ Jason started, just to cut himself off. He turned his head up, so his chin was resting on his arms, and looked over at Bruce.
Did… Did Bruce honestly know him that well? To know he’d feel like this so much? And wouldn’t even know why?
Bruce raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything further. Just sat there patiently, waiting for Jason to figure out what he was even going to ask, and then put it into words.
“Um. Can— you said therapy,” he said, sitting up and leaning back against his chair, folding his arms over his stomach. He averted his eyes away from Bruce, because Bruce looked like he was trying very hard not to look anything and it wasn’t actually helping.
He wanted to know what Bruce was thinking. Wanted to know… if he should abort mission.
With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and pressed on, “That it can help with… not knowing stuff. Why I feel stuff.”
Like why he cried all the fucking time.
Or why he had stupid nightmares. When everything was fine! Was okay, even. Maybe good! If Bruce and Alfred didn’t change, he’d say good.
“Yes,” Bruce said slowly, when the silence had stretched for a few seconds, “That’s one thing a therapist can help you figure out.”
“And,” Jason said, pulling his knees up so he could rest his arms against his thighs. He started tugging at one of his sleeves, sloppily unrolling it as he continued, “Can they help with nightmares?”
Bruce sighed, but not in one of his annoyed sighs. It didn’t make Jason’s face twitch, like Bruce’s angry and annoyed sighs always did. “Yes,” he said, “a therapist can help you figure out why you’re having nightmares and ways to alleviate the cause, or ways to cope with them when they do happen.”
Jason nodded, and kept fiddling with his sleeve. It was being difficult to unroll, without actually lifting his arm and freeing the bottom side of the sleeve.
He did notice Bruce added that they’d find him ways to cope, though. Not that a therapist would make them go away.
“Do you want to try?” Bruce asked, after another moment had passed.
“I dunno,” Jason mumbled, shrugging a little as he sank further down into his chair.
“That’s all right,” Bruce soothed, “you can think on it more, or we can get you an appointment to try it out and see if you want to go further with it. It’s up to you how we proceed.”
Finally, Jason goth both his sleeves unrolled and bunched the ends of them up into his hands, and stared at the scrunched up fabric as he asked, “I-I won’t have to talk about stuff, right?”
Even if Batman had been attacking the mob operation so much that Jason didn’t have to worry about them getting him, he still didn’t want to answer a billion questions about how the mob operated. Or where they were. Or who the were. He wasn’t gonna be a squealer and get himself back on their radar. No way.
And… also… he didn’t really want to think too hard about his nightmares.
Bruce shifted in his chair and asked, "What do you mean?"
"Like. If I don't want to talk about something..."
“Of course,” Bruce said seriously, nodding his head, “You never have to talk about something you aren’t ready to talk about. You will have control, buddy. You’ll always have control.”
“Okay,” he said hoarsely, “They’ll agree with you, right? They’ll agree?”
“If they don’t, we can find you a different therapist.”
“Really?” Jason asked, his voice squeaking just slightly.
Because his stupid head wanted to start crying again.
He pressed his sleeved hands into his eyes and listened as Bruce answered, softly, “Yeah. We can try several until you find one you like. We can find a new one for any reason, whether that’s because you don’t think they’re listening to you, or because you don’t like the color of the rug in their office.”
“Color of—“ Jason burst out, half laughing, half crying as he scrubbed his eyes and dropped his hands from his face, “Are you for real?”
“Yes, Jason. Whatever you want, that’s what we’ll do.”
Because Jason had control. Bruce gave Jason control of everything.
How could any of this be real?
“Okay?” Bruce asked, offering Jason a soft smile when he finally looked up at him.
“Yeah,” he breathed, nodding his head, “Yeah. We—I’ll try.”
Bruce smiled widely at that, like Jason had just made his fucking day, and said, “Okay. I’ll get a list and let you pick someone to try first.”
“Yeah.” Jason sat up and ate the one last bite of his sausage, then piled his empty dishes all together.
“Perfect,” Bruce said, “You can leave those, I’ll get them for you in a minute.”
“Thanks,” Jason mumbled, as he pushed his chair back and got to his feet, glad for the escape without running into Alfred.
Honestly, what he wanted to do was go hide somewhere and not come out for ten days. Or… at least a few hours.
He just needed a few hours. Because something was wrong with Jason, but everything around him was okay and maybe good.
There was no way it was all real.
Notes:
IM SORRY BEE. It's not my fault, I swear. I can't control Jason. 😭 lmao
Thank you Randomfandomwoman for betaing!! You're the best. 😘
And thank you everyone else for your awesome comments. I love this story so much, and I'm glad so many of you are enjoying it, too. It makes me even more excited about writing it. 🥰
Chapter 33
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason spent most of the day hiding away. After breakfast, he’d gone back to his room just long enough to grab his notebook, laptop, and current book, then he started wandering the house, trying to find the perfect spot to hide.
His wanderings led him back downstairs to the first floor, on the opposite side of the manor, near what he was fairly certain was the ballroom. There were a lot of littler rooms around the ballroom that all seemed to be meant for the public. Each one of them had cameras on them, too. Jason noted those the second he stepped in. They weren’t even trying to hide them, which was good he supposed. It meant Bruce wasn’t secretly recording people while they were visiting or whatever.
But not far from the public areas, Jason found a door that looked like it locked, as if to keep the public away from that area of the house, although the door was currently unlocked. He slipped through it and found another sitting room, not too far down the hall. It wasn’t covered up, like a lot of the unused rooms were, with white sheets over all the furniture.
“I wonder what they use this for,” he said aloud, as he looked around the room. There were no cameras, and it was clean, as if Alfred had just cleaned it. So obviously it wasn’t super out of the way, but he highly doubted anyone would stumble upon him accidentally. And obviously Bruce could find him whenever he wanted, but he promised he wouldn’t track him. And so far he’d been pretty good at keeping his promises.
With a shrug, Jason set his stuff down on the couch, then sat down next to it, sideways on the couch so he could have the laptop sitting in front of him while he worked. His goal for the day was to finish the module he was in, and maybe get started on the next one. But he also wanted to read the next chapter of The Outsiders, his current book.
As he worked through his lesson, though, and watched the ten minute long lesson video, it really started catching up to him how absolutely exhausted he was. Every time he blinked, he could feel his eyelids get heavier and heavier. And by the time he finished the worksheet attached to the lesson, the only thing he could think about was laying down and sleeping. For like, seven years.
Which was ridiculous, because it was just one bad night.
All the sleep he’d been getting the past several weeks was really spoiling him, huh?
Finally he pressed submit on his last answer, and pushed his laptop back to the edge of the couch, pressed up against the armrest so hopefully it wouldn’t fall off. Then he grabbed the pillow from the other end and curled up on it, burrowing down into his hoody.
And sleep found him so easy.
- - -
Three hours later, Jason startled awake when his phone buzzed from deep inside his hoody pocket, right where it was stuck underneath Jason’s side.
Blearily, Jason fished it out and squinted at the screen, trying to ignore the pain the bright light caused when it hit his eyeballs.
The text was from Bruce, he was finally able to read, after blinking a few times. But of course it was from Bruce, pretty much only Bruce ever texted him. Dick had texted a couple times, and Alfred a couple more, but it was usually Bruce.
‘Lunch is ready,’ it read, the whole thing visible right on his lock screen.
“I don’t care,” he mumbled, clicking the screen off and setting it up by his laptop. He turned over, so his face was buried into the back of the couch, blissfully blocking out all the light around him.
- - -
It was nearly 2pm when he woke again, to another text. Despite it being above his head now, and sitting on a whole different cushion from him, the vibration still startled him awake. So Jason sat up, and scowled at his phone as he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes.
Why was Bruce even texting him now? He didn’t want lunch. Bruce wasn’t supposed to care if Jason skipped meals.
But when Jason finally picked up the phone and clicked on the lock screen, he was surprised to see this time the text was from Alfred.
‘I bought you the crackers you requested,’ it read, ‘and I’ve placed them outside your bedroom door. Let me know if you’d like anything else.’
Oh.
That was fast. He’d only just asked for the stuff the night before.
He yawned and stretched out his stiff muscles before he finally opened up the text line and replied back, ‘thanks.’
‘It is my pleasure, lad,’ was the almost immediate response.
Jason couldn’t help but smile, as he sank back into the couch a little. He was really looking forward to eating some goldfish.
First, though, he was going to try and get some lessons done. He checked the time once more, and shook his head at all the day he’d wasted away.
He hadn’t slept into the afternoon since living at Donny’s. Which… was actually pretty good. He wasn’t working anymore, and had adjusted pretty quickly to that.
Maybe if he could figure out how to sleep in his stupid bed, everything would be even better. He probably wouldn’t be so stiff after sleeping, either.
Lessons went by pretty quickly. He spent a couple hours working through them, only having to pause a few times to review the lesson again to figure out what he was doing wrong. Generally, though, he caught on to each concept the first time he watched it through, as long as he followed along in his notebook, doing each step for himself as the video instructor did.
He had been planning on reading his book some, too. His goal had been to read at least one chapter, but the closer and closer it got to 5, the more and more his stomach started growling at him. Since he’d kind of skipped lunch.
So, a little reluctantly, Jason closed his laptop and stacked his notebook and book on top, so he could carry it all back up to his room.
The first thing he did was find a staircase and climb up to the second floor, then started trying to find his way back over to the bedrooms.
Or… their bedrooms. Since apparently there were more bedrooms on the other side of the house.
How many bedrooms did a single house need? He wondered, as he passed yet another set of them, before turning down another hall. He was fairly certain he was at least going in the right direction…
Donny’s house had had 12 bedrooms, but they actually used them all. Each one had a purpose.
But at Wayne Manor? They used only three! Or four, if Dick’s room counted. So why were there like seventy-five bedrooms?
Or… at least fifteen. He’d counted up fifteen so far in the whole house, including what Jason assumed Alfred had. There was no way Alfred didn’t have his own room in a house with fourteen other bedrooms.
Did Wayne Manor used to have lots more people living in it? Or was that just how castles were? Giant with useless rooms no one ever needed or used?
Finally, though, Jason found the hall their bedrooms were located in. It was fairly easy to recognize, because a giant box of goldfish was sitting right on the floor, at the very far end of the hall, where it dead ends. With a grin, Jason skipped the rest of the way down the hall, and got a good look at the cardboard box that said it had 36 bags of goldfish inside.
Thirty-six.
It looked just like the kind of box Donny’s people always bought for the house, too. Which made a ton more sense when there were nine boys eating them. With just Jason eating, though…
There was no way he’d ever finish them.
But there was also a box of 40 little packs of sandwich crackers. It had more than just the peanut butter he’d asked for, though. It was a variety pack, which was half peanut butter, but then half all different other kinds of crackers. One flavor was cream cheese and chives.
Excitedly, Jason brought all his stuff back into his room, and shut the door behind him. He looked around the room for some place to store the snacks, and finally settled on the giant drawer in his desk. It was just big enough to fit all the crackers, after Jason took them out of their boxes. With a satisfied nod, he picked out one of the cream cheese and chives packs and a bag of goldfish, and brought them and his phone over to the couch so he could curl up and snack while he watched some Youtube.
Youtube was something they weren’t allowed to use back at Donny’s. The internet in general was off limits. Sometimes Donny would watch it on his tablet, though, right in the living room where they could see, but none of them lingered behind him long enough to see what he was actually watching.
But now Jason had a cell phone, and Bruce hadn’t even put any limits on it at all. He was able to download the youtube app and make himself an account, using the new email Bruce gave him full access to. He might have said his birthday was ten years earlier than it actually was… but who cared.
Now he got to curl up on the couch with his snacks and watch a video about how self driving cars worked. How fucking cool was that? He could just learn that sort of shit right off his phone? Without having to ask anyone for books or go to school or the library or anything? Until two days ago he hadn’t even known Teslas could drive themselves, or that there even were self-driving cars at all.
Jason was about ten minutes into his video, his phone balanced up on his knees, when a stupid text hit his phone, making it vibrate and show the text message over top of his video. It blocked half the screen, even as his video kept playing. And worse, it was from Bruce and read, ‘Are you okay? Alfred said you haven’t come down for lunch yet today.’
Was he okay? Jason thought, with a roll of his eyes. Obviously he was fine. He stuck another goldfish into his mouth and glared at the text until it finally slid off his screen. There was no reason to even respond to it. He wasn’t breaking the rule by not eating, and would go down for dinner when it was ready in, like, an hour. So Bruce could see him then, perfectly okay.
Bruce didn’t bother him again, after that. Or even call Jason out on not opening the text, which was good. So Jason was able to watch the rest of his video and then finally open up his book and keep reading.
- - -
Dinner happened about two hours later, after Jason had finished off three whole chapters. By the time the ‘dinner is almost ready’ text hit his phone, his stomach was outright growling at him, so he didn’t even consider skipping.
Which was how he found himself sitting at the table, three seats over from where Bruce usually sat, playing his turn on words with friends with Dick. They were playing the game super slow.
Or… Jason was playing it super slow. Dick usually played his turn within an hour after Jason, but then Jason let it drag on forever before he finally opened it up. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the game… there were just a ton of other things he enjoyed doing more. Including the Plants vs. Zombies game Dick had showed him. Or the racing one he’d found himself.
Finally, about five minutes after Jason had sat down, Bruce came into the dining room from where he’d been chatting with Alfred in the kitchen.
“Hey, Jay,” he said, smiling wide when he saw Jason sitting there, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Jason replied, not even looking up from his screen. He’d found where he could put cat on the board, but cat was a stupid word to play. He wanted to play a real word for more points than that, but nothing was jumping out at him.
Bruce walked around the table, on the opposite side from where Jason was sitting, and took a seat in his normal ‘head of the table’ spot as he asked, “What are you playing?”
“Stupid game with Dick,” he grumbled. His letters just sucked, he was convinced. Cat was the only word he could play.
“Do you want some help?” Bruce asked, as he leaned over some as if he could fucking see from all the way across the table.
“No,” Jason said, pulling his phone closer to himself. Even though he knew Bruce couldn’t see. Because he didn’t want help. Getting help would be cheating, and he wanted to beat Dick all by himself.
If he even could… so far he’d lost to Dick three times.
“Okay,” Bruce said, his stupid lip twitching up in an amused smile as he sat back again, “Just let me know. Dick is unfairly good at that game.”
Dick was a jerk if he picked a game he was super good at to be the one he played with Jason. Maybe Jason would have to find a game he was super good at and make Dick play that one with him. He could keep practicing chess with Alfred and find an app to play that with Dick, or something.
“Jason,” Alfred greeted, as he walked into the room, carrying their dinner on a big tray, “Good to see you, lad. Were the crackers to your liking?”
“Yeah,” Jason said, as he sat back so Alfred could set a plate down in front of him, “I tried the cream cheese ones and they’re awesome.”
“I’m glad. I had hoped you’d enjoy the other flavors in that box,” Alfred said, after he’d put a glass of juice down on the table, then held a fork out for Jason to take.
“Thanks, Alfred.”
Alfred set a feather light hand on Jason’s forearm for half a second, as he said, “It’s my pleasure, dear boy.”
Bruce shifted in his seat, and asked, “So you did get some lunch, then?” as Alfred started serving him a plate of dinner, too.
Jason shrugged, mostly ignoring him as he finally played his word. ‘Tack’ in the same spot he’d been going to play cat, but by putting two letters in front of the ‘c’ he was able to reach a triple word score box.
Still a shitty word, but at least the points weren’t as shitty as they could have been.
“He has snacks in his room, sir,” Alfred said, as he placed Bruce’s utensils next to his plate, “That’s what the crackers I bought were for.”
Bruce nodded, a little absently, and said, “Oh, good.”
When Jason just shrugged again, not even looking over at Bruce as he took a bite of his dinner, Bruce went silent.
Alfred had made baked chicken with mixed vegetables, and Jason absolutely loved it. He’d most definitely made the right choice to attend dinner that night. Even if he had to eat with Bruce again, who was acting fucking weird.
Or. Maybe not weird, but a little awkward? He tried three times to start up a conversation, which wasn’t something he did often. Usually if Jason wasn’t talking, Bruce just let it go and didn’t talk either.
Every time Bruce asked him a question, like ‘so what are you reading now?’ Jason just shrugged. Dick had played his next turn within minutes of Jason submitting his, along with a message “nice triple word score!” With a smile, Jason sent back a little thumbs up ‘emoji’ and started trying to figure out his next word.
He was definitely far more interested in that than talking to Bruce.
Finally, though, after his third question, Bruce just sighed and pulled out his own phone. Jason peeked over at his screen, a couple times, but he was just reading news articles. Like he usually did. Jason couldn’t see what any of them were about from across the table, though.
When Jason was finishing up his last bite of chicken, Bruce caught Jason peeking back over at his phone screen and smiled slightly.
“Hey,” he said, earning Jason’s eye contact at least for a second, “I’m staying home again tonight.”
Slowly, Jason nodded his head. He kind of already knew Bruce was staying home, since Alfred still had him ‘grounded,’ or whatever. But he wasn’t quite sure why he needed to know. It didn’t matter to him where Bruce was.
“So I was thinking we could play a game after dinner,” Bruce continued, after a moment, “We have actual Scrabble, if that’s a game you like.”
Jason looked back over at Bruce, and studied him closely. He didn’t seem like he was lying about anything. In fact, he seemed slightly nervous, even offering.
“There are a lot of other games, too. I’m sure we could find one you like.”
Scrabble was fun enough, but Jason wasn’t sure he’d like playing it with Bruce.
He really didn’t want to spend a ton of time with Bruce in general. Especially not when his stupid fucking dream was still so fresh in his mind.
And Bruce said it was all his choice, what he did.
So Jason shook his head, and mumbled, “No, thanks,” as he quickly stacked his empty glass and used fork on top of his plate and got up, leaving a silent Bruce behind him, still sitting at the table.
Setting his dishes in the sink was easy, because Alfred wasn’t even in the kitchen. So he didn’t have to pause and say anything to Alfred, and could escape straight to his room without having to see Bruce’s reaction, whether that be angry or disappointed or whatever.
Jason really didn’t want to deal with whatever it was. He was allowed to say no, and he did.
That was what he kept reminding himself, trying to convince the jittery feeling in his chest and arms and legs to go away for the rest of the night. Even taking a hot shower and getting dressed into his favorite Flash pajamas didn’t help, much.
What did help, however, was the fact Bruce didn’t bother him at all. The later it got, the more relaxed Jason felt. Bruce didn’t even text him. About anything. Dick played a few more rounds with him, until Dick finally won the game, and Bruce stayed downstairs until 10pm, when Jason heard his footsteps reach the top of the stairs and walk down the hall, into his own bedroom, where he shut the door. He heard the water run in Bruce’s bathroom, since it shared a wall with Jason’s bathroom, but that was it.
That was all that happened.
Jason was able to curl up on the couch and read his book. Undisturbed.
And by midnight, when the house had been silent for well over an hour at that point, Jason managed to drift off to sleep, feeling far more content than he ever thought possible, with Bruce right down the hall from him.
Notes:
I cut a whole scene off the end of this chapter when I was only like half way done writing it, and just assumed that meant the chapter would be on the short side. Then it hit 3k words anyway. Which means I think my upcoming chapters are gonna be loooong. Lmao. But that's okay, Jason is making some serious progress. I'm so proud of him. 😭
Thank you all for your lovely comments, I love reading them. And thanks for reading the story!!! ❤️
Chapter 34
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
At breakfast the next morning, Bruce stopped Jason before he was able to escape back to his room and said, “If you’ve got a minute, I’d like to give you the list of therapists Dr. Leslie recommended.”
“You asked Dr. Leslie?” Jason asked, furrowing his brow. He didn’t know therapy was a doctor kind of thing. Like, that they had to go to his doctor about it.
Did Dr. Leslie count as his doctor? He’d just assumed she was like the mob’s doctor, except for the Waynes, and was making sure Jason was good for Bruce, but clearly he’d been wrong there.
And Leslie had told Bruce off and kicked him out, when she thought he was making Jason uncomfortable…
“Yes,” Bruce said, nodding, “she knows the field much better than I do, and knows who can be trusted and such. I’m hesitant to pick a therapist at random in Gotham City.”
That made sense, he supposed. “Okay,” he agreed, and followed Bruce to his office, when Bruce motioned for him to.
Jason stopped in the doorway, as Bruce walked fully in and rounded his desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a folder, laying it out on the desk open. He flipped through and pulled out a packet of papers and held it out for Jason to take, even though Jason was all the way across the room, still standing in the doorway.
Reluctantly, Jason entered the room and crossed over to the desk, and took the packet from Bruce, keeping the desk between them.
“Go ahead and look through it, and let me know which one you’d like to try first,” Bruce said, as he took a seat behind his desk. He motioned for Jason to sit at one of the seats across from him and continued, “Remember, we can try as many as you want, and you can change to a new one for any reason.”
“Right,” Jason mumbled, as he pushed one of the chairs back away from the desk a little with his leg and sat down in it.
“Let me know if you have any questions.”
Jason nodded as he pulled his legs up in the chair to sit criss cross, then he started flipping through the packet of papers.
There were eleven options, he’d counted, and each page had a picture of the therapist along with information about them, such as how long they’d been practicing, where they practiced, what their specialities were, and a little blurb each one had written themselves.
“They’re all women?” Jason asked, as he flipped through the pages before. With eleven options, Jason would not have, at all, expected only a list of women. But as far as he could tell each one was.
“Well, yes,” Bruce said, slowly, in the way he always talked when he was very carefully picking his words, “I can get some male options if you want, I just wasn’t sure you’d be comfortable alone in a room with a male therapists for an hour at a time…”
“Oh.”
He— He hadn’t thought about the fact he’d have to sit with the therapist alone… in their office… for however long therapy lasted. Sitting alone with Bruce in his office was bad enough… And Jason was almost 100% positive Bruce wasn’t gonna do shit to him.
But people he hadn’t met yet…
“Would you like me to get some male recommendations?” Bruce asked, after a moment had passed.
But Jason shook his head and rasped, “No,” as he turned his attention back to the papers.
Maybe he should just pick a woman. He hadn’t actually been around many women since his mom died. Just the cook and the lady who did their laundry, but neither of them ever spent much time with the boys. The came, they did their jobs, they left.
Jason looked back through the lists, and started reading the information on each therapist. Most of them were located in Gotham City, but a couple were in the little towns outside Gotham, one in Bristol. But another thing they all had in common was their specialties.
Every single one of them specialized in trauma and PTSD. He wasn’t sure what PTSD was, but he couldn’t help but scowl at the trauma thing. Because they all kept saying he was traumatized and Bruce had said the first day he didn’t know how to deal with Jason’s trauma.
But worst of all, he couldn’t dispute it, either. Because he didn’t even want to see a man therapist, because the mere thought of it made him want to throw up. And he couldn’t even sleep in his own bed without having awful nightmares or just never being able to fall asleep because he kept jumping awake over nothing. And his skin was always so crawly when Bruce got anywhere near him, and even Alfred getting near him sometimes did that.
Why would he even been like that now? He was never like that before. He could see client after client and feel nothing and be fine and laugh and joke. But now just thinking about doing any of it made him sick and want to cry.
“You don’t have to pick one right now, Jay,” Bruce said softly, making Jason just scowl harder as he scrubbed the stupid water that was starting to leak from the sides of his eyes.
“It’s fine,” he grumbled, flipping back through the sheets, paying attention to all their pictures. He might as well just get it over with. Bruce said they could fix whatever it was happening, so he wanted to get it over it.
The one that stood out most to him was a woman named Liz. She looked nice, like one of Jason’s favorite teachers when he was little. Or like his mom, before she’d died… but maybe that was because she had the same curly black hair both of them had had.
Her little blurb said she only worked with kids, too, and she ‘meets a person where they are,’ and while Jason wasn’t quite sure what that even meant, it sounded nice. Like maybe he wouldn’t have to do stuff or talk about things he didn’t want to talk about.
“This one I guess,” he said, shoving the packet back over to the desk and making it slide across it, closer to Bruce.
Bruce took it and flipped it around, so he could read, and asked, “Dr. Liz Guerra?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” Bruce said, as he pulled his cell phone out, “I can call her office now and set up an appointment, do you have a preference for how soon you start?”
Crossing his arms across his chest, Jason leaned back in his seat and shook his head. Logically he knew it was best to get it over with. Getting things out of the way he didn’t like was always the best strategy, because it gave him way less time to dread it. But it still didn’t stop his stomach from starting to flip upside down.
Eating that quiche for breakfast had been a terrible idea.
Bruce studied him for a moment, then asked, “Do I have your permission to tell her… what’s happened the last few years?”
“My permission?” Jason asked, lifting his eyes to look up at Bruce through his stringy bangs, hanging down over his forehead. Bruce needed his permission?
“Yes. She’s going to need to know, she can’t really do her job to any effect unless she knows where you’re coming from. But that doesn’t mean I have to tell her. You can be the one.”
Jason threaded his fingers together and stared down at them, unsure of what to say. He didn’t know.
“Or I can tell her, Jace. But I promised you I wouldn’t tell people without your consent, first. It’s up to you whether you give it.”
“Oh,” he whispered. He’d forgotten about that, even though it was only a couple days before.
He… didn’t want to talk about it. What was he even supposed to say? 'Yeah I’m a whore and Bruce thinks I’m traumatized over it and I can’t sleep in my own bed by myself without freaking out even though I’ve slept before next to men without being such a baby about everything.'
It all sounded stupid, and Bruce got mad whenever Jason called himself a ‘whore’ even though that’s what he was. And he’d yet to make Bruce mad enough to hit or whatever it was he’d do, and Jason didn’t want to push him to that point. He hadn’t been smacked in weeks and it was so nice and he didn’t want to ruin it.
And, more than anything, he didn’t want to talk about it. If it never happened again, that would be perfectly fine with Jason. He’d like that, but he still didn’t want to talk about it.
Ever.
“I guess you can tell her,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms tightly around his body again.
“Okay,” Bruce said quietly, with a nod, “All right. I’ll go ahead and schedule you an appointment. Would you like to listen to the call?”
Jason hesitated. Because on the one hand he wanted to know what the fuck Bruce was going to say. To know whether the therapist was gonna look at him with pity and act like he was a delicate little piece of glass because Bruce framed it like he was. Since Bruce acted like he was and never even touched him at all and avoided doing anything as if he could possibly break Jason just by setting a hand on his back or knocking on his bedroom door to ask if he’d eaten lunch.
But on the other… he didn’t want to listen to it.
He didn’t want to be a piece of glass, and he didn’t want anyone to think he was one. But… but he might be.
Because if Bruce did touch him he might just start crying, and if Bruce knocked on his door he’d probably panic, which just proved Bruce right.
Shaking his head, Jason pressed the sleeve of his hoody against the corner of his eye. Now he was gonna fucking cry over it, too.
“All right, buddy,” Bruce said, still so softly, “I’ll let you know how it goes, okay? If you stay downstairs I’ll come find you, if not I’ll text you the appointment details and let you know everything else later, okay?”
With a nod, Jason rasped, “’Kay,” as he hopped up from his chair and escaped from the room.
He thought about staying downstairs for only half a second, before he headed straight for his bedroom.
Inside, he set his laptop up on one of the arm chairs and pushed it closer to the couch, so he could lay on the couch and see the screen. Then he found a nice, long youtube video to watch to hopefully distract his stupid brain.
But every time his mind wandered back to Bruce and therapy and… everything that ever happened to him, he couldn’t help but hope Bruce was right, and therapy would actually help with all of it. All he wanted was to not be a piece of glass, and to not cry over everything.
Crying sucked and he was so sick of doing it. Especially when, by all logic, he should be happy. He was quite literally laying on his own couch in his own bedroom where no one would ever bother him or make him work, watching another documentary-type thing about cars, that he’d chosen. Online. Where he was free to do whatever he wanted, including talk to other people.
He should be happy. He wanted to be happy. And hopefully the therapy would make that happen.
Notes:
I know I just said the next chapters would be long, but this was the scene I cut from the last chapter and it doesn’t fit well with the next chapter either, so y’all get a bonus baby chapter like 18 hours after I posted the last one. 😂
Hope you enjoyed it. Things are picking up speed now. I know a lot of you keep thinking every chapter is the chapter Jason finds out about Batman, but I have a couple more benchmarks I want him to hit first. We are getting there though!!
Chapter 35
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Bruce set Jason’s appointment up for Friday, which meant Jason had four days to get ready for it.
He spent most that time hiding away in his room, completely avoiding everyone as much as possible. He mostly worked on his schoolwork, but he did read a couple books, watch several videos on youtube, and play Pokemon with Dick a little, over the internet.
Whether Jason went down for meals was really hit or miss, and entirely depended on how hungry he was at meal time. Jason tried to eat one meal with Bruce a day, at the very least. To avoid making Bruce check on him. He wasn’t quite sure if Bruce would, but it was probably safer than sorry. The very last thing he wanted was for Bruce to come to his room…
And usually he chose to eat dinner with Bruce, just to avoid the whole, eating-late-at-night thing. So he didn’t have to be walked to bed by Bruce again.
Plus, Alfred’s cooking was good, so it wasn’t like eating dinner with Bruce was terrible.
Bruce stayed home one more night, and offered to watch a movie with Jason that evening, but again Jason turned him down. He’d asked right in the middle of dinner, too, so Jason couldn’t bolt right after saying, ‘no,’ but when Jason did, Bruce didn’t even twitch. He just smiled and said, ‘That’s okay, maybe another time.’
Apparently saying no really didn’t piss Bruce off. What would make Bruce angry, then? According to Dick it didn’t matter. Which wasn’t a helpful answer at all.
Jason wasn’t eager to start trying to figure that out, though. Everything was okay with Bruce, and he didn’t want any of that to change.
Each night Jason decided to just sleep on the couch again. Sure, it wasn’t as comfortable as it could be, but it was comfortable enough. And until Wednesday night, he’d never had a nightmare while sleeping there.
It was about 3am on Thursday morning, though, when he woke up in tears yet again over stupid bullshit his brain was making up.
Or, well. It wasn’t entirely made up. At least that one had nothing to do with Bruce. Instead, Jason randomly woke up in Donny’s house, with Donny telling him he needed to get up and get dressed because he had a new away-client waiting.
Jason had woken up many, many times before that exact same way, when it was real. And never before had it made him cry. Maybe whine at Donny some about wanting to sleep more, but never would he have even considered crying. But he has it happen in one dream and he’s crying his eyes out for an hour over it.
The sky started to light up before Jason had managed to even calm down a little. Throwing his blanket off himself, Jason sat up and glared at the windows, as if the stupid sun was at fault for everything. It was morning and he’d spent half the night crying over stupid shit.
It wasn’t even possible to wake back up in Donny’s house. Because Donny was in jail, and his house no longer existed. The cops and FBI probably tore it apart. Jason had seen what a house looked like after the cops searched it. Every time it happened to his parents the entire apartment was trashed.
With a huff, Jason scrubbed at his eyes with the hem of his shirt, then grabbed his favorite Batman hoody off the dresser, where he’d thrown it the night before, and slipped it on over his head. He looked around the room, trying to decide what he was even doing. But it wasn’t even 5:30 yet, according to his phone, and he was far too tired and wrung out feeling to even think about math. So, in the end, he brought his pillow over to the window seat and set it up against the wall, so he could lean back against it and watch the sunrise.
The manor grounds were actually gorgeous, he’d never really noticed. Dick had taken him outside, back when he was visiting, but otherwise Jason had barely paid attention. He spent all his time cooped up in the house, either working on schoolwork or with his nose in a book. But outside there were several gardens, it looked like, tons of ornate looking bushes, and half a dozen seating areas he could see.
Jason leaned his head against the window, and just studied everything he could see. The garden was actually probably an awesome place to read. It’d be outside, and full of fresh air, and probably a little harder for people to track him down in.
Maybe.
But Bruce had said he could go outside, right? Or… maybe he hadn’t. But he hadn’t said he couldn’t. Jason had just assumed he was confined to the house. Really, it was the estate he didn’t want Jason leaving, because when Dick had kidnapped him, it had been him leaving the estate that upset Bruce.
How long would it take Bruce to notice if Jason just… left. By himself?
Probably a long time. Unless his system went off because someone left without typing in a code… Jason didn’t know a code to get out, through the gate. And as far as he was aware Bruce hadn’t assigned one for him.
Leaving would be stupid, though. It’d be giving up his schooling and possibly getting himself somewhere he had to work, again. Because where would he even go? It wasn’t like kids could just pick up a job at the grocery store and pay rent. That was illegal. So instead kids just had to work for some pimp to pay for all the expenses they incurred.
Shaking his head, Jason decided to just stick to wandering the grounds. He’d take his current book a find a nice shady spot to read, until breakfast, maybe. Or maybe until his stomach started growling at him, or maybe until someone got mad that he’d left the house.
Without hurry, Jason changed into a pair of jeans and just left his pajama top and hoody on. If it was like 85 degrees outside he was probably gonna sweat all over the shirt, anyway. Especially if he left the hoody on…
But he didn’t want it off, either. Clothes were a privilege for so many years, just having the freedom to dress however he wanted, up to and including dwarfing himself in a hoody so nothing could be seen…
“Stop it,” he whined at himself, growling slightly as he went to his closet and pulled out his sneakers. So what if he got hot? He’d deal with it then. There was no reason to think about things and get himself all worked up when it wasn’t necessary! No one was taking the hoody away from him. No one. Bruce proved that already, by making Dick let him keep it, then letting Dick buy him another. Jason was willing to bet if he asked Bruce for another one, he’d order it immediately.
As almost an afterthought, he grabbed a couple packets of crackers from his desk, and shoved his cell phone into his jeans pocket. Maybe if he at least answered a text from Bruce, he wouldn’t come looking for him. And with the snacks, Jason wouldn’t have to go inside until lunch. If that.
The tricky part was sneaking past Bruce’s room without waking him. Jason knew Bruce was still in there, because he’d heard Bruce come home, sometime after 3am, and hadn’t heard him leave since. With his shoes in his hands, so hopefully his footsteps could be a silent as possible, Jason opened his bedroom door and peeked outside.
No one was in the hall, which was what he expected. Bruce’s bedroom door appeared to be shut, too. Which was great. Bruce didn’t always close it.
Jason shut his door behind him, slowly, so not to let the knob click when it shut. Then he stuck as close to the far wall as he could, and crept down the hall.
Bruce didn’t even stir. Or, if he did, he didn’t make enough noise Jason could hear him. And he certainly didn’t get out of bed to check on why Jason was going downstairs before 6am.
You didn’t say I couldn’t, would be his defense. No one said he wasn’t allowed outside, or downstairs before called for breakfast.
Downstairs, Jason was relieved to find the house still asleep. None of the lights had been turned on yet, for the day, and Alfred was clearly still asleep. Wherever the heck it was he slept.
Maybe Jason should explore the ‘family wing’ of the manor more, someday. Figure out where Alfred’s quarters were. If nothing else, it would be interesting to know.
The door to the patio was locked, when Jason checked it, but it was easy enough to unlock by turning the deadbolt. And pushing the door open took no effort either, even though Jason felt like it was the hardest thing in the world.
No one said you couldn’t, he reminded himself, as he tested the knob to make sure it’d stay unlocked when he shut it. Considering no alarms went off, either, it meant the security system wasn’t even set to go off if the door was opened.
“Okay,” he whispered to himself, as he finished shutting the door and crossed the patio. He was fine.
The door between the patio and outside wasn’t even locked, and upon closer inspection Jason was fairly certain it couldn’t lock, so he pushed it open, only slightly cringing at the squealing noise the spring made. There was no way Bruce or Alfred could even hear that.
…he hoped.
All thoughts of possible consequences slipped right out of his mind, however, when Jason stepped fully outside and smelled the sweet scent of morning dew, covering all the grass and plants around him.
He was… outside.
By himself.
For the first time in years.
Maybe since his dad kicked him out, the last time. When he was eight and had knocked the huge bottle of whisky Dad had somehow stolen, right off the counter. Sending shards of glass all over the floor, and the foul smelling alcohol splashing everywhere.
Somehow Dad had been too mad to actually punish Jason, over that. Instead, he’d just screamed at him and pushed him out onto the fire escape, telling him ‘don’t come back.’
He’d slept on the roof, and after three days Mom had let him back inside, since Dad got hauled off to jail again. Of course. Just like he always did.
The gardens outside Wayne Manor were much better than the roof of their shitty Crime Alley apartment.
Jason wasn’t even sure he’d hate having to sleep outside, here. The grass was probably much softer than concrete, and with so many benches and padded patio chairs, it wouldn’t even be miserable.
But he knew Bruce would never kick him out of the house. Just as Donny would have never done such a thing. Dad wasn’t willing to sell Jason, no matter how mad he got sometimes. Jason was his son. That’s all Donny would have done. And Bruce… well. Jason didn’t know.
Handing him over to the cops would be essentially that, though.
Jason spent the first half hour of his morning wandering the gardens, looking at all the flowers he found. There were a bunch, and even more that probably bloomed in the spring, too. If Jason was still there next spring, he really hoped he got a chance to see the garden in full bloom.
The ‘estate’ around Wayne Manor was fucking massive, too, he quickly discovered as he kept wandering. Dick had brought him over to a tire swing, which Jason quickly found, but that was as far away from the manor they got. The estate kept going forever past that.
In fact, Jason managed to wander so far he couldn’t even see the manor, anymore. Because it was hidden by a hill he crested. And over the next hill, he came upon the tree line, which was apparently still on the Wayne property. Jason could see the fence, a few dozen yards further in the thinner sections of the woods, but a good number of trees were on the property.
He followed along the tree line for a while, watching as the little squirrels and chipmunks scattered about when he got near. Jason almost wished he could convince one to let him pet it, but he knew he was just as likely to get bit and catch rabies or something, if he tried such a stunt.
When he had to be about a mile away from the house, Jason stumbled upon a little area that looked like it used to be kept up, a long long time ago. But now all that happened to it was the grass got mowed. There was a handful of flower bushes that looked massively over grown, and a bench swing, hanging down from a nice straight branch of one of the trees.
Jason knew the perfect place to sit and read his book if he’d ever seen one.
The bench was a little high off the ground, like it was hung when the tree was much shorter. The seat actually was almost as high as Jason’s chest, so he had to set his book on it try to jump up, balancing on his hands before pulling his legs up, all while the bench swung with his movement.
It was tricky, but he did manage to get up after only two attempts, and only because the first time he knocked his book off by accident.
Finally, though, he was able to settle down sideways on the bench, one leg propped up, the other hanging over the edge, swinging back and forth, causing the whole bench to swing with it.
And he sat there for several hours, fluctuating between reading his book and watching the squirrels run around in the branches above him.
- - -
Jason spent almost the entire morning in peace. He ate both his packets of crackers, and read almost the rest of his book before finally a text hit his phone.
That was, a text beyond the typical breakfast text.
“Are you okay?” the text from Bruce read.
“Hmph,” Jason huffed, as he rolled his eyes and opened the text line. That was not the question he expected to hear from Bruce, first. Maybe ‘Where the fuck are you,’ or ‘Why are you outside.’ But asking after his wellbeing was nice, he supposed. If that was honestly what Bruce wanted to know.
Which it probably wasn’t.
‘Yeah,’ he sent back.
The message flipped from delivered to read almost instantly, and the little dots popped up as Bruce started typing. Then… they disappeared. And reappeared. Several times while Bruce apparently had to redo his text over and over.
Jason couldn’t help but snort. Even over text Bruce did his choose his words carefully routine.
At least that meant Bruce wasn’t mad.
Probably.
‘Okay,’ popped back a text, first. Which was amusing for how long it took Bruce to figure out to say that, but then a second later another one appeared that read, ‘Did you go outside this morning?’
‘Yeah,’ Jason repeated, before his stomach had a chance to clench, a little. No one said you couldn’t, he reminded himself, for the umpteenth time. And obviously Bruce had figured out something, otherwise he wouldn’t have been asking if he was okay so early in the day.
And even if Bruce was mad, he’d have to walk probably an entire mile before he got to Jason. And the walk would likely calm him down.
Or… piss him off more.
Plus, Jason might only be half a mile away, he didn’t really know. He’d only ever measured distances in city blocks, before…
‘Okay,’ Bruce said again, followed by another minute of the little dots game.
Bruce was mad, wasn’t he?
Jason started warring on his lip, and considered high-tailing it back to the manor, before Bruce could absolutely blow a gasket at him, but then Bruce’s next text hit his phone.
‘That’s okay,’ it read, ‘it’s a nice day, I’m glad you’re getting some sun. But please tell one of us next time when you go outside so we don’t worry.’
So they don’t worry? Jason thought, furrowing his brow down at the screen. What did that even mean? He would have thought they got mad. Or annoyed. That he’d run off.
Or… maybe that’s what he meant by worry. They worried he’d run away.
Even though Jason was 97.4% sure the security system either wouldn’t let him off the property, or would alert Bruce to him leaving the second he did.
‘Okay,’ Jason sent back, ‘can I stay outside?’
‘Of course, Jay. Barring dangerous weather, you can go outside whenever you want.’
“Great,” Jason mumbled, as he clicked his phone screen off again. He had to pause, however, before he started reading his book because his phone dinged again, with another text.
‘Enjoy the sun. I’m going into the office for the rest of the day, so let Alfred know if you need anything.’
Jason clicked down on the little smile face to open the menu with the billions of ‘emojis’ and sent Bruce back a thumbs up, just like he’d starting doing with Dick, when he just wanted to tell Dick he got the message. Dick usually sent back a smile face, or some other little picture, but all Bruce did was ‘read’ the text and that’s it.
And Jason was left alone again, for a couple more hours while he finished off his book, then went back to wandering the grounds. This time exploring a little further into the woods, now that the sun was so high in the sky and the ground was dry and better lit.
The fence did, indeed, go straight through the woods, and when Jason threw a rock between the iron bars, he could see a little ripple in the forcefield-thing Bruce had told him about. Just like in science fiction novels, he thought amusedly, as he tossed a few more rocks and pine cones through and watched as they were allowed to pass through. He wasn’t quite brave enough to stick his hand through, but considering the fence was so tall and the bars so tight together, he kind of doubted anyone would be able to penetrate the grounds of the estate.
No wonder Bruce was fine with him being outside, alone. He was perfectly safe anywhere on the manor grounds. Because no one but who Bruce let onto the grounds were getting onto them.
It was nearly lunch by the time Jason got another text, this time from Alfred. Instead of telling him that lunch was ready, instead it was a question, asking, ‘Would you like to join me for lunch?’
Jason smiled. Alfred always asked him that, when Bruce way at work during the day. And so far, Jason had always taken him up on the offer. Usually, he just went downstairs and found Alfred, but this time he typed back, ‘Yes please,’ and hit send.
‘Come on inside and get washed up, then. Would you like sandwiches or pasta salad?’
‘Sandwiches,’ Jason decided. He wasn’t quite sure what pasta salad, was, but he did know every single sandwich Alfred had made him so far had been awesome. Way better than he ever thought a sandwich could be.
Alfred responded that he’d make them sandwiches, while Jason started his long walk back to the manor. Which, in the end, didn’t even take him ten minutes. So he wasn’t nearly as far away from the house as he thought. He did have to round from the front, east side of the house back around to the back, on the west end, where the unlocked patio door was.
Once inside, he went to the restroom then ‘washed up’ as Alfred asked, rolling his sleeves up as neatly as possible before he went and found Alfred in the kitchen.
“Jason,” Alfred greeted warmly, when Jason walked in and climbed up on a stool, “It is good to see you, lad. Did you enjoy your morning outside?”
“Yeah,” Jason said, nodded as he rested his chin down on his hand, “There are a lot of squirrels outside. Did you know they played with each other? At least I think they were playing something like tag.”
Alfred just smiled and said, “I did not, sounds quite amusing.”
Jason watched in mostly silence as Alfred went about making them sandwiches. He toasted both of them in the little oven thing sitting on top of the counter, while he asked Jason various questions, about what he’d been reading, and whether he seen if Alfred’s bird feeders needed more seed.
When the sandwiches only had a minute left in the ‘toaster oven,’ Alfred went into the pantry to get them some chips to eat with them, and hollered out to Jason, “I see you’re almost out of cheerios.”
“Yeah, I ate two bowls yesterday,” Jason said, shrugging a bit as Alfred walked back out with a bag of ‘pita chips.’
“Would you like some more?” Alfred asked, like he didn’t even care Jason was eating so much cereal. Because… Alfred didn’t care. He was just happy Jason ate, as he kept saying whenever he found Jason eating cereal or crackers or whatever else he pulled from the pantry.
“Sure,” Jason agreed easily. He liked cheerios a lot, and would be happy with more. Although he would have been fine if Alfred had only intended on buying him the one box, because they did get a little old… when Jason ate them for breakfast just about every day…
“Actually,” he started, then faltered when Alfred looked over. Alfred had said he wanted to buy Jason things he wanted to eat. And… he kind of wanted… “Um. Can I have some Fruity Pebbles, instead?”
Jason ducked his head, a little, when Alfred absolutely lit up, clapping his hands together as he said, “Of course, dear boy. You may have both, even. I’m happy to keep a couple different cereal options stocked for you a time.”
“Thanks,” Jason mumbled, trying, and absolutely failing, to hide a grin from his face. Alfred was honestly the absolute best.
The timer dinged on the toaster oven, and Alfred’s attention turned to getting their hot, toasty sandwiches put together and on their plates. He put some of the chips with a glob of something called hummus on each of their plates and came and sat next to Jason, placing a plate in front of him as he did. Then he finally asked, “Would you like to come to the store with me? I was planning on going today, before Bruce decided to go into the office.”
Jason paused, half way through dipping one of his chips in the hummus, and asked, “Am I allowed?” Didn’t Bruce want him to stay on the estate? He’d been pretty annoyed with Dick snuck him off the property. Even if he had allowed Jason to go to the mall, after…
“Of course,” Alfred said, his tone hitting a more serious note that made Jason look up, “We are not keeping you prisoner, my boy. The mob has been pretty well taken care of, if I do say so myself. You most certainly are safe visiting a grocery store in Bristol.”
But would Bruce agree? Jason wondered, but before he could figure out how to respond, Alfred continued.
“Besides, you most certainly could use a change of scene, you have been cooped up inside far too long.”
“I spent all morning outside,” Jason said, a hint of a smile on his lips, before he frowned again and asked, “Bruce won’t be mad?”
“Most certainly not,” Alfred assured, “And if he were to be upset about this, it would be with me, not you.”
“I—“ Jason started, but faltered. That would be worse. So much worse. “I don’t want him to get mad at you, either,”
“My dear boy,” Alfred said, softly. He held his hand out over the counter, palm out, as if asking may I have your hand? So Jason slowly reached out, and placed his hand in Alfred’s.
Alfred squeezed tightly, his eyes shining, and Jason couldn’t help but just stare down at their hands, for a moment.
It felt… it actually felt so nice. Almost like a hug… a good hug. He hadn’t—no one had—in years. Alfred was so gentle and so kind it made Jason want to cry just over that.
What had he even done to deserve living there?
“I promise you,” Alfred said, after a moment, as he ran his thumb across the back of Jason’s hand, “Master Bruce’s anger is nothing to fear. He cares much too much, but if you do not feel comfortable leaving the house, then we shall stay home. It is entirely your choice.”
He did want to get out of the house. It was half the reason he’d spent the morning outside. And if Alfred promised…
“He won’t be mad?” he asked, his voice shaking way more than he wanted. He tugged on his hand, without thinking and immediately regretted it because Alfred let go instantly. But Jason pressed the ball of his thumb into the side of his eye. He didn’t want to cry again. Even if that’s all he felt like doing.
“He will not,” Alfred promised, his face so serious and so determined, Jason absolutely believed him.
How could he not?
“Okay,” he agreed, “Okay. I want to go.”
“Then we will go after lunch,” Alfred said, turning back to his own sandwich and picking it up, “Why don’t you go ahead and eat.”
Nodding, Jason followed suit, and finally took a bite of the caprese sandwich Alfred had made.
As long as Alfred was telling the truth, Jason was actually looking forward to going out.
Of course he was cool with not, he was perfectly used to being trapped in a house except for once or twice a month, when he just went to a different house or hotel or something. At least at Wayne Manor he was free to do whatever the fuck he wanted, including hide.
But going out, without Bruce, was pretty exciting. Even if it was just to the grocery store.
Notes:
You know Bruce wanted to tell Jason he had a heart attack when he realized the patio door was opened and Jason wasn’t in the house, and Alfred wanted to be like “your father loves you dearly” but they’re being so careful. 😭 I love them so much.
Also good news!! I cut this long chapter in half. So it’s only 4.5k words instead of like 9. Yaaaaay. 🤣
I do need to get back to my other works and like finish the “one shot” that’s missing the second chapter and such, but every time I sit down to write I end up here. But at least I’m actually posting. 😂 id feel worse if I wasn’t posting anything.
Chapter Text
Alfred didn’t comment at all on Jason’s clothes when all he did was change his pajama shirt to a clean t-shirt, and put his Batman hoody back on. Jason had thought he might make Jason put on one of the polos and slacks, or something, to go out into public, since Alfred always wore fancy suits, but if Alfred even noticed what Jason was wearing, he clearly didn’t care. Which was great.
Out in the garage, Alfred led Jason to a Bentley, too.
A Bentley.
Jason had never seen one in person before.
“Wow,” he breathed, when Alfred pointed to the sleek black sedan, while he went over to the key box to get the keys, “This had to have cost, like, half a million dollars.” There were so many expensive cars in the garage, it was kind of staggering to add up all the price stickers. Millions of dollars of cars, sitting in Wayne’s garage.
For two drivers.
Insane.
Jason would still love to spend a day exploring the garage, checking out each car and looking up everything about them.
“Not quite,” Alfred said, clutching the keys in his hand as he walked over and motioned for Jason to finish getting in, “We’ve had it for close to a decade, as well, so it’s certainly not worth anything near that.”
“It’s still a Bentley,” Jason said, just before Alfred smiled and shut his door.
He rounded the car, and slide into the driver seat before he said, “Are you a fan of cars, then?”
With a shrug, Jason said, “Cars are cool,” as he fastened his seatbelt and started looking around. For being ‘nearly a decade’ old, it looked super high tech. There was a huge screen right in the middle with lots of menu options on it that popped on, when Alfred cranked the car.
“I’m sure if you told Bruce that, he would be thrilled to show you all the cars he owns and tell you all about them. He is quite the fan of cars, himself, and asking him about them is one of the few ways to get him talking up a storm.”
Huffing a quiet laugh, Jason smirked and said, “Maybe.” It would be amusing to see Bruce ‘talk up a storm.’ But it would also mean spending time alone with Bruce. In and around cars. And…
Well. It probably wouldn’t be bad. But Jason already knew for sure it wasn’t bad just avoiding Bruce. So…
“It’s up to you, lad,” Alfred hummed, as he pressed a button for the garage door to open. Once it had, he put the car into drive and took off.
Not quite as bad as Dick sped, but it wasn’t slow and leisurely, either.
“So awesome,” Jason whispered, as he sat up and watched out the window.
Alfred turned right out of the manor’s driveway, after he’d passed them through the gate and everything. So far, the two times Jason had left the Wayne Estate, they’d turned left out of the driveway.
Bristol must have been much larger than Jason thought, if it was in both directions, and all the mansions around them were also Bristol addresses.
There were so many mansions, too. At first, they were spread out. Each one sitting on a large plot of land, kind of like Wayne Manor. Although Jason was fairly certain none were as large as the Wayne Estate…
But the further down the road they got, the closer together the houses got. They were still super spread out, of course. Compared to the city, where the houses touched each other. Or came so close to touching each other, there wasn’t even room to walk between them.
The houses were still massive, though. Still way more space than any family could possibly need. And each one was so unique looking, too. Some of them had all stone exteriors, like Wayne Manor did, while others were brick, wood, or… other. Jason wasn’t even sure.
And they were all different shapes and colors, too.
Most were the more normal rectangle shape, but some were squares, really long log-looking things, and some were S or U shaped.
Like the green one, right down the road from the stop sign Alfred stopped at.
It was a U-shaped house Jason had seen before...
Jason’s stomach suddenly turned to stone, as he leaned back in his chair and sank down, so he couldn’t see much more than the sky, over the dash. He pulled his feet up onto the edge of the seat, so his knees were helping block just a touch more of the ground outside, too.
Of course Bruce would live just a couple minutes down the road from him.
He’d never seen the house from the outside before, since the bastard always brought him home in the fucking trunk, but he remembered the color and shape of the house well. He’d spent several weekends there, one summer, after all. And had spent hours staring out the window, at the opposite side of the house.
It was better to just remember what he was looking at, rather than everything else. Especially since his last weekend there, way back when he was ten, was by far the worst weekend he’d ever had…
“Everything all right?” Alfred asked, his forehead wrinkles creasing further as he turned his concerned gaze down at Jason.
All Jason coud do was nod.
He hadn’t thought about that party in ages. Ages. Not since the last time the bastard had come to use him at Donny’s. Which he’d had to start doing, when Donny had banned him from taking a boy home again, after that party. For ‘damaging’ Jason so much…
Alfred looked back over, from where he’d been watching the road, and frowned deeper. He reached out a hand, as if to set it on Jason’s knee, but hesitated, his fingers curling in as if he were going to withdraw his hand.
But Jason didn’t mind.
He didn’t. Alfred was so nice.
And, actually…
Before Alfred could withdraw his hand completely, Jason knocked his knee over, so it hit Alfred’s hand, and tried to force a smile when Alfred placed his hand right on top of Jason’s knee.
His smile fell flat, though, and probably looked more like a grimace. But Alfred squeezed his knee anyway and said, “I hope you know, I will always offer you an ear, should you ever need it.”
All Jason could really do was nod. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not really. He definitely didn’t want to think about it, either.
Alfred squeezed one last time, as he said, “Just know I’m here,” then pat the top of his knee twice before putting his hand back on the steering wheel.
“Did—” Jason started, as he put his feet back down on the ground and tried to sit up, a little better, now that they’d passed the house. So at least the seat belt wasn’t touching his neck anymore. He cleared his throat and tried again with, “Did you see that green house back there?”
“Yes,” Alfred said, with a slight hum in his voice, “The Beaumont’s live there. I can’t say I know what possessed them to chose that color for the house, it used to be such a lovely cream color, then the lady of the house had it painted nearly lime green. Quite atrocious.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, huffing a sort-of laugh. He’d thought it was a weird color for a house, too, the first time he’d seen it. “Um. The guy’s name is Eric, right?”
Alfred stilled, as his grip on the steering wheel tightened, briefly. He took a long moment to answer, but finally nodded as he said, “You’ve met him?”
“Yeah,” Jason exhaled, looking down at his hands as he pulled he left sleeve down over his hand, “spent some weekends at his house, back when I was ten. His family was in Vermont or something.” And he always seemed so angry about it. Like it was their fault, being gone, that he kept going back to Donny’s and renting out one of the boys. Usually Jason. Sometimes he acted like it was Jason’s fault he kept coming around.
“I’m sorry,” Alfred eventually said, “I will make sure he never receives an invite to any Wayne function again. I will not allow him to come anywhere near you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jason mumbled. He wasn’t scared of the bastard. He knew he didn’t have to work for any of his clients anymore. He just…
He wasn’t even sure. He’d seen the house and couldn’t help but think about it. But it did make him so glad his ‘week’ with Bruce ended up nothing like his time there.
“It does matter,” Alfred said, firmly, “because you matter, my dear boy.”
Jason’s chest felt like it seized, for a split second. Like it sometimes did when Alfred said stuff like that. When Alfred ever suggested that he actually cared about Jason. And not what Jason could do for him.
“Thanks,” he said, a bit wetly. He sniffed, and sat back up fully, trying to push it all down.
He was out of the manor. Without Bruce. He needed to enjoy it. Not think about unpleasant things.
There was plenty of time to do that at night, when he was trying to sleep, he thought bitterly.
Alfred drove them for just a few more minutes, before he suddenly was turning into the parking lot of a huge grocery store that seemed to pop up out of no where. It was so well hidden in the aesthetic of the neighborhood around it, unlike the giant stores Jason was used to seeing. Like. It didn’t even have a huge tall sign outside! Just a low-profile one that was super easy to miss.
“Are you still up for shopping?” Alfred asked, as he pulled into a parking lot, “there is nothing I need urgently enough to require this trip.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, trying to sound eager, “I’m fine. I want to.”
“Okay,” Alfred said, a hint of doubt in his voice, “but do tell me if it’s too much. I do not wish to overwhelm you.”
Jason nodded, and hopped up out of the car to follow Alfred into the store. They got a shopping cart on the way in, and Alfred listed off the things he needed in the produce section, which was right at the entrance of the store.
“First we need a few avocados,” he said, pointing at what must be avocados. They cost a dollar a piece, which was honestly a lot of money for just a little piece of… fruit?
“Is it a fruit?” he asked, as he picked one up. It felt… dense. And slightly squishy. Like if he were to squeeze it he could mold it, just like play dough.
“It is indeed,” Alfred said, as he pulled a bag off one of those rolls of them, “Could you pick me out three? We want them to be darker, like these here, and still mostly firm.”
“So not like this one?” Jason asked, holding out the one he’d picked up.
Alfred reached for it and said, “This one is a little past ripe. Try…” he set the avocado down and felt a few more before he picked one up, “to find a couple more like this.”
Jason felt what Alfred was talking about, then did his best to find two more. When he was satisfied, he handed them to Alfred, who smiled warmly and placed them in the plastic bag.
“Well done, lad. Now, do you think you could pick me out a few cucumbers?”
They went on like that, for a while, as Alfred walked Jason through picking out various fruits and vegetables. After they had done cucumbers, cabbage, lettuce, celery, and cantaloupe, Jason asked, “Do we need bananas?”
“Do you want bananas,” Alfred asked, a ghost of an amused smile on his lips.
Jason just nodded. It was one of the few fruits they’d had, back when he was still living with his parents. They never had fresh stuff at Donny’s. It was always prepackaged stuff, or whatever the cook made them, so he hadn’t had them in years.
“Then I believe we do need bananas, why don’t you pick me out a bunch.”
With a grin, Jason bounced over to where there were about seventy thousand bunches of bananas. “I know how to do these,” he said brightly, as he looked them over, “We want yellow or just still slightly green.” He found a very clean looking bunch and picked it up, holding it up for Alfred to inspect.
“Looks fantastic, lad,” Alfred said, placing them right in the cart, next to the other produce, “now then, I believe we’ve got all we need here. Shall we move to the aisles?”
With a smile, Jason nodded, and follow Alfred to wherever he had to go next.
They went in and out of halls, every once in a while Alfred stopping to pick up an item or two, like flour or a box of pasta.
In one aisle, Alfred picked up a box of hard taco shells and a bag of tortillas.
“We’re having tacos?” Jason asked, as he stood on his toes, a little, to get a better look at the box in Alfred’s hands.
Alfred angled it so Jason could see better and said, “I was planning on preparing them for dinner tonight. Beef tacos with guacamole.”
“And beans?” Jason asked eagerly. He loved tacos. Loved loved loved them. Especially with beans, since that was usually how his mom made them. Beans and cheese and some hot sauce.
“I can certainly prepare beans as well,” Alfred said, as he placed the things in their cart and started walking forward, “Would you prefer black beans or refried beans?”
“The, uh,” Jason said, furrowing his brow a little, “smashed up kind.” He didn’t know what they were called. They were brown, though, so probably, “Refried?”
“Sounds like it,” Alfred agreed. He led him down to the end of the aisle where the dried beans were and said, “Could you pick me out a bag of pinto beans, then?”
Once Jason found them, he grabbed a little bag of them and held it up for Alfred’s approval. He nodded, motioning for Jason to set it in the cart and said, “Good boy, thank you. If you want, I can show you how turn them into ‘smashed up’ beans tonight.”
“Okay,” Jason said, grinning again. That was another thing the liked. When Alfred taught him how to cook stuff.
Finally they made it to the cereal aisle, and Alfred told him, “Go on and find the cereal you wanted, I’ll pick up the cheerios and Bruce’s kind.”
“Sure.” Jason wandered down the hall, looking at the bazillion different kinds of cereal. There were so many it was staggering. He could see the bright red box he wanted way down at the end, but paused half way through when the familiar box of Captain Crunch caught his eye.
Peanut Butter Captain Crunch had been his mom’s absolute favorite cereal. She’d always said it was healthier than some of the others, too, because of the peanut butter or something. But once she bought the Captain Crunch with berries in it and Jason had loved it. She’d never bought it again, but Jason had always hoped the store would be out of the peanut butter kind and Fruity Pebbles, like they had been the day she got the berry Captain Crunch.
Reaching out, Jason grabbed one of the smaller boxes of the Crunch Berries. He definitely wanted a box of them. And he wanted to eat them for breakfast tomorrow.
“What’d you find,” Alfred asked, as he pushed the cart down to where Jason was standing. When Jason just tilted the box toward him, he said, “Did you not want Fruity Pebbles?”
“I—“ Jason stammered, looking quickly up at Alfred. He had, but then he’d seen the Crunch Berries and—
Shaking his head, Alfred set a hand on Jason’s shoulder, squeezing it briefly as he said, “You may have whatever you want, lad,” before he let go.
“My mom got me these once,” he said, a little unsure. Alfred meant he could have these or the Fruity Pebbles, right? “I forgot about them until…”
“Then we can certainly purchase them, if that is what you want.”
Jason nodded enthusiastically as he placed them in the cart. “They were my favorite cereal ever. I can’t believe I forgot about them.”
Alfred didn’t say anything, but he smiled one of his fond smiles that made Jason duck his head and look away. Alfred and Bruce both did their weird fond thing at the strangest times. It was never when Jason was doing anything that could possibly please them.
Usually men got all fond of Jason when he was doing something they liked… All Jason was ever doing when Alfred did it was… he didn’t even know. Picking out cereal he liked?
After the cereal all they needed was all the cold stuff, so Jason followed easily as Alfred picked out all the meat they needed, first. “We usually purchase part of a cow each year,” Alfred said absently as he picked through all the little packages of meat. Jason had no idea what the difference between all of them was, or even what animal they were looking at, but he listened anyway as Alfred continued, “but it fell through this year. Quite the shame. We might have to switch farms.”
Jason hummed, and watched as Alfred picked up a couple things. He read the tags on all of them. Beef roast, steak, pork chops, chicken breasts. Finally, though, Alfred had everything he needed, including cheese and butter, and they went through the check out.
Which was great, because Jason was actually getting pretty tired of being out. They’d been in the store, like, an hour. Which was kind of ridiculous, that he could get tired from just an hour of shopping. But he hadn’t got much sleep…
“Would you like a sweet,” Alfred asked, as he was placing their groceries up on the little moving belt thing, “You may pick one from the display there if any catch your attention.”
“Really?” Jason asked, skeptically, “Don’t they charge way too much for this stuff?” His dad had always said the register stuff was a trap. There to get idiots to spend way too much on a single candy bar. Candy in the back of the store cost way less, but had to be picked up on purpose.
“Perhaps,” Alfred said, his mustache twitching up with a hidden smile, “but I believe in rewarding good behavior, so you certainly have earned one.”
Snorting, Jason wondered how he’d been good, but did turn and look through all the candies. His dad probably would have told him he hadn’t been good, during that trip. Since he talked so much and asked for things that weren’t on the list. But he already knew Alfred and Bruce were weird.
Finally Jason settled on a bag of M&Ms and held them up for Alfred’s approval. But, of course, Alfred just smiled and said, “Have this young lady ring them up, then.” Because Alfred was always cool with whatever Jason wanted.
“Oh, the peanut ones are my favorite,” the cashier said, when Jason held his little yellow bag out for her to take and scan. When she handed them back, she smiled wide at him and said, “Batman fan, huh?”
Jason just shrugged. He wasn’t, but he did like his Batman hoody.
“Your dad a fan, then?” she asked, grinning a little more, “I used to steal my dad’s hoodys as a kid, too. They were so much more cozy than mine.”
Looking down at his hoody, Jason pulled at the yellow bat emblem and said, “I stole this from… my foster brother. He’s a giant superhero nerd.” If his room’s decor said anything about him, it was that.
That made the girl laugh as she said, “Typical little brother, always stealing our stuff.”
Before Jason could figure out how to respond, she told Alfred their total, which was over two hundred dollars.
How on earth had they spent that much money on food for a week?
But Alfred swiped his card like it was nothing, and thanked the girl when she handed him the receipt. And apparently they were done.
Rich people were so weird, was all Jason could think as they went out to the car, and Jason helped Alfred load their bags into the trunk. Even though he’d said, “I’ve got this lad, you may go eat your sweets,” when Jason picked a bag up.
“But I want to help,” was all Jason had to say to get Alfred to acquiesce.
On the way home, Jason got so caught up in eating his M&Ms, one at a time, the chocolate first and then the peanut, he totally forgot about the house they had to pass.
That was, until they turned the corner and there it was. Just sitting there, almost taunting him.
The asshole’s car was sitting in the driveway, too, with the garage open.
Which meant he was there.
Why the fuck did he even care? he thought, as he scowled down at the last few M&Ms in his bag. It wasn’t like Alfred was gonna stop and say ‘hi,’ or make Jason say ‘hi’ or anything. Who cared if he lived right down the street. There were probably half a dozen of his clients— his former clients living in the neighborhood around Wayne Manor.
Alfred looked over at him, and frowned a little as he said, “I do apologize, lad. This street is rather unavoidable.”
Just just shrugged, and put another M&M in his mouth. He’d rather focus on that than anything else.
“Next time we can go to a different store.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, the M&M still in his mouth, “I been to like ten houses in Bristol. Maybe more.” He hadn’t really been one to keep track.
He’d also been to lots of apartments in Gotham, too. And townhouses and the random couple mansions, there. But most rich people lived out in Bristol. Or, the ones rich enough to afford taking Jason home.
Alfred took a breath, like someone had maybe stabbed him or something. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, before he finally said, “If you tell Master Bruce, or allow me to tell him, perhaps, he can do something about it.”
“Like what?” Jason asked furrowing his brow. What on earth would Bruce do? Tell the commissioner on them? Jason was not a snitch and he would not ‘testify.’ He’d meant it when he told Bruce that, way back in the beginning. There was no way he was changing his mind now, just because he’d maybe actually found the only nice people in all of Bristol.
“Bruce has many connections,” Alfred said, as he turned into the Manor’s long driveway and stopped at the gate, “He would use them to get that monster arrested. And any others you ever recognize.”
He knew it. “I’m not a snitch,” he snapped, scowling hard at Alfred.
Alfred froze, and slowly turned back to Jason, from where he’d been letting the computer scan his eye. After studying Jason for a second, he said, slowly, “It’s probable you need not be one. All Batman would need to do is find evidence of a crime to get him put away. Men like him… they rarely commit only the one crime.”
Jason just shook his head, because what was Alfred even talking about? Did they, like, murder people too? Kidnap kids off street corners and murder them? That happened sometimes, right?
“Such as,” Alfred said steadily, though he looked like he maybe wanted to be sick, “They often have… illicit images. On their computers.”
“Oh,” Jason said, “That’s illegal?”
“If it involves children, it is very illegal.”
Crumpling his nearly empty bag of M&Ms, Jason whispered, “Oh.” So… so recording stuff had been super illegal, too.
And… and evidence.
“That bastard,” Jason started, before he quickly shook his head and corrected, “Uh, Eric. He… he did. At least. He did, two years ago. He—he. Yeah. He did.” Jason had seen them. Many times.
Alfred pulled the car into the garage and put it into park, then set a hand over his eyes for a moment. Once he’d taken a deep breath, he turned back to Jason and offered him a kind of sad smile as he held his hand out again.
So Jason took it, and let Alfred squeeze his hand tightly again as he said, “I am so glad you are with us. I believe I can speak for Bruce when I say we both will do everything in our power to protect you from monsters like… ‘that bastard.’”
Jason couldn’t help but grin. And squeeze Alfred’s hand back, just a little, before he pulled it away.
If only because of how awesome Alfred was, Jason was glad he was there, too.
“Now then,” Alfred said, as he opened the car door, “Would you mind helping me bring these groceries in?”
“Not at all!” he said, as he opened his own door and hopped out.
And as he followed behind Alfred, carrying the bag filled with the cereal and other boxed items, he finally caught up to what Alfred had actually said.
“Wait,” he said, maybe a little loudly, “Bruce has connections to Batman?!”
It took Alfred half a minute to answer, but when they reached the kitchen and he set his two bags down on the counter, he said simply, “Yes.”
And that was it.
Jason had a million questions, but he had no idea what to ask first.
Had Dick actually met Batman? Is that why he was such a fan?? How did Bruce even know Batman? How did one meet a superhero?
In the end, Jason said, almost under his breath, “So that’s why Batman beat Donny up and got my stuff back.” Because Bruce had asked him to.
Wow.
Bruce had asked a superhero to go beat up someone on Jason’s behalf and retrieve his teddy bear.
Wow.
Money really could buy anything, couldn’t it?
“Donny Falcone quite deserved that beating and more,” Alfred said, leading Jason back out to get the rest of the groceries, “and I have a feeling, had Batman known about Donny Falcone’s operation sooner, he would have put an end to it then.”
“Wait, so he didn’t know? I—I thought. Doesn’t everyone know?”
Alfred picked a bag up, out of the trunk, and held it out for Jason to take. “If everyone knew, it would have never been allowed to continue,” he said, his tone serious, “Gothamites are willing to overlook a lot in their city, but child abuse to that degree is something very few tolerate. The only ones who knew were those complicit in it, and that is why it was allowed to continue for so long. I’m sure Batman has done nothing but blame himself for not noticing sooner.”
“Wow,” Jason whispered. That—that. Wow. It changed everything, didn’t it? Because… if people didn’t know… did that mean other cities had the same problem? Big crime organizations doing shit no one was aware of?
“I do encourage you to tell Bruce,” Alfred said, offering Jason a warm smile, “Nothing can be done about these things unless someone knows.”
Jason frowned, and followed Alfred quickly back up into the house as he said, “But I don’t want to testify. The mob kills people who testify against them.” And Jason wasn’t gonna die now. Not after he’d gotten away and had school and everything ahead of him.
School and growing up was all he’d ever wanted. He wasn’t gonna throw it away, just because Alfred or even Bruce wanted him to be a snitch!
“Jason,” Alfred said, “No one is going to force you to do anything you don’t wish to do. So tell Bruce that along with everything else, and he’ll figure out a way. But if you did ever choose to be a witness for the court, I promise you, we are capable of protecting you from the Falcones.” He set his bag on the counter, then set his hand on top of Jason’s head for a brief second as he said, “And I would not allow them to touch a single hair on your head. I know Bruce feels the same way.”
“I’ll… think about it,” Jason eventually said. He probably wouldn’t, but saying he would at least made Alfred smile at him again.
In fact, he completely dropped the subject as he asked, “Now then, did you want to help me with dinner?”
“Yes!”
So that’s what they did, the rest of the afternoon. They put together all the different ingredients for tacos. And while Jason pushed out the notion of testifying from his head, he couldn’t help but think a lot about the fact that Bruce knew Batman.
And Batman apparently would chase down anyone Jason said had ever touched him, just because.
That… that was maybe the coolest thing that had ever happened to Jason. Ever.
Maybe Batman wasn’t as bad as Jason had always thought…
Chapter 37
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason considered telling Bruce about his neighbor for about five seconds, before he decided it was stupid.
Sure, Bruce did say he didn’t want to be friends with ‘pedophiles’ and he’d stop being friends with anyone that… wanted Jason, but he didn’t really see the point. As far as he could tell, Bruce and the bastard weren’t friends. And Alfred already said he wouldn’t be invited to stuff ‘ever again,’ so Jason already wouldn’t have to deal with him.
So it was stupid. Very, very stupid to be wasting any time thinking about it. He’d had a zillion clients before, wasting even one second on that one was dumb.
Even if he was maybe Jason’s least favorite client out of all of them ever.
Maybe. He’d have to think about that to decide for sure, but he didn’t want to. It was dumb to think about any of it! It wasn’t like it mattered. He never had to work for any of them ever again.
For some dumb reason, that didn’t stop his stupid brain from wandering to it, every time the silence stretched between him and Alfred for the rest of the whole afternoon. They spent it putting together all the stuff needed for the tacos, and as promised, Alfred taught him how to make refried beans. He even let Jason try his hand at following a recipe by himself.
It was honestly so cool. He did everything by himself, making the guacamole, with only some explanations from Alfred. And when he was done, it actually tasted super good, so he didn’t fuck it up, either!
“I could be a chef,” he’d said, once he tried some of the guacamole on a chip, at Alfred’s suggestion.
“You most certainly could,” Alfred had replied, “I think you would make a talented chef, you are quite the natural.”
That was what he should waste his time thinking about. Things he could do when he grew up. Not what he had to do for his last job.
The rest of the day passed pretty quietly. He accidentally fell asleep while watching cartoons, but Alfred woke him up so he didn’t miss eating the tacos with Bruce.
And, of course, Bruce asked if he wanted to watch a movie after dinner, like he’d been doing every night Jason ate dinner with him, but he said no again. Mostly because he hadn’t done any math yet, and needed to get at least a little bit done.
When it came time for actual sleep, though. It was nowhere to be found.
Because instead, all he could think about was all the time he’d had to spend with Eric Beaumont over the past three years.
- - -
The next morning, Jason woke—because he did finally fall asleep at some point well past when Bruce got home—to a text from Bruce.
It wasn’t the normal breakfast is ready text. Instead it said, ‘Breakfast is almost ready. Alfred is making chocolate chip pancakes. We need to leave at 10 for your appointment.”
And considering it was a few minutes past 9, Jason had almost no time.
Although he wasn’t sure what he needed time for…
He got dressed in what he normally wore: A random t-shirt and jeans with, this time, his red hoody. Only because Alfred had made him put the Batman one down the laundry chute the night before, so he could wash it. Then he slipped on some sneakers and made his way downstairs.
Bruce smiled at him, as he took his seat in front of a plate of pancakes, already sitting and waiting for him, and asked, “Did you sleep well?”
With a shrug, Jason started pouring some syrup on his pancakes, and tried his best to keep his sleeves clean as he began eating.
“Well,” Bruce said, “let me know if there’s anything that we can do to help.”
Jason rolled his eyes, and kept eating away at his pancakes. What, exactly, did Bruce think he could do to help? Sing him lullabies? Yeah, right. Jason could laugh at that. Leave him alone at night was probably the best thing they could do.
He wasn’t even sure if his mom sitting with him would help anything.
Bruce sighed, one of his defeated sighs, and said, “Okay. Just know Alfred and I are here.” Like he’d said probably a dozen times, already.
It wasn’t even anything Bruce was doing, anyway.
Unless Bruce could make his brain stop thinking about things he didn’t want it to think about, he wasn’t sure how Bruce could make it better.
- - -
True to Bruce’s word, they left the house at 10am.
He turned left out of the driveway, too, which was good. It made him relax, just a touch. They wouldn’t have to pass that bastard’s house.
And Jason tried his best not to, but he ended up looking at every house they passed, trying to see if he recognized any more.
So far, he hadn’t. Although he kind of doubted he’d recognize many that he’d been in, anyway. Seeing that it was usually dark when clients brought him home, and that was only the few times he’d been able to sit up and look out the windows…
Not many people wanted their neighbors to see them bring some whore kid home. Especially not when he was all dressed up or wearing make up for whatever shit they liked.
Like Eric. Who made him lay in the trunk. Even if there was other shit in the trunk, too.
Shaking his head, Jason sat up and tried to think about something else.
Anything else.
They were in the same Tesla Bruce picked him up in, that very first day.
He hadn’t been in it for a while, so Jason got to actually admire it a little better.
For one, the videos he watched were right, and the car did drive itself. It was crazy to watch, all Bruce did was press a button and then the car moved the wheel and switched lanes and everything.
Jason kind of wished he’d sat up front, with Bruce, so he could look at all the buttons up close. But when he’d considered sitting up there, all he could think about was all the times he’d sat up front with a client and before he’d registered he was doing it, he’d opened the back door and slipped in.
It wasn’t like he even thought Bruce would feel him up or anything. He just…
He didn’t even know.
But Bruce didn’t care where he sat, because he didn’t even comment. Plus, he had made Jason sit in the back seat the couple times he’d driven Jason. So maybe he’d actually make him move if he tried to sit up front, anyway.
“Are you nervous?” Bruce asked, making Jason jump slightly. But only slightly. And Bruce was looking ahead at the road, instead of back at him. So he probably didn’t notice.
Probably.
Jason shifted in his seat and tried to figure out what Bruce was talking about. He didn’t think he’d been looking ‘nervous’ or whatever. But Bruce was, like, purposely not looking at him at all, so Jason had no idea what he was even going off of. “About what?” he finally asked, when he couldn’t figure it out.
“Your appointment.”
“Oh.” He hadn’t even been thinking about it, but he had been thinking about it last night… “I don’t know.” He was nervous, but he also wasn’t. He didn’t know how to explain it.
He wasn’t, like, worried about what she might want from him and stuff. It wasn’t like meeting a new away client and having to figure out a whole set of unspoken rules in just a couple minutes, with no way out. Bruce said he could quit on her if he wanted, for any reason. So he didn’t have any of that to worry about at all.
But… he just. He didn’t know what to expect. Was she gonna tell him he was crazy? That getting upset over nothing or over stuff that never upset him before was stupid and he needed to get over it? Or he would never get over it because he was broken?
“I’ve run a background check on her,” Bruce said, almost casually.
But Jason furrowed his brow, because what?
Why would he run a background check on her?
What would that even tell him?
“She doesn’t have any criminal history,” Bruce explained, even though Jason didn’t actually ask. “No connections to the mob that I can gather, no even interaction with it. The worst thing she’s done is park for longer than the two hour limit a couple times downtown.”
“Oh,” he said, nodding slowly, “Okay.” He hadn’t even thought about any of that. He’d just…
He didn’t know. He hadn’t even considered it. Hadn’t considered Bruce would make him be alone with someone part of the mob.
Bruce hated the mob so much… he just didn’t think he’d do that.
Should he be worried she was part of the mob?
“I met with her, too,” Bruce continued, still not looking back at Jason, “She seems genuine. She cares deeply about her job and her patients, and I do believe her only motive is helping kids heal.”
Heal.
Right.
Because he was traumatized, he thought, with a roll of his eyes.
“When’d you even meet with her?” he asked, not even masking the bitter bite to his voice.
“Yesterday,” Bruce replied, simply.
“Why?”
Why would Bruce meet with her. He was under the impression Bruce just had to call her office to set up the appointment. Not go and meet her.
She was his therapist, not Bruce’s.
Right?
What possible reason could Bruce need to meet with her? Unless it was to bribe her…
Although, then again, Jason wasn’t sure why he would do that, anyway. Why Bruce would even need to do that. He wasn’t doing illegal shit, as far as Jason could tell. And it’d been a month since Bruce had bought him. Or ‘rescued’ him, as he insisted. So Jason kind of doubted he’d start doing illegal shit to Jason one day out of the blue.
After signing Jason up for school, letting him out of the house, and getting him a therapist. That he could talk to. Alone.
What, exactly, would he say to tell Jason he’d changed his mind? ‘Oh I’ve realized you’re actually quite pretty and are probably super skilled at what you do, so get to it.’
Jason could snort. There was no way. Bruce would only do that shit in his bad dreams, because it made no logical sense in real life.
“Well,” Bruce started, slowly like he often did. Him and his stupid choosing his words carefully routine. “Child therapists usually meet with the guardians of their patients. She won’t ever tell me what you’ve said, and she stressed that with me yesterday. She’s not going to tell me what you two discuss, but she is going to tell me if she diagnoses you with anything.”
“Like what?” Jason cut in, scowling at Bruce. So she was going to tell him he was crazy? And go telling Bruce that??
“With something like PTSD or anxiety or depression or anything like that. Having a name for why you’re feeling a certain way isn’t a bad thing, lad. It doesn’t say anything bad about you, it will just help you understand why you are feeling the way you do, sometimes.”
“I’m not depressed,” he grumbled, as he crossed his arms and sank down. He didn’t even know what PTSD was. He’d thought about looking it up, too, after he’d seen all the therapists Bruce picked specialized in it, but he couldn’t remember the letters.
“I don’t think you are, either,” Bruce said, “but I am not a child psychologist. I just listed off different things they help with.”
Jason just kept scowling at the back of the passenger’s seat, in front of him, so Bruce added, “She might not diagnose you with anything, Jase. That was just an example of what she might tell me.”
“Well then what else would she tell you?” he asked, sinking down into the chair a little further.
How were their chats private if she would be meeting with Bruce and telling him shit.
“She’s also going to be giving me tips for… for taking care of you. Things I’m doing wrong, things I need to work on, that sort of thing.”
“Like what?” Jason didn’t need Bruce ‘taking care of him’ at all. Alfred fed him, Bruce left him alone.
Or. Well. He didn’t leave Jason alone. He kept talking to him and trying to get him to do stuff with him. But he wasn’t ‘touching’ him, as he always put it.
Bruce frowned, as the car legitimately slowed down enough to make a turn by itself, and said, “Like, she’ll give me tips on how to not scare you all the time, or how to handle it if you ever act out in a way that needs correcting, without traumatizing you.”
“I’m not gonna get traumatized if you smack me,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes dramatically. Besides, he knew how to behave himself.
Sure, he wasn’t really sure where Bruce’s line was, yet, but he was very, very good at not crossing adult’s lines. He’d managed to keep Donny from flipping his shit on him all that often, after all. And actually, after his first few months at the house, he never really got the snot kicked out of him like some of the other boys. He knew how to behave.
“I will never ‘smack you,’” Bruce said, sounding almost horrified, to the point Jason had to look up at him. “That’s not—“ he stammered, looking just as horrified as he had sounded, “That’s not correction, that’s just abuse.”
“Not it’s,” he started, but paused. Because what even.
No. It wasn’t ‘abuse.’
Abuse was like, when parents killed their kids or starved them until they couldn’t walk anymore or locked him in closets and shit for days at a time. He’d seen documentaries and stuff about abuse, and it wasn’t getting smacked because he got lippy.
Bruce wasn’t even his parent. So it wouldn’t even be abuse if he did stuff like that to Jason. It would be, like, murder.
Then again, Bruce thought being a prostitute was abuse.
“You just think everything is abuse,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes again as he sat back.
It was just a job. Sure, it was a job that sucked. And yeah, people hurt him sometimes, and men like Eric seemed to like to hurt him, but…
He didn’t know how to finish that sentence.
“No, I don’t,” Bruce said, solemnly, “I wouldn’t trivialize abuse by calling everything abuse. But even if I thought hitting children was acceptable, which I don’t, I would never scare you like that. You deserve to not live in fear of your guardians.”
“I don’t ‘live in fear’ of you,” Jason scoffed. He hadn’t even lived in fear of Donny, and Donny knocked one of his teeth out, one time and threatened to sell him whenever he got pissed off. Granted, it was just a baby tooth, but still.
Bruce finally looked back at him, through the mirror, and gave Jason such a skeptical look Jason couldn’t help but scowl.
“What, you think you scare me?”
“I try very hard not to,” he said, slowly. Back to his picking his words routine. “I don’t want to scare you, but yes. Sometimes, I think I do.”
What the fuck.
How did… what did Jason do to seem scared?
He didn’t think he was scared of Bruce.
Sure, sometimes Bruce startled him. Made him jump, when he suddenly talked when Jason wasn’t expecting it. Or appeared in a room. Or was just home, when Jason thought he wasn’t. But Alfred startled him, too. And he wasn’t ever scared, just… taken off guard.
Maybe he was nervous. Sometimes. Of what Bruce wanted from him. Or… maybe worried was a better word. Over whether Bruce would change his mind and take stuff away from him, like his hoody. Or school.
But scared was different. Sacred was what he was of the mob. Of crossing the Falcones and testifying against them.
Scared was like what he was, when he was really little, and his dad started slamming stuff around and screaming at his mom.
Or when the guard opened the door to let his next client in, and it was that bastard.
Which… which was stupid.
Why did he keep thinking about him?
“I’m not scared of you,” he finally said, a little numbly.
There was no reason to be scared of Bruce, and definitely no reason to be scared of a former client who couldn’t touch him.
And even if he could, and he knew where Jason was, supposedly all Jason would have to do was tell Bruce, and Bruce would tell Batman and Batman would go beat him up.
Eric should be scared of Jason.
“Okay,” Bruce said, clearly still completely not believing Jason, if his tone was any indicator, “I’m glad. But if you ever are, it’s okay. It’s okay to feel however it is you feel.”
“I’m not,” he said again, a little more tersely. Because there was literally no reason to be afraid of Bruce. And if Bruce was willing to call in favors with Batman or whatever it was he had to do to get Batman to go beat up people he thought hurt Jason...
Well. Yeah. No reason to be scared of him at all.
“Okay,” Bruce said again.
It was clear he still didn’t believe Jason, but at least he fucking dropped it.
And the rest of the way to the therapist’s office, on the south side of Gotham, all Jason could wonder about was what, then, would Bruce do if not hit him? That was… that was how people punished kids. Made them behave better by making them want to avoid the consequences. Bruce said he would ‘correct’ his behavior if he had to, so how??
Why was Bruce always so damn confusing?
Notes:
Two things:
1: Thank you Batbirdies for helping me with this chapter. ❤️ She gave me some of the dialogue to help me bridge from one part of the conversation to another, and gave me feedback on various pieces so thanks for your help. ❤️
2: I posted a companion fic to this one called Warpath, you can get to it by clicking next in series. It has one chapter so far but will have a second soon-ish, and is from Bruce's POV as he fights the mob and such as Batman and Bruce Wayne. It's slightly ahead of this fic, for the moment, but that won't last long. It is spoilers for this fic, since the info is stuff I thought the readers should know, but Jason can't know for a while because of the whole Batman secret thing. So while he'll eventually learn about everything, it won't be for quite a while. But if that's something you want to read, hit next work!!
Thanks so much for reading, guys!! ❤️ you all.
Chapter Text
They parked in a small little lot, outside an equally small office building that had a couple different businesses in it. There was the therapist’s office, which looked like it was shared by a handful of actual therapists, and then a dentist office, and a… tanning salon?
Jason was pretty sure it was a tanning salon, based on the dumb name Tan-tastic and all the suns all over the sign and windows.
Bruce opened the door leading to the therapist office, though, and motioned for Jason to walk in first.
So Jason did, and absently started chewing on the side of his cheek as he looked around the little lobby area, where there was a reception desk.
Just like any other clinic he’d ever been to.
“Can I help you?” the lady sitting behind the desk asked, smiling briefly at Jason before she looked up at Bruce.
“He’s got an appointment,” Bruce said, in a hushed tone as he stepped over to the desk, “His name is Jason Todd.”
Jason followed Bruce over to the desk, but he wasn’t tall enough to see over the desk, once they were standing up near it. He had no idea why places even had those sorts of desks, but Bruce leaned against it and started chatting with the lady, so Jason put his back against the desk and let his eyes roam around the room.
There were a lot more people than he was expecting to see at a therapist’s office. It was almost like going to a real doctor, sitting around with lots of other people waiting for appointments. The four parents sitting around all looked like extremely bored parents, as they messed around on their phones or read a magazine. There was also a kid, kneeling on the floor in front of a lego table, building Jason had no idea what. It didn’t look like anything.
But the kid was also probably three, so maybe it didn’t matter, either.
He’d never seen a play area at a clinic that actually had toys, though. They usually had a table or something, and maybe three blocks and a broken race car. This one had a ton of legos at the lego table, a whole shelf of kids books, and a toy bin filled with random things.
How old were most kids who even came here? Was Jason one of the oldest patients the doctor would have? Was therapy something usually only little kids did?
“Jay,” Bruce said, as he leaned over a bit to get in Jason’s field of vision. Jason pressed his head back against the desk and let his eyes focus on Bruce, before Bruce continued, “Let’s sit down while we wait.”
Jason looked to where Bruce was motioning with his hand, and mumbled, “Kay.” When Bruce didn’t make a move to sit down anywhere, first, Jason picked a random seat away from all the other adults and dropped down in the seat, burying his hands deep inside his pocket as he did.
Then, of course, Bruce chose to sit right next to him.
Like. In the seat exactly beside Jason.
There was like four inches between Bruce’s massive arm and Jason, and he hated it.
But getting up and moving would be obvious and would either piss Bruce off, make the other adults get all suspicious, or maybe make Bruce just frown and ask him if he was okay or some other shit.
It wasn’t like Bruce could do anything in public, anyway. At a therapist’s office.
Or… would do anything, anyway. At all.
With a slow, deep breath, Jason sank down in his seat and tried to chill the fuck out. Bruce sitting next to him wasn’t the end of the world. It was hardly bad, too. There were so many things that could be happening that were way worse than just sitting next to him.
If he’d ever had a client who just wanted to sit next to him, he probably would have been relieved. But no client was ever like that. They always wanted so much more from him. That what they’d paid for, after all.
Now he was bouncing his leg, trying to get rid of the strong desire to crawl out of his own skin and hide somewhere. Over absolutely nothing! Bruce was nice. He was the exact opposite of that bastard down the street, and he wouldn’t do anything, even if he could. Otherwise he wouldn’t have even brought Jason to this office.
Everything was fine.
Bruce leaned over, right into Jason’s space, and murmured, “You can do this, bud.”
“I know,” he snapped back, sinking down further away from Bruce, “That’s not it.”
He wasn’t nervous about the therapy appointment.
Or. Well. He was, but that wasn’t it. That wasn’t why he couldn’t sit still.
“Do you need me to do anything?” Bruce asked, his voice still a murmur. If any of the other people in the lobby could hear him, they weren’t looking over.
Go away, Jason wanted to snap at him. But it was so stupid.
And the whole, freaking out over nothing crap was the reason they were even there.
Before Jason could figure out what to say, if anything, the door separating what Jason assumed were all the offices from the lobby opened, and a little girl walked out and right straight to one of the parents sitting in the chairs. Her mom looked up immediately and asked, “How’d it go?” as she started gathering up her things.
The little girl looked younger than Jason. Like, seven, maybe. And she didn’t look like she was freaking out about anything. She didn’t answer her mom, but she did smile and grab her mom’s hand, as they started to leave the building.
If some little girl could do therapy, Jason could, too.
Probably.
A second later, the therapist walked through the door and looked around the lobby, settling her eyes right on Jason. She looked just exactly like her picture, smile and everything.
As she walked over to them, Bruce got to his feet, so Jason followed suit.
Even though his legs were starting to feel a little rubbery.
Bruce reached out and shook her hand once she stopped in front of them and greeted her with a simple, “Doctor.”
He was such a weirdo.
“Nice to see you again,” she said to Bruce. Then she turned to Jason and said, with another warm smile, “Hi there, you must be Jason. I’m Dr. Liz Guerra, but you can call me ‘Liz.’”
“Hi,” Jason said, trying his best not to mumble. His stomach decided then was the perfect time to perform a somersault.
Maybe doing this was a terrible idea.
He couldn’t talk to some stranger about stuff. He’d barely been able to tell Alfred about the guy down the street. And he knew Alfred wasn’t gonna go squealing on him.
“I’m so glad to meet you,” she said, “I’m looking forward to getting to know you.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, nodding a little as he curled his fingers in at his side. He still wanted to crawl out of his skin, but it was a little better, now that they weren’t sitting.
“We’ll be about an hour,” she said, turning to Bruce, “I’ll bring him back out here when we’re done.” Then, she motioned for Jason to follow, and started toward the door to leave.
The squirmy feeling returned tenfold, making Jason want to really go hide.
Or go home.
He wanted to go home.
First it was Bruce sitting next to him, now it was the fact he was going to have to leave Bruce and go with a stranger.
By himself.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
“Okay,” Bruce said easily. Jason looked up at him, and he had no idea what Bruce even saw on his face, but he softened and said, “You’ve got this, bud. I’ll be right out here waiting for you, okay?”
With a nod, Jason forced himself to take a step, and then another. Until he was right next to Liz and stepping through the door and into a hall.
“New things can be a little scary,” she said, as they walked, “but I’ll try my best to alleviate any concerns you have. Do you have any immediate questions you’d like to ask me?”
Jason looked up at her, a slowly shook his head. He had no idea how any of this was supposed to go, and so no clue what even to be ‘concerned’ about.
“All right,” she said, smiling again, “That’s okay. If you ever have questions for me, please don’t hesitate to ask. This door right here is my office.”
She walked inside, gesturing with her hands to the whole room. “Where would you be most comfortable sitting?” she asked, and Jason had no clue how to answer.
The problem was, there were lots of spots to sit.
Or, well. Not lots. But there was her desk, right in the middle of the room, with chairs on either side of it, kind of like Bruce’s desk in his study. Then there was a couch with some arm chairs sitting around a coffee table, all facing the windows. The view wasn’t much, though. Just of the small little grassy area between the buildings. And finally, there was a round table with several chairs around it, on the other side of the room, near some bookshelves.
He’d be comfortable anywhere.
Maybe.
Okay that was an absolute lie. But he wouldn’t be any less comfortable in any of the chairs, so he simply shrugged.
“How about we start at the table, then,” she said brightly, “if you don’t like it, we can change it up.”
With another shrug, Jason trudged over to the table and took a seat in one of the chairs at random, and his attention was drawn immediately to the stack of paper right in the middle. There was white printer paper, sitting on top of a ton of colorful construction paper, and sitting next to the paper was several cups all filled with different writing utensils. Makers, colored pencils, crayons, and some just plain ol’ pens and pencils.
It was like the craft table, back in his kindergarten class. Meant for five-year-olds.
And the little girl that came out before him was a lot younger than him.
Did usually only little kids need therapy? Was Jason on the ‘too old’ side for all this? He was turning thirteen next month, he shouldn’t be throwing fits with no clue why.
His dad used to tell him he was too old to be crying all the time when he was nine.
Thirteen was definitely too old for it.
“To start out, we need to talk about something called ‘doctor-patient confidentiality,'” Liz said, after she’d grabbed a notebook and pen from her desk and sat down at the table, across from Jason. The table was actually so big, she couldn’t reach him at all from where she was sitting. She’d be able to set something down in front of him, but that was it.
It didn’t help him relax much, but it did help just a little.
Jason nodded, only mostly listening as she basically spelled out everything Bruce had already told him. She had to report if he was being abused, and if he was a danger to himself or others, and Bruce would have access to his ‘medical records,’ but she wasn’t gonna tell Bruce the details of what they talked about.
Which was whatever. It wasn’t like Bruce didn’t already know he was messed up, anyway. Or whatever the fuck she decided on. Bruce was the one who kept having to deal with him when he started crying.
“Do you understand all that?” she asked.
When all Jason did was nod, she smiled and said, “Great! Then why don’t we get to know each other?”
After another nod and a shrug from him, she started, “I was born and raised right here in Gotham,” as she told Jason all about herself growing up in south Gotham. The rich side of town. Or… well. The richer side of town. Not Crime Alley or anything.
“For undergrad I went to Temple, over in Pennsylvania,” she said, making Jason shift in his chair a little and look back up at her.
“Is that a college?” he asked. That was what undergrad meant, right? He’d never actually known anyone who went to college. Except Dick, sort of. Even though he hadn’t started college yet.
Unless Bruce or Alfred went to college.
They probably had. Or, Bruce at least probably had. He’d been born into his wealth, there was no way he didn’t go to college.
But people had to go to college to be doctors, so Liz probably definitely went to college, too.
“It sure is,” she replied, smiling warmly at him again, “it’s in Philadelphia. For my PsyD I went to the University of Kansas.”
“That’s so far away,” he mumbled, placing one of his hands up on the table and watching as he curled his fingers up inside the sleeve, “Did you like Kansas?”
It was one of the places he used to always dream about moving to.
Just. Some random, quiet, nothing-special state.
“I had a great time there,” she said, “but I missed Gotham.”
Jason scowled, slightly, and asked, “Really?” Why would anyone miss Gotham?
“Yes,” she said, nodding thoughtfully, “My friends and family are here. And let me tell you, hotdogs in Lawrence, Kansas aren’t nearly as good as they are here in Gotham.”
“Oh,” he said, sinking back in his chair a little, trying not to smile just thinking about that.
He hadn’t thought about what food would be like, in other parts of the country. But it made sense it was different. Alfred was from England and he made some weird foods, sometimes.
Although, not even he had had a chili-dog in several years. His dad was the one who bought him his last one, way back when Jason was probably eight. Before Dad had gone and gotten himself locked up for life.
“Do you like Gotham?” she asked, and Jason merely shrugged.
No, he didn’t. But Bruce hadn’t been super happy with him over that comment, and he doubted someone who actually got away from Gotham and then came back on purpose would appreciate it, either.
Instead of answer her question, he sat back up in his chair and asked, “Do kids really color?” She had a ton of drawing stuff for it to just be decoration.
She didn’t seem at all annoyed by the change in subject, though, because she nodded and said, her voice lacking any hint of annoyance Jason might have expected, “They sure do. It’s something that helps people of all ages, but especially younger children. Would you like to draw something?”
With a shake of his head, Jason said, “I don’t know the last time I drew something.”
It was probably back in school. In, like, third grade. If that. He’d never been super into drawing or coloring, anyway.
“That’s okay,” she said, as she turned in her chair to point at the shelves behind her, “I’ve got quite a few activities if you want to try any.”
Sure enough, when Jason looked closer at all the little boxes on the shelves, there were tons of activities. Legos, play dough, beads, stickers, and just, tons of different craft things. Those knex things Bruce had given him, that he’d yet to play with. And still several more boxes he couldn’t identify. They could probably do something different every single week for months before having to repeat an activity.
“Would you like to try anything?” she asked, “Sometimes it’s easier to have a conversation if we’re doing something else at the same time, like building with legos or creating clay sculptures.”
Jason considered it for a second, but ended up shaking his head. He wasn’t a little kid, even if he was apparently seeing a therapists for little kids. He could handle having conversations without distractions.
He could.
Liz smiled again, and said, “Then why don’t you tell me about yourself.”
“Bruce said he already told you,” he said, trying his best not to start mumbling again.
Just because he could have a conversation, didn’t mean he wanted to just suddenly start talking about his old job or the fact that he kept freaking out over the notion anyone would want him to work again, anytime soon.
“He told me about a few things that have happened to you, yes,” Liz said, looking thoughtful again, “but I’d love to get to know you. Where did you grow up?”
“Oh.”
What was the difference? he wondered. He was what he’d done. That’s what people always said: You are what you do.
Though he could probably answer about where he ‘grew up’ pretty easily.
“Crime Alley,” he said, just to tilt his head and reconsider. He was only twelve. He was technically still ‘growing up.’ “Until a month ago, I guess. Now I live in Bristol.”
Did that mean if he stayed in Bristol, one day way in the future when someone asked, he would say he was from Bristol?
Could an Alley rat like him even claim Bristol? Was that allowed?
Apparently Liz didn’t think anything weird about that, because she nodded and asked, “Is there anything you like to do for fun, in your free time?”
“Uh,” he stammered, as he pulled on the hem of one of his sleeves. What did any of this have to do with anything? “Read, I guess.”
“Me too,” Liz said brightly, “Do you have a favorite book?”
But Jason just shrugged, and mumbled, “I don’t know. I like lots of books.”
“It’s hard to pick, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said, with another shrug, “Bruce has a giant library and lets me take any book I want.” It was hard to look at literally thousands of books and say ‘this is my favorite one.’
So many were good. And he hadn’t even read all of them. How could he know one book was the absolute best, when there were hundreds in front of him he’d yet to read?
“That sounds amazing,” Liz said, twirling her pen in her hand a little. She’d yet to write anything down, but also they weren’t talking about anything.
But she was right. “It is,” he admitted, smiling a ghost of a smile, “Most days I get to read an entire book.”
Once upon a time, that amount of time for reading had been a mere dream.
Now it was his life.
Liz returned his smile, and started telling him about why Harry Potter was her favorite book.
And that was pretty much how the whole appointment went.
They talked about lots of things, and absolutely nothing all at the same time. She asked him about his school, and he got to hear about what kind of education she needed to be a ‘child psychologist.’ They didn’t venture into talking about Jason being a whore or his inability to sleep or the fact he cried over nothing all the time even once.
By the time the appointment was drawing to an end, Jason had decided he liked her. She was nice, and fun to talk to, but he had no idea how anything they talked about was supposed to help him at all.
But then she said, “Next week, we’ll start talking about what goals you want to set for our time together,” and he realized that probably no appointment would ever go that easy again.
Would he still like her? Once she started making him talk about stuff?
He didn’t want to talk about some stuff.
When she asked, “Do you have any questions for me?” Jason couldn’t help but ask about his actual concern.
“I don’t have to talk about stuff, right?”
Liz tilted her head, and asked, “Can you elaborate what you mean?”
“Like,” he started, trying to fucking read her. He couldn’t tell if she was happy or upset or what with his question. “If I don’t want to talk about something, you won’t make me, right? Bruce said I don’t have to talk about stuff if I don’t want to.”
“No,” she said, in an agreeable tone, “I will never push you to talk about something if you are not ready to talk about it.”
Jason nodded, but before he could even parse out what she’d actually said, she added, “I do think it’s important to talk about things, however. For example, if you are having trouble getting past a specific thought, or perhaps you keep having a nightmare over and over, it’s very difficult for us to explore what the cause might be and talk about ways to cope with it or combat it if you don’t tell me anything about it.”
“I guess…”
He wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to just tell her, ‘yeah I have dreams about Bruce banging me.’ How would she even react? Foster parents weren’t supposed to do that, and that’s what Bruce always called himself. Would she think Jason’s dreaming about it because it actually happened? Would she call the cops on Bruce?
Or… would she just side with pretty much everyone Jason had ever known, and say it was just his job and he needed to get over it? Jason was trying. He didn’t know why now he kept getting upset about it, even though it wasn’t even happening!
“But to your concern,” she said, her face softening a little as she did, “No. I will never force you to tell me something. We’ll go about this at your pace.”
“Okay.” he said, even as he kind of tuned her out for the rest of the appointment.
She went on to remind him about how they had ‘doctor-patient’ confidentiality, and explain that she thought they should meet once a week for now, but could change that later on, but he wasn’t really listening.
Because she’d basically told him that while he wouldn’t be forced, he’d still have to talk about stuff.
If he wanted anything to get better, he had to talk about what was even upsetting him in the first place.
Which was just great.
Absolutely fantastic.
He wasn’t looking forward to any of that.
At least the whole ‘confidentiality’ thing meant she wouldn’t go telling the mob he’d told on them. Hopefully…
Chapter 39
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When Jason got back to the lobby, walking just in front of Liz, Bruce looked exactly like all the other adults sitting around. There were different parents, now, and the little kid playing with legos was gone, but they all looked the same.
Sitting there, messing around on their phones, obviously bored out of their minds.
Were the other adults also foster parents? Did lots of foster kids do therapy?
Several adults looked up when the door opened, but all but Bruce went back to their phones when they saw Jason wasn’t their kid. Bruce smiled, and got to his feet as Jason and Liz approached.
“How’d it go?” Bruce asked, reaching a hand as if to set it on Jason’s head. He didn’t, though. Just hovered it behind Jason for a second before he dropped it.
Jason shrugged.
“I enjoyed getting to know Jason,” Liz said, still smiling her warm smile, “I think going forward we should meet once a week. We can change the frequency down the line, if necessary.”
“Okay,” Bruce agreed. He looked down at Jason and asked, “Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging again.
Liz pulled a business card from her jacket pocket and said, “Great! In that case, here is my card for you, Bruce. It has my cell number on there, in case you ever need to call me outside business hours. I can’t promise I will always answer, but I try my best.”
Why would they need to call her? Jason wondered, as Bruce took the card and slipped it into his wallet.
“Thank you, doctor,” he said, shaking her hand again.
“Claire over here can get your appointments set up. If this time works for you, I have it open each week currently, but there are a couple other options.”
“What do you think, kiddo,” Bruce asked, as he motioned for Jason to follow him over to the reception desk where, apparently, Claire was sitting.
With another shrug, Jason said, “It works.”
It wasn’t like he had much else going on in his life, after all. Nothing to clear from his calendar to make room for this. Until he started school…
Would he keep going to therapy once he had school? Like, would he leave school to go to his appointment each week? Or would they reschedule it to be outside school hours…?
“Thanks again, Doctor,” Bruce said, as Liz bid them both goodbye.
Jason shoved his hands into his pocket while Bruce started chatting with Claire again.
Claire went into a whole spiel about how the appointment block was theirs now, until the doctor changes the frequency. So apparently even during the school year, Jason would have his appointment at 10:45 every Friday.
Then she asked, “How would you like to arrange payment? We can do an auto payment, monthly bill, or discuss payment plans if necessary.”
“How much does it cost?” Jason asked, standing up on his tip toes so he could see over the high ledge of the desk. He should have realized therapy cost money. The therapist had to make her money somehow.
He just… hadn’t thought about it.
Did it cost a lot?
“That doesn’t matter,” Bruce said quickly, as he handed his credit card to Claire, “Just set up an auto payment on that.”
“Yes it does,” Jason said, scowling at Bruce. Of course it mattered.
“No, it doesn’t,” Bruce said, almost mimicking Jason’s tone. He turned back to Claire and asked, “Do you ever have patients quit because they cannot afford it?”
Jason stepped to the side, to where the desk was shorter so Claire could see the front door, and tried to see what Claire was charging to the card.
He couldn’t, but he did see Claire frown and nod.
“Hm,” Bruce hummed. He nodded thoughtfully for a moment, then pulled a card out of his suit jacket pocket and handed it to Claire, “I’ll get the Wayne Foundation to contact you. We can set up a scholarship type thing where you can bill us for anyone’s treatment if they cannot afford it. We don’t have to know anything about anything, just that it’s a child in need.”
Claire paused, in her typing on the computer, and studied the name on the credit card in her hand. “Oh,” she whispered, like she’d only just noticed who he was.
How did someone not know who Bruce Wayne was? Even Jason had known that and he lived under a rock, basically. He didn’t pay attention to TV or news and kept to himself as much as possible, before het actually met Bruce.
“Wow,” she said, after a moment, “That would be incredible, Mr. Wayne. Thank you.”
“I’ll get them on that later today,” he said, as he took his credit card and a stack of papers back from her. He started flipping through the pages and signed everywhere he needed to as he said, “I’m sure the lawyers can figure out how they need to set it up.”
So…
Bruce was just gonna… pay for other kids’ therapy, too? Not just Jason’s?
Did he really not care about money, then? Jason could think of dozens of reasons why he would spend a ton of money on Jason. All the different ways Bruce could benefit from it. But random other kids? He was never going to meet?
Just the fact that he said he didn’t need to know ‘anything about anything’ meant he couldn’t benefit at all from paying for it all.
And he kept saying he didn’t spend money on Jason to… get anything out of it. He just did it because Jason needed stuff, or sometimes just because Bruce thought he wanted the things, and he swore up and down he didn’t care how much he spent. The money didn’t matter to him.
Which, which… was wild.
If money did matter to him, he wouldn’t be offering this to the therapists’ office.
“Jay, buddy,” Bruce said, as he leaned over again into Jason’s line of sight, snapping Jason out of his thoughts, “Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” he said, pushing off from where he’d leaned back against the desk. Bruce gestured for the door, and let Jason lead the way back to the Tesla.
“Do you like French pastries?” Bruce asked, once they were outside and Bruce had caught up to walk beside Jason.
Jason looked up at him, furrowing his brow as he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever had one?” Bruce asked the most random questions, sometimes.
“Would you like to try one?”
They got to the Tesla, and Bruce unlocked it by opening the door for Jason. So Jason slid into the back seat and asked, “Why?” as he did.
Bruce waited until he’d shut Jason’s door and got in himself, before he said, “Well, there’s a place a few blocks down I really like I thought we could go to. We’ve used them to cater a few times, and they sell all sorts of sweets and drinks at their shop. I thought you might enjoy it.”
“But why,” Jason repeated. Wasn’t it close to lunch time? Shouldn’t they be coming home for lunch? Alfred had said he would have it ready for them when they got home.
“Well,” Bruce said, slowly, “I just thought, therapy can be hard. It’s… just a difficult thing to get through, sometimes. So maybe we could make it a routine to get something sweet after, as a treat. Something for you to look forward to each week.”
“Like… a reward?” Jason asked, a little skeptically. Like Alfred’s M&M’s at the check out for ‘being good?’
He… he wouldn’t turn down a sweet, but he didn’t need it, either. He could do stuff and behave and such without the promise of sweets after.
“In a way, yeah. For making it through.”
“Okay,” Jason said, dubiously. As long as Bruce was telling the truth, and it really was just for ‘making it through.’ And not a bribe. For…well. He supposed Bruce had nothing to bribe him for, so far.
And maybe never would. If he really cared about random kids as much as he said he did.
“Are you really going to pay for other kids’ therapy, too,” he asked, as Bruce started to drive them to wherever the pastry place was.
Or, well, he plugged in the address on the little computer, and the car started to drive them. Bruce just had to put his hand on the wheel, because the screen kept reminding him to do that.
“Of course,” Bruce said, turning back to look at Jason briefly before turning back to the road, “if they tell the Wayne Foundation someone needs assistance, they’ll provide it.”
“Oh, so it’s not you,” Jason said, as he puzzled that through, “it’s one of your companies?”
Bruce tilted his head back and forth, before he responded, “Sort of. It’s a charity organization I own, that I have staff and lawyers hired to so they can handle everything and I don’t have to worry about it. All the money comes straight from me, Wayne Enterprises, and from donations we elicit from other people. If the foundation can’t cover a cost of one of our ventures, I’ll make up the difference.”
“What ventures do they do?”
“All sorts of things,” Bruce responded, “There are two main charities under it, and The Martha Wayne Foundation will be what handles this. It focuses on taking care of families and children, specifically, in Gotham.”
“Like?” Jason prodded. He’d never even heard of these things. Not once! He’d heard a lot about Bruce Wayne, but no one ever talked about the fact he apparently owned a bunch of charities and gave bunches of money to them.
“Like, it runs an orphanage, provides scholarships to orphaned or disadvantaged children to help them attend good schools like Gotham Academy and college, and supports women's shelters and food banks across the city.”
“Oh,” Jason said, basically because he couldn’t think of anything better to say.
He’d had no idea Bruce… cared. About any of that stuff. About anyone but himself and Dick and Alfred, maybe. No, definitely Alfred. And then Jason, he guessed. At least enough to get him away from Donny and tell Batman about how he thought Donny was hurting Jason and Batman needed to fix that. Shut down the house and get all the other boys away, too.
Maybe Jason should have realized Bruce cared about other people, just over that. Why else would he have done that if he didn’t?
Why would he have taken Jason in the first place? Paid a ton of money for him, just to keep Donny from beating Jason over not being able to get a man who wasn’t a pedophile to want to fuck him. Because that’s what Bruce had said, way back at the beginning. He only paid Donny so Donny wouldn’t be able to hurt him for Bruce not accepting his advances.
Jason pulled his phone out, and tried googling ‘Bruce Wayne’ in his web browser.
Predictably, the first several results were about Wayne Enterprises, and links to his wikipedia page and such, but down in the news section were tons of articles.
Tons.
About... Jason.
Apparently.
About how Bruce Wayne had been caught with Donny Falcone, the day before he was busted. And that Bruce had been spotted with an unidentified boy after the meeting.
Exactly like the Commissioner said would happen. Flipping through the articles, Jason didn’t see his name anywhere, or any pictures of himself, so at least there was that. He wasn’t really keen on having the whole world know his name.
But even when Bruce was helping, the whole media was lying about him. And claiming all over the place that he was a pedophile, and it was only a matter of time before the FBI arrested him. Since, apparently, there was an investigation. Or something.
With a scowl, Jason backed out to the search result page, and typed out ‘Eric Beaumont.’ He wished he knew the full name of a different client. Of any other client, so he didn’t have to waste a single second thinking about that loser, but none of them ever told him that sort of thing. He only knew Eric’s last name because Alfred told him it. Usually clients had him call them nicknames or titles or some bullshit. Or just their first name.
Which was whatever. It wasn’t like Jason ever told them his name, either.
The search results for the bastard looked absolutely nothing like Bruce’s. There wasn’t even a news section, on the front page. There was a link to his LinkedIn, whatever that was, and a few links directly to older news articles mixed in with the regular results, but nothing from recent news like with Bruce.
No articles about how he was under investigation. No accusations of being a pedophile.
Nothing.
It was such a travesty.
Why did the media act like Bruce was the monster when people like Eric Beaumont existed?
The pastry shop Bruce was talking about was a small store front a little further into the city. The window boasted a display of all sorts of sweets, only a few of which Jason actually recognized. He paused to look at them a little wide eyed while Bruce opened the front door for him.
“There’s more inside,” Bruce said, smiling a little as Jason finally looked away from the window.
“How?” he mumbled, shuffling his feet to go inside, at Bruce’s further motioning.
“Mr. Wayne!” a heavily accented voice cheered, the second Bruce stepped into the store after Jason, making Jason cringe, a little, “Good to see you. Will we be having a big party soon?”
“Hi, Marcie,” Bruce said, shooing Jason further into the store with a hand, “Not until October, I think. Alfred keeps track of all that for me.”
They were having a big party? Why was Bruce having a big party? What would it even be like?
Jason had been to several rich people parties and he most certainly did not was to repeat any of that.
Ever.
Who was going to be at the party? Would Jason have to attend?
He really hoped not because even if Bruce was honest and Jason never had to work again, he didn’t want to watch any of that shit, either.
Why were they having a party??
“Ah yes, a good man,” Marie replied, smiling wide once Jason finally approached the massive bakery display near the counter. Her smile was in huge contrast to the dread Jason could feel coiling deep in his stomach.
“What brings you here today?” she asked, turning her attention back to Bruce.
“We’re just here for a treat,” Bruce said, as he stopped behind Jason. He almost expected Bruce to put a hand on his back, but of course he didn’t.
Marcie somehow smiled even wider as she cheered, “Excellent! What do you want, little one? Children get first choice.”
“Uh,” Jason stammered, his eyes darting between the zillions of pastries and up at Bruce, still standing right behind him, “I don’t know.”
The only thing he recognized was the pies. But he didn’t like pie. Not really. He could definitely order a piece of… lemon pie. At least, he thought it was lemon pie, but how was it a treat? If he didn’t even like it?
Bruce knelt down beside him, so they were at eye level, and started pointing out different options. “For a first try, I suggest trying one of the classics,” he said, “The eclairs here are great. If you like chocolate, the chocolate eclairs is my favorite. The lemon tart there is very good, too, if you don’t want chocolate or overly sweet.” Pointing over at another case filled with dozens and dozens brightly colored cookie sandwiches, he added, “And the macarons are great. We usually order quite a few of those for our galas.”
Galas.
Not a party. A gala.
He knew that. Bruce had told him that they had galas sometimes. Rich people balls, or whatever. Way fancier than the types of parties Jason had ever been brought to. Galas were the type of parties men brought their wives to, not their whores.
It still meant the men would be there, though…
“We also have cheesecake and mousse cups,” Marcie said, drawing Jason’s eyes back up to her, “Mr. Wayne orders a bunch of those, too.”
Bruce nodded, and said, “The mousse cups are Dick’s favorite.”
Jason stepped away from Bruce, and started inspecting all the little macrons for a moment, reading all the flavor cards next to each different color.
“You have cinnamon rolls?” Bruce asked, a moment later, sounding genuinely intrigued.
“Yes, yes,” Marcie said, “My niece requested them, had some left over I thought I’d try out. They’ve been selling well.”
“Well I am trying a cinnamon roll,” Bruce announced, “What about you, Jase? Anything catching your eye?”
“I guess a chocolate eclair,” he mumbled, trotting back over to where Bruce was, in front of the eclairs.
Nothing was really ‘catching his eye,’ but he liked chocolate fine, so whatever.
“Perfect!” Marcie exclaimed, as she grabbed a couple plates and went about pulling out the two pastries.
While she was doing that, Bruce ordered some super complex sounding espresso, and then turned to Jason and asked, “Do you want a drink?” When Jason just stared, he pointed over at a little fridge, filled with different bottled drinks, so Jason went over and picked himself out a little jug of milk.
Bruce struck up another conversation with Marcie, while he was paying for their order, so Jason started looking through all the little pastries he hadn’t seen already.
There were a bunch of signs scattered about, too, talking about what could be ordered for catering, what they could make ‘mini,’ and what sort of custom orders they did.
None of the kind of parties Jason had been to ever had catering, either. So there was that, too. Another difference between Bruce’s gala and the parties he was used to.
Those parties rented out boys. Not catering.
Like Eric and his stupid fucking ‘party.’ Jason had been to more after Donny banned Eric from taking boys home, but Eric was almost always there, too.
Alfred said Eric wasn’t invited to any of the Wayne events anymore.
“Come get your plate, Jase,” Bruce said, already holding his cinnamon roll in one hand, his espresso in a fancy little teacup on a saucer in the other.
Bruce led him over to a small table on the far side of the cafe, as far away from the counter as possible. Once Bruce handed him a fork, they both started eating their treats.
And that was pretty much how the whole rest of the visit went.
Jason ate his eclair slowly, taking his time to taste the flavor of the cream stuff inside, and the icing on top. It was pretty good, he had to admit. Maybe not his favorite thing ever, but he’d get it again.
The only problem was it was huge. Absolutely gigantic, and the mere thought of eating the entire thing made him a little nauseous… after only eating a few bites of it.
Bruce tried his best to get Jason to talk, by asking him random questions. He asked, “What do you think of Dr. Liz,” at one point, but Jason just shrugged.
“She’s nice I guess.”
“I’m glad,” Bruce said, with a nod.
And then they were silent again.
It was honestly so weird. Jason still didn’t even understand the point of being there.
But they kept eating in mostly silence, until Bruce had long since finished off his whole cinnamon roll, despite it being huge, and drank his entire espresso. Jason had slowed down significantly, and had barely finished half the eclair.
Half of it.
“What do you think of it?” Bruce asked, nudging the edge of Jason’s plate a little.
“It’s good,” he said, with a shrug, “Really sweet.”
Bruce frowned, as he straightened up his fork on his plate. “If you aren’t a fan of sweet, we can try something else next week.”
“I like sweet,” he said quickly. Because he did. The eclair was fine. Good even. “It’s just too much.”
“Okay,” Bruce said, “I’ll go grab you a box and we can take it home.”
Bruce made quick work of getting a to-go box and boxing up Jason’s left overs before they were heading back to the car, Jason carrying his half empty milk and box in his hands.
“Think about what you want to do for your treat next week,” Bruce said, once they were outside, “We can do whatever you want, it doesn’t have to be pastries. There’s all sorts of snacks we can get in Gotham, or we can even get an early lunch. Whatever you want.”
“Okay,” was all Jason could really think to say.
He still didn’t understand what it was all about, but he supposed the only thing he could do was take Bruce at his word.
What else would it even be about? If not for exactly what he claimed: a treat?
There was nothing to bribe Jason into being silent about. Nothing to apologize to him for. And Bruce didn’t consider Jason in debt in order to make Jason pay him back in favors.
In order to get back to Bristol, they had to drive right through the heart of Gotham. Bruce pointed out some things, as they drove, but for the most part kept quiet.
They passed right by Wayne Enterprises, and Bruce said, “Someday I’ll give you a tour of the building,” but for the most part let it be.
Jason wasn’t sure if that would even be a good idea. If Bruce kept taking Jason out into public, and did stuff like tour him around his own company, right in front of all his zillions of employees, there was no way it wouldn’t make it into the news that Bruce still had the whore kid he’d got from Donny’s.
If everyone found out, and Jason’s picture went all over the place, that meant people who knew him would find out his real name.
And where he lived.
What if one of his clients tracked him down? What if one of the mob tracked him down? All over that?
Someone jealous that Bruce got to keep Jason, who wanted their own forever-boy, too. Instead of Bruce? Even though that’s not what Jason was, with the way the news was talking about Bruce it wasn’t like anyone would think any differently.
Jason sank further down into his chair, until his seatbelt was almost touching his neck.
He was being stupid. Really, really stupid.
So what if all of Gotham found out about him? It didn’t actually change anything. Bruce was still not a pedophile, and Alfred was still there, taking care of him and offering to banish all his former clients from everything Wayne-related.
Plus, Alfred had said, all Jason had to do was tell Bruce.
Tell Bruce and then Bruce would tell Batman.
Who apparently would go beat anyone up, just because Jason asked.
Instead of Jason being the one getting beat up, to teach him to stay in his place, it was all the assholes out there, who thought Jason had a place to stay in.
All he had to do was tell Bruce…
But how did Bruce even know Batman? That still didn’t make any sense.
Bruce was just some rich dude from Bristol.
Batman worked in Gotham. Not in Bristol. Not really in Crime Alley, either, which was closest to Bristol out of all the little neighborhoods in Gotham. But even then, Batman went into Crime Alley way more than he did Bristol.
It made no sense that Bruce knew Batman… but he knew Alfred wouldn’t lie to him. And how else would Batman have found out about Jason?
Gordon could have told him, he supposed.
But Batman went looking for Jason’s stuff, and Bruce brought it to him the next morning.
And Alfred wouldn’t lie to him.
“Hey Bruce,” Jason asked, drumming his fingers against his knees. It couldn’t hurt to just ask…
Probably.
Sure enough, Bruce looked back at him, through the mirror, and asked, “Yeah, bud?”
“Do you really know Batman?” He was pretty sure Alfred wouldn’t lie to him, but maybe he exaggerated a little.
Bruce looked so startled by the question, Jason wasn’t even sure how to take it. Did he not, then? Or was it a major secret Jason wasn’t supposed to know about?
He did seem to keep a lot of secrets from Jason…
“What makes you ask?” Bruce said, basically confirming it. No one ever said that when the answer was ‘no.’
They only said it when the answer was ‘yes’ but it was supposed to be a secret.
Well too bad, because Alfred told him.
“Alfred said you had connections and that Batman could get one of my clients locked up, as if Batman was one of your connections.” Really, it couldn’t get any more clear than that.
Instead of actually answer Jason’s question, though, Bruce immediately shot back with, “Which client?”
Which… was maybe kind of an admission.
Why else would he even be asking? If not to go tell Batman?
Did— Did Jason really want to squeal on him, though? Eric Beaumont was awful, and he kind of hoped Batman got all the houses so no other boy had to deal with him.
Because he sucked.
But if Eric found out it was Jason that told…
“If I told you,” he ventured, carefully, “and you told Batman, what would he do? Would he, like, tell the guy it was me that squealed on him?”
“No,” Bruce said, firmly, “I would never do that. Batman would never do that. Your name and involvement wouldn’t be recorded anywhere.”
“Then how would Batman get him locked up?” He sat back in his seat and tried to puzzle that one out. How would that even work? Wouldn’t the bastard need to, like, know who his accuser was? Wasn’t that what they always talked about on TV? That unless the ‘victims’ testified, the ‘bad guy’ would walk free?
“I know that fucking kids is illegal,” he started, turning his gaze down to his sleeve hem, so he didn’t have to see whatever look Bruce was gonna give him, “but no one really cares about it. Especially when it’s the kid’s job.”
Except Bruce, apparently. And Alfred.
“And without the kid testifying, it’s not like they’ll get convicted anyway.” All that would happen, as far as Jason could figure, is Eric would get beat up and then the cops would release him.
Like the always do.
Because the cops were in on it, too.
But maybe it’d be worth it, just to see Eric get beat up. Just as payback from all the times he… he was so mean.
“Would Batman even care?” he asked, “It’s not like he’s fucking me now. Or even can. I’m okay now.” Just because Jason would like to see the bastard missing some teeth, didn’t mean Batman wanted to waste his time on a guy who wouldn’t even stay in jail more than five minutes.
“I assure you,” Bruce said, quickly, “Batman most certainly cares. Pedophiles need to be locked up, regardless of whether they’re abusing children right this second, or have only done so in the past. Anyone who has ever laid a hand on a child in such a manner needs to be removed from society so they cannot hurt more children, and Batman will do everything he can to ensure that happens.”
Right.
Because… because.
Because the bastard hurting him on purpose was abuse. Or… or at least a crime. It was illegal to hurt kids on purpose, for no reason at all.
And to fuck them.
And… to hurt them… while…
Jason took a shuddery breath in, and tried to stay level. He didn’t know why he cared.
Why did he care? He didn’t even cry while it was happening. Why would he be like this now?
And why would Batman even care?
Because Bruce cares, his brain so unhelpfully supplied. Because it made his eyes start to sting all the worse.
“You really asked Batman to beat Donny up for me?” he asked, having to squeeze his hands together tightly, into fists, just to keep from bursting out into tears right there. “Like, he went and found my bear and my picture and made sure none of us had to work again? All because you told him about me?”
All because Bruce thought it was terrible that Jason didn’t have his bear and picture? Once he got rescued?
“Kiddo,” Bruce said, but paused. Because he abruptly turned off the auto-pilot and pulled the car off onto the side of the road, right outside Gotham. Once he had the car in park and the hazards on, he turned around and locked eyes with Jason, promising, “Batman does what he does to protect the children of Gotham. To protect all the little boys out there, just like you, from crime and violence. To try and ensure they each have the opportunity to have a childhood, and to grow up happy and healthy, in the way every child deserves to do. So, yes, Batman absolutely would do anything for you, to protect you. If you tell me the name of anyone who has touched you, Batman will make sure he is locked up, okay?”
Jason didn’t know how to handle that. His bottom lip started to wobble so bad, he had to bite it to make it stop.
Why was he even upset? It was so dumb.
“I didn’t usta care,” he said, finally giving in and letting a sob out. Each one he let out, just made way to more, and no matter what he did he couldn’t stop.
But Bruce didn’t care.
Bruce never cared.
He just sat there, waiting patiently, while Jason absolutely lost it.
“I don’t know why I care now,” he cried harder, bringing his knees up to his chest so he could hide his face in them, “but he was always so mean.”
Why did he have to be so mean? He’d always snap at Jason, smack him around, act like Jason wasn’t doing what he wanted, but he was. He did everything asked of him. Immediately, without attitude. He knew the drill.
Yet it was never good enough for him. It wasn’t even the pretend mean some dudes were into, the pretend punishments and shit, it was real, and it was scary.
Even though Donny banned him from taking Jason away anymore, because of how mean he got, him and his friends, Donny still let him come to the house. And rent Jason out, at least once a month. And let his friends bring him home.
“He always made sure it hurt,” he cried, “Always. I hated him so much.”
It was never anything less than painful. And so many times it was worse.
And he was never the last client of the night.
“Who, Jason,” Bruce asked, softly, almost soothingly, “Just tell me, and Batman will find a way to get him put away.”
“You promise?” Jason asked, his voice nearly breaking. He never wanted to see the bastard again.
In fact, if the bastard died, that would be okay with Jason.
Jason pulled his hand away from his face, and locked eyes with Bruce as Bruce said, “I swear to you,” so seriously, Jason couldn’t not believe him.
He didn’t know why Bruce would even care, but he knew if he thought too hard about it, he’d never stop crying ever again.
“Eric Beaumont,” he said quickly, before he changed his mind.
“The litigator?” Bruce asked, sounding almost confused.
Jason sniffled, and tried to get control over himself by taking a few deep breaths, before he looked back up and said, “I don’t know.” It took another breath, but he added, “He lives in the green house down the road.”
“Okay,” Bruce said, gently, “Okay. Batman will deal with him, okay? He’ll find a way to get him arrested. To get his kids away from him, and make sure he never has access to any others, all right?”
Okay, okay, all right?
Just the fact Bruce always said that, always asked what Jason thought, how he felt… made him want to start crying again.
“He—he liked to record stuff,” he said hastily, “tell him that. Alfred said that would help.”
“Okay,” Bruce repeated, sounding a little uneasy about it. But then he said, “Thank you for telling me, Jason. I’m—I’m proud of you, for being so brave,” and Jason lost it again.
How was it brave to rat someone out?
Or… or… maybe it was. Because he was going up against the mob. Even though Bruce promised they wouldn’t find out, he was still squealing on them.
Squealing on their clientele.
Jason hugged his knees a little tighter and asked, “Can we just go home?” At least at the manor, he knew the mob couldn’t get him. The bastard couldn’t get him.
No one could get him, because Bruce and Alfred and the security system would protect him.
And, more than anything, Jason just wanted to go up to his room and curl up on his couch, where no one could get him.
He wanted to be alone. In his room. With his bear. Because what he really wanted was for his mom to hug him, and tell him everything was going to be all right.
But she couldn’t, she couldn’t, and the closest thing he had was her old teddy-bear, from when she was a little girl.
“I want to go home,” he said, hiding his face completely, so he could cry into his knees again.
But Bruce didn’t fight him. Didn’t try to make him keep talking, or anything.
He just said, “Yeah, bud,” softly, in almost a whisper as Jason felt the car start to move again.
“Anything you want.”
It was a lie. Jason couldn’t have anything he wanted, but at least it was a nice lie.
Notes:
I stayed up way too late working on this 😅 I am gonna hateeee myself in the morning, but also I couldn't stop until I had it done. Especially since that last like 2k words had me basically crying the whole time 😂
This fic is officially caught up to Warpath, so if you were holding off reading that because of spoilers, you can go ahead and read it now. The next chapter of warpath actually happens between this chapter and the next chapter of this, so it won't really be spoiler-y. But we'll see. I don't know which fic I'll update next, I kind of have been flipping between the two as I figure out what, exactly, is the fallout from this conversation.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. And thanks for all your comments on the previous chapters, I really appreciate them. ❤️
Chapter 40
Summary:
That's one small step for Bruce... one giant leap... for Alfred
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason woke up the next morning with the awful headache that came along with crying way too much the day before.
It was stupid how normal it felt. He spent too much time crying anymore. Over stupid shit that never once bothered him before.
At least he slept well, he thought, as he tried to scrub away all evidence of crying from his face in the shower. He’d skipped dinner the night before, but it hadn’t mattered since he had snacks. And the rest of his pastry. Alfred had put a few water bottles outside his door, as well, while he and Bruce were out in the morning. So now he had water stored away in his room, too.
If he didn’t want to leave his room at all all day, there was literally nothing making him. At all. He could do his schoolwork, eat, drink, use the bathroom, everything. In his bedroom. And while there wasn’t a lock on the door, Bruce and Alfred acted like there was. Neither of them went further than Bruce’s bedroom door when Jason was in his room.
That was probably why he’d slept so well.
Now if only he could convince his head to stop freaking out over the bed…
The text for breakfast came while he was getting dressed, so Jason slipped on his nice, clean Batman hoody and made his way downstairs, without even ‘opening’ the text. Bruce hadn’t said anything more than it was ready, anyway.
When Jason stepped into the dining room, however, he had to pause.
Because Bruce looked… so fucking pleased. He wasn’t smiling, and he looked so exhausted, like maybe he didn’t sleep at all all night, but he was holding himself proudly, as he read the newspaper. And when he looked up at Jason, he did smile a little proudly as he said, “Good morning, Jay.”
“Hi,” Jason said, as he went ahead and shuffled in, to his normal chair a few down from Bruce. He didn’t quite know how to react to Bruce being… whatever, so he figured ignoring it was the better option.
But Bruce seemed intent on having a conversation, because he immediately asked, “How are you feeling today?”
“Fine,” Jason responded, shoving his hands into his hoody pocket and sinking down into his chair. He much preferred when he and Bruce ate in silence.
Bruce hummed, as he folded his paper and set it down in front of himself. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah.” Where was Alfred with their food when Jason needed him?
“That’s good,” Bruce said, nodding a little. Jason looked back up at him, just to see Bruce back to his super fucking proud look, “Did-“ he started, but Jason cut him off.
“What’s with your face?”
Which startled Bruce, a little. He blinked at Jason, once, before his smile morphed into something more… fond.
Like he was doing more and more often, lately.
It still made Jason’s stomach churn, a little, so he looked away as he started twisting his fingers together, inside his pocket.
“I was reading the news,” Bruce explained, after another second had passed. He picked up the paper and unfolded it, then stood up a little so he could reach across and put it down right in front of Jason.
And Jason furrowed his brow, as he started reading the headline, right there on the front page.
LAWYER ARRESTED ON CHILD MOLESTATION AND OTHER CHARGES
Right underneath was a picture of the bastard, too. Looking half lucid as he’s dragged away in cuffs by FBI agents. He didn’t seem to know what was going on, but was still scowling hard and obviously barking out orders, trying to make everyone around him bend to his will, anyway.
Like the asshole he was.
The picture didn’t even look like it was taken at his house, either. So somehow the FBI had found him not at home? And surprised him? The night Jason told on him?
“Already?” he asked, his voice sounding much more steady than his hand looked, when he finally pulled it from his pocket so he could pick the paper up and read the article.
“Yep,” Bruce said, almost brightly, “Batman broke into his house and found plenty of evidence to put him and a dozen other men away for life. Beaumont got picked up by the FBI just after midnight last night. The rest will happen over the next 48 hours or so.”
“Oh,” Jason whispered. The article said almost none of that. Just that Batman and the FBI had identified Beaumont as a frequent customer of the Falcone’s ‘child sex rings.’
And that he was being held in federal custody. Without bond.
How did… no Jason knew how Bruce knew extra information. Batman told him.
So Batman was tracking down all the other dudes, too? All of Beaumont’s friends? Jason hadn’t even asked for that.
But… he wouldn’t be against it, either. As long as his name stayed out of it.
“It doesn’t appear he abused his children,” Bruce continued, after a moment, “at least, not sexually, but the county is investigating anyway. Right now they’re being placed in the custody of their grandparents.”
“Oh,” Jason said again. Because… he hadn’t even thought that maybe he’d hurt his own kids.
Was that something any of his clients did? He couldn’t imagine his dad ever doing anything like that, but then again, his dad wasn’t a pedophile.
His dad actually hated kids. Except Jason, of course. Dad liked Jason. Usually.
“How’d Batman find the other people?” Jason asked, finally looking back over at Bruce. Would Batman have told him everything?
“You were right about videos,” he said, matter of factly, “He seemed to record everything. And in several videos there were other men, who were recognizable if not on sight, by facial recognition.”
That made sense. “He liked having parties,” Jason said, nodding a little. It made sense that the other dudes had been in the videos, too.
Bruce stilled, though, and actually looked vaguely sick for a moment before he said, “Yes. So he did. But he’s in custody and is probably never getting out, and all his friends will be joining him soon. They can have all the parties they want, in federal prison.”
Heh.
That bastard was probably gonna hate jail. No one would take his orders there.
“My dad said pedophiles get beat up all the time in jail,” Jason said. Dad used to talk about prison, and how it wasn’t that bad, if you weren’t one of the pedophiles. Those guys had it rough, apparently. If Dad was telling him the truth. “Is that true?”
Bruce smiled a ghost of a smile, before he nodded and said, “They sure do. And worse.”
“Worse?” What was worse than getting beat up all the time?
“Well,” Bruce stammered, as his expression went a little distant, “Let’s just say, no one likes child rapists. They won’t find any friends in there.”
“But it wasn’t-“ Jason started, just to be interrupted by Alfred finally coming into the room with breakfast.
“Sorry about the wait, lads,” he said, as he pushed his cart over to the table, “the quiche took a little longer to bake this morning.”
“That’s okay,” Jason said, at the same time Bruce said, “No worries.”
“What were you saying, Jase?” Bruce asked, as Alfred cut the quiche and served both Bruce and Jason a slice.
“Nothing.” He didn’t really want to talk about it, anyway.
“All right.” Bruce nodded a thanks to Alfred as he refilled Bruce’s coffee, and started serving himself different sides.
Jason looked around at all the options, and decided he really only wanted some of the bacon, that was clearly left over from the day before. Since there were only a few pieces.
And there was bacon inside the quiche.
“One of the men identified is a member of the board at Wayne Enterprises,” Bruce said, back to his matter-of-fact voice. Jason was kind of jealous that he could detach himself from what he was saying so easily.
Especially since… well. That meant that Batman was getting one of Bruce’s friends arrested, right? Or, at least. One of his employees. Or… coworkers.
He wasn’t entirely sure what a ‘member of the board’ was.
Alfred hummed in a disapproving manner, as he filled Jason a glass of orange juice, but didn’t say anything else.
So Jason said, “Oh. I’m Sorry.”
“Sorry?” Bruce echoed, “What for?”
“You needn’t be sorry about anything, lad,” Alfred added, as he set the glass down in front of Jason, “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“But—“ Jason started, but had to pause. Because he wasn’t entirely sure what he was even saying it for. “It’s because of me one of your people is getting arrested. Board members are important, right?” If Jason hadn’t said anything about the videos, Bruce wouldn’t have to deal with any of that.
Then again… Bruce had said if he found out one of his friends were a pedophile, he’d stop being friends with them.
But that couldn’t possibly be true.
“Yes, board members are important,” Bruce said, “but that doesn’t—You don’t have to be sorry. I’m…” He paused, and tipped his head back and forth, back to playing his usual game.
Alfred picked up the fruit bowl from in front of Bruce, and put a small scoop of it on Jason’s plate, practically saying you have to eat some fruit, too.
So Jason looked back down at his plate and started pushing around the pieces of fruit salad with his fork, putting all the pears off to the side. Just so he didn’t have to watch Bruce be so picky with his words.
Or eat the pears.
“Glad isn’t the right word,” Bruce finally decided, “I’m not glad he’s hurt you in the past, and other children, I’m disgusted he did all that. And furious. But I am glad to know that this man is a monster. I have an emergency meeting set up later this morning, we’re going to oust him before the news hits.”
“Oh,” Jason whispered, looking back up at Bruce again. Just to see Bruce gazing at him so intensely, so determinedly, like… like he was on a mission.
A mission to do what?
Fire this dude?
“I’m sorry to you,” Bruce said, once he had Jason’s eye contact. He reached out and pat the table as close to Jason as he could reach, and continued, “I’m sorry that he is a monster. That you’ve been hurt by people I’ve seen regularly for years, and that I’ve never even noticed anything was off about them. I—“Bruce paused, and swallowed. It didn’t keep his voice from sounding thicker the more he talked, though, “I failed you, in that regard. And I’m sorry.”
Jason opened his mouth to respond, but didn’t actually know how to. What was he supposed to say to that?
Bruce thought… he thought the bastard and his friends were monsters. And… And…
He lifted a hand to his face, and pressed the sleeve of his hoody into the side of his eye. Just to relieve the pressure, a little. He wasn’t crying, not yet. But his eyes were stinging really badly, and if he’d been alone in his room he would be crying.
Instead he cleared his throat and rasped, “You don’t have to be sorry.”
It wasn’t like Bruce was one of Eric’s friends. Or anything like any of them.
Bruce hadn’t done anything. Not a thing to Jason.
And, in fact… Bruce did the opposite of ever hurt him.
He’d— he’d given Jason safety. From the mob. From Eric. From… from all of it.
Jason was safe because of Bruce. And even from Bruce, because Bruce was disgusted by everything Jason’s clients did. And hated pedophiles, just like Jason’s dad. And he— he.
He’d meant it. When he said he’d stop being friends with pedophiles.
Because he was going to fire the guy in one of the videos.
He’d actually meant it.
“Jason, lad,” Alfred said, as he rounded the table and stopped right next to him. Jason looked up at him, while trying his best to keep himself from crying.
Because all he wanted to do was cry.
About everything.
Alfred held a hand out, as if asking may I? With it, and that was all it took.
First Bruce proved once and for all he meant it, and now Alfred wanted to… he didn’t know. Comfort him, probably. But wasn’t going to even try without permission and—
Jason nodded quickly, as he pushed his plate forward and buried his face into his arms, so at least he didn’t have to watch Bruce and Alfred watch him start crying his eyes out.
He just couldn’t help it.
It was all way too much, and when Alfred’s hand settled gently on the top of his head, and started carding through his hair…
Jason just started crying harder.
No one had done that to him in years.
His mom was the last one to pet his hair nicely, probably. Back when he was little and sick and she was singing him a lullaby and trying to make him feel better.
Alfred kept it up the entire time Jason cried, too. Switching between petting his hair and rubbing a circle at the top of his back. And Jason cried for what felt like forever. All the while, Alfred kept whispering to him “It’s all right, lad“ and “Let it out.”
Because Alfred was just great. And didn’t seem to be annoyed at all that Jason was crying all through breakfast.
Bruce didn’t even seem annoyed, just like always. He kept silent, over at his seat, and quietly ate his breakfast.
Once he finally got ahold of himself, Jason sniffled hard and scrubbed his face clean with his hoody sleeve.
His hoody would have to be washed again. Even though Alfred had just washed it.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, as he sat back and sheepishly looked over at Alfred, who had sat on the edge of the chair next to Jason.
“Why are you sorry?” Alfred asked. He had his hand resting on the back of Jason’s chair, still completely open to Jason. Still right there.
Entirely within reach.
Jason didn’t feel anything. Not nervous. Not squirmy. Nothing. But… maybe the desire to start crying again.
“I cry too much,” he croaked, forcing himself to smile, so he wouldn’t cry again.
But then Alfred moved his hand, to place it right on top of Jason’s head and push his hair back out of his face as he said, “You cry however much you need, my boy. You are bothering no one.”
“Oh,” Jason whispered. He had to clench his jaw tight, just to stay steady. He’d rather eat breakfast then cry in his room. Where he could just… bury his face in his pillow and fall asleep. Escape it all.
But then Alfred said, “Lad?” and when Jason looked back up at him, Alfred held an arm out to him, as if asking ‘would you like a hug?’
And once again, Jason lost it.
He nodded, and leaned forward so Alfred could wrap his arms around Jason tightly, squeezing even more when Jason started crying harder.
Harder, because… because it wasn’t a gross hug. It wasn’t like anything he’s experienced in three years.
It was so… nice.
Firm, and strong, and good.
Just like a hug from his mom or dad.
He missed them so much, but…
At least he had Alfred.
Bruce and Alfred.
Who didn’t care if he cried, and fed him, and kept him safe, and sent him to school and therapy and told Batman about anyone who they thought ever touched Jason.
Alfred held him for as long as he cried, never once even shifting, even though there was no way it was comfortable holding Jason for so long.
And it had to have been a while, because when Jason finally sat up again, Bruce wasn’t even there.
Jason looked to Alfred, for maybe an explanation, but instead he saw Alfred pull a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and dab at his eyes a few times, before he finally smiled and said, a bit wetly, “Well, my boy. What do you say I reheat our breakfast and we enjoy it together?”
“Okay,” he replied. Because he didn’t really know how else to.
Why had Alfred been crying?
Alfred picked up Jason’s plate, so Jason grabbed his juice and followed him into the kitchen.
“Where’s Bruce?” he asked, as he took a seat at the island. Not that he didn’t mind eating with Alfred. He loved it, but if Bruce had run off because Jason cried too much…
“He had to get to his meeting,” Alfred said, as he pulled the fruit off Jason’s plate and into a little bowl, then set the plate in the microwave, “had it been anything else, he would have cancelled to stay with you, but he’s determined to rid Gotham of every pedophile it has, and to do that, he has to oust them from their positions of power, too.”
“Oh.”
That made sense, he supposed.
If people had power and connections, they could pull those strings to get themselves out of trouble.
But if Bruce cut those strings first…
“He will be back as soon as he can,” Alfred assured, as Jason’s breakfast cooked in the microwave. He pulled out another plate, then went about serving himself some of the quiche.
All Jason did was nod, because he didn’t really have anything to say in response.
And crying forever had absolutely wiped him out. All he really had the energy to do was sit there, occasionally sniffling because his nose was so damn runny, while Alfred heated up their breakfast.
Jason honestly had no clue how being bought by Bruce Wayne ended up good.
But while they ate breakfast together, and Jason quietly listened as Alfred told him about ‘one time, when I was in the service,’ Jason couldn’t come to any other conclusion.
Everything was good. And would maybe keep getting better.
How did being bought turn out so well?
Notes:
😅. It's been two weeks on accident but I hope that chapter made up for it.
I've been putting a lot of work on Jason and the Three Terrors, and hope to actually finish up part one on that soon. :D. Also I need to write the rest of the Eric Beaumont Arc for Warpath. I have it drafted, just need to write the part between Jason's convo in the car and when Bruce starts actually investigating. Don't know how long that will take, but I'll probably update something in a few days. Hopefully.
Thanks for reading and commenting. ❤️ you guys
Chapter 41
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After breakfast, Jason excused himself with the fact that he had to do schoolwork. He’d really not done much the past few days, and desperately had to change that… if he really wanted to start eighth grade in two short months.
Which he did.
“Do let me know if you need any help,” Alfred had said, and let Jason escape away.
It was nice that Bruce and Alfred always offered to help him, but Jason wasn’t quite sure why they even would. He literally had a teacher. It was her job to help him. He’d probably definitely go to her, first. If he ever got stuck.
So far, though, he hadn’t. He’d done three full modules and was half way through the fourth, all without needing help.
Jason spent the rest of the morning trying his best to focus. He managed to get through a full lesson, but forcing his way through it was like pulling teeth.
Mostly because every couple minutes, he was back to looking at his phone, scrolling through all the news articles, trying to keep up on the ‘developing story’ that was the whole Eric Beaumont thing.
Commissioner Gordon and the FBI were set to make a ‘joint statement’ at 1pm, and logically Jason knew there wouldn’t be much new information before that, but he couldn’t help it.
Apparently Beaumont got arrested for producing and distributing child pornography, and Jason wanted to know how much the media knew.
Was his name gonna get out there? His face? What did distributing mean??
He… he gave the videos to other people? Other people Jason hadn’t… worked for?
Jason… wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He didn’t want other people to watch it. He didn’t even want the bastard to watch it.
And now would the whole world know about it? Jason’s face was right in those videos. Batman and the FBI were using the videos to track down all the other men, so obviously they were good enough to recognize people in. So Jason would be recognizable, too.
Would his face get blasted all over the news?
After trying his best to stop picking up his phone to refresh the news feed, Jason finally decided to give in and go downstairs. Maybe if he set up in the living room, he could turn on the news and let it play in the background, while he got some work done.
That was what Bruce did a lot, after all. And since Bruce’s company still wasn’t dead, it probably worked for him, right?
Jason chose the smaller living room, where it was really just big enough for the couch and a few armchairs, all positioned around a nice sized coffee table and facing a massive TV on the wall. Usually Bruce hung out in the bigger living room, that had one of those massive couches that looked like the letter L, plus several arm chairs, plus lots of shelves and a fire place and the chess board.
Maybe that way Jason wouldn’t be messing up Bruce’s normal routine of sitting on the couch working on his tablet…
And he’d be left alone.
As it turned out, all the news channels didn’t actually play local news. Which was kind of lame. He flipped between the four or five news channels to see nothing but stuff about what the President was doing, things Congress was arguing about, and a hurricane that was heading toward Florida, or something.
Once there was a little headline, that was scrolling across the screen on some of the channels, that said something about a child prostitution ring being busted in Gotham, but that was it. Not even a mention at all from any of the hosts.
Figures, though, Jason thought to himself. Talking about the President’s vacation was probably way more interesting to folks outside of Gotham, anyway…
Really, the only reason people cared in Gotham was because the FBI was taking down a bunch of the rich and powerful people, and that was pretty interesting. Alfred and Bruce were wrong, they didn’t find the crimes reprehensible, or whatever, like they kept saying. The fact the national news wasn’t even talking about it was proof.
Even if only those involved in the Falcone’s business knew about it, that didn’t mean people actually cared.
It took flipping through all the channels, but eventually Jason found a local channel playing News at 11, and finally there was some chatter about the happenings in Gotham. Jason settled back on the couch, sitting on it sideways with his back against a pillow and his legs stretched out in front of him, and tried to start working on his next lesson.
The news kept chattering on in the background, basically just regurgitating everything he’d already read from the articles.
That was… until one of the announcers said, “We’ve just got word, four more men have been indicted on charges relating to the child pornography ring connected to the Falcones.”
Jason watched with rapt attention as the anchor man went over the background of each of the guys. From the way he kept pausing and how the pictures were coming up on screen a few seconds after he started talking, Jason just knew there had to be someone in the background doing all the research right that second as they reported on it.
It was honestly fascinating that people could do that. How were they researching? Were they just googling? Jason could do that. Did they get paid to google stuff?
Honestly, the things people could do as their jobs…
The men were all powerful people in Gotham, with fancy jobs and lots of money. Which was a real shocker. Two were lawyers, one was a doctor, and the last was the director of some art museum in town.
Each of the pictures the news used looked like professional pictures, so the FBI either hadn’t picked them up yet, or no one had been present when they got arrested like with the bastard.
But based on the pictures, Jason only recognized two of them. He’d never seen the other two, as far as he could remember.
Which, honestly didn’t say much. It’s not like Jason would recognize all his clients. There’d been too many. He really only recognized the ones he hated the most. Or his regulars. And probably most of the away ones, just because he’d spent more time with them.
It could also be possible he’d never met those two, though. Maybe the bastard had made videos with other boys, and other men attended those parties. He had no clue.
And since there wasn’t a single mention of that board member guy Bruce had talked about, obviously this wasn’t even all of them.
How many more were gonna get arrested?
Jason startled at the sound of a knock on the door, but quickly sat up and turned to see Alfred standing there, a gentle smile on his face, as always.
“Are you hungry for lunch, lad?” he asked, not even commenting on Jason’s reaction.
Alfred must expect it, by now. Every single time one of them appeared in the doorway, where he was, he jumped. Every. Single. Time.
He kind of wished he didn’t, but maybe if they quit sneaking up on him…
“Yeah,” he said, trying to return Alfred’s smile. He hadn’t realized it was lunch time already, but with Bruce out of the house that meant Alfred would want to eat with him, and Jason would not pass up that opportunity.
“How do sandwiches sound?”
“A sixth arrest has just been announced,” the news anchor said, drawing Jason’s attention back to the television, “Jeffrey Connolly, the headmaster at Brentwood Academy.”
“That is a little horrifying,” the other announcer said, “for the sake of the boys at his school, let’s hope these accusations are false.”
The other announcer nodded, and said, “Once again I’m left to wonder: how has this gone unnoticed for so long?”
Jason squeezed his fist tightly around the end of his hoody sleeve as he resisted the urge to stick the hem in his mouth and start chewing on it. How did no one notice?
And… and—
“It’s horrifying to realize how many of our children have been hurt by these… these groups of well known men, right here in our city. The number of children rescued, and adults arrested. It’s staggering,” the other one continued, her voice a little tense as she spoke, as if she were trying not to cry. On television.
Our children, she’d said. Even though most of the boys Donny ever got that Jason met had been orphans. So they’d been no ones children. Orphans or basically orphans, like Jason was. With parents in jail forever, and no one left to care about him.
And yet… this random lady on the news acted like they were her children. Gotham’s children…
“Lad?” Alfred prodded, gently, “How does a turkey sandwich sound?”
Clearing his throat, Jason sat back up and said, “Good.” Sandwiches were good.
“All right. I’ll be back in a few.”
A few minutes went by in a flash, as far as Jason could tell. Mostly because he spent the entire time sitting on the couch, watching attentively as the news anchors reviewed all the new information they’d received about the different men arrested. One of the men’s companies made a statement, and they spent a full minute reading it and discussing it.
Somehow, the drawstring from his hood found its way in his mouth… as he fiddled with it and googled the name of the new guy. The school headmaster guy.
How many other dudes at that school were like him? Were any of the staff at Gotham Academy like that…? Were any of the parents? Brentwood and Gotham Academy were similar. Both were boarding schools, with day school options. Both were elite schools populated by the richest and most powerful of the entire country.
Did Jason really want to go to a school like that?
The only thing he found, so far, was a handful of news articles posted within just the previous few minutes, from all different websites. CNN, Fox News, and USA Today were the top three listed.
Which meant maybe the national news channels were talking about it, now…
It probably was a big deal to have the headmaster of a school be arrested for… this stuff.
But Alfred stepped in front of him, before he could change the channel, as he set down a tray of food and drinks right on the coffee table.
They were eating in the living room? Jason just assumed Alfred would tell him to come to the kitchen, or something.
“Here you are, lad,” he said, as he picked up a plate and passed it to Jason. He then took a glass of lemonade and set it on a coaster, in the end table next to the couch. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“No,” Jason said, grinning a little as he pulled the drawstring down. Alfred didn’t even comment. Dad would have been shouting at him for ruining his clothes.
But, then again, Alfred didn’t buy Jason his clothes. At least, not with his own money. And Bruce had plenty of money. So maybe they didn’t even care…
While Alfred settled into one of the armchairs to Jason’s left, Jason took a bite of his sandwich and smiled at the spicy tang of the chipotle mayo Alfred had added. All because Jason said one time he liked spicy.
“How is your schoolwork going?” Alfred asked, motioning with his head to Jason’s forgotten laptop, sitting off to the side on the couch.
“Good,” Jason said, with a shrug. It was only sort of a lie. It was going well. When he actually worked on it.
Jason looked back up at the TV to see the news anchors pass the camera off to a weatherman, who started talking about the hurricane down in Florida.
Because that was relevant to people in Gotham.
“I haven’t done much today, though,” he admitted.
“The television can be quite distracting,” Alfred mused, offering Jason another smile when he looked over.
With a breath, Jason said, “Yeah.” Very distracting.
But his phone had been just as bad, before he moved to the TV.
And because it was so distracting, he and Alfred ended up watching the entire segment about the hurricane preparation going on in Florida, and then the one following about a group that was rescuing puppies and training them to be therapy dogs, as they munched away at the sandwiches and chips Alfred had put on each of their plates.
The lunch was good, and filling, but it didn’t take long for them to finish. And then Alfred was collecting up the dishes and whisking them off to the kitchen again, just as the news shifted back to live reporting.
But this time they had no new information to impart. They had better photos, including the arrest photo of the headmaster guy, but that was it.
Jason still didn’t recognize the headmaster guy, either.
Alfred reappeared in the doorway, a few minutes later, the sound of something clanking around in his hands giving away his presence long before the knock he made did.
It sounded like legos, banging around in a box. If legos were made out of wood.
Turning around, Jason got a good look at Alfred just as he held up the Scrabble box and asked, “May I challenge you to a game of Scrabble?”
And Jason couldn’t help his smile. “Yeah.”
Alfred didn’t offer to play with him often, but it was always fun when he did. So far they’d only ever played chess, each time they played anything, but Jason was definitely down for a game of Scrabble.
In person…
He’d been playing it for a couple weeks with Dick, so he felt like he was getting pretty good at it. Even if he knew Alfred was gonna wipe the floor with him.
“Do you still play this with Richard?” Alfred asked, as he approached the coffee table and set the box down.
Jason slid down onto the floor, so he was kneeling in front of the table, and eagerly opened the box as he said, “Yeah, sometimes.” Mostly because most recently they’d started trying other games. “He got me to download a couple other games, so sometimes we play Connect Four or Boggle or a trivia game instead.”
With a warm smile, Alfred dragged his armchair closer to the coffee table and said, “I’m glad you two are getting along.”
“He’s nice,” Jason said, with a shrug. He pulled out the board, and the little tray things that held the pieces for each player, and went about setting the board up. He’d never actually played Scrabble, like, physically, but it was fairly obvious how everything was meant to go.
“I like playing the Switch with him best,” he continued as he worked, “We fight Pokemon or race on Mario Kart.”
Playing together on the Switch was always fun, because when they did that, it meant they were both playing at the same time. Even if they were in different states, they had to be playing together live.
There was something cool about knowing someone was out there, taking the time out of his day to play with Jason, just some random kid, for an hour.
Dick kept calling Jason his ‘foster brother,’ and when they did stuff like that together…
Jason almost felt like it was true.
As Jason was flipping over all the letter pieces in the box, at Alfred’s suggestion, he froze for half a second.
Because he heard the distinctive thud the door between the manor and the garage made, when it was closed. It kind of squished as it thudded, due to the weather stripping around the edges, to keep the bugs and air out.
Which meant Bruce was home.
Already.
And sure enough, not even a moment later, Bruce poked his head into the living room, looking around like he was just surveying the area. He straightened up, a little, when he saw Alfred sitting in an armchair, and Jason poking his head up a little higher so he could see over the couch back, and offered both of them a smile.
“Welcome back, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, still sitting down, “Would you like me to fix you some lunch?”
“No thanks. I ate already,” Bruce said, before he turned his attention fully to Jason, “Hey, Jase.”
“Hi,” was all Jason said, before he settled back down, and turned around to keep flipping over all the squares. Bruce being home or not really didn’t matter. He and Alfred were still gonna play Scrabble.
“Very well,” Alfred said, “How did your meeting go?”
Bruce had to have beamed, at that question, because his voice was laden with pride when he said, “Good. We got him fired. Only one person voted against it.”
“Hm,” Alfred hummed, disapprovingly, “Another person to research, I suppose.”
“Exactly,” Bruce huffed, with a short laugh, “They make it too easy.”
“Another guy on your board is a pedophile?” Jason asked, because what else could they be referring to?
He supposed they did make it too easy, if Batman and the FBI had already arrested, like, seven people now in under 24 hours. And now apparently Bruce knew who another one was?
Bruce walked further into the room, and Jason could hear as he leaned over the couch behind him. But his skin wasn’t prickling or anything, so he just ignored it.
“I don’t know,” Bruce admitted, “He might just feel uneasy about firing someone before they’ve gone through the court system, but I doubt it. Whether he is or isn’t will come out eventually, regardless.”
Jason nodded absently, as he flipped over the final scrabble piece and started mixing them all around, so he didn’t know what any of the letters were anymore.
While he was mixing, Bruce said, “But anyway, I have something for you, Jason.”
“What?” Jason asked, furrowing his brow a little. Bruce went to a meeting, what could he possibly have for Jason?
When he turned around, he saw Bruce still leaning against the couch, but he was holding out one of his arms, and dangling off his fingers was a paper bag. Like, a gift bag almost, but all brown, and written in black marker across the front was ‘Wayne.’
“What is it?” he asked, as Bruce leaned forward enough Jason could reach the bag. Bruce didn’t answer, though, just let Jason take the bag and open it for himself.
He hadn’t known what to expect, but he definitely didn’t expect to see… a shirt. Sitting right on top. It was dark blue and had a sticky note stuck to the front that read “XS” in the same black marker.
With another glance up at Bruce, Jason pulled the shirt out and removed the sticky note, so he could see the design on the shirt, and was even more confused to see it said ‘Wayne Enterprises’ across the front.
Then, under the shirt was another piece of clothing with the same logo on it.
A… a hoody. That said Wayne Enterprises on it.
Jason didn’t even know what to think, much less say.
A little lost, Jason looked back up at Bruce. Hoping for… something. He didn’t know. An explanation?
Why did Jason need these?
Bruce stood back up, to his full height, and rubbed at the back of his neck as he said, “WE was making our biannual order of branded apparel, for our staff and their families, and I needed a new polo or two and saw that we apparently order hoodies, and I know you like hoodies, so I put in for one for you. Grabbed the shirt, too, just because. Can’t hurt to have one.”
“Oh,” Jason said, as he pulled the hoody full out of the bag and unfolded it. He ran his thumbs across the fabric, and smiled a ghost of a smile at the softness. It was dark blue, and according to the tag was a size small. Which was the same size as the one Dick got him.
“When did you order it?”
“A few weeks ago, I think?” Bruce said, but almost like he was asking Jason, "Two or three."
So about Jason’s second week there, he thought with a nod. Right around the time Jason had stolen Dick’s hoody…
Jason’s fingers curled into the fabric of the hoody. Soft and plush and thin. A lot lighter than the Batman hoody, that was for sure. It was probably a ton cooler to wear, too. In the heat outside. Maybe even cooler than his red one, even though it was still a dark color.
It was pretty cool. Jason had a hoody with Batman’s symbol on it. Batman, the dude who beat up Donny for making them work, and was now hunting down every single person in any of the videos the bastard had taken…
All because he cared about random kids in Gotham.
Random kids he’d never met.
And now…
Now he had a hoody with Bruce’s logo on it.
Bruce, the dude who bought him in the first place, just to get him away from Donny. And then went and told Batman about Jason and Donny, so he’d go beat him up. And was now telling Batman about anyone Jason named.
And the company… Wayne Enterprises. That fired a dude, just for being in a video with Jason… because that kind of stuff was illegal and they didn’t want to be associated with people who did… that.
Because Bruce thought those people were monsters.
Jason’s fingers curled a little tighter as he blinked his vision clear again. “Thanks,” he rasped, as he resisted the urge to squeeze it any tighter.
Carefully, he folded it back up and placed it back in the bag, followed by the shirt.
He’d wear it tomorrow, maybe. He had his red hoody on at the moment, since he’d gotten his Batman one all gross from crying all over it, but Alfred was already washing it, so it’d be good to wear again tomorrow, if he wanted.
Or he could wear the Wayne Enterprises one.
“My pleasure, kiddo,” Bruce said, softly, giving Jason another smile. He put his hands in his pockets, and took a step back, as if he was about to leave the room.
“Uh, we were gonna play Scrabble,” he said, hastily, before Bruce could fully leave. When Bruce stopped and turned back around, Jason flushed a little, but pressed on, “want to join us?”
And Bruce looked so taken off guard by the question… Jason almost regretted asking.
Bruce was always asking Jason if he wanted to watch movies or play games. Every single day he asked, so Jason just thought… he thought Bruce would want to.
But maybe…
Several emotions flickered across Bruce’s face, all too fast for Jason to really capture and study. But eventually he settled on his smiles are illegal smile. The real bright one that was almost blinding, all while barely showing on his face, now that Jason could really see it.
Could really see all the emotions packed up behind it, far beyond simple amusement or happiness.
“I would love to,” Bruce said, almost wetly, as he took his hands out of his pockets and rounded the couch. He grabbed an armchair from Jason’s right, and pushed it over toward the coffee table, in the same way Alfred had to Jason’s left, and raised an eyebrow at Jason before he sat, as if to ask here okay?
When Jason nodded, Bruce sat down and set one of the letter tile holders right in front of himself and let Jason deal them all out seven tiles to start.
And that was how the afternoon went.
They got so engrossed in playing, chattering on about the game and everything not the game, Jason completely missed when the news cut to the FBI’s news conference.
But he couldn’t say he exactly minded.
He definitely sucked at Scrabble, compared to Alfred and Bruce, but that made it all the more fun.
Especially when Bruce helped him cheat, a few times. Just to keep Alfred from scoring all the triple word score spaces.
It was fun. He actually had fun.
Maybe he should take Bruce up on his offers more often…
Notes:
Sometimes I wish my brain worked better during normal human hours. Because it's now 1am and I have work in the morning, but hey at least I got the chapter done. 😂. I also outlined the next 15 chapters of this 👀. So uh. It's a long one, folks. LOL But you already knew that.
As always, thanks for reading. I love reading y'alls comments, so thanks for leaving those, too. ❤️
Chapter 42
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Completely predictably, to Jason at least, since his brain hated him now, Jason woke up in the middle of the night thanks to nightmares.
The dream hadn’t even made sense. One moment he and Bruce were watching a movie together, having a good time and laughing at all the dumb jokes in the movie, and the next Jason was surrounded by all Bruce’s pedophile ‘colleagues’ and friends, and was explaining to Jason that they had to make more videos to sell. Now that Beaumont’s operation was taken down.
“You have to earn your keep, Jase,” fake-Bruce had said, “and how else do you know to earn money?”
Nothing else had even happened in the dream. He’d woken up in tears before anything happened.
And Bruce would never say something like that.
So the fact that it took a good few minutes just to calm down enough to realize it was all fake was stupid.
That’s what any of this was. Stupid.
Why would Bruce even do any of that? Say anything like that? He wasn’t friends with pedophiles. He went and got anyone who was one arrested. And he was a billionaire, who didn’t care about money.
He’d been nothing but nice, ever since buying Jason.
Since… rescuing Jason.
Even when Jason accused him of being a liar, of fucking Dick, or of being a pedophile, in general, he stayed nice.
He stayed nice, and kept away from Jason, and kept other people away from Jason so no one would hurt him, and let Jason have a room all to himself where no one ever bothered him, and bought Jason anything he thought he might like, and let Jason do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted because Jason was ‘just a kid,’ and ‘deserved it.’
‘You’re not a toy,’ Bruce had said, several times. The exact opposite of what fake-dream-Bruce said.
Thinking about all that just made him cry harder.
Jason scrubbed at his face furiously, trying to make himself stop.
Crying wasn’t fixing anything. It wasn’t making his dreams not happen anymore, and it wasn’t even making him feel better.
But, of course, his stupid eyes didn’t care, and didn’t stop.
With a quiet growl at himself, Jason threw his blanket on the ground and got up from the couch, trying to decide where he was going. Because clearly laying there wasn’t helping.
It was raining outside. Not hard, just a gentle pitter patter against the windows was all he could hear. And since it was barely 4am, it was too dark to see. Or even consider going outside, anyway.
Plus, it was too early for Bruce or Alfred to be awake, and he had to tell them if he went outside. Just because he couldn’t sleep because of nightmares didn’t mean he had to go making that everyone else’s problem, too.
And the thought of wandering the manor in the middle of the night, in the dark, kind of spooked him out, a little. The manor was already a little creepy, with all the old shit and weird noises, he couldn’t imagine it being pitch black except for the occasional lightning illuminating the rooms would make it anything but more creepy.
So in the end, Jason grabbed what was technically Bruce’s Switch, which had found itself a permanent home in Jason’s room. Bruce hadn’t seemed to care, though. In fact, he had even fished out a charger for it, so Jason could charge it in his room, too. Because Bruce was nice. And did stuff like that.
With the Switch, a bottle of water, and his new Wayne Enterprises hoody on, Jason went to curl up in the window seat for a while. Even if it was raining, he could still sort of watch the sunrise, behind the clouds, and actually watch the storms as they passed over.
And, he could try out one of the other games on the Switch.
Several hours passed before Jason even noticed. It was his Switch notifying him of battery low that made him finally look up again. And see that the sun had risen, and it’d even stopped raining. Although it still looked damp and muggy outside.
Which was pretty funny, because it wasn’t like the game he picked out was intense. Or required so much focus. He’d tried Animal Crossing, which really just had him running around on an island, picking weeds, cutting down trees, catching bugs, and trying to build stuff.
It was really, actually… calm. Almost. For a game.
Every other game he’d played had some sort of action element to it. The Mario games had boss fights, the Pokemon game had him constantly battling other Pokémon, and Mario Kart was nothing but fast paced racing, obviously.
But Animal Crossing…
Not bad. He’d probably play it again.
And the entire time he played it, he hadn’t thought one bit about anything, other than trying to find the next grasshopper to chase around, so he could get enough money to build a bridge.
But, since it was after 7am already, and his Switch had to charge anyway, he decided for the moment he needed to do something actually productive.
Like math work.
If he could finish up the module he was in, therefore getting to the half way point in the whole class, he could play games or read for the rest of the day.
So Jason moved over to his desk, and started working on his current module. Which was all about ratios and shit.
And was actually pretty hard. He kept having to watch each video about seven times to kind of figure out how to do the problems.
Progress was slow-going, and by the time he got Bruce’s breakfast text, around 9am, Jason had only fully completed one lesson.
One.
Which was stupid.
Jason opened Bruce’s text, and actually read it for once. Mostly because there were more than one, which wasn’t normal.
Alfred is out for the day, the first one read, but he fixed some oatmeal and it’s in the fridge. I will heat some up for you, if you want.
If not, the next one read, that’s fine. We’re on our own for lunch, so let me know when you’re hungry and I’ll fix you something.
Jason stared at the texts for a good minute, just contemplating. The idea of Bruce fixing him lunch was kind of super amusing. What would Bruce even do? Alfred said he was banned from the kitchen, so how did that even work?
Did Bruce even know how to fix anything?
He’d probably make Jason a peanut butter sandwich.
Which, actually. Jason would love a peanut butter sandwich. He hadn’t had one of those since coming to Wayne Manor. Although with the fancy bread and peanut butter Alfred was bound to keep stocked in the house, it probably wouldn’t be nearly as good as a normal one.
Jason’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a second longer, before he finally typed back, ‘I already ate breakfast.’ Which wasn’t a lie. If his crackers counted. After he hit send, he typed one more quick text, ‘and ok ill let you know.’
Bruce’s reply took a couple minutes, which didn’t bother Jason. He wasn’t fully expecting a response, anyway, so he’d already started the video on his lesson for the third time, to try and really understand the thing about percentages he was supposed to be learning. He did look down and read it, though, almost immediately, and just saw it said, ‘Okay. Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be working in my study most the day.’
What else would he need? Jason thought, as he sent back a simple thumbs up emoji. He wouldn’t need anything else. But that was fine.
At least Bruce was nice, he supposed.
Focusing on his lesson was nearly impossible. It was teaching him how to figure out how much something is of another number. Like, what percentage of that number a number was, or something, but he didn’t get it. It gave him a formula to plug the numbers into, but every time he did it, he came up with the wrong answer. He had to be missing something, but he couldn’t even figure out what.
So he clicked replay for the fourth time, as he tried to really focus. He even picked up his Superman car and started spinning the wheels, because sometimes that helped.
But this time, it didn’t. Because when he tried the first problem on the worksheet, again, he still got it wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
“This is so stupid,” he grumbled, as he closed out of the lesson entirely.
He was maybe almost at the point of actually emailing his teacher. Because maybe Ms. Griffen could help him.
He wasn’t sure how she could help, if the lesson wasn’t helping at all, but maybe.
But it was Sunday, and she didn’t work on Sunday. So emailing her then wouldn’t help at all. Because she still wouldn’t answer him until Monday.
Jason spun the wheel on his car one more time, before he tossed it at his desk… a little too roughly.
Because one of the bricks on the trunk popped off and clattered to the ground.
“Stupid car,” he grumbled louder, as he pushed back from the desk and dropped down onto the floor, to fish the damn block out from where it’d fallen. Once he got it, he stuck it back where it belonged and ordered, “Stay together,” at it.
As if it could actually obey him.
He took a long look at the car, then, and really studied it. He hadn’t messed with it much since he first put it together, at McDonald’s, other than to spin the wheels sometimes or push it into stuff.
It was… a neat car, he supposed. Small, though. Maybe kind of lame looking, too. Just cause how small it was.
Surely, he thought, as he looked over at the box of legos on his shelf, he could make a cooler, bigger car…
If he was going to have a lego car on his desk, it might as well be awesome. Not lame.
There were certainly a lot of legos in the box. It was a pretty big box, so big it had to sit on the floor, and over half full with legos there were so many.
Why did Dick need so many legos? Why would Bruce buy so many…
Legos were expensive, he knew that. When he was a kid his dad had bought him one lego set, ever. And not even a big one, there was like 300 pieces in it, and he’d made a huge fucking deal about it when Jason opened it for his 6th birthday. Because it was expensive for a toy.
To have a giant box so full of legos… Bruce had to have spent hundreds of dollars on them. If not more.
Hopefully that meant he could make a really cool car, then. To replace the lame Superman one.
Jason dragged the giant box out to the middle of his room and knelt down next to it. Inside were lots and lots of red, blue, and yellow pieces, so he was sure he could make a better Superman car.
He just wasn’t quite sure how…
Thankfully, Dick had saved all the instruction booklets he’d gotten, with all the millions of sets Bruce apparently bought him.
Or. Thirty-four sets, Jason figured. Once he counted up all the instruction booklets inside the box.
Thirty-four different things he could build, several of which were different style cars.
Including a Ferrari, not unlike the bright red one Bruce had parked in the garage downstairs.
“Awesome,” Jason whispered, as he started flipping through the booklet. It took over a thousand pieces and looked so cool.
It even had an engine in it.
Not functioning, obviously, but so cool looking.
If he could make it in red, yellow, and blue, instead of just red like the book suggested, he knew it would make a way cooler Superman car than the McDonald’s one.
Had he known he could build a Ferrari, he would have got the legos out weeks ago.
Jason spent about three minutes digging out each piece he needed to get started. The box was so fucking big, though, and there were so many legos, it was hard to fish out each tiny little piece.
When he was a little kid, he’d dump all his legos, the real ones mixed up with some knock off ones his mom had bought him at the thrift store, on the floor so he could see everything. It usually pissed his dad off, but not enough for him to do anything about it.
As long as Jason always cleaned them all up once he was done, because Dad had stepped on a stray lego once, and Jason never made that mistake again.
The only problem with his room, now, though, was the floor was carpet. In his parents apartment, they only had wood floors, so playing on the ground was easier. Little legos wouldn’t get lost int the fibers of the carpet.
Here, though…
He just knew the little pieces would burrow down into the long strands and be impossible to clean up. He’d only dropped one piece so far, and that was exactly what it’d done.
So yeah. Dumping it out on the carpet was a no go.
Jason looked around the room. His desk was too small to be helpful, and there really wasn’t a good hard surface anywhere else. Either he would have to go to a different room, where there was a big table or wood floors, or…
Maybe his bed would work…
It was a nice, smooth surface, with just the sheets on it. Since Jason had the blankets over on the couch. And it was huge. He could easily dump the legos out in a giant mountain and have plenty of room to work.
And it wasn’t like he slept on the bed and would have to clean them up anytime soon. So if he took more than a day to build his car, it’d be fine.
No one would step on the legos and flip out on Jason, because he wasn’t taking them outside of his room to where people would step on them, and they’d be out of Jason’s way, too.
“Perfect,” he said, as he got to his feet and hauled the box along with him. It was a little heavy, but nothing he couldn’t handle as he pushed it up onto the bed, then climbed up after it.
Dumping the entire box out was maybe a little fun. The pieces created a gigantic mountain, and were so satisfying to run his hands through as he flattened the mountain out.
It made such a loud noise when he did it, he was afraid maybe Bruce would come investigate.
But Bruce was all the way in the study. And he doubted he’d do anything more than text anyway.
Jason spent several hours working away at the car. Each time he turned the page, he’d have a handful more of pieces to hunt down, and as he was doing so, he had to decide which color they were going to be. He’d decided to make it mostly blue, with a red roof. Kind of like how Superman’s suit was mostly blue, but he had a red cape. But knowing which pieces needed to be red or blue meant flipping forward through the book a bunch to see if the pieces he was putting in were outside pieces or inside pieces.
So even though he worked on it for over three hours, he only got the car half way done. He would have happily kept working, but he had to stop.
Because his stomach started absolutely growling at him.
“Fine,” he whined, the third time his stomach made an annoying noise. It was hurting pretty bad, too. And… maybe his head was feeling a little light. Just from not eating.
Which was no wonder, because it was past 2pm. And he hadn’t had anything to eat since 7…
Bruce would be so mad if he knew.
Which just meant… Jason wouldn’t tell him that bit. When he went and asked for lunch. He was still curious what Bruce would ‘fix’ him.
Jason took a minute to change into actual clothes, first. Since he was maybe still in his pajamas.
At nearly 3 in the afternoon.
But he put the Wayne Enterprises hoody back on over the random t-shirt he picked out, because he did really like it. It was slimmer than his other two hoodies, so it fit a little different. But it still was so big on him it went down to his thighs, and the sleeves were several inches too long. Even the hood was too big, and it basically covered his whole face if he let it. And even though he’d had it on all day, the fabric was still cool to the touch.
It was perfect, and maybe his new favorite hoody out of all three.
Jason skipped on down the stairs toward Bruce’s study, preparing himself for interrupting whatever the fuck Bruce was doing. Bruce was expecting him to, of course, but it still made his stomach stop gnawing at him for food just long enough to flip around, a little.
But once Jason hit the bottom of the stairs, and turned toward the study, he had to stop.
Because. Because he heard voices.
And not like, Alfred and Bruce talking.
There was some lady in there, basically shouting at Bruce.
“I told you,” she repeated, for the third time Jason had heard. Her voice was high and loud, like she was yelling, but lacked the anger that usually came along with yelling.
It was like… like excited. Like she was so damn proud to be yelling at Bruce about whatever she apparently told him about.
Bruce replied something, Jason could tell because his deep baritone reverberated all the way down the hall, but he couldn’t hear. Not enough to know what he said.
Curiously, Jason crept down the hall, keeping up against the wall so hopefully to escape notice. And not make noise. So maybe he could hear what Bruce was even saying.
“—pedophile,” was the first word Jason caught, “You always just told me he ‘was a creep’ or a ‘freak.’”
“What did you think I meant,” the lady yelled back, clearly exasperated with Bruce.
But Bruce’s voice stayed calm as he replied, “You call me a ‘freak,’ Selina. How was I supposed to know to take it any more seriously?”
Selina, apparently, scoffed as she shot back, “Oh shut up, Bruce. You know it’s different. I call you a freak because of your stupid ears.”
Jason crept a couple steps closer as he furrowed his brow. What was wrong with Bruce’s ears? Jason hadn’t, like, paid specific attention to them, but they also didn’t stand out to him. So… clearly they weren’t weird or anything.
What was she even talking about.
“So says the woman who dresses like a cat,” Bruce replied dryly.
She dressed like a cat? Who the fuck was this woman?
“Regardless,” Bruce continued, “you only ever said that when I caught you—“
“Why do you even care,” she cut in, “He was a freak, he didn’t deserve—“
“Selina,” Bruce exasperated, interrupting her right back, clearly annoyed, but not, like, angry annoyed, “just because the director of a museum is committing arguably the worst crime possible doesn’t make it okay to steal from the museum.”
“Actually, it does,” Selina quipped back, and Jason just took a couple more steps closer.
Who was this lady and why were they talking about stealing from museums.
Or… talking about her stealing from museums, apparently. From the museum that guy the FBI arrested worked at. The art one, or whatever.
Bruce sighed, but said patiently, “No. The collections do not belong to the director. Or any of the individuals running the museum. They belong to the museum.”
“And when the museum is run by crooks—” Selina started, but Bruce cut her off again.
“We aren’t arguing about this. He’s in jail, and the museum has already denounced him.”
Jason was super curious, now. Who was this lady, and why on earth was she in the manor? Arguing with Bruce?
About the morality of stealing from a museum??
Carefully, Jason took a few more steps, so he was only about five feet outside Bruce’s study. He tried to position himself so he could peek in at Selina, but just as Selina was saying, “Like they weren’t complacent in—“ Jason went a step too far, and Bruce’s eyes snapped to him instantly, the very second he came within view.
Jason froze in place, his spine stiffening painfully. What was Bruce gonna do? Jason had never eavesdropped on him before… He’d been nice so far, he didn’t mean to ruin it.
But then Bruce smiled at him and said, “Hi, Jay,” cutting Selina off mid-sentence, “Have you met Selina?”
“Uh, no,” Jason mumbled, walking the final few feet to the doorway at Bruce’s motioning for him to come here.
Finally Jason got a look at Selina, and was a little confused. Because she looked like a normal woman, just standing there, leaning up against Bruce’s desk while Bruce sat behind it. Maybe a little short, with short hair. But she definitely wasn’t dressed like a cat. Or really, anything… Just. Normal clothes. Jeans and a t-shirt.
Selina looked at Jason, a little wide eyed, once he was fully in view. Clearly a little surprised to see him, like she had no idea he even existed.
“Oh my God,” she said, turning back toward Bruce, “the papers were right? You really can’t help yourself, can you?”
What did she mean the papers were ‘right?’
They were right about nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
They all said Bruce was a pedophile who fostered boys so he could have toys, and he didn’t.
“It’s not like that,” Jason snapped, scowling hard at Selina. Bruce had opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut and started staring at Jason.
Like. Outright staring.
Selina started staring at him, too, like she didn’t even believe him or something. Was shocked, maybe.
So Jason scowled at her harder and said, “The papers are lying. There are lots of pedophiles in Gotham but Bruce ain’t one of them.” And it wasn’t fair for people to claim he was one.
Especially not someone friendly enough with him to be at the manor.
Bruce never, ever invited people over to the manor. Not once had someone other than Dick Grayson visited, since Jason got there.
“I know kid,” Selina said, softly, as she pushed off from Bruce’s desk and took a step around it, “He’s annoyingly good. I’m glad to hear it from you, though.”
Jason cut his eyes over at Bruce, just briefly, and had to look away just as quickly.
Because Bruce was, like, short circuiting.
His face was doing the same flickering thing it’d done the day before, when Jason asked him to play Scrabble with them, and Jason didn’t even know how to take it. His face flushed, a little, though. He could feel it.
Maybe he should just go back to his room and eat crackers for lunch…
“So ‘Jay,’ huh?” Selina asked, before Jason could bolt. When Jason looked back at her, she grinned brightly.
Somehow, it helped relax Jason. A touch.
“Jason,” he said, with a shrug.
“Well hi, Jason. I’m Selina.”
Yeah. He already knew that. What he didn’t know was who she was.
“What are you, Bruce’s girlfriend or something?” he asked, as he crossed his arms and leaned sideways against the doorframe.
That seemed to snap Bruce out of his weird whatever it was, because he responded with, “No. She’s just a friend.”
With a snort, Jason said, “Huh. Didn’t know you had those.”
Jason couldn’t help but grin a little wider when Bruce let out loud, long-suffering sigh in response.
And he thought, maybe he finally understood why Dick was always so happy with himself, when he got Bruce to make that noise.
Because Bruce wasn’t making it out of anger. It wasn’t… angry. It was annoyed, yeah, but with a hint of amusement in there, too.
So Dick was never making Bruce angry. He was annoying Bruce to the point of amusement.
Which was so fucking weird, if he really thought about it. That Bruce apparently enjoyed getting teased and shit.
Selina let out a single laugh, almost like a ha, directed right at Bruce before she said, “I like him, Bruce.”
“Yeah,” Bruce replied, looking back at Jason with one of his stupid smiles are illegal smiles, “He’s a good kid.”
That time, Jason’s face definitely flushed. He was probably turning bright red. He turned in the doorway, so his back was against the frame, and tried to make it stop.
But then Bruce asked, “Did you get something to eat?” and Jason had to look back at him.
“No,” he said, shaking his head, “That’s why I came down.”
Bruce nodded, and opened a drawer in his desk. He pulled out what looked like a menu and asked, “What do you think of Chinese?”
“What?” Jason asked.
Selina grabbed the menu from Bruce’s hands and said, “Oh, I love King’s Wok.”
“Chinese food,” Bruce clarified, “We can order delivery.”
“Really?” Jason asked, trying not to perk up too noticeably.
He hadn’t had Chinese food in quite a while.
It was something his mom loved, so they got it whenever they could afford it. He’d had it a few times since she died, but he didn’t want to think about any of that.
Was this what Bruce meant by ‘fixing’ Jason food, though?
How was ordering delivery fixing anything?
“Of course,” Bruce said, as he reached over and gently pulled the menu out of Selina’s hand, “Come here, pick something out.”
“Egg drop soup, Bruce,” Selina said, scowling at Bruce for taking the menu, “and some spring rolls.”
“Yes, I know.” Bruce motioned for Jason to come inside, again, as he held the menu out toward him, “here, bud.”
After hesitating only a moment longer, Jason finally crossed the room and took the menu out of Bruce’s hand.
“I want orange chicken,” he said, before he even started reading the menu. That was always his favorite thing at the place near his apartment growing up, so that was what he wanted now.
“Anything else?” Bruce asked, prompting for Jason to actually look at the menu.
“No, just that and rice,” he said, with a shrug as he gave Bruce the menu back.
Orange chicken with rice was definitely better than a peanut butter sandwich, he thought, as he took a step back and dropped down into one of the chairs sitting in front of Bruce’s desk.
Bruce stared at him for a few seconds, as one of his fond smiles slowly took over his face, before he seemed to shake himself of it and grab his cell phone off the desk.
And Jason didn’t want to think too hard about what Bruce could possibly be all fond about. Because just the fact that he was was making Jason’s face turn red again, and pulling the neck of his hoody up to his nose didn’t really hide the fact that it was.
Jason still had no idea what always made Bruce get fond like that. Bruce and Alfred. But… he couldn’t exactly complain about it, either.
The adults taking care of him being fond was definitely way better than basically anything else they could be.
If that was what he had to live with, well. Jason could definitely live with it.
He just hoped he didn’t do anything to make it stop…
Without knowing what he was doing to make it happen, he had no clue how to make sure it didn’t stop.
Jason liked how everything was going, how Bruce and Alfred were treating him. He didn’t want any of that to change.
Notes:
I will admit, I'm a huge BatCat shipper, but they really aren't together (yet) in this AU and it's not gonna be like, a thing in this story. She's just making a cameo, and might have another cameo in the future but Bruce/Selina won't become a thing so don't worry about it, anyone. There are no ships in this story. I just really loved that scene of Jason defending Bruce, okay? 😭 He's making so much progress so quickly now. I love him so much.
Also, I'm like positive there are a ton of typos, because I've been working on this since about 1pm today (its 2:45am) soooooooo yeah. Please excuse those, I'll catch them as usual when I do a read through tomorrow or something.
Thanks for reading!!! ❤️
Chapter 43
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It took half an hour for the food to arrive. Pretty impressive, Jason thought, considering they had to make it and then bring it all the way out to Wayne Manor. He would have figured it would take way longer.
But somehow, Jason spent that entire time sitting in Bruce’s office, sitting across the desk from him, just listening to him and Selina chatting.
He’d considered leaving, of course. Considered going up to his room until Bruce texted that the food was there, but he really didn’t have to. Bruce didn’t seem to mind he was there at all.
And it was weird, he didn’t feel uncomfortable.
Not really. Not at all, actually. Even though he was sitting in Bruce’s office. Across the desk from him. And Alfred wasn’t even home.
Maybe it helped that Selina was there, Jason didn’t know. She had dropped down in the chair next to Jason and kept chattering on the whole half hour, bantering back and forth with Bruce, teasing him right to his face, and turning to Jason with a huge grin, whenever Bruce did one of exhausted but amused sighs.
Jason could tell he was never too annoyed, though. Just because he had his secret smile going. The flat one that was more in his eyes than anything. Really, Bruce seemed really happy.
Which probably meant he and Selina were actually friends. Because why else would he put up with her? Or keep smiling, even when she was being so mean to him?
Because she was being mean. She was telling Jason all about the embarrassing things he’d done, since she knew him.
If someone was telling Bruce about embarrassing things Jason had done, he probably wouldn’t be taking it so well.
But Bruce kept smiling, and rolling his eyes here or there.
“He can be kind of a klutz,” she said with a smirk, after talking about how many times he’d stumbled down stairs, right into people.
Based on her stories, he was prone to believe it, but it didn’t make much sense. Not at all, actually.
“Once I knocked over a vase I found out cost fifteen grand after the fact,” Bruce chuckled, and leaned back further in his chair, “Alfred was not happy about that one.”
Fifteen grand???
How the fuck did a vase cost fifteen grand???
“But,” Jason said, furrowing his brow before looking over at Bruce, “I’ve seen you catch stuff without even looking.”
Like just that last week, when the rolling pin got away from Alfred and knocked an empty glass off the counter, behind where Bruce was standing. He hadn’t even fully turned around when he reached back and caught the glass, mid air, before it hit the ground.
And he’d watched Dick toss him things several times, back when he was visiting, and he caught them without even flinching. Without warning!
Bruce’s voice was light and not at all defensive when he said, “I may have been drunk.”
May have.
Like he didn’t even know.
“May have?” Jason asked, critically. How did someone not even remember if they were drunk?
Even Jason’s dad had always remembered if he was drunk or not, when he did whatever shit it was he’d done. And Dad had gotten drunk a lot.
A lot, a lot, actually. He’d never really noticed how often Dad got drunk, until he’d been around people who didn’t get drunk as often. Donny got drunk, sometimes, but it was rare compared to Dad.
And Bruce… wait.
Bruce never got drunk. Not that Jason had ever seen.
“He does drink a bit too much at parties,” Selina said playfully, shooting Bruce a grin.
All Bruce did was shrug.
“I’ve never seen you drink…” Jason said slowly, furrowing his brow further.
Never.
In fact, Jason actually hadn’t seen alcohol anywhere in the house. At least, not anything other than the wine and stuff Alfred cooked with in kitchen. Dad had had all sorts of shit. Mostly beer, sure, but there were random other bottles of stuff.
There wasn’t anything in Bruce’s office, either. Like whisky, or bourbon, or whatever the fuck it was rich people always had in their offices. The amber liquid in the fancy glass jar, or whatever, that Jason always saw. Bruce didn’t have one of those anywhere Jason could see.
With another shrug, Bruce said, “That’s because I only drink at parties.”
“Why?” Jason asked. He didn’t really get the allure of drinking in general. Being drunk seemed like it sucked. It always made his dad way angrier than normal, and why would people want to get angrier than usual? Especially at a party?
“I don’t see the point otherwise,” Bruce said, “Why do you ask?”
It was Jason’s turn to shrug then, as he sank back into his chair. “I dunno,” he mumbled, “My dad drank all the time. Never got it.”
He supposed it was good Bruce didn’t drink all the time. A big dude like him would not be fun to deal with, angry.
Even though he said he would never ‘smack’ Jason, that didn’t mean drunk Bruce would follow that promise.
Or any of his other promises…
If Jason knew anything, it was that all promises went out the window when alcohol was involved.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Bruce said, after a moment had passed in silence. When Jason looked up, he saw Bruce frowning hard, as he looked off into the distance.
“It’s whatever,” Jason mumbled. He didn’t get why Bruce had to be sorry about it. Bruce didn’t do anything.
“I get that,” Selina said, leaning over in her chair toward Jason. She smiled when Jason looked up at her, “but don’t worry, Bruce turns clumsy when drunk, but that’s it.”
“And I don’t drink outside parties,” Bruce reiterated, “if I even drink there.”
“Okay?” Jason said. It wasn’t like he cared, anyway. Bruce said the next party wasn’t until October, anyway. Maybe Jason wouldn’t even have to be present. That’d be cool. To not be present.
“I’ll stop completely if you want,” Bruce said.
All Jason had a chance to do was furrow his brow again, because why would Jason even care? He’d been around lots and lots of drunk men in his life. It wasn’t like he couldn’t handle it. But then Bruce’s computer made some weird buzzing noise, and Bruce sat straight up in his chair to start messing with it.
“I’ve got your food from King’s Wok,” a voice said, through the computer. Which probably meant they were at the gate. He hadn’t known Bruce’s computer was hooked up to all that. Alfred usually talked to people at the gate through a little intercom thing in the kitchen. Usually it was just the UPS guy.
“Come on in,” Bruce said into the computer, as he hit a few buttons, “I’ll meet you at the door.”
Jason watched as Bruce shut his laptop and got up, Selina right behind him. He was half way out the room when he motioned with his head for Jason to follow, too, so Jason scrambled to his feet and followed along.
As he trailed along behind Bruce and Selina, he shoved his hands in his hoody pocket. He didn’t really get why he had to be there, but he stood back against the wall in the entry hall as Bruce unlatched the chain on the door, then unlocked it, Selina bouncing over to be right behind him.
Bruce smiled brightly as he opened the door, his eyes seeming to kind of… glaze over.
It was weird.
Reminded him of how Bruce acted when he first met Jason, way back on the first day. When he was acting like an idiot in the police precinct in front of Office Asshole, or the security guard. Even though he clearly wasn’t dumb.
Like. At all.
And… actually. He hadn’t acted dumb like that hardly at all since Jason met him. Only when they were out and about… talking to people outside the house.
Jason watched, his brow knit, as Bruce bantered back and forth with the delivery guy, talking all about how happy he always was with the food from King’s Wok.
“Jay,” Bruce said, as the kid handed Bruce the two bags of food. Bruce passed one bag over to Selina, then held the other out for Jason to take, “Could you carry that for me, chum?”
Chum? Jason thought, as he walked over and took the offered bag. What kind of nickname was that?
First lad and now chum.
Bruce was still super nice, though. Even when pretending to be super dumb. Because he spent a full minute checking his pockets for his wallet, checking his back pockets four times before he remembered it was sitting over on the table, in the little key bowl.
“Oh, ha,” Bruce said brightly, “I should have known I tossed it there. Honestly, I’d lose my head if it weren’t connected to my body!”
With a roll of his eyes, Jason turned his attention to the bag in his hand, as he untied it and peeked inside. He had to look up, however, when the delivery kid said, “Uh, Mr. Wayne?” very confusedly.
“No no,” Bruce said, holding a hand up, refusing when the kid tried to hand back a hundred dollar bill, a twenty still in his other hand, “It’s worth it. Those egg rolls are to die for.” He turned to Jason, then, and added, “Just wait until you try them, Jase.”
Jason looked back down into his bag, but all he saw were little cardboard boxes. It all smelled good, sure, but he had no idea where the egg rolls were. If he even had them.
Selina tapped at a box in her bag, grinning a little when Jason looked over at her. “They are,” she whispered to him, “Bruce ain’t lying.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Wayne,” the kid said enthusiastically, “I really appreciate it.”
“No, thank you lad,” Bruce said, as the kid stepped back and turned around. He added just before he shut the door, “The gate should open once you approach! Just buzz if it doesn’t!”
As Bruce shut the door, Jason took a step back, but couldn’t help but stare a little.
Because Bruce kind of… deflated? Or, maybe the opposite. His posture changed from the relaxed, clumsy kind of way he’d been holding himself, ever since his eyes glazed over and he answered the door, to the steady, surefooted stance Jason was used to seeing.
He’d never noticed just how… powerful Bruce usually looked. How powerful he could look, just in how he stood.
Bruce locked the door and tossed his wallet back into the bowl before he turned around and looked at Jason. When he did, he paused, and asked in an almost concerned voice, “You all right, lad?”
“Yeah.” He was great. Just fine.
Confused, mostly.
“I’ll go grab some plates,” Selina said, as she pushed the bag back into Bruce’s hands. Once Bruce had a handle on it, she skipped off, back toward the kitchen.
Once Bruce turned back toward Jason, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “You sure? You look lost.”
Lost. Jason snorted, just a touch.
It wasn’t so much that he was lost as it was Bruce was confusing as fuck.
Why was Bruce so damn confusing?
Bruce tilted his head, and basically shouted with just his facial expression, ‘Well? What is it?’
So Jason asked, before he could think better, “I just don’t get it. Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” Bruce asked. He motioned with his head for Jason to follow, and started walking down the hall, back toward the living areas.
“That… that thing,” Jason said, bouncing to catch up to Bruce’s long stride. He wasn’t walking fast, but he was so damn tall Jason felt like he had to shuffle to keep up, “You act… I don’t know! Weird. You did it the first day we met, too. You pretended to be an idiot, but then you weren’t one.”
They ended up in the main living room, where Jason usually spent his time whenever he spent time in a living room. It was the one with bookshelves and the chess board, and giant TV.
Bruce walked over toward the coffee table and said, “Let’s eat in here and watch a movie while we do, just don’t tell Alfred,” as he set his bag of food down and started pulling out the contents.
With a smirk, Jason rounded the couch and set his own bag down next to Bruce’s, as he said, “Alfred and I ate lunch in here yesterday.”
“Of course you did,” Bruce said through a snort, “He spoils you boys.”
Jason retreated over to one of the armchairs, and tried not to think too hard about the ‘you boys’ comment.
Because…
It kind of implied that Jason and Dick were one and the same.
As in… Bruce saw Jason… the same way he saw Dick. And sure Jason was scared of that when he first got here, but… Dick did get treated nice, as far as he could tell.
And Jason wouldn’t mind getting treated good… for the next five years, until he got sent off the college…
“I guess,” Bruce said, as he started opening up all the boxes and checking what was inside. He picked up one of the boxes and stepped over to Jason as he finished, “I just don’t like sharing the real me with the world. It’s not for them.”
“Oh,” Jason said, as he took the box. He also accepted a pack of chopsticks, when Bruce offered them, though Bruce seemed skeptical.
“You know how to use those?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Jason said easily, as he opened them up and set them in his hand properly, “A guy taught me once.” He didn’t even remember much else, just that some client literally spent an hour of his time eating Chinese food with Jason, making sure he could use chopsticks properly.
With an absent nod, Bruce kind of… zoned out, as he took a seat on the couch perpendicular to Jason’s chair.
Just yet another that that confused Jason. How Bruce sometimes just… seemed to shut down randomly.
Usually when talking to Jason about stuff.
But… at least his weird act thing was starting to make sense. Jason was no stranger to acting around clients, after all.
“I get it, you know,” he said, as he picked up his first piece of orange chicken, “the acting thing.” That finally got Bruce’s attention, because he seemed to snap out of his little funk, and turned his full attention to Jason.
So Jason looked back down at his food and took a bite, saying through his food, “I never liked to show people me, either.”
Showing people him only ever blew up in his face. It was all ammunition they could use against him. His favorite things, his interests, his name.
Being someone else was always easier than being him, when it came to that job.
“That’s understandable,” Bruce said, softly. He smiled, almost sadly when Jason looked over and added, “People who mistreat you don't deserve to know you.”
“Do people—“ Jason started, but stopped when Selina stepped back into the room. She saw both him and Bruce eating straight out of the boxes and scoffed.
“Couldn’t wait for me to search through your massive kitchen for plates, huh?” she said, as she plopped down on the couch next to Bruce, right between him and Jason.
“They gave us these boxes, might as well use them,” Bruce said, even as he took an offered plate and moved his stir fry over onto it so he could put some rice down next to it, “Thanks.”
“Rice, Jay,” he asked, holding the box out once he was done serving himself.
Happily, Jason let him put a big scoop of rice right on top of his chicken, inside his box, and started mixing it up.
He’d never really thought about how people might treat Bruce. Because he’s rich. Because he’s famous.
Sure, he always watched movies and stuff about rich famous people getting bothered by, like, the paparazzi, but he hadn’t even thought it was real. Much less would happen to people like Bruce.
Then again… the papers literally did print story after story about he was a pedophile fucking Jason. Or, rather, ‘the unidentified child’ he’d bought from Donny.
Maybe it did make perfect sense… Bruce couldn’t share anything real with anyone, cause it would probably just get used against him. Just like it always got used against Jason, except in a much more public setting…
“You share the real you with us?” he asked, after Bruce and Selina had started eating their food, and Bruce was flipping through a list movies in one of the zillions of streaming apps. Jason didn’t really know why Bruce would share himself with Jason, but obviously Bruce did drop the act.
How else would Jason be able to tell apart his facade with his real self, if he didn’t?
Bruce looked over, furrowing his brow slightly as if confused, and Selina started at the question completely, but Bruce did finally nod and say, “Of course. You’re my foster son, Jay. I want you to know the real me.”
“Oh.” And… maybe that was why Bruce wanted to know him. Jason. Wanted to… spend time with him all the time.
So he could get to know him.
Because Bruce also did the thing where he was fake. He knew it, he understood it, and he probably saw it… in Jason. When Jason first met him. Because Jason was fake then, too.
He hadn’t known if he could trust Bruce with anything. Still felt a little antsy about it, if he were being honest with himself.
But Bruce…. Bruce didn’t mistreat him. Bruce had never mistreated him. Not ever. Not even… not even when Jason was okay with it. When he welcomed it, even.
Or… pretended to welcome it. Because he thought it was what would keep Bruce from getting mad.
Bruce… Bruce was really nice to him. And… called him his foster son. And lumped him in with Dick, his actual son. Or son slash brother, like Dick said.
Jason pulled his legs up on the chair, and settled himself in sideways, his back up against the arm of the chair, so he was facing the TV and not Bruce and Selina anymore. He couldn’t look at Bruce anymore. Mostly because he didn’t want Bruce to see him. To see his eyes blur up a little, as he rapidly blinked them back clear.
What had he even done to deserve all of this? Deserve Bruce, who didn’t ‘mistreat’ him, and didn’t care about anything Jason was well versed in doing, and wanted to know Jason, just like he wanted Jason to know him.
Not because he cared superficially, like clients, but just because…he cared. About his foster son.
About Jason.
With one quiet little sniffle, Jason quickly scrubbed his eye clean as well as he could, without drawing attention to himself, and tried to focus on the TV screen.
“Any preference, Jase?” Bruce asked, as he flipped down to another category, away from action and to based on a true story.
And Jason did have a preference. He saw several movies he wanted to watch, and many more he didn’t want to. And… and Bruce deserved to know him, too.
“Um,” Jason said, pausing for a second to swallow thickly before naming the first movie he saw that he wanted to watch, “Ford vs Ferrari.”
“Ford vs. Ferrari it is, then,” Bruce said, his voice so bright sounding, Jason was sure he was smiling wide, “I’ve been wanting to see that one, too.”
“Oh joy,” Selina said, a touch sarcastically, “a car movie.”
“It’s about the Le Mans,” Jason mumbled, between bites of chicken, “And, like, the battle between Ford and Ferrari to build a better car.”
“You a fan of cars?” Bruce asked, and Jason just sank further down into his chair.
He did shrug, though, and said, “Yeah, a little, I guess.”
“Good to know,” Bruce said, clearly still so fucking happy about it, “Remind me, and I’ll show you the cars out in the garage. There’s quite a few of them I think you’ll love.”
Jason’s stomach fluttered, a little. He wasn’t… sure. If he wanted to explore all the cars with Bruce. Not for real, but… he kind of did. Ever since he saw the bright red lambo he’d wanted to explore the garage, but…
But Bruce didn’t do shit to him, so maybe…
And when Jason didn’t even respond to the offer, but instead started slowly eating his food again a minute later as the movie started up, Bruce let it drop completely. He went silent and ate his food, too, only speaking up to offer Jason an egg roll “before Selina eats them all.”
It was weird. It was so weird, but… in a good way.
Jason… Jason could get used to it.
Notes:
Hello~~~~~
I've been on semi-vacation the past few weeks, and had an accidental brain shut down for the week or so before that where my brain was like HOW WRITE????? but I finally got this chapter done 🤗 My vacay officially ends on Monday, so hopefully past then I'll start writing everyday again, and updating regularly. Thanks so much for your patience, I've missed you guys and this story!
Thanks for reading!!!
Chapter 44
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The week seemed to almost drag on for Jason.
Bruce wasn’t really around much, which wasn’t super odd, he thought. Bruce did have work and stuff, and often spent the whole day in his office and then all night out. But he didn’t join Jason once for lunch all week long, which was odd.
Jason didn’t mind eating lunch with Alfred, of course. Alfred was a lot of fun, and had even taught Jason how to make two more things. Candied carrots and banana bread. It was great. He’d just expected Bruce to be around more, now that Jason had willingly hung out with him and all.
But it was fine. Jason still passed the days fairly easily.
On Monday afternoon he finally emailed his teacher about the math problems. Because it was so late in the day when he finally did, she just sent back an email explaining what she thought he was doing wrong. She said she’d looked over his work and thought perhaps he was forgetting to cross multiply. Like, multiply the numerator by the denominator of the other fraction he created with the formula.
If he was still having trouble, she said, they could do a video call on Tuesday and figure it out. But she was right. Jason just hadn’t been cross multiplying like he was supposed to. Once he started doing that, all his answers came out right. It was such a simple error. Kinda amazing it brought him to such the wrong answer as a result. And with the mistake identified, he was able to breeze right through the rest of the module. Not video call necessary.
He also finished his lego car. It took him three more days, but finally he got it done. There were even sticker books inside the lego box, filled with texture stickers and various symbols and such for making the legos more real looking, so he was able to put some Superman shields on his car to make it a real Superman car.
Way cooler than the little McDonald’s one he had. Now it was sitting proudly on his dresser.
But even if it was cooler than his McDonald’s one, it was still a Superman car. Because like Bruce said, did Superman even have a car??
“Batman has a car,” he mumbled to himself, when looking at the huge selection of black legos strewn out on his bed. Maybe that should be the next thing he built. The Batmobile.
It was probably the coolest car on the planet.
If only he knew exactly what it looked like… He would need to do some research, and see if he could find some pictures of it. Since it was only ever seen at night, it was difficult to find pictures where it was clearly visible, so he spent quite a bit of time going through as many websites he could find, where it looked like random people were discussing the specs of the Batmobile and their randoms sightings of it.
What Jason would give to see the Batmobile in real life… Had Bruce ever seen it? Maybe Jason could ask him…
The week went by, however, even if it seemed slow. When Friday came around, Bruce actually stuck around after breakfast, unlike all the other days. But of course, it was only because Jason had an appointment, and someone had to drive him.
Jason wouldn’t be averse to Alfred taking him, but maybe Alfred liked having a break from ‘taking care of’ Jason. Cooking him food and making sure he was doing well and stuff.
With Alfred being the one taking him, maybe Jason wouldn’t feel so… jittery. On the way to the appointment.
He wasn’t nervous, per se, but his whole body felt like there was more energy than it could handle, and tapping his fingers against his knee wasn’t helping at all. Kind of like he felt every single time he got into the car with a client…
Okay fine he was nervous.
Liz had said they were gonna talk about what he wanted to address in therapy, but he didn’t know. He had no clue what he was even gonna say.
He wanted to not cry all the time, or at all, actually, but he didn’t know how therapy would fix that. Or if he even wanted to talk about.
Nightmares were another thing he could talk about, since he was still having them, but again, he didn’t know how therapy would help with them. Bruce said she’d help him find ways to cope, which just meant Liz couldn’t make them go away. Just, maybe make Jason stop crying about them after. Plus, they were so random. Sometimes about completely random things that Jason wasn’t even sure why upset him.
Plus, he was doing okay making himself feel better, wasn’t he? Sure, he didn’t ever get back to sleep, but at least he didn’t cry for a zillion hours, either. Doing schoolwork or reading or playing a game was a fine way to spend time.
But you can’t even sleep in your own bed, you coward, his brain helpfully reminded him.
“You doing okay, bud?” Bruce asked, from the front seat of the Tesla. He looked back at Jason through the rearview mirror Jason swears Bruce sets so he can partially see Jason through it, and offered a little smile when Jason looked up.
“Yeah,” he replied, shifting some so his hand was fisted inside his sleeve, rather than tapping at his knee. Obviously Bruce wasn’t gonna do shit to him for being nervous, no matter what his body felt like, he wasn’t in the car with a client on the way to fun time.
“You’re being awfully quiet today,” Bruce noted. Although Jason wasn’t sure how he was being quiet ‘today’ as opposed to all the other days. He often didn’t talk much around Bruce.
“I’m always quiet.”
Bruce looked back at Jason again, and almost studied him for a moment before he shrugged and said, “I suppose, but you’re being extra quiet today.”
How, he thought, but he shrugged and said, “I’m just thinking,” as he rested his arm on the door and started looking out the window. They were finally in Gotham proper, and were driving through the city blocks, so there was a lot more to see than the trees and sporadic buildings of Bristol.
“Anything I can help with?” Bruce asked, after he’d come to a stop at another traffic light.
Jason shifted in his chair and cut his eyes back up at Bruce as he asked, “Help with thinking?” How did one help with thinking?
No way was Jason talking to Bruce about shit. Bruce was fine and all, but it was bad enough he had to talk to Liz about stuff. Even though she said he didn’t ‘have’ to talk about stuff, she did kind of say he still needed to talk about stuff if he wanted therapy to help with said stuff.
“Well, sort of,” Bruce said, “Maybe I can offer some insight? Or alleviate any anxieties you’re feeling?”
Nodding absently, Jason turned back to the window and kind of thought about it. He knew Bruce probably could offer ‘insights’ or whatever. So far Bruce had been nothing but nice to Jason about everything, but that didn’t really mean Jason wanted him to know stuff. Like how often he had nightmares, or even that he felt like crying pretty much every day for the dumbest fucking reasons.
“I’m okay,” he finally mumbled, “Just thinking about what Liz wants to talk about.”
“Okay, bud,” Bruce said. He paused for a long moment, while Jason could almost hear the gears in his brain turning while he thought about his words, but finally he added, “You never have to tell me anything, okay? Or about anything you ever talk about with Liz, but you can talk to me if you ever want to, okay? I want to help you.”
“‘Kay,” he mumbled. He didn’t exactly… doubt Bruce. But Bruce had rarely been around the last week.
Now that Jason thought about it, he was rarely around before that, too. Only when he was hurt did he sit around at home all day. Otherwise he was either in his office all day working, or actually at work. Before it hadn’t really fazed him, cause he didn’t care, and didn’t want to spend any time around Bruce.
And it wasn’t like that had really changed, exactly, he didn’t care. He just thought Bruce would be around more, now that Jason was maybe okay with him being around.
Once they arrived at the office, Jason followed along as they walked inside. Bruce shifted to his more relaxed walking, and plastered on his giant grin as they walked in and the lady behind the desk smiled and said, “Mr. Wayne, good to see you.”
With a roll of his eyes, Jason went and took a seat in the lobby and just watched as Bruce chatted with Claire for a few minutes, talking about how the Wayne Foundation had apparently been in touch and they were already going forward with sponsoring three children.
“That’s wonderful,” Bruce cheered, “Let me know if you need anything else. We’re happy to help.”
“Okay, Mr. Wayne, thanks. Liz will be ready soon for Jason.”
With another big smile and a, “Great!” Bruce turned around and came over to where Jason was sitting.
And sat down right next to him.
Which was fine.
Literally. It was fine.
One, Bruce wouldn’t do anything. At all. And two, they were in public, so even if he would, it wouldn’t happen while sitting in the therapist’s lobby.
Yet, the second Bruce sat and down looked down at him, offering a little smile, Jason’s entire body started freaking out.
Or, he wasn’t even sure. It felt like his skin was trying to crawl right off his body.
Which was stupid.
Bruce won’t do anything, he thought to himself. Trying to tell his damn everything that. His arms started feeling staticky, too. And clenching his fists tightly into the sleeves of his hoody didn’t make it feel better at all.
If Bruce wanted to do things, they would have happened weeks ago. He wouldn’t even bring Jason here.
But had Bruce ever been alone with him? his brain asked. Truly alone?
Alfred was always around, and the rare times Alfred wasn’t, for an hour or two, Bruce was busy working. On the phone or computer or whatever, doing actual work, while Jason was hiding away in his bedroom. Or they were in public, like they were then. And the one time Alfred was gone all day, Selina was there.
So how did Jason really know Bruce wouldn’t do shit? When given the opportunity?
Suppressing a groan, Jason sank down in his chair and tried to make everything stop. Slip into the floating feeling he found sometimes, when he wanted to not feel stuff.
Before he could start, though, Bruce looked back down at him and asked, “You okay?”
“Mhm,” Jason hummed, crossing his arms tightly. He shouldn’t go floaty. He wasn’t good at talking when he was floaty.
He just wished his body would quit turning to static.
“Okay,” Bruce replied, his voice soft and rumbling, in an almost soothing manner.
If Jason hadn’t been freaking out over nothing.
“You’re doing great, bud,” he whispered, a second later, “Just take a deep breath.”
“I’m fine,” he grumbled back. Because he was.
Or. At least fine enough that he didn’t need to breathe. He was breathing fine. It was his skin and now his heart racing that was making everything suck.
He was saved from whatever Bruce had come up with to say back, after his long pause, because Liz walked into the lobby and smiled brightly when she saw Jason.
“Hi, Jason. It’s so nice to see you again. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Jason said hastily, hopping up and following after Liz.
His arms and legs felt like rubber as he moved, but at least the staticy feeling was starting to subside. And by the time he was settled down in Liz’s office, sitting at the table again across from her, the feeling was gone all together.
Liz chatted with him for the first several minutes about super mundane things. Jason usually hated chatting about stupid pointless shit, like how his week went, but it took so long for his heart to stop banging inside his chest, he kind of was okay with it.
He told her about watching a movie and playing Scrabble with Bruce, and all about his schoolwork and the current book he was reading, and she talked to him about the hiking trip she’d done over the weekend. Which was neat.
Jason had never been hiking before, but it sounded pretty fun climbing around on rocks out in the mountains.
But finally she got to it, when Jason had mentioned how Bruce’s house had a huge garden outside, so it was fun to explore it, she asked, “How are you liking living with Bruce?”
With a shrug, Jason shifted in his seat a little. He had no idea what to even say. “It’s fine,” he finally said, because she didn’t say anything and was just patiently waiting for Jason to answer. He shook his sleeve a little, so it would fall back over his hand. “It’s better than living with Donny, I guess. Bruce is nice.”
Which was true, at least.
Donny never made him so… weird, though. Never made him freak out just by sitting next to him.
Then again, no one had ever made that happen before. Not even clients when they sat next to him to do the things he didn’t want Bruce to do.
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said.
“But, um,” he started, only to stop.
Because he wasn’t even sure how to talk about it. Or mention it.
It was stupid he ever felt like that, when Bruce was around. Dumb. And ignoring it might be…
“But?” Liz prompted, gently, cutting Jason’s thoughts right off, so he took a deep breath and tried to ask about it anyway.
That was what he was there for, right?
And if she told him it was stupid, then whatever. He already knew that.
“Um. Why—why does my skin feel… crawly when Bruce sits next to me?”
“Is it a bad feeling?” she asked, tilting her head a little with her brow knit just a touch. Like she was thinking about it and trying to figure it out.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding, “I don’t like it. It—it feels like ants are crawling all over me.” Or like they were inside of him, trying to break free. Or like his skin was the ants, and they wanted to be free, and not with Jason anymore.
“Does it get better, or worse, when Bruce touches you?” she asked, still looking highly concentrated.
But Jason didn’t really know how to answer, because he didn’t know. “Bruce doesn’t touch me.” Not once since the first day they’d met. Not that Jason remembered, at least.
Bruce was always reaching out, like he was going to, but he never actually did. He would put a hand on the chair next to him, or pat at the table in front of him. Never actually touch Jason.
And he kind of hadn’t fully realized that, before…
“He never puts a hand on your back, or brushes up against you?” she asked, “Perhaps on accident?”
“No.” Never. Only that first day, when he was leading Jason away from Donny. And then again later, but he’d quickly stopped like he hadn’t meant to put a hand on his back, or something.
“What are you thinking about when he sits next to you?” she asked, “Are you worrying about anything?”
“I— Sometimes, I think about how he could… just. Grab me and…” and he didn’t want to talk about it, actually.
He didn’t want to talk about it at all.
Bruce wouldn’t grab him, so it was dumb to even worry about it.
And zillions of times before men had done all that, and it never bothered him. So it was extra dumb.
“Has that ever happened before?” she asked, gently, and all Jason could do was nod.
Zillions of times.
She didn’t say anything else, though, so Jason finally forced out, “Yeah. With… with... other men.”
Other men he would probably never never see again.
Because all Jason had to do was tell Bruce, and Bruce would tell Batman, and Batman would get them all beat up and arrested, so they could never get Jason to work for them again.
“That sounds scary,” Liz said, making Jason refocus from where his vision had zoned out into the distance.
It wasn’t… scary. Exactly. Not always, at least.
“There are worse things,” he said, a little numbly.
Sometimes it was scary. When he didn’t know what clients wanted, when he had no clue what was going on and if he was doing stuff right, or if he was just pissing his client off.
Clients being mad at him was sometimes fine, but most of the time very wasn’t fine. Because if a client didn’t beat him themselves, they’d tell Donny, and Donny…
But Bruce wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t do that. He’d promised.
Liz nodded, but said, “Just because some things are ‘worse’ than others doesn’t mean something isn’t bad, or it isn’t okay to be upset by it. Good and bad is completely relative, and if you felt uncomfortable, or scared, or nervous, then tha—“
“But I know Bruce won’t do any of that,” Jason cut in, sitting up in his chair and actually fully looking at Liz, “I know that, and I still feel…” he paused, and tried to find the right word, but settled on, “bad,” because he had no clue how else to say it.
She nodded again, and looked so… serious. Jason really didn’t know what to think about it, because it was dumb. It was dumb and stupid, yet she was taking it so seriously.
“Would moving out of his reach help?” she asked, and Jason furrowed his brow.
“Like, moving to another chair?”
Sure, moving would help, but how did that fix it? That was just… running away.
Liz nodded, and asked again, “Do you think that would help?”
“Well, yeah,” he said, still a little confused, “I don’t sit next to him at dinner or whatever and it’s fine.” Like when they watched TV, and he sat on the opposite side of the room from Bruce.
But, again, how did that make his skin stop?
“Then how about next time you feel like crawling sensation you move to another seat and see if that helps. Then you can keep spending time with Bruce without feeling bad.”
“But,” he started, feeling honestly confused about all of it, “But, how does that make it stop? And, and. What if he gets mad? Because it’s stupid?”
Moving would make it obvious, and then Bruce would know.
“Do you think it’s stupid?” she asked, which was not at all what he even was talking about.
And why was it even a question?? Of course it was stupid.
“Yeah,” he said, a little critically, “Because it is. He’s not gonna… do that. I know he’s not gonna do anything like that.” So it was super dumb he was still worrying about it, anyway.
No matter what his stupid dreams said, he knew it wasn’t going to happen.
“It’s not stupid, Jason,” Liz said evenly, still just as serious as before, “What you’re feeling is anxiety, cause by things that have happened in the past. You are scared that something you found unpleasant, scary, or bad is going to happen again, and your body is responding by creating this sensation that makes you want to stop.”
“But he’s not going to touch me,” Jason protested, scowling. Because he wasn’t scared. “Bruce isn’t a pedophile. If he wanted to fuck me, he woulda done it weeks ago, and he wouldn’ta signed me up for school and brought me here and, and… everything.”
“That’s the frustrating thing about anxiety,” Liz said, still calm, despite Jason’s attitude, “Even if we know something won’t happen, sometimes our bodies act like it might, anyway.”
“Then how do I make it stop?” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking back down into his chair.
If it was anxiety and it didn’t care what Jason knew, then how on earth could he ever make it stop?
“Start by moving out of Bruce’s reach,” she repeated, “That way you can still spend time with him without feeling bad. It takes a while for trust to build, it’s not something that happens over night.”
“And if you’re concerned moving will make him mad,” she added, “try talking to him about it. Tell him why you want to move to another chair. It might help him understand.”
Jason’s scowl softened, morphing into more of a pout.
That would require telling Bruce.
Although… Bruce was often saying stuff like ‘tell me if I can do anything to help…’
So maybe…
“What do you think of that plan?” she asked, when Jason had stayed quiet for a full minute.
“I guess…” he started, uncrossing his arms and focusing down on the hem on his sleeve. There was a loose thread on the cuff, which was super annoying because it was the new hoody Bruce had got him, so it shouldn’t be falling apart already. He started picking at it and mumbled, “He sometimes says stuff like, tell me if I can do anything, so maybe…”
“Then it sounds like he might understand.”
Hopefully, Jason thought.
Liz went on from there, talking on about how the goals of therapy was to do exactly what they just did. Discuss stuff and figure out solutions, or coping strategies, for everything. Anything Jason needed. Identify trauma and learn how to cope with it. Understand it, move past it.
Which just made Jason sink further into his chair.
Because that’s what Bruce had said a bunch.
That Jason was traumatized.
And Liz’s specialty was trauma.
So did what Jason ‘feared’ Bruce would do if Jason sat next to him count as trauma? When other men did it to him? Why would it count as trauma??
He’d never… thought about what trauma even was. Other than, like, gunshot wounds and stuff. Cause when people got shot or stabbed they ended up in the trauma ward.
But Liz said that’s what therapy was for. Figuring all that stuff out. So maybe he didn’t have to think about it, anyway.
“I have a little homework for you to do this week,” she said, as they were wrapping up the appointment.
Jason furrowed his brow and looked up. He’d been sort of paying attention, but he wasn’t sure how someone not his teacher could assign homework.
Liz smiled and passed a little journal across the table to him as she said, “I want you to think about what you want to achieve in therapy, and before our next meeting write three goals down in this journal. They can be about anything, like the skin crawling sensation, nightmares, or thoughts or feelings you have that you don’t like having. Anything, it is completely up to you.”
“Okay,” he agreed, albeit a little reluctantly.
It didn’t really sound like… fun. To have to think about all that. And then write it down.
But he could do it, he knew. He could.
He’d already been thinking about, so it wasn’t hard, exactly.
Just… not easy. Spending time actually thinking about stuff on purpose, and then writing about it.
At least Bruce was going to take him out for a treat after, he thought to himself, as he curled his fingers around the journal. Maybe Bruce was right about the having something to look forward to after therapy.
Bruce said he could have anything he wanted, and that was the only thing keeping him from completely dreading his ‘homework.’ And the next appointment where they were gonna talk more about all… of everything.
Maybe he should ask for chili dogs. That might help. A little.
He’d have to see.
Notes:
Writing therapy is so hard 😖 Because i want it to be realistic, and I also want to achieve the plot goals I have in mind. But I finally finished this chapter lmao. I'll proof it in the morning since it's 1:45am, so please just ignore the 53 typos I'm sure there are hahaha
Thanks for reading!!!!! See y'all next time!
Chapter 45
Notes:
Thanks to the awesome CKBookish and Batbirdies for helping me brainstorm on this chapter. ❤️
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Have you been thinking about what kind of treat you want this week?” Bruce asked, after they’d left the office and were walking back to the car, “You can have anything you want.”
Jason looked up at Bruce, briefly, but looked back down and started pulling at his sleeve a little, bunching it up in his hand as he so often did.
But it was kind of really super hot outside, so he almost just as quickly let go of it and pushed it back up his arm, above his elbow.
It’s not that he hadn’t thought about what he wanted. He knew exactly what he wanted.
He just wasn’t sure if… Bruce would want what he wanted.
And whether he’s supposed to care.
Scratch that, he knew he wasn’t supposed to care. Bruce and Alfred had both said no ones opinion about stuff mattered but his like a trillion times, and so far every time he’d asked for something it had turned out good.
But…
“Would it help if I gave you options?” Bruce asked, as he unlocked his car and opened the back door for Jason.
Jason hesitated, just beyond the back of the car, and finally shook his head. He wasn’t a baby. He didn’t need options. Or help picking what he wanted.
“Um, no. Can we get,” he started, looking back up at Bruce just to see him looking so damn happy he had to look away again as he finished, “uh, hot dogs?”
“Of course,” Bruce said almost brightly, so damn happy about it, “we’ll get anything you want.”
“Okay,” Jason mumbled, ducking his head a little as he stepped forward and slipped into the back seat, just because he knew his cheeks were turning a little red. As an afterthought, he added, “I want chili on mine.”
Bruce leaned over the door and said, “I’m sure we can make that happen. Do you have anywhere in particular in mind?”
“No,” he said, because he actually didn’t. His dad used to get him chilidogs sometimes at random street vendors, but he didn’t know where they’d gone. Because he was little when it happened and didn’t know streets and stuff all that well. And it wasn’t like he could go and ask his dad now where they’d been, with him being in jail and all.
Bruce nodded, and gave Jason another smile as he said, “Okay. I think I know a place. Dick was always a fan of this one vendor in Robinson Park, I think he has chilidogs.”
“Cool.”
The drive over was pretty quiet. Jason tried his best not to think about what Liz told him to do. Especially since it didn’t really matter yet. Bruce was sitting up in the driver seat, obviously, and no where near Jason. And they were going to a park, so presumably they’d walk around with their hotdogs.
That was how Dad always wanted them to eat their dogs, while walking home with them. It was a little messy, but Alfred didn’t seem to care when he got his clothes a little messy.
So, yeah. Jason didn’t need to worry about it yet. Not until they were home and Bruce was asking to watch a movie or something. And even then, Bruce usually sat across the room from him. So really he didn’t have to worry about it until next week’s appointment.
Yeah.
There was nothing to be worrying about, then. In fact, he should be excited. Because Bruce agreed to get him a chili dog without any complaint at all.
Bruce parked the car near Robinson Park and started leading Jason toward where this vendor was.
The walk took ten minutes, to Jason’s continued dismay. Not really because he didn’t want to be outside walking, he did, actually. He enjoyed being outside, but it was so fucking hot.
It was, like, 100 degrees outside. And the sun was brutal. It didn’t at all help that he had his Batman hoody on, either.
The thickest, warmest, darkest hoody he owned.
Wearing shorts with the hoody wasn’t helping at all.
His sleeves weren’t staying up, either. As they walked, he had to push them back up four different times.
Because the hand holes were too big to actually stay up above his elbow.
When sweat beaded up on his forehead, just as his sleeve slipped down past his elbow again, he stopped and furiously shook his arm so it fell all the way down. He then tried his best to start rolling it up, completely ignoring how Bruce stopped walking and turned around to see what he was doing.
“You okay?” Bruce asked, when Jason scowled at his sleeve and keep trying to roll it up.
It was friggen hard with just one hand. He could usually manage when it was just enough to get the sleeves above his hands, so his sleeves didn’t get all dirty while eating. But trying to roll them up all the way to his elbow was impossible. Not with one hand. Not with the hoody still on.
He’d rolled the sleeves up before. When it wasn’t on him yet. It was way easier to roll the sleeves up with two hands.
“Would you like some help?” Bruce asked, as he stepped a couple steps closer.
Jason looked up at him and tried to glare, but couldn’t quite manage it.
Since he kind of did need help…
Or to just take the damn thing off.
But taking it off would mean… would mean…
He knew Bruce wouldn’t look at him, but they were in public. And there were lots of people. Lots. And some of them were bound to…
And.
The last month and a half had been so nice. To not have to deal with any of it.
“Jay,” Bruce said, as he knelt down in front of Jason, a couple feet in front of him, “Do you want to go home? We can get hotdogs later.”
“No,” Jason said, as he held his left arm out toward Bruce. He covered his eyes with his right hand, and tried to just focus on breathing.
Trying not to get anxious.
He wasn’t successful at that, but Bruce was super quick as he rolled up Jason’s sleeve. He somehow didn’t touch Jason at all, either, and only the sleeve.
“You’re all right, bud,” Bruce said, as Jason held out his right arm and watched Bruce roll the sleeve up this time.
“Yeah,” he agreed. Though his voice sounded shakier than he wanted. He was fine.
And his skin didn’t really feel bad, either. Even though Bruce was still knelt down right in front of him.
“Still want a chili dog?” Bruce asked, as he stood up and held a hand out behind Jason, as if to guide him alone.
Jason nodded and stepped to the side a little, more out of Bruce’s reach, but did follow Bruce on toward the vendor.
“I haven’t had a chili dog since I was little,” he said, after taking a deep breath and trying to force a smile.
Because he was fine.
It was still fucking hot outside, but he at least felt a little better.
“Yeah?” Bruce asked. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking, not really looking at Jason, but clearly still paying attention.
“Yeah,” Jason said, rubbing a hand up the side of his face. He didn’t want to cry, so he needed his face to stop wanting to. “My dad used to take me to get them. When Mom had work or something.” Because Dad used to complain about how he didn’t want to ‘fucking cook’ on his day off. Couldn’t Jason just eat a sandwich?
Jason could, but Dad still usually took him out to a street vendor. Mostly because, Jason assumed, Dad wanted a hotdog too.
“Well I hope they’re as good as you remember.”
“Me too,” Jason said, finally able to smile a little less forced. Street hotdogs were always the best. Way better than what Mom would make at home.
Bruce motioned with his head down another path, as they approached one jutting out from the sidewalk they were on and further into the park, so Jason followed along. “You know,” he said, “They make hoodies and such that are short sleeved or sleeveless. Lighter weight, too, meant for summer. Those might be more comfortable outside in the heat.”
“Maybe,” Jason mumbled. He wasn’t sure he’d like no sleeves. Though, he’d still wear a t-shirt under it so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.
“We can go look for one after hotdogs?” Bruce suggested, though Jason couldn’t tell by his face if he really wanted to go shopping after or not.
“Uh,” Jason stammered. Did he want to go shopping? It would probably require going to the mall again, and the last time Jason went to the mall with Bruce he started crying in the middle of it. And sure he believed Bruce didn’t want anything in return better now, he cried easier.
And Jason didn’t want to cry at the mall. In public. Where people could see him.
He didn’t want to cry at all anywhere, but that was the absolute worst place it could happen.
Besides, he was fine with the hoodies he had. Maybe he should just get over himself and take it off, when he got too hot. It was his own damn fault for wearing a hoody in the middle of summer.
“No thanks.”
“All right, buddy,” Bruce said, smiling again, “Just let me know if you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes a little as he picked up his step a little.
He could finally see the hotdog vendor up ahead of them, and was quite eager to change the fucking subject and eat a hotdog. He did really hope chilidogs were as good as he remembered.
As they approached the little cart, decorated with a bright red sign that read “Dennis’s Dogs,” Bruce morphed into his weird other-self.
Bruce plastered on a bright smile, and as they walked up to the stand, nearly hollered, “Dennis!” at the guy standing behind it.
“Bruce!” Dennis shouted back, “I haven’t seen you in a minute. How’s that boy of yours?”
“He’s doing great! Graduated from high school, now he’s going to college up in New York. It’s strange without him around the manor, I have to tell you.”
“I feel that. I’ve sent three of mine out so far, just have the one left,” He turned toward Jason and asked, “This one here yours?”
Jason almost opened his mouth to say no, but Bruce was quicker and said, “This is Jason. He wanted a chili dog and I thought you might have those.”
“Well I sure do,” Dennis said, looking directly at Jason as he did, “Do you want just one?”
“Yes, please,” Jason said, trying not to get too irritated Bruce basically just claimed Jason as his kid.
Because. Maybe it was easier than explaining. Plus, foster kid and everything.
“I’d like one as well,” Bruce said, “and a Coke. Jay, do you want a drink?”
“Yeah, Dr. Pepper, please,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pocket.
“I like this kid, Bruce,” Dennis said, as he pulled out the cans of soda and started fixing their dogs, “He’s got good manners.” Dennis leaned over, like he was telling Jason a secret or something, even though he was still a good several feet away with the cart between them, “Introducing this man to street food is not small feat, either. I’ve never seen him get himself a dog.”
“What can I say,” Bruce said, as he pulled out a $100 and stuck it in the tip jar, before putting a $10 down on the cart for the food, “I like pretzels. Dick always got a hotdog with onions while I got a pretzel.”
“Thank you, Bruce. You’re always too kind.”
“I’m just glad you had chilidogs for Jay here,” Bruce said. He took the chilidogs from Dennis, “Do they look good, Jay?”
“Yeah.” They looked perfect. Bruce didn’t hand Jason his dog, though, when he held his hand out.
Instead, Bruce motioned for him to grab the drinks as he bid Dennis a goodbye. So Jason did, and hurried to catch up with Bruce and walk to wherever the fuck they were walking.
“I can carry mine,” he protested, when Bruce still didn’t hand his hotdog over, but Bruce just shook his head.
But Bruce just said, “They’re hot.” As if that was a valid reason Jason couldn’t carry it on his own.
Hot.
Jason snorted.
Bruce honestly thought he was too little to carry his own chili dog. Because it was hot. That’s what that was, he just knew it.
No one had thought he was too little for something in… in ages. Years. He’d stopped being too little for things when he was nine.
Even though it did annoy Jason a little, it was mostly just amusing.
Besides, Jason got to carry the cold drinks, so he was the real winner in the deal.
They walked down the path, further into the park for a couple minutes until Bruce led Jason through the grass a little to a bench, situated near the pond. It’s under shade and looked out over the pond, filled with ducks swimming about.
Jason sat down on the edge of it and sat the drinks down next to him, and finally Bruce handed him one of the chilidogs. “Thanks,” he said, ready to take a glorious bite when he stuttered to a halt.
Because Bruce sat down right next to him.
Well, not immediately next to him. There was a little space. For the drinks. But Bruce didn’t sit on the complete other edge like Jason was hoping he’d do. It was a large bench, he’d just assumed if Bruce sat on the opposite side it wouldn’t be bad.
It would be fine.
After all Bruce had just helped fix his sleeves and he was fine.
But of course, his heart-rate started pounding in his chest while all the ants under his skin started going nuts.
All Bruce did was lean back, cross one of his legs so his ankle was resting up on his knee, the foot the closest thing of Bruce to Jason, and take a bite of his hotdog.
He didn’t even look over at Jason.
And Jason looked out at the lake and tried to make himself chill out.
Breathe.
That was good for anxiety, right? Breathing? He was pretty sure he’d heard that somewhere.
Taking a bite of his chili dog didn’t help, either. Because it didn’t taste like anything.
Or, it probably did. He was pretty sure it did, but his skin was doing the thing and his heart was racing faster and faster because he was supposed to tell Bruce.
Liz said he had to tell Bruce and he didn’t want it to happen so soon.
Not while they were out enjoying hotdogs.
He didn’t want to ruin the day. They were at the park. They were eating hotdogs. It was supposed to be fun. He was having fun.
Except… no he hadn’t been. He had already been a baby about everything. About the stupid hoody and not wanting to let Bruce help but also not wanting to take it off.
He swallowed thickly, and tried to take a slow, deep breath. Breathing was supposed to help. It was. But instead, his breath caught a little and made everything worse.
Because Bruce definitely noticed.
“Everything okay, lad?” he asked, as he looked over and gave Jason a concerned fucking face.
“Yeah,” Jason managed, before forcing another slow breath. Maybe he would google anxiety later when he was back in his room. He was pretty sure breathing was supposed to help.
Even Bruce had told him to breath…
Did Bruce already know then?? Could he just tell? By looking at Jason? That he was freaking out??
Jason wouldn’t put it past him.
So he should just tell him then, right? If he already knew?
“Um,” he started, cutting his eyes over and Bruce and back down to his hotdog. The little paper tray the hotdog was in was soaking up the grease from the chili, and Jason should probably eat it soon, but…
“What is it?” Bruce prompted, as he turned more toward Jason, putting his arm up on the bench back. It wasn’t behind Jason, but rather right beside him. Bruce’s arm bent at the elbow and his arm was dangling off the bench back.
Logically, Jason knew it was meant to be, like… he didn’t know. Comforting?
Or… or like. There.
Yeah. That was probably what he meant. I’m here, lad.
But really all Jason could think about was how he was now completely and totally within reach. Bruce could put his arm around him in the blink of an eye.
Bruce could—
He could—
Jason growled at himself, very quietly, as he tried to shake himself of the feeling.
“Jay,” Bruce said, even softer, “What is it? You can tell me. Maybe I can make it better.”
Maybe. He definitely couldn’t make it worse.
Since Bruce wouldn’t do any of the shit he was worrying about for no reason.
“I just,” he stared, but paused to sniffle and press the palm of his free hand into his eye. Try to keep it from leaking anymore. “Liz says…” he cut his eyes over at Bruce again to see him still looking concerned and encouraging, then quickly looked away again, “she says I’m feeling anxious.”
Bruce nodded, like he already knew that. Because he did. He knew it before Jason even knew it.
“About what?”
“About,” Jason tried, but had to pause to sniffle again. He ended up looking completely away from Bruce and squeezing his eyes shut tightly before he could force out, “About sitting close.”
As much as Jason wanted to not look, he couldn’t. He opened his eyes and looked over at Bruce, from the corner of his eye, and saw how Bruce furrowed his brow for a split second.
Like he was confused about what Jason had just said. Confused and maybe annoyed.
He was definitely annoyed. Of course he’d be annoyed about it. He was probably mad, thinking ‘why the fuck is this stupid kid still all upset over this shit…’ and—
But then Bruce’s eyes bugged out, going comically wide as he stood up immediately. “I’m sorry, Jason,” he said, taking a step back and running the hand not holding onto his hotdog through his hair, “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean—“ he cut himself off and took another step back, so he was at least six feet away, and said again, sounding genuinely upset with himself, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jason whispered, as he tried to scrub the tears that were welling up in his eyes quickly away, with the back of his hand.
Because of course Bruce would just… immediately fix it. And not be mad at all.
Of course he would. That was how Bruce was.
Although Jason didn’t understand that.
Why was Bruce like that?
Why did he…. Care?? Why did Bruce care about Jason and Jason’s stupid feelings???
“It’s stupid anyway,” he muttered, as he sat his hotdog down next to him so he could dry his eyes with one of his rolled up sleeves.
“No, Jase,” Bruce said, nearly instantly. He didn’t even have to think about that response, “It’s not stupid. I’m sorry, I will be more mindful of your personal space going forward, okay?”
With a nod, Jason scrubbed at his eyes one last time. He thought he got it under control, finally. Maybe. His eyes weren’t producing more tears, he was pretty sure.
“I see a picnic table over there,” Bruce said, pointing to one up the hill some, “Would sitting there instead be better?”
“Yeah,” Jason said thickly, nodding. A table would be way better. Bruce could sit across from him and it would be fine. “Sorry.”
“Jay,” Bruce said, as he knelt down in front of him. Although… still like several feet in front of him. He still got down so he was looking up at Jason, “Jason. I just want you to be safe and comfortable and happy. If there’s anything I can do to help you feel that, I’ll do it. And if there’s anything I’m doing to prevent that, I want to know, so I can fix it. I—I care about you, okay? Your happiness is important to me.”
“Okay,” Jason managed to say.
He wasn’t sure how he didn’t start bawling his fucking eyes out, but he didn’t. Instead he picked up his hotdog and soda and followed Bruce over to the table.
Once they got there, Bruce let Jason sit down first, then sat down on the opposite corner, across from him and on the other side of the bench. So they were as far away from each other as possible.
”Is this better?”
“Yeah.” Jason felt a little numb, if anything, but he definitely didn’t feel the ants under his skin anymore. So it was much better. He sat his hotdog down in front of him and cracked open his soda, to try and push down the taste of crying with his favorite soft drink.
He hadn’t even really cried, and yet he still felt like he had. Everything felt thick and his eyes felt hallow and all he wanted to do was go hide in his room and curl up under a blanket.
But Bruce was still being so fucking nice about everything because he cared and Jason still had most of a chili dog in front of him, so slowly, one bite at a time, he started to eat it.
It was actually pretty good. A little cold, now. Since he had his little moment and everything, but still delicious.
Maybe next week he could actually eat it when it was still hot, instead of freaking out and crying over shit.
Not crying was something he could put down in his journal. That could be one of his goals. Not crying all the time.
“Do you see the squirrel's nest up there,” Bruce asked, making Jason startle, a little. But he looked over, then follow Bruce’s pointed finger up into the tree above them. It took a second, but sure enough, there was a squirrel’s nest up there, with a squirrel hanging out next to it, chittering about.
“Squirrels are one of my favorite animals,” Bruce said, crossing his arms and leaning on them, over the table, still looking up into the tree, “When I was a boy I was convinced I could catch one and keep it as a pet.”
Jason furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what to even say in response. But then another squirrel jumped onto the branch the first one was on, and the first one started chittering at it.
“I have no idea why my parents let me keep trying,” Bruce went on, “but they did. I must have tried all summer one year, when I was about seven. I would climb trees as high as I could get trying to get to them, climbing up onto branches that I probably shouldn’t have been climbing on. Too thin and frail to support my weight.”
Jason looked further up into the tree, and tried to see how high up one would have to go in that tree to get to the branches that were too thin. It was so far up, Jason couldn’t even see, because of all the leaves on the lower branches.
Probably, like, 30 feet or more, though. It was hard to tell.
“But then one day I fell a good ten feet straight to the ground. Landed on my back and got the wind knocked out of me. It was a miracle I didn’t break anything.”
“Did your parents make you stop after that?” Jason asked, looking back away from the squirrels and over to Bruce.
He was smiling fondly, still looking up at the squirrels himself. “No,” he said, “Alfred did. My dad thought it was good for me to fall from a tree or two. It would teach me ‘how not to fall,’ or something.”
“By possibly getting seriously hurt,” Jason deadpanned.
“You sound like my mom,” Bruce said, smiling even more, “I still climbed trees, just not when Alfred was watching.”
“Did you ever catch a squirrel?”
“No,” Bruce said wistfully, “but one time I found a kitten in the woods…”
And somehow, Jason sat and listened to Bruce talk about a cat he found and cared for for months, while Alfred helped him nurse it back to health so it could be adopted. For fifteen minutes the story went on.
It was… it was nice. Peaceful, even.
Just him and Bruce, sitting out at a park as they finished off their hotdogs and drinks and just chatted.
Or, well, Bruce did most of the chatting, but Jason talked some too. About mundane things that were interesting and pointless all at the same time.
And it was nice.
Because Liz was right, and Bruce understood. And more than that, Bruce cared. About his stupid feelings, no matter how dumb they were.
He could be happy like that, he thought. Like for real. He could.
Notes:
😄 This chapter took longer than anticipated, but it's finally done. I hope y'all enjoyed it.
I've got some more small trips coming up this month, but hopefully I'll still get quite a bit written in the meantime.
Thanks for reading!!!! And thanks for all the lovely comments y'all have been leaving, I love reading them. ❤️ See you next time!
Chapter 46
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
On Saturday morning, Jason skipped breakfast in favor of sleeping in. He didn’t have nightmares or anything, which was great, but he was still exhausted. Just from. Everything.
So it wasn’t until a little past ten did Jason wander down to the kitchen to make himself a bowl of cereal. On his way to the kitchen, however, he got distracted by sunlight pouring in from the garage.
He was so used to seeing the hallway leading down to the garage door dark and creepy looking, due to the gigantic garage being closed and dark, he couldn’t help but investigate.
The door between the garage and the house had a window on it, so Jason crept up to it and peeked out, to see if it was just Bruce or Alfred leaving or something. But when he looked out, all he saw was Bruce, with his back to the door, digging through a toolbox along the back wall of the garage.
Before Bruce could see him lurking, Jason turned around and made his way to the kitchen. He wanted a bowl of Berry Crunch and maybe a glass of the lemonade Alfred had made the day before, not to talk to Bruce.
“Good morning, lad,” Alfred said, just as Jason stepped into the kitchen, “What would you like for breakfast?”
With a smile, Jason started crossing the kitchen, over to the pantry, as he said, “Hi, Alfred. I was just gonna get some cereal.”
“Then help yourself, lad.”
Despite saying ‘help yourself,’ Alfred both got him a bowl and the milk out, but otherwise let Jason pour himself the cereal. He then traded Jason the milk for a spoon before going back to whatever he was preparing before. Kinda looked like bread. He was kneading dough, whatever it was.
“What’s Bruce doing in the garage?” Jason asked, after he’d watched Alfred for a few minutes and got through half his bowl of cereal.
Alfred rolled the dough up into a loaf shape and dropped it down into a glass pan as he said, “Why don’t you go see for yourself?”
He didn’t even look over, but Alfred must have heard Jason frown, or something, because he then asked, “You like cars, don’t you?”
“Well yeah,” Jason stammered. He did like cars, but why did that mean he had to go ask Bruce what he was doing? “I just don’t want to bother him.”
Bruce was obviously doing work or something. He had spent almost the whole week working, and then had to take Jason out yesterday, so he probably had stuff he had to get done around the house, right? With… the tools.
“You won’t be bothering him,” Alfred said, like he thought it was impossible for Jason to bother Bruce, “I’m sure he will be more than happy to tell you about the work he’s doing on his cars.”
So he was doing work then.
Just… on his cars…
Jason looked down into his bowl and scooped out his last bite of cereal, contemplating whether he would go bother Bruce.
On the one hand, Bruce had said he would show Jason his cars if he just asked.
But on the other… he didn’t know. Things were good with Bruce so far, he was kind of scared if he bothered Bruce too much, he’d ruin it.
But as soon as Jason set his bowl back down, after finishing off the milk, Alfred walked over and took it, saying, “Go on, lad.”
And, well. Jason was supposed to listen to Alfred, right?
Back at the door to the garage, though, Jason hesitated. Bruce was back rummaging through the toolbox, but his Volkswagen was moved out to the middle of the floor, out of its normal parking spot in the line of cars away from the doors.
He didn’t turn around, though, when Jason hesitatingly pulled the door open and stepped down onto the the little set of three stairs that led to the garage floor. It wasn’t until he found whatever it was, it looked like a funnel from where Jason was standing, did he turn around and notice Jason.
“Hey, bud,” he said, as he pulled a little earbud out of his ear, “what’s up?”
“Alfred said I should come see what you were doing.”
Bruce nodded and put his little earbud in a case on the work bench as he said, “Oh, well I’m changing the oil on the cars today.”
“All of them?” Jason surveyed the garage and couldn’t help but think doing something like that would take ages.
“Most of them,” Bruce nearly hummed, as he opened the driver’s door to the Volkswagen and leaned inside. A second later, the hood popped.
Jason hopped down the last two steps and walked over toward one of the lines of cars, the one with the red lambo he’d been drooling over every time he was in the garage. He hadn’t had a chance to actually look at it, though. Because every time he was in the garage, Bruce was ushering him someplace or another.
Bruce peeked over at him, but didn’t say anything when Jason put his hand down on the hood of the car. It was gorgeous. Shiny and flawless. Not a single scratch on it anywhere Jason could see.
It was obvious it was taken care of, but Jason would have never thought Bruce did the work.
“Don’t you have people for that?” Jason asked, as Bruce opened the hood on the Volkswagen and propped it open like he’d done it a million times.
With seventy-four cars, he probably had done it a million times.
“Have you seen people around here I’m not aware of?” Bruce asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he checked the car’s oil, using the little stick thing. Jason had never actually seen someone do that before. Mostly because his parents hadn’t owned a car. He’d seen people do that on TV and stuff, though.
“No one’s mechanic lives with them,” Jason scoffed, turning fully from the Lamborghini to watch Bruce. Although Jason wouldn’t put it past a rich weirdo with a million cars to have a live-in mechanic.
Bruce huffed, what Jason assumed was a laugh, but he said, “I’m my own mechanic,” as he started messing with something in the car. Jason was kinda curious what.
“Why?”
“Is it so wrong I have a hobby?” Bruce asked, looking up at Jason finally.
“Yeah, it’s weird,” Jason answered with a shrug, “You’re rich." Rich people had hobbies there were like, horses. Horses and… well. Jason didn’t actually know, outside of illegal stuff, obviously.
“I like working on my own cars,” Bruce said, as he walked back over to his tool box and slipped on some gloves, “At least, on the cars I can work on. Some of these are just easier to bring to the dealership.”
“Really? Why?” Jason asked, looking back around at all the cars. Bruce actually had about ten cars, mostly sport cars, “Which ones?”
“It’s all the computer systems in the newer cars, I don’t feel like owning the equipment for every single car, especially if I don’t drive that car much, anyway. And cars like the Tesla you have to get parts for on the blackmarket, and it’s far more trouble than it’s worth.”
With a slight grin, Jason asked, “So you’re saying you don’t buy stuff from the black market,” as he pointed to himself when Bruce looked over. Regardless of his intentions, Bruce had exchanged money for him. Which was technically buying a child on the blackmarket.
Bruce just rolled his eyes, though, and said, “I try not to.”
“Why do you own like ten cars?” Jason asked, as he started inspecting the other cars in the line he was at. Next to the Lamborghini was a sleek black sports car and Jason was pretty sure was a corvette. He really needed to study the symbols on cars more. It was a little ‘V’ on the hood, so he was like, 98% sure.
“There’s only nine here and one is Alfred’s,” Bruce said, like that made a difference, “and I like cars. They’re fun to collect.”
“Do you actually drive them all? You always pick the Tesla when we go anywhere.” Or that one time the Volkswagen.
Although maybe Bruce brought the sports cars out on his dates or whatever he did at night. Jason had never watched him leave or anything.
Bruce leaned back over the Volkswagen’s engine compartment as he said, “I try to drive each one at least once a month, even if it’s just around the block.”
“Oh,” he said, shoving his hands into his hoody pocket. He was wearing his Wayne Enterprises one, since he’d sweated all over the Batman one.
Maybe Bruce was right and he needed a summer hoody or something, because it was hot in the garage, too. Since the door was open to the outside and all…
Jason walked over to the open garage door and leaned back against the threshold between inside and outside and asked, “How often do you do this?” as he motioned at everything inside the garage.
“Every six months,” Bruce said, as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his t-shirt sleeve. Then he stood up and looked straight as Jason as he asked, “Do you want to help?”
“What?” Help?
Bruce would actually let Jason help?
“Come here,” Bruce motioned with his head for Jason to come over, “I’ll show you what I’m doing.”
Jason pushed off the wall and took an aborted step forward as he asked, “Really?” Couldn’t he like, fuck up the car horribly??
Why would Bruce want him to help?
“Of course, this is a good skill to know. One day you’ll have a car of your own to take care of.”
“I will?” Jason asked, a little dazed as he did cross the garage to where Bruce was working.
Not many people owned cars, where he was from. He’d never actually dreamed that one day he’d own a car.
But maybe he should have. Because… if he got a real job, like doctor or lawyer or something, then he’d have enough money to buy one.
And if he did that, he’d probably need one to get to work and stuff.
“Of course,” Bruce said, like he hadn’t even thought the opposite. Once Jason had fully approached the car, and inched up to the side of the engine compartment, across from Bruce, he said, “Okay, tell me what all you know about cars.”
“Uh,” Jason stammered. He didn’t know much about cars, in the grand scheme of things. He’d only recently been able to research them! “Well. I know that’s the engine,” he continued, pointing to where the engine was, hiding under a cover, “And it has, uh, cylinders and pistons…”
He trailed off, but when he looked back up at Bruce, Bruce was smiling brightly, like Jason had said the right thing, so he tried to return the smile.
“Great, you already know more than most drivers,” Bruce said, as he walked back over to his workbench. He grabbed a pair of gloves and held them out for Jason as he said, “Engines have oil in them we need to change, to make sure it’s staying clean. Dirty oil damages the engine, which can cause some serious problems. Engines also burn off oil, so changing it ensures we’re keeping enough in there for the engine to work properly.”
Jason listened attentively as he rolled his sleeves up and pulled the gloves on. Bruce went to on explain how they were going to get the old oil out, replace it, and change the oil filter. He’d known kind of vaguely the basics of all that, but he’d never heard it be explained in detail.
Bruce walked him through everything, and even let Jason do some of the work. Like pull out the old oil filter and insert the oil extractor down into the car. Bruce took a step back once he showed Jason what to do, and even let Jason extract all the oil. By himself.
It was actually super easy. No wonder Bruce did his own oil changes.
While Jason was watching the oil slowly drain from the engine and into the extractor, Bruce went and got two huge bottles of oil off the shelf, which was stocked with, like, twenty bottles of the stuff.
“That much?” It looked like he had two gallons of oil, or more. Probably more. The bottles were bigger than milk jugs.
“Yes,” Bruce said, as he set the two bottles on the ground next to the extractor, “This car needs almost six quarts.”
Jason had no idea how much that was, because who measured shit in quarts?? But he nodded and watched from the side of the car as Bruce took the extractor out and slipped the funnel in, then poured the entirety of one of the bottles in.
It wasn’t until he started pouring in the second bottle did Bruce say, “Okay, I need you to pull the dip stick out and check the level.”
Jason bounced back around to the front of the car, so he could reach the dip stick. Bruce stepped to the side, further out of the way, but couldn’t go too far since he was still holding the bottle over the funnel, but it was fine. Jason could reach it just fine.
“Pull it out and wipe it off,” Bruce explained, when Jason located the dip stick, “then dip it back in. That will give you an accurate reading.”
Nodding, Jason grabbed the rag Bruce had set next to the dip stick and did exactly as told. Once he had the ‘accurate’ reading he held it up into the sun and squinted at it, trying to figure out if he was supposed to be able to tell if it was low. “Uh, it’s below the bottom dot.”
“That means we don’t have enough in there. You want the oil between the two dots.”
“Ah.” Jason nodded, and watched as Bruce poured more into the engine, a little at a time.
Each time he had Jason check the levels again, until the line was almost all the way to the top dot. Once it was, Bruce nodded contentedly and said, “That’s good enough,” and put the bottle of oil back down on the ground, “Now we just have to put the new filter in and we’re done.”
Doing that was a piece of cake. It was basically just the reverse as removing it. Then Bruce had Jason put the engine cover on by himself and they were done.
Just like that.
“Great job,” Bruce said, as he removed the stick holding the hood open, then motioned for Jason to step back so he could drop it shut. Jason jumped when the hood slammed closed, but then smiled when Bruce added, “You’re a pro already.”
“This is some people’s job,” Jason said, as he stepped back into the sunlight, shining in through the open garage door behind him, where he could get a good look at all of Bruce’s cars.
“It sure is,” Bruce said, “Mechanics is a very good field to go into. We’ll always have a need for mechanics.”
“Unless all the rich assholes start doing it themselves,” Jason said, walking along the edge of the driveway, toward the other row of cars on the other side of the garage.
Bruce huffed as he peeled his gloves off and tossed them over at the work bench. “If I crashed one of these,” he said, walking back to the Volkswagen with the key in his hand, “or the engine failed or something drastic, I’d let a mechanic fix it. I just do the routine, easy things.”
“Oh.” Jason supposed that made sense. It probably wasn’t fun if it was super tedious or whatever.
While Bruce started up the Volkswagen and backed it up into its spot, in the row of cars across the way from Jason, he wandered down the new row of vehicles.
All of the cars Bruce or Alfred drove the most were closer to the door to the Manor, so that’s where the Tesla and Bentley were. On this side was some cars Jason didn’t even recognize. He’d need to do a lot of research on fancy-ass sports cars to figure them out, too.
That was, until he stopped on the last car in the row and recognized the SRT logo on the side of the grille.
“No way,” he whispered to himself, as he circled the car.
There was no way it was what he thought it was.
He’d just seen a documentary… or four… about this car three days ago. It was an expensive car, sure, but not like million dollars expensive. It wasn’t even 100k, if he remembered right. He hadn’t been expecting Bruce to have one.
Then again, Bruce owned a Volkswagen. And this was an awesome car.
“You like that one?” Bruce asked, from across the garage.
“Is this a Hellcat?” Jason asked, before he cupped his hands around his eyes so he could try to peek inside. Sadly the tinted windows were too dark, though, so he stood back up and looked over at Bruce.
And Bruce looked… delighted. That was the only way Jason could describe it. He looked delighted.
“It sure is.”
“Dude,” Jason exclaimed, excitement bubbling up in him so quickly he felt like he would burst, “No way! What year is it? Does it really have a red key? How fast does it go? Why don’t you drive this one everywhere!”
Bruce grinned probably the most genuine grin Jason had ever seen but he couldn’t even think about it, because holy shit. He was right!!!
This was like, one of his favorite cars ever.
He’d watched four different documentaries, all on youtube, all because of the red key and how the regular black key governed the engine but the red key unlocked over seven hundred horse power.
And besides being so fucking cool that a car could go so fast, it was such a funny image, picturing seven hundred horses pulling a car.
Bruce walked over to the key lock box, up near the door to the manor, and put his Volkswagen key away. Before he shut it, though, he pulled out a bright red key and Jason just about lost it.
“Oh my God, that’s so cool.”
“Do you want to go for a ride?” Bruce asked, holding the key up, but not yet crossing the garage.
“Are you serious?” Jason asked. Bruce unlocked the doors in answer, so Jason exclaimed, “Yes!” and quickly rounded to the passenger side to open the door and look inside.
The first thing that hit him was the new car smell.
Such a wonderful, beautiful smell. Probably one of his favorites.
Sure, he’d rarely smelled a new car when he wasn’t nervous as hell or already having a bad day, but it’d always always been a good thing to focus on. Guys with new cars always liked to talk about them, and Jason loved to listen.
Now he was getting to ride in a new one of one of his favorite cars with Bruce.
“This is so cool,” he whispered, in hushed awe as he slipped into the passenger seat.
There was a backseat, but there was almost no windows back there, and barely any space, and he wanted to see. Not be trapped and blind to everything happening. So Jason buckled himself into the passenger seat and just hoped Bruce wouldn’t make him move.
But Bruce just walked around to the driver door, smiling softly as he slid in and buckled himself in. “Feeling good?” he asked, as he dropped the key into the cup holder.
Good????
Jason was fucking ecstatic.
“Are you gonna go fast?”
In answer, Bruce pressed down on the brake and pressed the start button, then revved the engine loudly.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Jason said under his breath, trying not to grin too wide when Bruce put the car in drive and slowly pulled out of the parking spot.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” Bruce said. Jason didn’t even have enough time to agree, though, before Bruce lined the car up with the garage door and then gunned it.
Mostly because Jason was too busy laughing, watching the trees and bushes that lined the driveway speed by.
He only had to slow down a little for the gate, because somehow he told it to start opening before they got anywhere near it.
“You’re gonna get pulled over,” Jason said, through his laughter as Bruce hit 60 MPH out on the road outside the estate. On a road with a speed limit of 20.
“Probably,” Bruce agreed, obviously not caring one bit as he shifted gears and started going faster.
The car only hit 70, though, before he slowed down to come to a stop sign at the end of their long, semi-private road.
“Okay, we have a couple options here,” Bruce said, looking over at Jason, “There’s a high school with a large parking lot we can play in, or there’s an industrial area with a network of roads that are deserted on Saturdays. Which do you think sounds better?”
Jason fidgeted in his chair, but asked, “Which one can you go faster on?”
“The industrial complex,” Bruce said, immediately turning the car to the left and zipping off again.
Bruce did keep the speed down, though, as they drove through all the little neighborhoods. Which was probably good, because Jason saw a few kids playing in their yards, and hitting a kid would probably be super bad.
But it only took a couple minutes before they were suddenly staring at a wide open straight road.
A huge wide open straight road, with four lanes running in either direction.
Obviously it was meant for tons and tons of traffic, but true to Bruce’s word, it was completely deserted.
“This was built up to be a large industry area,” Bruce explained, as he pulled onto the road and came to a stop right in the middle of it, “and there ended up being only two companies to move here. It’s one of my favorite places to play with a car.”
“It looks like a race track,” Jason observed, leaning forward in his seat so he could see over the dash, at the brake marks on the street right in front of them.
“It’s used as one. Ready?”
Quickly, Jason sat back in his seat again and nodded enthusiastically.
He was so ready.
Bruce smiled and put one hand on the wheel, the other on the clutch, then floored it.
Jason was thrown back into the seat hard, they accelerated so fast.
And all Jason could do was laugh.
Bruce treated the road like it was a race track, circling it several times, making the car slide sometimes in his turns, the tires squealing as he did, and every single time making Jason laugh harder.
It was the coolest fucking thing Jason had ever done.
They drove for nearly half an hour, Bruce driving around some of the smaller roads around the big huge buildings, and even doing a donut in the middle of a parking lot. Jason just knew that had to be terrible for the tires, but it was so cool to do.
So, so cool.
But eventually, Bruce did turn back to the manor, and by then, Jason’s stomach and cheeks hurt from laughing so much.
“You like this car, huh?” Bruce said, once they were going slow again, back through the neighborhoods with the kids.
“This is like, my dream car, dude,” Jason said, sitting back up to look at all the buttons on the dash. He hadn’t paid much attention to any of them. “Or, well, one of them.”
He had technically just learned about it a few days before, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t instantly become a dream car.
Bruce held a hand out, motioning at the radio as if saying ‘go ahead, mess with it,’ so Jason did.
He pressed all the buttons.
“Why is a Hellcat one of your dream cars?” Bruce asked, after Jason had figured out how to work the radio and was flipping through the seventy-billion satellite channels.
“I watched a bunch of youtube videos about these the other day,” he said, “I thought they were so cool with the red key. And badass looking too. I didn’t know you had one.”
“What are your other dream cars?” Bruce asked, as he grabbed the red key from the cup holder and held it out for Jason to take.
Happily, Jason took it and started inspecting it, looking at all the buttons in it, before he found a little switch that released the actual key from inside.
Although, obviously the car didn’t need the key. It needed the chip inside the key, that told the computer it was present.
“There’s a lot,” Jason eventually said, as he kept playing with the key. He couldn’t really think of car names, though. “I’ve seen a lot of really cool cars. I just never got to research them until, ya know, you gave me a laptop and stuff. Dudes were always happy to tell me about their car, but I didn’t always remember what they said.”
“Right,” Bruce said, slowly, “What have you been researching on your laptop?”
“I saw an episode of some show about Roush Mustangs,” Jason said, as he dropped the key back into the cupholder and pulled his legs up on the seat, to sit criss crossed, “those look cool. Although your lambo is way cooler. Your Tesla is awesome, too. I always wanted to see a Tesla in person, then you had one.”
“The Tesla is my favorite commuter car,” Bruce said, as he shifted gears and sped up, now they were back on the semi-private road that led to the manor, “but almost all my other cars are more fun to drive.”
Jason nodded. He could see that, since the Tesla literally drove itself. “This one looks so fun to drive.”
“Tell you what,” Bruce said, once he reached the gate to the manor. This time, he had to come to a complete stop and type in his code and do the eye thing, “If you’re still here when you’re 15, I’ll tech you to drive on this car.”
“What?” Jason said, a little stunned. Because, “really??” He hadn’t even… thought that far ahead.
Not like that, at least. He’d only thought about getting through living with Bruce until he was 18, so he could move out and go to college.
But obviously if he was going to make it to 18, that would mean being here when he was 15 or 16, and…well. That was when kids were supposed to learn to drive.
Why would he have ever thought Bruce would do that, though?? Teach him to drive??
That was what parents were supposed to do for their kids, and Jason was just a foster kid Bruce got stuck with, because Gordon made Bruce take him.
But, but, but… Bruce said he cared about him… so…
“With the red key?” Jason eventually asked, as Bruce pulled the car into the garage, and started slowly backing it up into its spot.
He paused, however, to give Jason a flat look as he said, “No.” He couldn’t hold the face, though, because he started laughing and added, “No way, with the regular key.”
“Aw.”
Although he supposed 500 horsepower was nothing to sneeze at.
“But,” Bruce said, “I might let you test out the red key, once you prove you’re a good driver.”
“Really?” Jason asked, sitting up straighter in his seat, trying to gauge Bruce’s sincerity.
He didn’t look like he was lying, so Jason cheered, “All right! I can’t wait to be 15.”
“Why don’t you focus on turning 13, first,” Bruce said, cutting the car off.
“Fine,” Jason whined, collapsing back into his seat dramatically. He righted himself quickly, though, to unfasten his seatbelt and hop out. “That was so cool, though.”
Bruce got out of the car himself, and just watched with a smile as Jason bounced up to the front of the car, to look at it and all the bugs they picked up.
Poor bugs, they didn’t stand a chance.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Jason whirled around, a second later, when Alfred cleared his throat from the manor door.
“If you gentlemen are done, lunch has been waiting for you for quite a while. Do come eat it before it gets any colder.”
“Sorry, Alfred,” Jason said, at the same time Bruce said, “Sure thing, Alf.”
Alfred quickly retreated, so Jason turned to Bruce and asked, “Is he mad at us?”
“Nah.” Bruce shut his door and started walking to the manor door, but stopped when Jason didn’t start moving in step. “He’s not mad, Jason. That’s the face he makes when he’s very happy and doesn’t know how to show it.”
“Oh.” He wasn’t quite sure why Alfred would be ‘very happy,’ but Jason wouldn’t complain about that.
Bruce took a step forward, so this time Jason followed along, and stopped on the steps as Bruce put the key back in the box.
“You’re really going to teach me how to drive on that?” he asked, pointing back at the Hellcat. He kind of had a hard time believing it.
“Yes, I promise,” Bruce said, smiling when Jason shot him a grin.
“All right!” Jason cheered, grinning so wide his face started hurting again. “No take backs, okay?” he said, holding his fist out toward Bruce, “Fist bump.”
Now it was Bruce’s turn to be startled, apparently, because he looked at Jason’s fist like he had no idea what to do as he said, “What?”
“You’re hopeless,” Jason groaned, slouching dramatically before he straightened up and reached for one of Bruce’s hands. “Look, it’s easy.”
Bruce lifted his hand cautiously, and let Jason force his fingers to form a fist as he said, “Make a fist. There. Okay, now pound it.” Jason made his own fist again and bumped it against Bruce’s hand, grinning wide again. “There. No take backs, we fist bumped.”
“Uh, yes,” Bruce said, like he couldn’t figure out what to fucking say. His smile grew wide, though, and then morphed into something fonder. “I swear it, no take backs.”
Jason fidgeted, under Bruce’s stare, so he quickly pushed open the door as he said, “Come on. Alfred said lunch is getting cold.”
He didn’t want to think about whatever Bruce was thinking.
They’d just had a freaking awesome time, Jason was not about to ruin it. No sir.
So he skipped on ahead, to the kitchen where Alfred had a couple paninis sitting on the counter, and just focused on the fact that Bruce was going to teach him to drive.
In the Hellcat.
All because Jason liked the car.
How fucking awesome was that????
Notes:
I wrote part of this literally 6 months ago, and yet it took me like a week to write. I've also just been crazy busy and also sleeping half my day away every day for nearly a week now, because antibiotics kick my butt. Lmao. BUT IT'S FINALLY DONE.
Jason is just. 🥺 I love him so much. It's so refreshing to write him having a great day for a change, after he's had so many bad days in a row.
I hope you guys enjoyed that chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. ❤️ Thanks for reading.
Chapter 47
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Bruce did his disappearing act again that week. Jason just didn’t get him.
He always acted like he wanted to spend time with Jason, but as soon as Jason started agreeing, he just up and disappeared. Found way more important things to do than hang around the manor like he’d done constantly the first month or so Jason was there.
But it was whatever. Jason was happy with how things were, so he didn’t really care if Bruce was around or if he and Bruce did shit. Alfred did stuff with him all the time, so it didn’t matter. On Monday afternoon, Jason even asked Alfred if he wanted to play chess, startling Alfred right out of his dusting of the library.
“I would love to play chess with you, dear boy,” Alfred had said.
So yeah, Jason was totally cool with how stuff was.
On Tuesday Bruce did stick around after dinner, though, and asked Jason if he wanted to play a game with him. After thinking it over for a moment, Jason agreed.
It didn’t last, though. They played Battleship, which was fun and all, but Jason feigned tiredness after only one game to escape to his room as quickly as possible.
Just sitting there with Bruce had made him so antsy. He didn’t even know why, because Bruce was sitting across a table from him. They weren’t next to each other, and Bruce couldn’t easily reach him. He could, if he tried, but it wasn’t as simple as it would have been even in the Hellcat!
Jason hadn’t felt even mildly bad during that drive.
Why could he sit next to Bruce in the Hellcat but not across from him???
So instead of actually enjoying the game, and the fact he beat Bruce, Jason could only think about how bad he felt and how bad he felt about feeling bad, and how it made no sense. It was awful and he just wanted it to stop.
For the next few days, Jason kept to his room again and found ways to occupy himself when he wasn’t reading or doing schoolwork. He went ahead and started building his lego Batmobile, and decided to base it off a Dodge Challenger, since he had an instruction booklet for a pretty badass looking one. He just decided to change the way the back look, to incorporate rocket boosters. All the things he’d read online about the Batmobile talked about how it had rockets.
He thought it was going pretty well, but then he ran out of black rounded pieces and got super frustrated at it. Because the orange ones he had to substitute looked stupid and he hated it.
So by Friday, he’d shoved the nearly completed thing inside the lego box along with all the other legos and put it back where it belonged. It was stupid and he was done with it.
Maybe he’d research what he could do… painting it might be an option, but he wasn’t sure Dick would be okay with him ruining some of the legos like that. And then he’d have to go ask Alfred or Bruce for paint, and he’d have to explain and he didn’t really want to show them his Batmobile.
Friday rolled around pretty quickly, though. July was flying by with how busy Jason was keeping himself. It was almost August already, and it was just crazy to think about.
That morning he got up feeling okay. He’d written down the three things in his journal like Liz told him to do, and only kind of felt nervous about it on the way there.
He’d decided on nightmares, crying too much, and the skin crawling. It was kind of cheating to include the last one, but he couldn’t think of a third thing and she’d said it was an example of what he could put down. So he did.
The solutions she would come up with for the nightmares and crying all the fucking time had him more curious than nervous.
Inside the waiting room, Bruce didn’t sit next to him like he had the previous couple weeks. Because Bruce remembered Jason’s request, and hadn’t once made Jason have to repeat it. When Jason sat down in a chair, Bruce chose the one across the little aisle from him, so they were looking at each other instead of sitting next to each other.
It was a little awkward, but not horribly so. Bruce was, like, eight feet away from him, and when Jason offered him a small smile, he returned it easily.
“Do you still play Words with Friends with Dick?” Bruce asked, after they’d sat there for a minute or two. The receptionist told them Liz was running a little behind, so the wait would be a bit longer than normal.
“Yeah, sometimes,” Jason replied, sunk down into his hoody in his chair, “Dick hasn’t been responding much lately.”
Which kind of sucked. He kept telling Jason ‘oh, we’ll do this at this time,’ and then cancelled last second every time. Twice he’d cancelled after it was supposed to happen.
By, like, hours.
Jason was trying not to be too upset by it. It wasn’t like he and Dick were real friends or anything. He’d met him once. Dick had just been being nice to him because he felt bad, or something.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Bruce said, “Dick’s been overworking himself with his volunteer work lately. He unfortunately picked up the habit from me. I keep telling him to slow down and take breaks, but well.”
But Dick didn’t listen to Bruce well. Jason had gathered that.
With a shrug, Jason said, “It doesn’t matter.” Dick was definitely not obligated to give any of his time to Jason.
“Would you like to play a game with me?” Bruce asked, holding his phone up for Jason to see.
All Jason did was raise an eyebrow, so Bruce elaborated, “You don’t have to, and you never have to play your turn if you don’t want. I won’t get upset if you quit on me after a round, or after a day, or whenever.”
“You’re gonna kick my butt,” Jason grumbled, but he did pull his phone out of his pocket and open up the Words with Friends app. It would keep him occupied during the wait, after all.
Bruce smiled a little brighter at him and said, “Maybe not. But even so, it’s an educational game. I learned a lot of words while playing Scrabble with Alfred as a kid.”
“Really?” Jason had never considered Alfred used to play with Bruce, when he was little. But, like, why wouldn’t he have?
It was kind of funny to think of Bruce as the tiny little twelve-year-old getting his butt kicked at Scrabble, and not Jason.
“What’s your username?” Bruce asked, so Jason gave it to him and waited while Bruce started a game.
Veneer was the first word Bruce played, which made it relatively easy for Jason to find something to play. Thanks to the the e’s.
They ended up going through four turns each before Liz finally came out to get Jason, and for once, Jason was actually smiling when she did. Mostly because Jason had just played vexing on the board, and Bruce’s response had been, “oh, impressive,” when he saw it.
“How was your week?” Liz asked, once they were back in her office. They sat down at the table again, because Jason hadn’t seen any reason to change it up.
With a shrug, Jason said, “Good.”
Liz smiled, like she was actually happy Jason had a good week, and asked, “What made it good?”
“Well,” Jason started, trying to actually figure that out. It hadn’t been bad, not at all, really. And he’d only cried a couple of times, which was awesome. “On Saturday Bruce taught me how to change a car’s oil and then took me out in the coolest car ever. We went over 100 mph.”
That had certainly been a highlight.
“That sounds great,” she said, “Did you try what we discussed last week? Moving out of Bruce’s reach so you can keep spending time with him? I noticed he was sitting across from you today.”
Jason tangled his fingers together in his pocket and said, “Yeah, I did. You were right, he understood.” It still made him anxious, though. Just thinking about having to tell Bruce.
Even though it had gone fine.
“How is the feeling doing, then? Have you felt it again?”
“Yeah,” Jason said, twisting his fingers around while he found a spot on the table to stare at. A little knot in the wood grain, “Uh. We tried to play Battleship but I couldn’t get it to go away even though he was sitting across the table from me.”
“Did you tell him?”
Why would Jason tell him? Bruce had already been out of reach. So telling him wouldn’t have done anything, except maybe make Bruce feel bad.
“No,” he said, frowning, “I just went to bed instead. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”
What if telling him made him not want to ask Jason to play games anymore ever? Or offer to take him out in cars? Or take back his promise of teaching him to drive??? If Jason couldn’t even handle a simple game of Battleship, why would Bruce think he could handle anything else?
“Why not?” Liz asked, tilting her head at Jason. She wasn’t smiling anymore, but Jason didn’t think she was annoyed with him? He couldn’t really tell. Her face was kind of… neutral.
“I just…” Jason paused. How did he explain? He just didn’t want Bruce to change his mind on stuff. He knew Bruce wouldn’t go back on his big promises, the ones that he made right from the start, but if he thought Jason was scared or anxious of even being around him, he might go back on the other promises. He might just stop doing nice things for Jason.
“Everything is good right now,” he settled on saying. Everything was great.
“It is?” Liz asked, and Jason couldn’t tell if she was questioning him or just wanted him to elaborate.
So Jason chose to elaborate as he said, “Yeah. I don’t want it to change.”
Liz studied him for a few seconds, making Jason squirm a little in his seat. He had no idea what to even think about it. But then she asked, “Is it change you don’t want, or bad change?” and all Jason could do was blink.
He didn’t even know what to say to that.
And even though the appointment went on for more than half an hour longer, he wasn’t really sure what they talked about. Because that question just kept bumping around in his mind.
Because…. Because. Could change be good?
Obviously it could, right? Because ending up with Bruce had been a massive change for him, and it was good. Even if he didn’t think so at first.
Sure, he’d had change happen a lot in his life and pretty much every other time it’d been awful, but this time… this time it had been okay.
So would spending more time with Bruce be bad? If he could figure out how to not feel the skin thing? Would being like… like Dick be bad? Bruce’s friend, or whatever? Jason couldn’t really be ‘like a brother’ because, well, he wasn’t as old as Dick was. Bruce was the same age as his dad, so that would be weird. And Jason had a dad, so Bruce couldn’t be that either.
Jason boggled over it right up until he and Bruce were walking along the perimeter of the park, this time eating their chili dogs as they walked around. It wasn’t until they were passing by a theater, Jason down to just a couple bites of his dog left did Bruce pull him out of his thoughts.
“You’ve read that book, right?” Bruce asked, and Jason was so confused on what he was talking about, because he hadn’t mentioned a book at all, he looked over and saw Bruce pointing at a movie poster outside the theater.
The Giver was apparently showing at the theater, so Jason furrowed his brow and said, “Yeah.” He’d only just read it, like, a week ago. And he’d read it inside his room, so how had Bruce even known?
Then again, maybe Bruce reshelved the books and not Alfred. Jason had just assumed it was Alfred, since Alfred told him about the reshelving basket.
Bruce stopped in their walk, but only to toss his empty hotdog plate into a trashcan as he asked, “Did you like it?”
“Yeah.” Jason paused to eat the last bite of his dog, so he could toss his trash out too. Once he’d swallowed, he continued, “It was so interesting. The main character was twelve and he lived in a society where kids were assigned what they were gonna do for their whole lives at thirteen all at the same time.”
“That is interesting,” Bruce said, putting his hands in his pockets as they started walking again.
“Right?” Jason exclaimed, “I’m almost thirteen and I have no idea what I want to do, it would be, like, crazy to be assigned my life's work next month.” Especially since all he knew how to do was prostitution and that would suck.
How was it even fair to assign a kid their life’s work? Kids knew nothing. Jason knew nothing, he needed more time to learn shit and figure out what he even could do.
“But anyway,” Jason said, looking back up at Bruce, “the main character could see in color when everyone else could only see in black and white and he gets assigned to be the receiver who gets given what is basically all of society’s knowledge but he realizes how fucked up the society is and rebels.”
Bruce kept eye contact almost the entire time Jason rambled, only looking up to see where he was walking. He smiled a little fondly the whole time, and Jason chose not to even think about it. Instead he added, “And the society was fucked up, Bruce.”
“Do you want to go see the movie?” Bruce asked, and Jason had to actually pause and think.
Was Liz right?
And did Jason want to see the movie?
Yes, was the answer to that, mildly. He’d yet to see a good book adaptation, but they were fun to make fun of, at the very least. And he had really liked the book.
The real question was, did he want to see it with Bruce?
Would getting to know Bruce be so bad?
Maybe not. It wasn’t bad for Dick. And so far it’d been good for Jason. Bruce had been good. And nice and kind and understanding and accommodating and caring.
And change could be good, right?
So Jason nodded, albeit a little jerkily. His neck felt like it was a ratchet, clicking into place with each centimeter it moved, but he nodded.
“We don’t have to,” Bruce said, clearly doubting Jason’s actual agreement.
But Jason said, “I… want to,” because he did.
He did.
“Okay,” Bruce said, his whole face lighting up even though his smile didn’t change, “The next showing is in half a hour. Do you want to see that one, or plan for a time later this week?”
Again, Jason contemplated it. He knew if they planned for later in the week, he’d end up thinking himself into circles and dreading it. That just seemed to be how he was.
He always preferred to just get shit out of the way and over with, so he didn’t have to dwell on it.
“Now is good.”
So just like that, they went to see the movie.
Jason had actually never been to a movie theater before, so he had no clue what to expect.
Tickets were fucking expensive, even though they were seeing a matinee. Just the tickets cost twenty dollars for both of them, and then Bruce got them a popcorn combo that cost twenty-five dollars.
For popcorn. Sure, it also came with two sodas and two things of candy, and free refills on the gigantic bucket of popcorn, because apparently people needed refills when they’re given five gallons of popcorn to start, but Jason knew for a fact those things cost no where near $25.
Bruce said not to worry about it, though. The money is how to theater makes money and pays for their people.
“Could I get a little bag for him to hold some popcorn,” Bruce asked, after the concessions guy had given them the candies Jason picked out and their empty soda cups.
Instead of a bag, though, the guy handed Jason a little tray that had a spot to hold his drink and candy, too. Which was kind of amusing.
Bruce let Jason take his time picking out which drink he wanted. He waffled between fruit punch or Mountain Dew before Bruce finally told him he’d get Jason a refill of the other once he ran out of what he got first. So Jason filled his cup up with Mountain Dew and followed Bruce back to their theater.
He’d been trying to ignore the little nagging in the back of his head reminding him that theater meant dark room and sitting next to each other, but as Bruce led him down a slender hallway toward the screen, Jason couldn’t ignore it anymore.
It wasn’t going to be like in the manor, where he could sit in an armchair, by himself, on the opposite side of the room from Bruce. And Jason didn’t want Bruce to sit behind him, either. Because what if there were lots of people there? And strangers sat next to him??
But when Bruce led him up a ramp, toward the chairs, and Jason finally had a good look at the seating he almost breathed a sigh of relief.
Because, one, the theater was deserted. No one else was in there.
And two, the seats were humungous.
Like. Three Jasons could fit in one.
Bruce led him up to the middle of the upper section and sat down in one of the seats right in the middle of the row. “Sit wherever you want, bud,” Bruce said, when Jason stopped near the seat next to him and gripped onto his tray.
Even though Jason thought that maybe the seats were big enough he could sit in the one next to Bruce, he went ahead and left one open between them, then settled down with his tray sitting next to him in his chair. That’s how big the seat was.
Bruce set the giant tub of popcorn in the seat between them, and told Jason to refill his tray as he wanted. “If you press theses buttons,” he added, pointing at the buttons on his own chair, “you can recline or put up the leg rest.”
“We need chairs like these in the manor,” Jason said, as he hit the recline button. Why did they have lame, ugly stationary chairs when high tech ones like these existed??
Jason spent a lot of the time before the trailers began playing with the buttons, trying to find the perfect setting, between playing his turn on Words with Friends with Bruce. The service was kinda shitty, but they were managing to get their turns sent in.
Then, finally, the lights went down, and the movie started.
And. It was kind of great.
Bruce leaned over a few times, to whisper something to Jason, so the three other people in the theater couldn’t hear him.
Every time it was a lame joke or an observation. Like, “I thought you said he was twelve,” when the main character in the movie ended up being eighteen.
Eighteen. What kind of bullshit was that?
“He was,” Jason whispered back, “They ruined it.”
Even though the movie kind of sucked, the time watching it definitely didn’t.
Because Liz was right.
Now Jason just had to figure out how to make himself stop feeling all anxious when they were at home. Once he figured that out, everything would be awesome, he was sure.
Notes:
A HUGE thank you to Batbirdies for letting me steal her words and opinions on The Giver, since I have never read that book. It's hard to write a bookworm when you, yourself, have read like 7 books, all of them either Eragon or Ender's Game.
Like normal I haven't proofed this chapter yet. I'll get to it later, so just ignore typos if you find them. I'll catch them myself later, or not. 🤷🏼♀️
Thanks for reading! <3 I'm excited for where we're going very soon.
Chapter 48
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
On the way out of the theater, Bruce asked, “Are you hungry for lunch?” and Jason couldn’t help the incredulous look he shot him.
How the hell could he be hungry for lunch?? “I just ate my weight in popcorn and candy,” he said. Although maybe Bruce was hungry? He was a big dude. Big dudes ate a lot, right?
Bruce laughed, however, and said, “That’s true. Did you want to go somewhere else, then, or just go home?”
“Where else would we go?” Jason asked. He had to admit, being not at the manor was nice. He just wasn’t sure if there was any place else he wanted to go. Bruce had already spent a lot of money on him that day, and what could they do that didn’t cost money?
They stopped at the crosswalk to cross over to where the Tesla was, and Bruce hummed.
“Is there anything you want,” he asked.
But Jason shook his head, because there wasn’t. He couldn’t think of anything, at least. And he certainly didn’t want a repeat of the last time they went to the mall.
Although now he knew better that Bruce would make him work off what he bought…
Jason looked both ways once the traffic cleared, and only saw one car coming down the road. It was slowing down, though, and had its turn signal on to turn right onto the road beside them, before the crosswalk. Which meant it was safe to cross, so Jason stepped down onto the road to cross.
He froze up, though, when at that moment a hand grasped onto his upper arm and pulled him back up onto the sidewalk.
His mind started racing at the same time it went completely blank. His thoughts were going a mile a minute, but he couldn’t catch onto them. Couldn’t spend any time thinking on them, figuring them out.
What was Bruce doing, what the fuck did he want?
As quickly as Bruce had grabbed him, he let go, too. And it took Jason a full second to recover. To get his thoughts back in order enough he could actually think.
What the fuck had just happened?
“Don’t touch me,” Jason snapped, scowling up at Bruce as he took a step backward, away from him. He had to embrace the anger, because he was inches away from crying.
Right there. On the street.
All because Bruce grabbed his arm for half a second.
In public. Where nothing could happen.
Bruce hadn’t even done anything, but move him a little. He didn’t know why he even did that, but he didn’t drag Jason anywhere. And he was holding both his hands up now, and looked mildly distressed.
“Sorry,” Bruce said quickly, “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t say you could—“ Jason started, but had to stop. Because his breath hitched, and he was supposed to be angry. Not crying.
He wasn’t crying.
Bruce had no right to touch him. Jason hadn’t given him permission to grab his arm or anything. He’d never given Bruce permission to do anything. Not even sit next to him.
But… then again, his brain helpfully reminded him, he didn’t have to. Not technically.
It was just nice of Bruce to keep his distance. To give Jason control of stuff. If Bruce wanted to take it all away, he was perfectly free to do so.
Jason couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
He was entirely under Bruce’s control…
“I’m sorry, Jason,” Bruce said again, this time softer than before. He’d also taken a step back, further away from Jason, “I was just stopping you from walking in front of that car. I—“
“That car was turning,” Jason exclaimed, happy for a reason to get pissed again. He’d looked, it wasn’t going to hit him. He wasn’t four and unable to handle walking himself across a street.
“I don’t trust cars to do what their blinkers say they’re doing,” Bruce said calmly, his eyes flickering back and forth across Jason’s face. Like he were the one scared of Jason.
But that wasn’t the case, because Jason was… fuck. He was scared of Bruce.
When he shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t fucking be.
Right?
“That doesn’t mean you can grab,” Jason said, between gasps of breath, “I didn’t say you could-“ but he couldn’t finish, because he couldn’t catch his fucking breath.
Why was he like this?
What was happening? Jason pressed his hands into the sides of his face and tried to fucking think.
Or breathe. Breathing would be much more helpful at the moment.
“I know, I know,” Bruce soothed, as he knelt down and held his hands out placatingly, “I’m sorry, Jay, I will do better. Can you focus on slowing your breathing? You’re having a panic attack.”
“No I’m not,” he snapped. He didn’t even know what that was. And he didn’t want to focus on his breathing. He just wanted… he wanted… “I just want to go home.”
“Okay, buddy, we can do that. But you need to calm down enough to finish the walk.”
“I’m good now,” he said, a little petulantly. He scrubbed his eyes clear enough to look at traffic, because he’d started crying, to his absolute horror.
He wasn’t supposed to be crying in public.
Instead of check both ways himself, though, he just followed Bruce across the street this time. The Tesla was only a block away, so once they arrived he slipped right into the back seat and tried to calm down.
Or at least not cry any more.
He wasn’t entirely successful, because his heart kept racing and his eyes kept blurring. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his jaw from wobbling, either. He had to clench it tight, and even then it still sometimes betrayed him.
At least he wasn’t making any noise. Because Bruce left him alone. Didn’t even look back at him during the drive. If he’d made noise, that probably wouldn’t have been the case.
But the closer they got to the manor, the worse Jason felt about it.
He knew Bruce wasn’t gonna hurt him. He knew that.
And yet he was still scared about it, apparently. If just grabbing his arm was enough to freak him out so badly.
It was super super stupid to freak out over Bruce just catching him from crossing the road.
His parents used to do that all the time. Even if he wasn’t crossing in front of traffic, he was just standing there waiting, Dad would often just grab his arm and hold him until it was safe to cross. Bruce was just doing that.
Why would Bruce do… everything??? He’d had plenty of opportunity to hurt him, it was extra dumb to think he’d just… change his mind. Right there, in the middle of fucking Gotham.
If Bruce changed his mind it would be in the privacy of his own home, where he could get away with it. Too many people in Gotham would apparently report that shit, if the news were being legit about everything.
Pedophiles were getting arrested left and right in Gotham, no way Bruce would get away with it, being so high profile and doing shit right out in public.
Besides all that, Bruce wasn’t a pedophile
So Jason was just stupid for reacting like that.
“I’m sorry,” Jason whispered, swiping his sleeve across his eyes as they finally pulled into the garage.
Bruce started, slightly, and looked back at Jason with the most concerned fucking face ever Jason had to look away. “What?” Bruce asked.
“For freaking out,” Jason mumbled, not looking back forward toward Bruce. He put a hand on the door handle, just waiting for Bruce to unlock the car, “I’m sorry.”
“Jason…” Bruce said, sadly. Like he was fucking devastated or something.
Devastated about what?
If Jason were Bruce he’d be fucking annoyed the stupid kid he took in and was spending so much money on wouldn’t stop crying all the damn time and acting like he was a pedophile no matter how many times he promised he wasn’t.
Proved he wasn’t.
Bruce unlocked the door, so Jason popped the door open and slipped out as quick as possible.
When he was half way to the door to inside, Bruce called out, “Jason, you have nothing to be sorry for.”
Jason only paused at the door for a split second, before he went on inside, anyway. And back up to his room, where he could be alone for a while.
- - -
He spent the next several days hiding away in his room, back to his normal habits. Not, like, exclusively though. He still went down for meals when Bruce texted him, and tried his best to talk when Bruce tried to engage him in conversation. He just wasn’t very successful, and ended up spending most the meals just shrugging at whatever Bruce asked him.
Bruce didn’t mention his freak out once, which was nice. But Jason knew Bruce was thinking about it every single time he looked at Jason.
On Sunday, he also spent the morning outside. He’d texted Alfred to let him know, then spent the whole morning on the swing, way far in the back of the manor, reading a book on his kindle and snacking on goldfish.
He just didn’t do anything with Bruce or Alfred. Since he just knew Bruce told Alfred, too. Since Bruce and Alfred seemed to tell each other everything.
Jason just felt so… embarrassed. He felt embarrassed for freaking out. He wanted to trust Bruce, he did. But then he just…
Did that.
It was so dumb. And Jason didn’t want to deal with it.
Googling ‘panic attack’ had just made him madder, too. Because Google said it was a sudden onset of intense anxiety or fear caused by a perceived threat, and not actual imminent danger.
Which meant it was just his brain being an asshole and making him freak out when it wasn’t warranted.
Why did he never freak out when he knew actual beatings were about to happen? Or actual clients grabbed him to do stuff? Why was it only now? When everything was good for the first time in years???
Maybe it was another thing he could talk to Liz about. She was supposed to help him when he didn’t know why he felt things.
Although if she just told him sometimes it was like that, he might just get up and leave. He wanted that shit fixed, not have to just ‘deal with it.’
Even though he avoided Bruce, he did play a few more turns with him on the scrabble game.
He actually beat Bruce, too. Because he managed to get transmissions on the board, bouncing off one of Bruce’s words, and hitting a triple word score in the process. It was amazing.
Bruce had texted him that was impressive as a result, and Jason had grinned wide for the first time all weekend.
Dick played with him, too. A little. They texted back and forth a little more about the traveling Dick was doing that weekend. He was apparently in San Fransisco, which was neat.
He sent Jason a picture of him with the big bridge, along with the message, Maybe you and Bruce can join me next time. I bet you would love some of these museums.
Maybe, had been his response. He’d never actually been to a museum, except for the children’s museum his kindergarten class went to, so he had no idea if he’d like them or not. But traveling would be cool. He’d always wanted to get out of New Jersey, even if just for the weekend.
On Monday, Jason pulled out his legos again. He’d tried to ignore them, and just leave his Batmobile unfinished, but he couldn’t resist the allure of having it sitting nice and pretty next to his Superman car, so he dug the car out and started looking up things he could do.
Paint was apparently tedious and difficult to get to look right, and required special paint, so he quickly threw that idea out.
Then he found the lego website. And, specifically, the ‘pick a brick’ part of the site.
Where he could just order the specific bricks he needed… for like, a dime a piece or less.
He spent a good hour sifting through the website and comparing the pieces to the orange ones he’d picked out for his Batmobile and slowly adding the ones he needed to his little virtual ‘bag.’ The total wound up being $1.07.
Which… wasn’t bad.
Bruce said he could ask him for things. Toys he’d specifically said.
And Jason didn’t know if Bruce would take that back, just over Jason’s behavior all the fucking time, but maybe he wouldn’t?
It was only $1.07 Jason was asking for. And it was toys. So maybe…
Before Jason could talk himself out of it, he unplugged his laptop and shut the lid, then made his way downstairs to find Bruce.
He was exactly where Jason expected him to be, too. In his study, working on his own laptop at his desk.
“What’s up, bud,” Bruce asked, looking up from his work almost immediately.
Jason hesitated in the doorway for a second, and took a deep breath.
All he had to do was ask. If the answer was no, whatever. He’d go back upstairs and find another solution. Maybe he could make the Batmobile some other color scheme.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” Jason said quickly, shaking his head. He just had to ask. “Um. I’m building a lego car, but I don’t have the pieces I need and… um,” he paused long enough to swallow, as he took a step further into the office, “I found out Lego sells the pieces I need online, and they only cost about a dollar total, so I was wondering…”
He trailed off, because Bruce looked legitimately thrown for a second. Like he had no idea what Jason was even talking about, but his face smoothed out quickly as he asked, “What do you need? I can order them, no problem.”
Jason’s shoulders dropped, and he hadn’t even realized he was holding them so tensely until they did. But he walked across the room to Bruce’s desk and set his laptop down. “These ones,” he said, once his screen popped back on and the website showed all the pieces he’d added to his bag.
Nodding, Bruce pulled the laptop toward himself more, but left it angled enough Jason could see it from across the desk. “Anything else you want?”
“No, I just need those.”
“Okay,” Bruce said, as he turned the laptop completely toward himself and clicked on the screen. It took him a couple minutes, during which time he clicked several more times and typed a bunch of stuff. But finally he smiled and said, “Okay. It says custom lego orders take 20 days to get here, so they’ll be here in a few weeks.”
Jason nodded, but couldn’t figure out anything to say. He was a little…..
He didn’t know.
He’d asked Bruce for something, and Bruce bought it without a single question.
Sure, it was only a dollar, but still…
“There’s a Lego store at the mall,” Bruce said, making Jason flick his eyes back up at him, and away from the order confirmation screen Bruce had turned the computer around so he could see.
“There is?” He had no clue there were stores dedicated entirely to legos.
“Did you want to check it out? I need to pick up an order at one of the clothing stores there, anyway. The lego store is near it.”
Jason kind of… blinked. Because Bruce just bought him the legos. Why would he need to go look at more?
Even though… he kind of wanted to go look.
“Maybe you can find a project to work on in the meantime? While waiting for your pieces?”
“Oh.” Bruce honestly wanted to take him back into public again? After he’d flipped out for no damn reason last time? He… he wasn’t sure.
What if he flipped out again?
“We don’t have to buy anything, if you don’t want to,” Bruce went on, leaning back in his chair some as he smiled at Jason, “You can also get some inspiration from the sets they’re selling. See if there’s anything you think you can build yourself. I think they have an app where you can download the instructions to any of the sets, and make it yourself with your own blocks.”
That was cool, if so. He definitely had to check that out. Because he definitely didn’t know what he wanted to do next.
“What do you think?” Bruce asked, after a silent moment passed.
So Jason shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”
“You want to?” Bruce asked, as if trying to confirm. Because despite Jason’s fears, Bruce was still leaving Jason in control of everything.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay, why don’t you go get ready, then. And let me know if you change your mind at any point.”
“Kay,” he said, as he collected up his laptop and turned to leave the room.
Jason did his best not to think about anything as he put on some shoes and socks and grabbed his cell phone. He wasn’t gonna freak out this time, he promised himself. They were just going to the mall, and he would look at legos, and find a set he wanted to build and then download the instructions to his phone. There would be no reason to freak out or cry or anything.
Everything would be fine.
And everything was fine, on the way to the mall and even when they were in the random store Bruce had to visit. The place where they had to wait for the associate to get Bruce’s online order from the back was right near the school uniforms, too, so Bruce pointed over at them and said, “We need to figure out that for you.”
“What do you mean?” Jason said, furrowing his brow. The uniforms all looked like crap, and he didn’t want to wear any of them.
He was quite partial to his small collection of hoodies.
“School starts in just over a month,” Bruce explained, “We need to figure out what you’re doing.”
“Oh.” Like whether he was gonna be ready for 8th grade, probably. “I’m almost done with my math class.”
Bruce smiled, as he leaned back on the customer service counter they were standing near, his back to where the associate would normally stand, and said, “That’s great. I can get you signed up for the next one if you want, so you can get started on it as soon as you’re done with this one.”
That would be super helpful, Jason thought as he nodded. He’d managed to do the 6th grade math in about a month, maybe he could swing the same thing with the 7th grade math.
“Have you thought about what you want to do in September, though?” Bruce asked.
And Jason shook his head. Because he hadn’t. Not really. Not beyond simply wanting to go to school.
“You can keep doing Cornerstone,” Bruce said, almost absently as his eyes scanned the store around them, rather than look at Jason, “I don’t have a problem with that. Your progress on there is remarkable.”
What was Bruce always watching? He’d started to notice Bruce looked all over all the time while they were out and about.
His eyes found Jason again, though, as he said, “Or we can sign you up at an in-person school.”
That was what Jason wanted. Real school. With other people. “Yeah,” he said. Because that was his dream. What he’d been wanting since the asshole social worker dropped him off at Donny’s place and he learned about what orphaned kids had to do to stay alive.
Bruce nodded. “How about I send you the websites for a handful of schools in Bristol and Gotham, and you can do your research and pick one. Does that sound good?”
“Yeah,” he agreed easily. He would be fine if Bruce picked for him, but he definitely would happily pick himself. Maybe he could even find a school that didn’t require he wear awful khaki and polos.
“Okay. I’ll do that this afternoon,” Bruce said, just as the associate finally came back out of the back with a bag in her hands.
“Cool,” Jason mumbled, just as the associate started apologizing to Bruce for the wait.
Bruce was super nice about it, though. Told her, “Oh, no worries. We’re in no rush,” as he grinned brightly in a way Jason never saw, except for out in public. When he was talking to random people.
In his fake way, that hid his real self.
They finished up at the clothing store rather quickly, though. Bruce had apparently paid for it in advance, so he just needed the receipt and they were free to go. And true to Bruce’s word, the Lego store was only a few down in the hall.
It was bright yellow and filled with legos. All the walls were absolutely covered from floor to ceiling, and there were displays in the middle of giant lego creations, some behind glass and some not. It was honestly kind of impressive.
“If you find something you want, bud, I will buy it for you. Don’t be nervous to ask,” Bruce said. He held a hand out toward the store, as if saying go look, so Jason did.
He wandered around for a good five minutes, looking at all the options. There were honestly a ton. Some were themed, like Super Mario ones or random cartoons he didn’t recognize. And some were Architect ones, which looked really cool. He could build the White House, apparently. Or the Taj Mahal. Or Gotham.
The Metropolis one was the coolest, though. It had the Daily Planet globe on it, along with a handful of other buildings, to represent Metropolis’s skyline. It only cost $60, too, which was still a lot, but it was way cheaper than the Colosseum one, which cost over $500.
His dad was right. Legos were fucking expensive.
Jason moved on, past the Architecture stuff. He’d look up the instructions to either Gotham or Metropolis, later. Surely he could find the pieces he needed for those. Bruce was off to the side, chatting it up with a worker, so Jason kind of ignored him. He heard him laugh, but wasn’t really following what he and the worker were talking about.
He didn’t really care, either.
The coolest sets were the ones called 3 in 1 Creator. Because the blocks in each set could make three different things, which was super cool. The pirate ship one was awesome, because it made a house or a skull thing too, but it cost $100 and Jason was not even going to consider it. He might download the instructions, though. It was doubtful he had the right blocks in the right colors, but maybe he could make a wacky color pirate ship.
Finally, though, he found a set he really liked. Because, one, it only cost $20, so it was one of the cheaper sets in the whole store. And it made three different cars. And with all the legos Dick had, he was confident he could make all three cars.
Jason held the set in his hands for a long minute, just considering the box. Bruce said he wanted to get him a new set, and it was one of the cheaper ones. Plus, it was like getting three things for the price of one. So… maybe.
It wasn’t like Bruce would make him work it off. And he said he wanted to buy Jason toys.
He looked around to find Bruce, and saw him in a different part of the store now looking at something with the worker, so Jason cautiously approached.
“Did you find something?” Bruce asked, as soon as Jason was near.
“Yeah,” he exhaled, holding the set up for Bruce to inspect, “It’s only $20.”
“You can certainly have it,” Bruce said, without missing a beat. He smiled at the set Jason was holding, then tipped the one he had in his hands so Jason could see it.
And Jason’s jaw about dropped. “Whoa,” he said, taking in the lime green color of the Lamborghini.
The absolutely amazing, immaculate Lamborghini that looked incredible.
“Isn’t it cool?” Bruce asked, holding it down further for Jason to actually take.
They traded boxes, since Jason couldn’t hold both in his hands easily, and Jason started inspecting the box more thoroughly. “This looks so real. Is it really made out of legos?”
“It has over 3,600 pieces,” the worker said, catching Jason’s attention for half a second before he was looking back at the box.
“Wow,” Jason nearly whispered, “That would take so long to build.”
Bruce shifted, by his side, and asked, “Do you like it?”
“Yeah, but,” Jason started, looking down at the box in his hands. There was no way the set didn’t cost a billion dollars.
At least the one he’d picked out was one of the cheaper ones in the store. There were little $10 sets, too, but none of them were cool.
“But?” Bruce prompted, gently.
“How much does it cost?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Bruce said, quickly, looking over at the sales person before she could say anything.
Which was just annoying, because Bruce said that a lot.
It did matter. Jason didn’t want to be wasting money on shit he didn’t need. Money was hard to get, and he’d already asked for the bricks and a new set. He didn’t need any more things. Bruce was already spending plenty on him.
“I don’t need it,” Jason finally said, holding the box back out toward Bruce.
“I didn’t ask if you needed it,” Bruce said, not lifting his hands at all to take the box back, “I asked if you like it.”
Jason made a face, somewhere between annoyed and a pout. Because that was dumb. Of course Jason liked it, but if he said he liked it then Bruce would buy it.
“Your birthday is coming up,” Bruce pointed out, “I’ll get it for you for your birthday if you like it.”
He… what?
“But…” Jason started, but had to pause because he didn’t even know what to think. Why would Bruce just… spend a ton because his birthday was a thing happening?
His birthday was still, like, three weeks away, too!
“But it has to cost a lot,” he finally said, looking up at Bruce a little bewildered, “That set there only has 200 pieces and it’s $20, so this one…” he held up the one in his hand.
If it had 3600 pieces, then it was, probably, $360.
Which was way too damn much to spend on legos. The number of clients he’d have to see to pay that off…
“Jason,” Bruce said, in a firm but gentle voice, “Let me spoil you, okay?”
Ridiculously, Jason felt the urge to cry over that.
Just. Outright start crying in the middle of a Lego store because Bruce wanted to spend way too much on him… for nothing.
Because he was turning 13 soon-ish. Because he was born on a day that was coming up.
So instead of argue, Jason just nodded a little numbly. He didn’t want to cry, and he was pretty sure if he kept talking he would.
“Then I think we’re ready to check out,” Bruce told the worker.
She smiled brightly, and said, “Josh over there will be happy to help with that.”
Jason followed along, and passed the Lamborghini set to Josh when prompted. Bruce, of course, angled the card reader away from Jason so he couldn’t see it, and before Jason could even protest, he said, “Please don’t say the total aloud. My son doesn’t need to know.”
“Bruce,” Jason protested, but there was no heat behind it. He didn’t really have the energy to fight.
“Happy birthday, kiddo,” Bruce said, smiling genuinely. He and Josh then exchanged some words, talking about whether Bruce found everything, and if he was a reward member.
But Jason just kind of… stood there. He wasn’t sure what to think about anything. Because… because.
Bruce had just casually said my son and Jason didn’t even know how to feel about that. How did he feel?
He was a pretty shitty son, for one. He freaked out on Bruce just the other day for keeping him from getting hit by a car. So he wasn’t sure why Bruce would even want him. Jason knew for a fact Bruce only brought him home because Gordon made him.
Plus, Jason had a dad. Sure, he was in jail and Jason would probably never see him again, but he existed.
There was literally no reason for Bruce to care at all.
And yet…
He just bought Jason things he liked, simply because he liked them and he had a birthday. Not even Jason’s dad would have done that.
But Dad just didn’t like wasting money, and they didn’t have a lot of it, growing up. So maybe Dad would have, if he had the money to waste.
Bruce held the bright yellow bag out to Jason, and Jason kind of… snapped back to reality. Apparently Bruce had finished the transaction and they were leaving, now. And he hadn’t noticed.
Taking the bag from Bruce’s hand, Jason blinked down at it, then finally said, “Thanks,” after a moment had passed.
“Happy early birthday, buddy,” Bruce said, hovering a hand behind Jason’s back, as if saying let's start walking.
Jason wasn’t sure about anything else, but as they started walking out of the mall, Jason couldn’t help but smile down at his bag.
He hadn’t had a birthday present in years.
Notes:
My baby 🥲. I need to write another chapter for The Time Before, but hopefully I get another chapter for this up this week, too!
Thanks for reading. <3
Chapter 49
Summary:
Sorry if you get two emails about this. I had to post it twice due to an AO3 glitch. :( Sorry to the people who commented on the first post, I didn't delete the chapter on purpose. (I also didn't see your comments in time 😭)
Notes:
So last chapter wouldn't post, I tried to 'preview' it a couple times and it never worked, wouldn't save as draft, was being generally annoying. I ended up having to just 'post' it without preview. That was last week or whenever I posed that chapter.
TODAY, I went to post this chapter, just hit 'add chapter' pasted in the chapter, previewed it and posted it. Then someone asked why I went from 48 to 51 and found that ao3 had saved the draft twice despite saying it 'failed' in an error message. I rearranged the chapters to get this new chapter in the right spot, then went to delete the drafts and somehow deleted the new chapter instead of the drafts and 😭 Sorry.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When they got home, Jason lingered in the hall while Bruce hung his keys up, just staring down at his new lego sets inside the bag.
Bruce raised an eyebrow when he stepped inside, and asked, “Everything okay?” because of course he would. Usually Jason bolted straight to his room once they got home from somewhere.
Everything was fine, though. Great.
Jason just wasn’t sure how to ask…
“Uh, do you maybe want to help me build it?” He held the bag up, but hoped Bruce knew he meant the Lamborghini one. There were so many pieces. He was probably perfectly capable of building it himself, it would just be more fun if they did it together…
Plus, it would be easier to keep track of if he did it at a table, rather than on his bed, where the pieces rolled around whenever he changed how he was sitting.
Bruce opened his mouth, as if to answer, but snapped it shut and gave Jason a truly quizzical look.
And. Maybe Jason shouldn’t have asked. “I just thought,” he stammered, looking down at his lego sets again, “You like cars, right?” Didn’t he?
Or maybe it was the whole… building the set with Jason he didn’t like.
Although hadn’t he said he enjoyed doing that kind of stuff? With Dick?
Maybe that was the problem…
But before Jason could take it back and retreat to his room, Bruce said, “Yeah,” his smile so loudly present in his voice Jason had to look up, “I’d love to help you.”
So Jason returned the smile and rushed off to one of the living rooms, the one with the huge coffee table, with a bit of skip in his step.
It took a few minutes for Bruce to join him, because, “I’ll be there in a minute, bud, I need to go send an email real quick,” but Jason didn’t mind. It gave him the chance to open the box and flip through the instruction booklet himself, just to see what all it would entail.
“This is gonna take so many days,” Jason said, once Bruce finally came into the room, and he’d flipped through both huge instruction books.
Like, seriously. They were bigger than some of the novels he’d read.
“Well,” Bruce said, as he rounded the coffee table and sat down on the floor, leaving the corner of the table between them, “The bigger the project, the more satisfying the results.”
Jason nodded, as he dumped out the first box of legos. There were five boxes, inside the big one, each filled with tons of bags of legos. They weren’t really bricks, though, like the legos Dick had. So Jason wasn’t really even sure if he’d be able to build it right.
“I’ve never built with legos like these,” he mumbled, as he dumped one of the bags out, “they look more like those k'nex things you gave me.”
And the whole thing looked so hard. The instructions even said it was meant for adults, not kids. Like. People over 18. It said that.
“I’m sure you’re more than capable of building this,” Bruce said, and Jason had to look up at him. Because how did he do that?
Just… know what he was thinking?
“You’re still gonna help me though, right?” Jason asked.
“Of course, bud,” Bruce said, holding a hand out for a second, as if reaching for Jason. He quickly retracted it, though, tucking it and his other hand under his crossed legs on the ground.
Bruce huffed, an awkward laugh as he leaned forward and looked at all the legos Jason had dumped out. “Do you want to sort them first, or just find what we need as we need it?”
“Sort,” Jason said, without hesitating, choosing to ignore whatever just happened with Bruce. If he didn’t, he’d think too hard about how Bruce always remembered stuff. And stuck to his promises, even the silly little ones that seemed trivial to Jason, when Bruce made them.
Like how he promised not to touch Jason without his consent ages and ages ago and then didn’t. Except the one time he thought he was keeping Jason from dying, and even though he wasn’t it was probably excusable.
Jason took a deep breath, and made himself focus on sorting out the zillions of legos he’d dumped out on the table. If he focused, he wouldn’t be able to cry for dumb reasons.
Bruce helped him in silence, except for when he asked if Jason already had a pile for this piece or that. Jason either pointed to the pile, or shook his head, and Bruce would go back to sorting out silently, leaving Jason alone.
Because, again, Bruce could fucking read him.
Once everything was sorted out, Jason sniffled once. Because he wasn’t gonna start fucking crying, okay? He wasn’t. So he forced a smile and said, “Cool. This is gonna be awesome.”
“It sure is,” Bruce agreed, “I can’t wait to see it with your other lego car.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, laughing a little. It was going to look so cool with his Superman car and Batmobile, he was really looking forward to having it up on his shelf with them.
Maybe he’d have to even show Bruce, once everything was done. Maybe.
There… there was probably no harm in that, right? Because… Bruce kept his promises, unless he thought Jason was gonna die if he didn’t break one trivial one, and so even if Jason let Bruce into his room for a minute, it didn’t mean he’d just start coming in whenever he wanted, right?
Right?
Jason looked back over at Bruce, and considered him for a brief moment before he held a fist out and asked, “Fist bump?”
Bruce looked so baffled for half a second, but he gingerly reached out and bumped his fist against Jason’s, then asked, “So what’s the first step here?”
Building the car with Bruce was actually a ton of fun. They spent a good hour slowly working through the steps, because Jason kept messing stuff up and misreading what the instructions were telling him to do, but Bruce didn’t seem to mind at all.
Every time Jason fucked something up, Bruce would pick up the instructions and go ‘Hmm,’ as he looked at them carefully, then examined what they had put together. When he figured it out, he’d smile and say, “Oh, I see, they should have made that way clearer,” and show Jason how to fix it.
When he wasn’t figuring out how Jason messed up, he was telling Jason stories of crazy things he’d done, mostly as a kid, but sometimes as an adult. Like when he took Dick to a trampoline park when he was ten, and somehow broke one of the trampolines.
“Dick was teaching me one of his acrobatic tricks,” Bruce said, like somehow that explained everything, “They really should have had better springs on the trampolines,” He paused, and picked up the next piece Jason needed, then added, “They do now.”
“They probably weren’t designed for literal tanks trying to do the flippy shit Dick can do.” Even as an adult, Dick was way smaller than Bruce.
Although… it was a pretty funny image. Thinking of Bruce trying to copy a 10-year-old acrobat.
Listening to Bruce tell stories was fun while it lasted. They worked on the car for nearly an hour before Bruce got distracted, looking down at his phone between helping Jason, rather than chatting.
Which was fine. Jason tried to figure out how to fill the silence himself, but he couldn’t think of fun stories to tell. Every time he talked about what he’d been up to in recent years, Bruce got all grumpy and distant.
Not that he wasn’t being distant already, looking down at his phone and texting back and forth with someone.
“Did you,” Jason started to ask, only to snap his mouth shut when Bruce’s phone started to ring.
Bruce raised an eyebrow at him, but looked down at his phone anyway. He frowned, when he saw who was calling, and held a finger out as he picked up the phone and answered it. “What is it?” he asked, instead of saying hello like a normal person. Considering his voice was hard with anger, it must have been someone he didn't like.
Jason wished he knew who it was, but Bruce’s phone had a weird screen protector on it, so he couldn’t see the screen at all from the side.
“It’s not bad,” he heard the male voice respond, but the voice was far too tinny and quiet for Jason to be able to recognize. Not that he’d recognize many voices from Bruce’s circles. He would probably recognize Dick. Maybe. And… that was it.
“Okay,” Bruce said, as he stood to his feet. He looked at Jason briefly and held his finger out again, as if asking just give me a minute, before he left the room.
Jason propped his arm up on the coffee table and rested his chin in his hand, and just waited for Bruce to come back.
- - -
Bruce never came back. Jason sat around waiting for fifteen minutes before he climbed up on the couch and flipped on the television. He’d thought about continuing on with the car, but Bruce had implied he was coming back. And considering he never came to tell Jason, “oh by the way, I have to leave the house,” Jason just assumed he hadn’t done that.
Right?
Well, apparently he was wrong. Because when Alfred came to get him for dinner, two whole hours later, Alfred told him, “I’m afraid Bruce had to go take care of something.”
“Oh,” Jason said, as he dropped down into his seat at the dinning table and slumped over the table, resting his cheek against his hand. Maybe he should have realized Bruce would just up and leave like that. Jason had been wasting his time.
Why would Bruce want to spend all afternoon building with legos, anyway? He was an adult. He had better stuff to do, obviously. And Jason had already stolen a lot of his time ordering the legos then going to the store.
“He’ll be back by morning,” Alfred promised, patting Jason’s back as he set a dinner plate in front of Jason, “I’m sure he’ll be here to have breakfast with you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jason mumbled, looking down at the mashed potatoes and gravy on his plate. It was one of his favorite things Alfred made, but for some reason he just didn’t feel all that hungry.
“If you want,” Alfred said, putting his hand on Jason’s back again as he took the seat next to him, “You and I can play a game after dinner. Perhaps we could try a new one?”
Shaking his head, Jason sat up and picked up his fork. He should at least eat a little. Skipping meals was against the rules, after all.
Playing a game with Alfred would be fun, he was sure, but he didn’t particularly feel like it, either. He kind of wanted to just curl up in his room and go to sleep. Or, failing that, read a book. What if Alfred up and ditched him, too?
Alfred had never done that before, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Up until then, Bruce had never outright ditched him before.
Maybe he had a good reason, he tried to tell himself. But no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t think of one. Not one that would require not telling Jason.
“All right, lad,” Alfred sighed, patting Jason’s back once more before he stood up, “You let me know if you need anything.”
Jason nodded, and started picking at his turkey dinner.
He wasn’t even sure why he was upset. He should have expected this, right? Obviously Bruce would find way more important things than hang out with Jason.
Sure, Bruce called him my son at the store, but they’d been out in public. He shouldn’t have given the phrase even two thoughts.
Bruce acted in public, Jason knew that. He knew it, they’d talked about it and everything.
All Jason was was the kid he’d rescued from Donny and brought home because Gordon made him. And, yeah, obviously he, like, cared and stuff. Cared that Jason got an education, and was happy and things, but that didn’t mean much. Not in the grand scheme of things.
Because people who thought of a kid as their son didn’t blow him off to go do whatever the fuck it was they usually did at night. Party and shit.
There was really no other explanation. Bruce was just acting when he said that.
Jason should have expected this.
- - -
Bruce texted Jason about breakfast the next morning, true to Alfred’s word. Jason briefly considered blowing him off, but then his stomach rumbled and he reluctantly dragged himself downstairs. He hadn’t really eaten his dinner the night before…
It didn’t matter, anyway. Jason was being dumb about the whole thing.
“Hey buddy,” Bruce said, as soon as Jason entered the dinning room. He looked just like he always looked, tired but fine, offering Jason a smile with his greeting, “I’m sorry I skipped out on you yesterday.”
Jason sat down at his seat and looked over, trying his best to convey Oh did you? I didn’t even notice.
He wasn’t sure how successful he was, but Bruce frowned and said, “I deserve that. I’m really sorry, but something came up at work. I had to deal with it.”
All night long, Jason thought to himself. Sure. Jason totally believe him. Bruce had work all night long. And it was so, so urgent he couldn’t even poke his head back into the living room to say ‘Sorry, Jay, I have to take care of something. I’ll be back tomorrow.’
What the fuck did his company even do? If the building didn’t collapse, Jason couldn’t think of a single reason Bruce would have to ditch him like that.
And the building didn’t collapse. Jason had read the news last night. That would have been in the news.
“I really am sorry,” Bruce repeated, this time through a sigh, “I was enjoying our time together. How far did you get on the car once I left?”
Jason merely shrugged, and turned his attention down to his phone, which he’d set on the table in front of himself. He hadn’t done anything further on the car, because he and Bruce were doing it together. So he’d been waiting on Bruce.
But if Bruce didn’t think that’s what they were doing, then Jason wasn’t gonna fucking say it.
Bruce’s frown deepened, and he said, “I’m sorry. Maybe we can work on it more this evening?”
Maybe, Jason thought, as he shrugged again. He didn’t care what Bruce did. Maybe Jason would just move the whole thing to his bedroom and finish it up alone.
He could probably do it by himself. Sure, he got stuck a bunch of times yesterday and Bruce had to help him fix it, but that didn’t mean anything. People put videos on youtube on how to build the different lego sets. Jason could just look up this set and watch someone else do it, instead of asking Bruce for help.
Breakfast passed in mostly silence. Bruce tried to get Jason talking, by asking what he was reading on his phone, but Jason replied, “Words,” and Bruce had sighed and left him alone.
As Jason was finishing off his last bite of eggs, Bruce cleared his throat and asked, “Do you want to come to work with me today?”
“What?” he asked, furrowing his brow as he looked up at Bruce. Why would he want to go to work with Bruce? Like, what the fuck?
“I can give you a tour of the place,” Bruce explained, “My secretary has heard so much about you recently she’s dying to meet you.”
Jason blinked. “You talk about me?” he asked, honestly baffled.
Bruce shifted in his seat, and replied, “Well, yeah,” as if it was obvious he would, “You’re a big part of my life now, Jay.”
And Jason didn’t really know how to respond to that. Because, on the one had, how? Ever since his ankle healed, Bruce was never around. They’d spent actual time together, like, five times. Eating meals together didn’t count. Bruce ate meals regardless of whether Jason was there or not.
But on the other hand, just hearing Bruce say that made his chest feel… fluttery, maybe. He wasn’t sure.
If Jason was a big part of his life, why’d he just ditch him, then, Jason thought bitterly.
“Maybe we can go somewhere nice for lunch, too,” Bruce said, after a moment, “There’s a lot of great restaurants around WE.”
Jason did like eating at restaurants…
“Do I have to wear a suit?” he finally asked, looking back over at Bruce. That would be a major deal breaker. No way was he putting a tie on.
“No,” Bruce said, grinning a little, “You can wear a hoody.”
“Okay,” Jason said, setting his fork down on his empty plate.
A tour of WE could be fun, he thought. Maybe Jason could figure out what, exactly, Bruce did, too.
“Okay?” Bruce repeated.
“Yeah,” Jason agreed, “if we get lunch.”
“We’ll definitely get lunch,” Bruce promised, as he stood up and reached across the table for Jason’s plate, “We’ll leave when you’re ready. Maybe bring a book in case you have to sit for a bit while I talk to people.”
“Sure.” Jason hopped up and went up to his room, trying his best not to smile too widely.
Maybe he was wrong in his assumption Bruce was acting…
Notes:
Bruce: I didn't know it it would upset him!
Alfred: Why wouldn't ditching a child in the middle of playing with him upset him?!
Bruce: I didn't know he liked me!
Alfred 🤦🤦🤦🤦🤦🤦🤦
i just love writing slow burn found family 😭 thanks you guys for reading it. ❤️
Chapter 50
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason changed clothes as quick as he could, since he had still been in his pajamas, with just his red hoody on over it. He had to switch to his Wayne Enterprises hoody, obviously. Because why wouldn’t he? He was literally going to Wayne Enterprises, he couldn’t think of a better time to wear it.
On his way out of his room, he grabbed his kindle and phone, and hopped down the stairs to meet Bruce in the kitchen.
He’d never been with an adult to real work before. Unless he counted sitting at a booth a couple times when his mom worked as a waitress, back when he was five or so. He hadn’t really been there to see what it was she did, though. He was just there because Dad couldn’t watch him or something, he wasn’t really sure. Mom was always pissed when she had to bring Jason.
Mom only worked as a waitress for a short time, though, so he only went with her a few times.
And Dad… he’d never worked a job where he could take Jason in with him. Working as a henchman was like that…
Bruce had a fancy job, though, so it was gonna be cool to see how those worked. How offices worked and shit. Jason still had to figure out what he wanted to do when he grew up. Maybe he could work in an office, if it looked cool. Or, at least, not miserable.
In the kitchen, Bruce looked up from his phone and absolutely beamed at Jason. “Great choice, bud,” he said, slipping his phone in his pocket and standing up.
Jason looked down at his hoody and felt his cheeks heat, but when Bruce didn’t say anything further except to ask, “Ready to go?” Jason nodded eagerly and followed Bruce out to the car.
He was so ready.
They rode in the Tesla again, because they always rode in the Tesla, but Jason didn’t mind. He did like the Tesla a lot.
Just, sometimes, it would be cool if they could take one of the sports cars.
Maybe Jason should ask him if they could go for a ride again, sometime. Like they did with the Hellcat.
The drive to Bruce’s building took almost an hour, with how heavy the traffic was outside. It was kind of ridiculous. Usually they got into the city in only half an hour or so, but it was whatever. Jason had his kindle with him, and spent most the drive reading, while Bruce listened to one of his talk shows.
But Bruce made a stop before they finally reached his building. Jason could see the WE building, just a few blocks away, the obnoxious “WAYNE” sign visible from there.
“Do you want anything in particular?” Bruce asked, as he got in line at a drive thru. There was only one person in front of them, at the little order box, so Jason was able to look up at the menu board and see they were at some sort of coffee place.
“No?” Jason said, looking at all the pictures. Why would he want coffee? He’d had coffee before, sure, but he’d never really liked it. It was so bitter tasting. Why did adults like it so much?
Then again, he’d never been able to choose what he got. It was always dudes giving him a sip of theirs or something, when he got some.
“Hmm,” Bruce said, as he looked over the menu himself, “Do you want to try something?”
All Jason could do was shrug. He didn’t not want to try something, but he was fine without, too. At least, with Bruce, he knew if he didn’t like it he didn’t have to drink more of it. That hadn’t always been the case. One asshole made him drink an entire cup, because he thought the face Jason made when he took a sip was cute.
Fucking asshole, Jason thought bitterly. The caffeine had made him feel so jittery, too. “I don’t want a lot of caffeine,” he added, after a second. Because he definitely did not want to feel super jittery.
“Good,” Bruce said, “You’re too young for a lot of caffeine. I was going to get you something decaf. Do you like chocolate?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Jason said, with another shrug.
“Perfect.”
Bruce ended up ordering quite a bit of stuff, so Jason wasn’t quite sure which drink was his. It wasn’t until after Bruce had paid the person at the window, accepted two trays of drinks and two boxes of donuts, and driven back out onto the road did he look over and pick out one of the drinks for Jason.
It was the smallest drink, Jason noticed immediately. And it was a pale brown color, instead of the darker color he always expected coffees to be. And it was cold, not hot.
“Let me know what you think,” Bruce said, as Jason accepted it, “if you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it.”
Jason already knew that, but he said, “Okay, thanks,” anyway as he inspected the sticker on the side. Apparently it was an iced coffee, decaf, of course, with chocolate syrup, and was labeled to be filled half with milk.
So really Jason had coffee and chocolate flavored milk. He took a sip.
It wasn’t half bad. The coffee flavor was still there, but it didn’t taste nearly as bitter as he remembered coffee tasting. “It’s not bad,” he finally said, when Bruce looked back at him through the rearview mirror with a raised eyebrow.
Bruce huffed a laugh and took a sip of his own drink.
After that, they went to Bruce’s building like promised. Bruce pulled into a garage that was under the building, and it was pretty cool how the security guard opened the gate for them without Bruce having to roll down his window or say anything. He did wave at the guy as they passed by, though. Then they drove through the garage until Bruce finally parked, right in a spot that had no other spots next to it, and a sign up on the wall in front that said Bruce Wayne, Owner.
“Fancy,” Jason said, as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door.
“There are perks to owning the building,” Bruce said, similarly getting out.
Somehow, Bruce managed to carry the two dozen donuts and the drinks, but he did ask Jason to carry Bruce’s coffee inside.
It was a short walk to the elevator, and Bruce had Jason hit the button for almost the top floor. There were only, like, three floors above it. Why did the building need over forty floors? Did Wayne Enterprises actually use them all? Or did they rent out some of the floors?
The elevator opened to a floor that looked like a massive office space, with desks in the middle of the room, spread around and only half of them filled with people. There were a ton of rooms around the perimeter, with glass walls allowing view into most of them. Some of them had glass that was foggy, so it couldn’t be seen through.
“Caroline,” Bruce cheered, as he stepped out onto the floor. Jason followed close behind, and watched as a lady sitting behind a desk sitting in front of the middle office jumped up.
“Oh, Mr. Wayne,” she exclaimed, rushing across to meet them, “let me help you.”
“No, no,” Bruce said, ducking her hands as he finished walking to a table in the middle of the room. He set everything down on it, then picked up one of the coffees and held it out, “but you can have this one.”
Caroline’s face absolutely lit up when she saw it, and she took it eagerly saying, “Oh wow, my favorite. Thank you!”
“It’s an apology for the board meeting,” Bruce said, as he moved the trays of drinks off the donuts.
“I think it’s Mr. Fox you need to apologize to,” Caroline said.
And Jason was left wondering what board meeting, and why did Bruce need to apologize for it?
“Who do you think the cold brew is for?” Bruce said, taking his own coffee from Jason, finally.
“You punted a meeting?” Jason asked. Because when? And why? Bruce had had an emergency at work the day before, and as far as Jason could tell he’d not skipped work in a while.
At least, Jason was pretty sure he’d been working most days.
No one answered him, though. Instead, Caroline looked at him and asked, “Is this Jason?”
“Sure is,” Bruce said brightly, “Thought it was about time to give him a tour.”
“Isn’t he just adorable,” she said, turning back to Jason and smiling brightly, “Hi, dear. I’m Caroline. I’ve been Mr. Wayne’s secretary for 10 years now.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jason said, trying not to mumble.
What about him was adorable? And why the fuck did she feel the need to say it to Bruce, as if he wasn’t even there? Jason really hated when adults said shit like that.
He didn’t want to be adorable or cute or pretty or anything.
Caroline couldn’t even see him, with the hoody on. Just his face. And no one had ever told him his face was adorable. Maybe that his eyes were beautiful, that was pretty common, but Jason couldn’t do anything about that. He needed his eyes to see.
“Want a donut, Jay?” Bruce asked, the donut box now open. Jason looked over and saw it was an assortment box, with all different kinds of donuts.
“Yeah,” he said, because obviously he wanted a donut. Who wouldn’t want a donut?
“Kids get first pick,” Bruce said, holding a napkin out for Jason to take. So Jason took it and took a second to decide. Finally, he picked out a jelly filled one from the middle of the box.
“Great choice,” Bruce said, before grabbing two donuts out himself, then turning to Caroline to add, “These are for everyone. I’m gonna try to grovel to Lucius.” He picked up his coffee and what must be Lucius’s, and motioned with his head for Jason to follow.
“Good luck,” Caroline said, “and it’s nice to meet you, Jason. If Mr. Wayne gets dragged into a boring meeting, you’re more than welcome to come hang out with me instead.”
“Thanks,” Jason said, as he turned to follow Bruce. He’d brought his kindle, though, so he didn’t see himself hanging out with some lady he didn’t even know. Especially not one who thought he was adorable.
“Who is Lucius,” Jason asked, having to walk fast to catch up to Bruce as they walked down a hall and around a corner. There were so many rooms they were passing, including a massive looking conference room.
“He’s my CEO,” Bruce said, “He does all the heavy lifting in running this company.”
Jason furrowed his brow and asked, “Then what do you do?” If someone else ran everything, why the hell did Bruce have to do anything?
“I sign papers and suffer through meetings,” Bruce said with a smirk, but Jason just frowned in response.
If all Bruce did was sign papers, why did he have to ditch Jason? People didn’t even have to be physically present to sign papers. There was no way it wasn’t possible to do that over email.
He didn’t ask Bruce more about it, though, because they passed through another large open area, like the one by the elevator, and stopped at a glass door that said Lucius Fox, CEO on the outside.
Bruce knocked twice, getting the guy inside to look up and wave, so Bruce pushed the door open and stepped inside.
But Lucius was on the phone, so he placed a hand over the mic part and said, “I’ll be about twenty minutes,” to Bruce, then turned his chair back around, a little, so he was staring at his computer screen again.
“I just came with gifts,” Bruce whispered, crossing the room to set a donut and coffee down, “we’ll come back.”
Lucius waved as Bruce ushered Jason back out of the room.
“How about we do that tour first, then come back,” he said, once the door was shut again.
“Sure.” Jason didn’t really care what they did.
The Wayne Enterprises building was fucking huge. That was really all Jason could think as Bruce led him around floor after floor. He’d known it was gigantic from the outside, but it was kind of staggering how huge it was from the inside.
And apparently WE conducted business on all the floors.
“We have a lot of R&D in this building,” Bruce had explained, “some floors dedicated to labs, that sort of thing.” Since, apparently, WE was a tech company, among many other things.
They walked around for a good hour while Bruce introduced Jason to person after person. No one stuck around long to chat, though. They all smiled at Bruce, some tried to suck up some, but none seemed to really know how to talk to him otherwise. Jason got the feeling Bruce didn’t interact with most of them often.
But way too many of the people kept commenting on how cute Jason was in his hoody, and by about the fourth comment he was so over meeting people.
So, so over it.
He almost wanted to take the hoody off. But just the thought of that made his stomach… he didn’t know. He didn’t want to think about it.
Before Jason could think about it, though, Bruce’s phone started buzzing violently in his coat pocket, letting out a weird ringtone. It was almost like an alert sound, but less… dramatic? Jason wasn’t sure how to describe it, but Bruce frowned hard when he heard it and he immediately pulled it out and looked at the screen.
It wasn’t even his normal phone, the one in the black case Jason always saw him using. This one had a grey case, and didn’t look like an iPhone.
“Talk,” Bruce said, after he tapped on the screen and held it up to his ear. He motioned with his head for Jason to step into the elevator with him, so he did. But then Bruce pressed a button on it that closed the door, and he kept the button depressed.
Jason tried not to think too much about it as he leaned up against the elevator wall. Bruce was so absorbed with the phone call, it was highly doubtful he was trapping Jason in the elevator for any reason.
Maybe he just wanted privacy for the phone call, away from all the people out on the floor.
Although, Jason wasn’t quite sure why Bruce would need that privacy. Since Jason couldn’t hear anything the other person on the line was saying. There wasn’t even a murmur coming from it. Obviously there was something to hear, because Bruce was listening quietly and intently. Almost intensely, actually.
Finally Bruce said, “Okay,” his voice a little lower and rougher sounding than Jason had ever heard, like he needed to clear his throat or something. “I understand, give me twenty minutes.”
“What was that?” Jason asked, once Bruce ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“That was,” Bruce started, his voice right back to normal again. He paused, and frowned hard before he said, “I’m really sorry, Jason. But there’s an emergency I have to take care of.”
“What kind of emergency?” Jason asked, watching as Bruce finally let go of the door close button and pressed another one, that didn’t even have a button. It was just… invisible. Bruce pressing his finger over it made it light up, though, and open a little door that revealed a retinal scanner.
“With one of our plants,” Bruce said, as he leaned forward to let it scan his eye. Once it was done, more buttons lit up on the elevator, and Bruce pressed one that had a P on it, “Apparently there’s been some sort of… accident.”
“Accident?” Jason repeated, gripping onto one of the rails on the wall as the elevator started going up fast. “I thought you just signed papers.” Why did Bruce need to deal with accidents.
“I also have to deal with these sorts of things,” Bruce said, with another frown.
“Shouldn’t they call an ambulance or something, instead of you?”
“It’s not that kind of accident,” Bruce said, as the elevator slowed and came to a stop, “No one got hurt.”
That didn’t even make sense, then. “So where are we going?”
Bruce looked over at him, just as the elevator door dinged open, and oh.
It wasn’t we. Of course not we. Why would Bruce bring Jason anywhere?
“I’m sorry,” Bruce repeated, as he stepped out of the elevator, “the factory is across the state.”
Right. And why would Bruce take Jason across the state with him?
Finally Jason looked outside the elevator door, and couldn’t help his step backward, further into the elevator when he saw where they were. “What are we doing?” he asked, slowly.
Because. They were in an apartment. They weren’t at offices anymore. P, was the floor name. Penthouse, probably.
Why the fuck were they in a penthouse?
“I have to go deal with this emergency,” Bruce said patiently, holding an arm out to keep the elevator doors open, “I need you to wait here until Alfred can come get you. This is the penthouse, no one but me and my close friends have access to this.”
“So you’re just going to leave me here?” Jason demanded. They… they were supposed to be having fun. Right? That’s what this was supposed to be. Bruce was making it up to him, by bringing him to work, and getting him a donut and touring him around. “What about lunch?” Bruce had promised him lunch.
“I know, I’m really sorry.”
“Can’t you bring me home first?” How could Bruce just… abandon him like that? In some random apartment he’d never been to, in the middle of Gotham. Alone.
Didn’t… didn’t Bruce care at all?
“No,” Bruce sighed, “I don’t have time. I have to leave immediately.” He paused for a moment, and seemed to think of something as he pulled out his regular phone and said, “Hang on.”
After scrolling through something and tapping on the screen a couple times, he held the phone up to his ear and said, “Where are you right now?”
This time Jason could hear murmuring, but he was standing so far away from Bruce, still all the way against the back wall of the elevator, he couldn’t make out much more.
“Can you come to the penthouse for an hour or two? I have to deal with this situation, but I had Jason with me at WE.” He paused again for more murmuring, then said, “Yes. Can you keep him company, order lunch?”
Wait.
Bruce was going to ditch him and leave him with a stranger?
In an apartment no one else was in? That Bruce just said had excellent security?
What the fuck.
He couldn’t step back any further, and with Bruce’s stupid arm blocking the door, Jason couldn’t just pick another floor to go to. He’d way rather ‘hang out’ with Caroline in the big open office space than with some stranger in an empty apartment.
“Okay,” Bruce said, as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. He took a long look at Jason and sighed again, “It’s okay. My friend Barbara Gordon is going to come over, she’ll be here in a few minutes so you won’t be alone while you wait for Alfred.” Bruce pulled out a credit card and held it out towards Jason, though he was too far away to actually reach Jason. “Give her this, let her know I said you two can order whatever you want delivery.”
Jason looked back and forth between Bruce’s eyes, trying to figure out where the lie was.
There was a lie somewhere, he knew it. But he couldn’t figure out where it was.
No. That was wrong. Obviously the lie was accident at one of his plants.
Was Bruce in the mafia? Did he run some sort of criminal empire? What the fuck did he even do that required all this, this… secrecy.
But, wait…
“Gordon, like Commissioner Gordon,” Jason asked, shakily. Commissioner Gordon was one of the good guys. He knew that. So it reasoned that his daughter was also good… Right?
“Yes,” Bruce said gently, “she’s his daughter. You can trust her, I certainly do.”
Okay.
Okay, okay, okay. So maybe Bruce wasn’t in the mafia or something crazy.
So what the fuck??
Bruce was legit ditching him. Again. This time with some lady he’d never met before, all so he could go across state and deal with some vague ‘emergency’ that didn’t involve people getting hurt, but still somehow meant he couldn’t spend forty-five minutes driving Jason home first.
With as nasty a glare he could muster, Jason snatched the credit card and stomped past Bruce and into the apartment so he could fling himself down on one of the couches.
Fuck Bruce.
Jason was so very wrong about everything. Bruce not only didn’t think of him as a son, he didn’t care at all.
Not at all. Because if he did, he wouldn’t do this.
Why’d he even bother bringing Jason to WE? If he didn’t really care?
To show him off. Obviously. Show off how nice he was fostering a poor kid he rescued from being a whore. He was cute, everyone said. That’s all any of this was. Good PR for him, to combat all the shit the papers threw at him.
At least he doesn’t fuck you, a little voice in the back of his head said. So at least there was that.
“I’m really sorry, Jason,” Bruce said, sounding actually sincere, but nothing about Bruce was sincere so he wasn’t gonna fucking listen.
Well. There was quite a bit sincere about him so far. He hadn’t broken his big promises yet. Just the little ones. Like we’ll go get lunch, Jason.
But for all Jason knew, the big promises weren’t gonna get kept either.
“Just go away,” Jason grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking further into the couch.
“I’m going to explain everything to you, okay?”
“What’s there to explain?” Bruce didn’t care. Jason was just some… charity case, maybe. Proof of how nice and generous and virtuous Bruce was, buying some whore kid from the mob so he could protect him and shit. And Jason shouldn’t have expected anything more from him. The house and safety and education and peace was more than enough for him. More than enough. Jason didn’t need anything more from Bruce.
As far as Jason was concerned, Bruce could never speak to him again and he’d be fine. Happy, even.
“There’s a lot,” Bruce sighed, “I’ll try to be back tomorrow, and then we’ll talk and I’ll explain.”
“Whatever,” Jason grumbled, rolling his eyes, “I don’t care.”
Bruce sighed again, and sounded just as lost as he’d ever sounded as he said, “I’m sorry, Jason.”
“Just leave,” Jason snapped.
He didn’t give a fuck how Bruce felt over Jason being mad. What did he think would happen? Jason smile and be like ‘oh golly gee, that’s okay Bruce, you can ditch me two days in a row after you promised we’d go get lunch, and make me spend a couple hours with a stranger in an apartment by myself? I love meeting strangers in apartments, it’s always such a fun time.’
Tears pricked at his eyes as Bruce sighed once again, but he finally did step back into the elevator and let the doors shut behind him.
And Jason spent the next several minutes trying to talk himself down from crying. The absolute last thing he wanted was to be crying his eyes out when Barbara Gordon showed up.
So much for Bruce being anything to him.
Notes:
In Bruce's head: Oh, Jason doesn't feel safe here alone, I'll call in Batgirl to give him some security.
Not in Bruce's head: Barbara is a STRANGER and Jason has some serious trauma associated with that🤦 Poor Jason.Now I gotta write Barbara next chapter, and she's always really hard for me. So is Dick. Soooooo. I hope the next chapter doesn't take forever but we'll see. I'm not 100% on what happens in it, but I do know what in general happens for like 5 chapters after it and i am so excited. Lmao.
Thanks for reading <3
Chapter 51
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It only took about five minutes for the elevator to ding, signaling it was stopping on his floor again.
And five minutes wasn’t near enough time, because Jason had to scrub his face clean quickly as the doors slid open and, Jason assumed, Barbara Gordon walked out.
He didn’t actually look over, though. Because there was nothing he could fucking do about it if it wasn’t her. And he didn’t want whoever it was to see him still crying.
“Hi Jason,” a woman said, though, so it had to be Barbara. Jason didn’t want to admit to heaving a sigh of relief that it was her.
He… he didn’t know what he would have done. If it’d been some random dude. A client.
Cry. He would have cried harder. Because that was all he fucking did any more.
“Can I come in?” she asked, after a second passed when Jason still refused to look over.
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, rolling his shoulders back as he sat up a little more. It wasn’t like he had a choice. It’s not like he could tell her to fuck off. Bruce wanted her to ‘keep him company.’
Jason would have preferred to sit there alone.
“My name is Barbara Gordon,” she said, exiting the elevator and crossing the room toward the sitting area. Jason still didn’t look up, but he could hear the squeak of her sneakers as she got closer, “but you can call me Babs.”
Could he call her nothing? He’d like to not talk to her at all.
When she crossed the threshold into the sitting area, Jason cut his eyes over, but didn’t say anything. Just watched as she surveyed the room and kind of stalled out near the couch opposite him, her hands clasped in front of her.
“I’m sorry we had to meet this way,” she said, frowning a little, “if you want, we can go sit somewhere outside. Perhaps in the employee cafeteria, or out on the balcony or something?”
“Why would I want that,” he asked, narrowing his eyes. Why would Babs think he wanted anything like that?
Sure, he would have, but it was too fucking late now.
“I wasn’t sure if it would make you more comfortable. I can’t imagine it’s easy to meet a stranger without someone you trust with you.”
“Bruce fucking told you, didn’t he,” Jason snapped, crossing his arms and throwing himself back against the couch.
Fuck Bruce.
What other promises had he broken? He’d said. He’d promised he would never tell anyone else, after he told Dick. No one else.
Bruce was supposed to be trustworthy. He said he was trustworthy—
“Told me what?” Babs asked, as she finally picked a seat and sat down, directly across the coffee table from Jason.
“You know what,” Jason spat back. Obviously she knew, because otherwise she wouldn’t have said anything. Because normal kids didn’t freak the fuck out over stupid shit like Jason.
How could Bruce do this to him? He said he’d never do anything to break Jason’s trust. He’d promised.
But obviously Bruce’s promises weren’t worth jack shit.
“No, Bruce didn’t tell me anything,” Babs said, while Jason scoffed, “My father told me about you, actually, back when Bruce first found you. We talk about work at dinner each night.”
“Oh,” Jason said, feeling himself deflate like a balloon. Because… that made sense. Obviously it was probably a big thing, Bruce Wayne showing up at Gordon’s office with some whore kid.
“But he only told me that Bruce Wayne found a trafficked kid, and then when Bruce told me he was fostering another kid, other than Dick, obviously it wasn’t difficult to connect the dots.”
Trafficked kid, sure. Them and their stupid obsession with that word. It wasn’t— he wasn’t—
Babs shifted in her seat, and shot Jason a smile as she said, “Bruce hasn’t really told me much about you other than we’d probably get along, since I love books, too.”
“You do?” Jason asked, shakily.
It was maybe kinda nice the thing Bruce identified Jason as was a book-lover. Maybe.
He was still a giant asshole, though.
“Yep,” Babs said brightly, “I’m actually a librarian.”
“Really?” he said. That was probably a super cool job. “Do you get to read at work?” Getting paid to read books would be awesome.
Barbara smiled wider as she said, “Sometimes, but we stay pretty busy. I get first dibs at our new books, and that’s probably my favorite part.”
“That’s pretty cool.” Although Jason could read whatever new book he wanted to, too, now. He just had to ask Bruce… Which, admittedly, he hadn’t done yet.
And maybe he shouldn’t… was Bruce gonna go back on his promise that he didn’t want anything in return? When he bought Jason shit? He… he needed to look up how much his legos cost, but he was kind of scared. It had to have been a lot. And—
Jason jumped when a chime came out of his phone at a ridiculously high level, while vibrating like crazy inside his pocket. Who the heck was calling him??
No one fucking called him.
He furrowed his brow even more when he saw Alfred’s name on the screen. What the heck??
“Jason, lad,” Alfred said, before Jason even said hello, “I just got off the phone with Bruce I’m in the car now, on the way to pick you up.”
“Oh,” Jason said, feeling no less confused, “Okay.” That definitely could have been a text.
Or nothing. Since Bruce already told him that Alfred would come get him.
“Are you all right, my boy?”
“Yeah,” he said. Because why wouldn’t he be? He wasn’t even alone, so… Or maybe they didn’t know Babs got there? “Barbara Gordon is here.”
Alfred hummed, then said, “And are you okay with that? Did you want her to keep you company?”
“I—“ Jason started, but paused, darting his eyes up to Babs and away again. He didn’t want it, but it’s not like he had a choice. Plus, she hadn’t murdered him or anything, so really he was just being a baby about it. “It’s fine.”
Apparently Alfred didn’t like his answer, because he sighed. It kind of made Jason’s spine stiffen. Was he mad? Frustrated? Annoyed? Jason couldn’t tell from over the phone.
Not that he could often tell with Alfred…
“I will be having words with Bruce over this stunt,” Alfred said tersely, after a moment, “this was unacceptable.”
Oh. He was mad at Bruce…
“It’s fine,” he repeated, because he wasn’t really sure what else to say. He was mad at Bruce, too, sure, but really all Jason had to blame was himself.
He knew better than to trust adults. He knew better. And yet there he went, taking Bruce at his word.
Like an idiot.
“Okay,” Alfred said, actually almost sounding like he actually believed Jason. But Jason just knew he didn’t. “Are you okay by yourself? I will be happy to chat with you the whole time you’re there with Ms. Gordon.”
“I’m fine,” he said once again, “but um, thanks.” He supposed it was kind of nice for Alfred to offer that…
Jason wasn’t really sure what talking to Alfred would do to make it better, but whatever.
“All right, my boy, you call me if you need anything. I will see you soon.”
“Okay. See you.”
Alfred hung up after another second, so Jason looked back over at Babs, where she was still sitting on the couch, smiling kindly at Jason.
“So,” she said, pulling her own phone out of her pocket and looking down at it, “what do you want to get for lunch? There are a lot of places that deliver to us.”
“I don’t care,” Jason mumbled. Food was food.
What he’d really wanted was to go out somewhere with Bruce. And, like. Sit down. At the restaurant.
But whatever.
Jason sank down further into his hoody, so the collar was up near his nose. Stupid Wayne Enterprises hoody, he thought bitterly, as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He should have worn his Batman hoody instead, because fuck Bruce. Jason might just leave his hoody in the living room or something and never wear it ever again.
“Hm,” Babs said, as she squinted down at her screen, “the burger place down the block has the fastest delivery time. Just twenty minutes.”
With a shrug, Jason said, “Okay.” Burgers were fine. Easy.
Or. Well. Apparently burgers weren’t easy, because Babs asked him seven hundred questions about how he wanted it and which sides he wanted while she placed the order. It was kind of ridiculous. She asked him if he wanted a fried egg on it.
Why the fuck would Jason want a fried egg on his burger?
Finally she placed the order, though, for just a basic cheeseburger with fries for Jason, using the credit card Bruce had given Jason.
“You sure you don’t want to move somewhere else?” she asked, as she set her phone down on the coffee table, “there’s plenty of places we can chill while we wait. There’s a public balcony a few floors down, there for staff to relax.”
“It’s fine,” Jason mumbled, “Bruce wanted me here.” And Jason didn’t want to find out if Bruce was gonna drop all his promises now. Like the I won’t ever hit you one. Making Bruce mad over something stupid just felt like a really, really horrible idea.
“Quite frankly,” Babs said, dryly, “I don’t care what Bruce wanted.”
Right.
Because why would she? She didn’t have to live with Bruce. She didn’t have to deal with him and his stupid lies all the fucking time and his random bouts of anger Jason had thought were harmless but might not actually be.
“Well, what about watching TV?” she asked, “Would you like to do that?”
With another shrug, Jason let her find the remote and turn on the massive TV that was hanging on the wall.
And that was basically how the spent the half hour it took the food to get there. Jason did pull his kindle out, and half heartedly tried to read his book, but for the most part he watched whatever stupid cartoon Babs had found with her in silence.
Which… wasn’t bad. He appreciated she didn’t make him talk.
The cartoon wasn’t bad, either. It wasn’t even a children’s cartoon, if the bad language and jokes were anything to go by. And it did help the time pass until they got their food, and even after. Because before he knew it, the elevator door was dinging open again, and Alfred was rushing out onto the penthouse floor, looking slightly ruffled and only half done up.
He didn’t even have his coat on. Just the collared shirt and slacks he often wore, in the evening, when he was just relaxing.
“Jason, lad,” he said, when his eyes landed on Jason, curled up on the same couch, opposite Babs, as he munched on his fries, “are you all right?”
“Yeah?” Jason said, furrowing his brow at Alfred. Why wouldn’t he be?
Obviously Babs wasn’t bad or anything.
Alfred frowned, but turned to Babs and said, “Ms. Gordon, thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“Of course, Alfred,” she said, standing to her feet as she gathered up the trash, “I’m always here to help.”
“I’ll be taking him home now,” Alfred said, as he turned to Jason and asked him directly, “If you’re ready?”
Why wouldn’t he be ready? He thought, as he hopped to his feet and grabbed his soda off the table. Because he was so ready to get out of there.
Why on earth would Jason choose to stay in a strange apartment in the middle of Gotham, rather than the giant mansion that was Wayne Manor?
“It was nice meeting you, Jason,” Babs said, as Jason made his way over to Alfred’s side, “Hopefully next time we can hang out in a less stressful situation.”
“It was fine,” he mumbled back, giving her a little wave with the hand holding his bag of fries. He cleared his throat and added, “uh it was nice to meet you, too.” Which wasn’t even a total lie. It hadn’t been nearly as bad as he was anticipating, and then they hadn’t even had to talk much.
But, yeah, meeting her again in a more… normal way wouldn’t be bad, either. Maybe with Alfred there, too.
Not Bruce, though.
How feasible would it be to just ignore Bruce forever? It probably wouldn’t even bother him, since he clearly hated spending time with Jason, anyway.
Otherwise he wouldn’t keep lying to Jason and blowing him off, completely ditching him in the middle of actual fun things.
“Come on, lad,” Alfred said, placing a hand on Jason’s back and gently pushing him toward the elevator.
The drive home felt even longer than the drive to WE had felt.
Alfred tried his best to get Jason to chat with him, but every time Jason couldn’t really figure out what to say, or how to make the conversation keep going.
He wasn’t quite in the mood to talk anyway. All he really wanted to do was go home and hide in his room for the rest of the day. Maybe he’d move his lego set into his room so when Bruce got home, he couldn’t even try to pretend to want to work on it with Jason.
“I assure you,” Alfred said, twenty minutes into the ride, “Bruce will not hear the end of this from me. It was completely unacceptable to leave you there with someone you had never met.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jason mumbled, his face half buried in his hoody with how he was sitting, completely slouched down into the passenger’s seat, his feet up on the chair so his knees were up high in his line of sight.
Jason probably shouldn’t have been a giant baby over it, anyway. He could probably still trust that Bruce wasn’t a pedophile, right? That wasn’t really something someone could hide so well…
Although there was no fucking telling if he still had friends that were. And if he’d accidentally leave Jason alone with one.
Would Bruce still care if Jason told him about pedophiles? He would, right? Because he tells Batman about them?
Alfred huffed an offended noise before he said, sternly, “It most certainly does matter, lad. Master Bruce should have been far more considerate to you before he galavanted off like that.”
Jason frowned and shrugged a shoulder. Why should he have? Jason wasn’t his son. He didn’t owe Jason anything.
“Where’d he even go,” Jason grumbled, picking at a snag on the knee of his pants. Surely Bruce told Alfred the truth.
Right?
Probably, but all Alfred said was, “He had to deal with an emergency,” and Jason couldn’t help but roll his eyes dramatically.
Maybe he shouldn’t be forgetting that Alfred was in on all the lies, too. Alfred was loyal to Bruce.
Of course he’d carry the water for Bruce on whatever-the-fuck was going on.
“He assured me he will explain when he returns,” Alfred added, “and if he does not, I will explain for him.”
“Sure,” Jason said, dismissively. He totally believed that.
They all lied all the fucking time, and Jason had completely ignored it.
He’d gotten so swept up in… what? Legos? Fucking toys and school and books and just the relative quiet of the manor he’d started ignoring their lies.
Bruce lied all the time. Like about how he got hurt. He got hurt a lot, especially when Jason first met him. He’d been better recently, but maybe he just got better at hiding it from Jason. Because apparently he never had to hide it from Dick because Dick obviously knew because they went out together when he was visiting.
But Jason knew the difference between crashing a bike and getting punched in the face, so obviously Bruce had to step up his game. He’d probably assumed Jason was just stupid, or something, at the start. Or that he’d keep his damn mouth shut, since he already knew how to do that very well.
Well he would keep his mouth shut, whatever was going on, but that didn’t mean he appreciated being lied to.
Alfred obviously knew everything. He’d thought early on maybe Alfred didn’t know stuff, but that was when Jason thought Bruce was a pedophile. Obviously he wasn’t, but something was going on.
Something Alfred felt like Jason needed to know now.
Would they even tell him the truth this time, though? Or would they all spew the same lie, just a shiny new one, to make Jason think that now they were all trustworthy.
Jason really hoped they weren’t in the mob, or something just as bad.
He just… couldn’t figure out what else it would be. What else would cause Bruce to go out every night with unnamed people and get beat up?
Fight club?
But fight club wouldn’t explain having to ditch Jason in the middle of the day.
Alfred heaved a heavy sigh, but didn’t seem particularly mad at Jason.
Which, he supposed, was at least one thing to be thankful for there. Even if they were all liars, none of them had hit him yet. No one ever got mad at him for stuff.
They just…
He didn’t even know.
Lied. A lot.
Maybe he should just… be thankful for the good things he was getting, and get over everything else. They didn’t fuck him, they didn’t hit him, they fed him, gave him education and, and, things. That— he didn’t need anything else.
Jason jolted when Alfred’s hand settled on his knee, and he didn’t even feel remotely bad when Alfred pulled his hand back.
“I’m sorry, lad,” Alfred said, his fingers curling away from Jason, even though his hand was still up in the air, like he was gonna put his hand back on Jason’s knee.
“Just leave me alone,” Jason grumbled, turning in his seat so he could lean up against the window and lay his legs down some in the seat, out of Alfred’s reach.
This was what he got for ignoring everything.
Notes:
Hiiiiii. It's been a hectic couple of weeks and will continue to be rather hectic for the next month or so.... then in Nov the plan is to participate in Nanowrimo with original work.............. we shall see how that goes. But hopefully I can get through this little arc that's going on before I go on that short fanfic break!! I am SO FREAKING EXCITED, yall. Haha
Thanks for reading ❤️
Chapter 52
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason went up to his room almost immediately upon returning home.
He’d thought about getting his Lamborghini Lego set, but he really didn’t feel like it. The pieces were all nicely sorted out in piles on the coffee table, and it would be a pain in the ass to move them up to his room without mixing them all up again. Re-sorting them by himself would probably take an hour, and bringing them upstairs one or two piles at a time would probably take just as long, and kill him. Because of the stairs.
So he ended up grabbing the other set from where he’d left it under the coffee table, with the Lamborghini box, and brought it upstairs to work on instead.
But no matter how hard he tried to occupy himself with working on one of his cars, he just really didn’t feel like it. Reading and playing on his Switch were similarly unable to keep his attention, so in the end, Jason just curled up on the couch and slept the afternoon away.
It was several hours later when his phone woke him, with a text from Alfred about dinner. “I’ve made chili,” he said, “I hope you join me.”
“Dammit,” Jason muttered to himself, as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He really wanted to try Alfred’s chili.
Which meant he had to go downstairs…
But Bruce wasn’t back yet, as far as he knew. He hadn’t, like, said anything yet. Texted Jason or tried to apologize or explain or whatever he said he was gonna do. Then again… his word meant nothing. So he supposed it was kind of possible Bruce had got back without telling Jason.
He doubted it, though.
With a sigh, Jason got up and pulled his Batman hoody on, having already stuffed his Wayne Enterprises one into the back of his closet. Maybe he should let Dick get him a Superman one, too. If Bruce really would hate it.
Alfred had Jason sit at the island counter, where he served him a bowl of chili with a stack of crackers. And Jason had to admit it was the best dinner he’d ever eaten at Wayne Manor. Even if he had to sit across from Alfred and listen to him try and engage him in conversation.
Jason spent most the time just staring at him, though, as he spoke. Because all he could think about was what else is he lying about. How could Bruce or Alfred actually care, when all they did was lie? And why should Jason care in return?
Well. They fed him and everything, so he supposed he couldn’t not care. Or be rude or stuff.
If Jason wasn’t worried he might make Alfred mad, he would have just picked up his bowl and gone upstairs. Instead he just shrugged whenever Alfred asked him a question, and nodded at his statements.
Half way through his bowl of chili, the garage door opened, causing Jason to outright freeze.
Bruce was back already? What??
How could he have gone across the state and back again so fast?
He couldn’t. Which would mean he hadn’t gone across state at all. And had probably stayed in the city.
The door shut and footsteps started down the hall, toward the kitchen, and Jason couldn’t help but stiffen up further. Because he didn’t recognize the footsteps. Alfred didn’t seem to notice, or care, because he took another bite of his chili while Jason absolutely cursed himself for sitting with his back to the door.
But no one ever came over, so how was he supposed to know? Be prepared for random people?
Before whoever it was reached the kitchen door, Alfred called out, “Ah, Master Richard. It’s good to see you.”
“Hey Alf,” Dick said, just as Jason turned around and saw him step into the doorway, “Hey Jase. Good to see you guys too.”
“How was your drive?” Alfred asked, “Sit, sit, I’ll get you a bowl.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Dick said, dropping his duffle bag near the door and walking over to the counter. He pulled a chair out diagonally to Jason and sat down, “The traffic around New York City was bad, but otherwise it was smooth sailing.”
Alfred nodded, as he started scooping out chili into a bowl, and said, “Wonderful.”
Had Alfred been expecting Dick?
Why had no one told him? Jason pulled his phone out, and reread his text from Alfred and, sure enough, there was no warning that Dick was coming home.
Although, he supposed he didn’t need a ‘warning.’ Since Dick was Bruce’s son. And he could come home whenever he wanted. Jason was the outsider here, not Dick.
“What’s up,” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Jason.
“I uh,” Jason started, “Just didn’t know you were coming.” Jason cringed at himself. Dick didn’t need to warn him he was coming. It was fine if he came. Wayne Manor was more his home than it was Jason’s.
“Oh yeah,” Dick said, with a huge grin. Apparently not even bothered Jason had accidentally been rude, “I heard Bruce had to leave town, so I thought I’d come home, keep you company, that sort of thing. I always hated when Bruce went out of town, when I was a kid. Especially unexpectedly, so I thought I could help keep you from getting lonely.”
“Right,” Jason said, scowling. He wasn’t gonna get lonely without Bruce there. Being alone was something Jason liked.
“I also like to be around when he’s out, anyway, just in case anything needs doing around here.
Jason narrowed his eyes, but quickly turned them down to his bowl of chili. It would be a waste of breath to ask what could possibly need doing, because they’d just lie. Bruce didn’t have a job that he had to do anything for. Nothing needed doing.
Except, something clearly did. Because there was something Jason didn’t know.
“We’re always glad to see you,” Alfred said, as he set the bowl down in front of Dick. He pat Dick’s shoulder and said, “I just wish we could have both you and Master Bruce at the same time.”
Dick grinned a cheeky smile as he said, “Aw, thanks Alfred. I’ll stick around for a few days once he gets back.”
Great. Jason wasn’t gonna get left alone for a week, was he? Maybe he should just tell Dick to fuck off, to see what happened. It was probably better to piss them all off when Bruce wasn’t there, anyway. Just to see how they’d all react. Because if the never hit you promise was off the table, he’d rather find out before the literal tank of a man was there to teach him his lesson.
Somehow, the rest of dinner passed in relative peace. Well, peace for Jason. Because Dick spent the whole time catching Alfred up on what he was doing up in New York.
Just as Jason was eating his last bite of chili, though, Dick cleared his throat and said, “Want to do some raids after dinner?”
And Jason hesitated, with his spoon half way to his mouth.
On the one hand, no, he didn’t want to play Pokemon after dinner. But on the other…. Was he really in the mood to piss Dick off?
Besides, Dick did come all the way from New York just to ‘keep him company.” Or, at least partially to ‘keep him company.’ Which was doing better than Bruce at the moment. For now…
Dick had ditched him before, but that was just over the internet… Maybe he wouldn’t do it in real life?
Or maybe Jason would go play with him, but wouldn’t get his hopes up. If Dick ditched him, he wouldn’t care.
“I guess,” he finally said. At least it was a way to pass time.
“Great!” Dick cheered, “I’ll meet you in the living room.”
Jason took his sweet time getting his Switch and making his way down to the living room. It took him a minute to figure out which one Dick meant, but he finally found Dick sitting in the living room where his Lego car was set up.
“What’s this?” Dick asked, once he saw Jason standing in the doorway, “It looks pretty cool.”
With a shrug, Jason mumbled, “Lego set Bruce got me,” as he rounded the couch and collapsed down on it.
“It’s huge. How many pieces?”
“3,600.”
Dick whistled, and picked the instruction book up off the table. “That’s awesome. Are you and Bruce putting it together, then?”
“I thought, but…” Jason frowned. He needed to just finish it up when Bruce wasn’t around. Or suck it up and bring it up to his room, and just deal with the sorting-back-out.
“But?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged, pulling his legs up on the couch to curl up in his hoody, as he booted up Pokemon. He thought for a second, then added, “I don’t know why Bruce even bought it for me. He said it was for my birthday, but that’s not for a few more weeks. And it cost a lot.” $350 to be exact. Jason had been horrified to see that on the Lego website. He’d guessed it was around that much, but it still was crazy to see.
He’d let Bruce spend $350 on a toy.
For no real reason.
“Sounds like Bruce to me,” Dick said, through a laugh, as he sat down in an armchair to Jason’s right. “I bet he just said it was for your birthday so you’d accept it. I’m sure he’ll have something else for you to open on your actual birthday.”
Jason fucking hoped not, he thought with a scowl.
Why would Bruce even do that? He didn’t even care. Why was he pretending like he did? Jason wasn’t his son, wasn’t his whore, wasn’t anything, really.
And, sure, he could have just bought the Lamborghini just to show all the people at the store how nice and generous he was, but there was literally no reason to even bring Jason to the store in the first place. Going had been Bruce’s idea, not Jason’s.
“Bruce can be pretty annoying like that,” Dick said, “It used to drive me nuts when I was little, and he kept wasting all this money on me, but then I figured it out. Buying nice gifts for no reason was the only way he knows how to say ‘I love you.’”
All Jason could do was scowl harder.
How was that even the case for Jason? Yeah, Jason might have maybe believed it 24 hours ago, but not now.
And obviously Jason shouldn’t have believed it 24 hours ago, either. Because even 24 hours ago, Bruce had still been a giant liar about everything. Jason had just been ignoring it.
Bruce had even been ditching all the fucking time and disappearing all the time, Jason just hadn’t been willing to stick around to notice.
“Your game loaded yet?” Dick asked, motioning with his head to Jason’s switch.
“No, it’s updating,” Jason said, looking back down at the progress screen, “it says two more minutes.”
“Cool.” Dick leaned over and snatched the remote off the table, then flipped on the TV and hit mute. He flipped through the channels, and slowed down at the news channels, all of which were playing the exact same footage.
Without the headlines on the bottom of the screen, Jason would not have been able to figure out what was even going on, because what he was looking at was insane looking.
‘Aliens attack Paris,’ the headline on the channel Dick finally stopped at read.
Aliens.
Invading France live on television.
What the heck?
Jason had never seen aliens before. Or, well. Beyond Superman, that was. But Superman was, like, the least alien alien to ever exist.
“Do you mind if we watch this,” Dick asked, a little nervously, “I wanted to keep up with it, but I also don’t want to worry you or anything. Uh, the Justice League seems to have it under control so, like, I don’t think it’s going to be a problem for us.”
Jason tore his eyes away from the screen to look over at Dick for a second, and said honestly, “It’s not going to scare me.”
With a nod, Dick said, “Okay, cool. I like watching the League work.” He toggled with the volume until they could just hear what the reporters were saying, then asked, “Your game done yet?”
“Yeah,” Jason said, looking down just as the title screen finally appeared.
“Awesome. I found a V-Max Charizard den, I’ll put it up now.”
They spent a couple hours like that, going from den to den until it grew boring. Although, to Jason it got boring after about five dens, but Dick was really into it so he kept following along. Finally, though, he asked Jason what other games he’d been playing, and when Jason mentioned Animal Crossing, he loaded up his own island so Jason could look at it.
Which was pretty neat. Dick let him pick the fruit he still needed for his own island, and offered him lots of DIY recipes.
It was pretty fun, actually. Jason kind of wished Dick was around more. But he wasn’t really sure, because if Dick started blowing him off in person, well. Jason didn’t want it.
And Jason would not put it past Dick to pull that kind of shit, because every time Batman was on the screen, Dick got completely engulfed by the news, and didn’t even register if Jason said anything.
Although Jason didn’t blame him for that, too bad. Especially when a grainy video started playing, ‘a cell phone video sent in by a viewer,’ the newscaster reported, showing Batman fighting directly with the aliens.
They’re all globby looking, the aliens. Like giant things of jello, maybe? They were weird looking, and apparently super hard to fight. Because the video showed Superman fly down in front of Batman and attack, just to have every one of his attacks completely absorbed by the alien’s goop. If they tore in half, they immediately mended themselves as if nothing happened.
Batman took a step back, and pulled a few batarangs from his belt, then tossed them at two of the aliens. The batarangs buried themselves deep inside the aliens’ goop before exploding, scattering the aliens into a zillion little clumps of gross.
“That’s so gross,” Jason said, making a face at how disgusting it must be to get alien chunks on you. Jason was not envious of anyone nearby.
The explosives didn’t kill the aliens, but they did seem to hurt them. Because when they reformed, they were much smaller, and actually retreated.
“Oh, watch out,” Dick said, cringing, as an Alien snuck up on Batman on the video. Batman noticed, but a second too late, because when he spun around, the alien’s knife sunk down into Batman’s side. Dick sucked in a breath, and seemed to lean closer to the TV as the battle unfolded.
Batman put a hand on his side, and pulled out two more batarangs with his other, throwing both at them at the alien as he stumbled backward.
In a blink, the alien exploded, and Superman landed right in front of Batman, shielding him from the explosion before grabbing him and whooshing him off somewhere off screen.
Dick sat there for a solid couple seconds, before he grabbed the remote and flipped through the other channels.
All of them were playing the same cell phone video, though, with no further information.
Did Dick know Batman, too? Like Bruce? Dick certainly looked like he knew Batman, because he definitely was not hiding the worry on his face, as he looked down at his phone and started flipping through something on it.
It probably sucked actually knowing the superheroes, when they got hurt like that.
“Uh,” Dick said, when he looked up and saw Jason staring at him, “do you want to do something else?”
Jason merely shrugged. If it would help keep Dick’s mind off the aliens, then sure.
Maybe that’s why he had come home? So he wouldn’t be lonely when people he knew were getting hurt? The TV had said the aliens attacked at 11 that morning.
Bruce being gone might have just been a coincidence.
They ended up racing on Mario Kart, after flipping through all the games on Jason’s switch. But even during the races, Dick kept looking back up at the screen, or down at his phone, obviously worried out of his mind about the whole ordeal.
“Look, they’re leaving,” Jason said, when the news started playing footage of the alien ship taking off, back up into the dark, late-night sky of France. Jason had thought it would make Dick feel better, but…
There was no relief in his face, even as he said, “Good, that’s good.” He checked down at his phone again, but took a deep breath as he refocused on his switch.
Jason frowned.
Dick really was worried about Batman, then, wasn’t he?
The two of them played in silence for another half hour or so, before Dick’s phone started ringing. He jumped, then immediately scrambled for it to answer, even though he and Jason were right in the middle of a race.
“Bruce?” he said immediately, “are you okay?”
What kind of question was that? Jason thought, as he furrowed his brow.
Why would Bruce not be okay? He was in New Jersey.
Right…?
No way he had actually gone to France, or whatever.
Jason looked back over at the screen, and watched the replay of the footage of Batman getting stabbed. ‘Seven confirmed dead,’ the headline read, ‘Justice League to hold a press briefing soon.’
“I saw—yeah. Good,” Dick said. Jason looked back over and saw how absolutely relieved Dick looked.
He’d been nervous ever since they saw Batman get stabbed, but now he wasn’t nervous anymore?
Jason narrowed his eyes at Dick. He’d not asked how Batman was, because Bruce might have known that. Instead he asked how Bruce was doing.
“Are you getting home tonight, then?” Dick asked, “Yeah. That makes sense, okay. Tell Clark I said thanks.”
There was no fucking way.
Except…
“Yeah, Jason is with me. We’ve been playing games together.” Dick shot Jason a smile, but nodded as he kept talking into his phone, “Yeah, he’s fine. We’re having fun, right Jase?”
Jason merely shrugged. He wasn’t not having fun.
“Bruce wants to talk to you,” Dick said, holding the phone out for Jason.
“Why?” Jason asked. He didn’t want to talk to Bruce.
In fact, he kind of wanted to go to his room and maybe look up every single video of Batman ever captured.
Because there was no fucking way.
Dick shrugged, but got up and handed the phone directly to Jason, practically making him talk to Bruce. So Jason reluctantly put the phone up to his ear and said, “hi.”
“Hey, bud,” Bruce said, his voice sounding exhausted, but still soft, “I’m really sorry I left you like that.”
“It’s fine.” If Jason was right, really it was fine that Bruce had to ditch him. It wasn’t like he ran off to a party.
“It’s not, and I realize that now. I should have never called Barbara in.”
Alfred must have really reamed him out, Jason thought.
Which meant Alfred yelled at Batman.
How in the fuck was Bruce Batman???
“Are—“ Jason started, but decided he didn’t actually want to ask. Because what if he was wrong?
What if he just read this whole thing wrong, and made a really, really stupid connection?
“Uh. How’s the emergency at your plant going?” he asked, instead.
Bruce sighed. “The emergency is handled now. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow when I see you, okay? I promise. I’ll probably get in late tonight, so I’ll see you at breakfast.”
Not if Jason skipped breakfast, he wouldn’t.
“Okay,” Bruce said after a second, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Enjoy your evening with Dick.”
“Sure,” was all Jason said. Bruce hesitated for a second, but finally hung up, ending the call with a click. Jason held the phone back out to Dick.
“Mad at him, huh?” Dick said, as he took the phone and pocketed it. Jason rolled his eyes dramatically, so Dick added, “Alfred told me what he did. He deserves it.”
“I wouldn’t care if he didn’t lie about everything,” Jason mumbled, shoving his hands into his hoody pocket as he leaned back against the couch. His stupid Batman hoody.
Fuck.
Jason had been fucking complimenting Bruce every damn time he wore it, hadn’t he?
Had Bruce just been like ‘hey, I’m Batman and aliens are invading,” sure, Jason would have been confused, but he wouldn’t have been mad about it.
Aliens invading was a perfectly reasonable reason to ditch Jason and go back on his promise of lunch.
What had he had to deal with the day before, when he ditched Jason then? Who had called him? What emergency was going on?
“Sometimes lies are necessary,” Dick said, just making Jason roll his eyes again.
Because, sure. Maybe Jason got the lies when he was new there and Bruce didn’t know if he could trust Jason to keep his mouth shut, but now??
Jason would have kept his mouth shut about everything had Bruce told him a week ago. Or a month ago. Or on day one.
And Bruce should have known that by now.
How could Bruce claim to care about Jason, or see him as his son, and still lie about such a huge thing???
Pretty much everything Bruce had ever said to him had been a lie, hadn’t it?
Even the first moment Jason met him, Bruce had been lying. With his eyes, with his whole attitude. Jason had thought he was planning something, and he was.
He was planning the downfall of the Falcone mob and their whore houses.
Then, then.
When Bruce gave him his backpack! He’d gotten that himself, hadn’t he?? And simply brought it home!
And when Jason told him about Beaumont, so he could tell Batman, that was a lie too.
Bruce could have told Jason then. Hell. Alfred could have told him, instead of blatantly lying about Bruce ‘knowing’ Batman.
Did that make Dick Robin??????
It did, didn’t it?! That’s why they went out together.
Was that why he came back? Not to spend time with Jason, but to cover for Batman tonight??
Had any of them ever told him a single truth ever???
“Yeah, whatever,” Jason grumbled, “I'm gonna go to bed.”
Dick was a giant liar, too.
How could any of them claim to care about Jason, when they didn’t even trust him?
“All right,” Dick said, “I’ll see you in the morning. Night.”
“Yeah, night,” Jason mumbled.
Jason had trusted them, and they couldn’t even reciprocate it.
Fuck them all.
Notes:
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Thanks Randomfandomwoman and Batbirdies for beta reading this for me. ❤️ I was so dang excited to write it and share it.
Chapter 53
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason skipped every meal for two whole days.
He got tons of texts about it, of course. Bruce texted him probably twenty times, asking him what he could do to make Jason come down. Even offered to leave the house, if that’s what Jason needed to be comfortable going downstairs.
Every time, Jason just rolled his eyes. The stupid phone told Bruce he saw the texts, so he felt that was plenty. But when Dick sent him a text, too, Jason shot back a ‘I’m not hungry’ to get them to leave him alone.
He wasn’t hungry. He had crackers still. And like hell was he going downstairs so Bruce could spin more lies at him.
Granted… he didn’t have enough crackers for more than a couple days… but he’d cross that bridge when he got there. And he might not cross it as soon as he expected, because Alfred brought him a sandwich and carrot sticks for dinner.
“Lad, I am setting a sandwich down outside your door, please eat it,” was all Alfred said, before he retreated back down the hall.
At least Alfred wasn’t hounding Jason to leave his room and go talk.
It was on day two, sometime after lunch when Jason heard footsteps go past Bruce’s room, and head toward his.
All his muscles froze up, when he heard it, because it wasn’t Alfred. It was Bruce. And Jason was a sitting duck, just laying on his couch as he played Scrabble with strangers. There was no where he could run to.
But then he reminded himself that Bruce was literally Batman. There was no reason to be scared of him. Probably. Batman protected people and only beat up criminals, and Jason wasn’t a criminal.
And had Bruce just fucking told him that.
Bruce’s footsteps slowed as they approached his door, and after a brief hesitation, Bruce knocked at the door and asked, “Jay? Buddy, we really need to talk.”
Jason rolled his eyes and said, rather flatly, “I’m not your buddy, and no we don’t.”
“Jason,” Bruce sighed, only making Jason scowl up at the ceiling, “Please let me explain. I promise there’s an explanation for everything.”
“No there’s not,” Jason snapped, sitting up and throwing his blanket off himself, “Go away.”
Being Batman wasn’t an explanation for lying to Jason when he promised he was trustworthy. Lying all the time about everything wasn’t being trustworthy.
There was no reason for all the lies.
And, actually, being Batman made it worse. Because Batman was supposed to be a superhero, but instead he was a lying liar who only pretended to care about a kid he promised he really did care about.
Jason turned his scowl over to his Lego Batmobile, sitting proudly on his dresser next to the Superman one. It was still missing the last few black pieces…
Batman had been someone Jason actually maybe admired. For what he did to Beaumont…
… Bruce was actually friends with Eric and still did that. Still got super mad that Eric even existed, and went and took him and all his stupid friends down…
Even while all the news was talking about how Bruce had to be one of them, too. Bruce—Batman still did all that. Even though he couldn’t laud it in Jason’s face and hold it over him that he’d been the one to do that. To get Beaumont and company arrested. He just fell back on ‘yeah I told him’ and then dropped it.
Jason kicked his pillow, which was on the ground in front of him, with a low growl. Why couldn’t everything make sense?
Stuff didn’t used to be so confusing.
With Donny everything was very clear and easy and there were never any surprises. Jason knew who he could trust, and knew who not to trust.
Which was everyone, basically. No one was trustworthy. And trusting no one made everything so much easier.
Why did he let himself believe Bruce???
And… why did Bruce bring him into his house and pretend to treat him like family…. Make sure he was safe and had an education and everything, when he didn’t even trust Jason? Or care enough to explain things???
Then why did he spend so much time with Jason, too?? When he didn’t care.
Why couldn’t everything be easy again.
“Jay,” Bruce said, sounding absolutely defeated from still outside Jason’s door, “Please, just come downstairs with me. I’m going to tell you everything.”
“Go the fuck away,” Jason screamed back. It was too fucking late for that. Bruce had weeks and weeks to be honest. Back when he promised he would cherish Jason’s trust and never ever break it, he had the opportunity to be honest.
And he never was.
Jason didn’t give a fuck that he wanted to be honest now, or felt bad about lying now. He should feel bad. Jason hoped he went and cried to Alfred about it. ‘Boo hoo, I made Jason mad at me by being a total dickwad.’
“Please, Jay. Can we just talk.”
“No,” Jason shouted back. Looking at his unfinished Batmobile, all he wanted to do was scream.
“Buddy…” Bruce said, softly, and Jason got up and grabbed the car off the dresser then stomped over to his door.
Jason threw the door open, and scowled hard at Bruce, almost relishing in how Bruce jumped backward, and held two hands out in a placating gesture at him, before Jason hurled the Batmobile at him.
Infuriatingly, Bruce dodged it, so the stupid thing hit the wall behind him and shattered into a zillion pieces.
“What was that?” Bruce asked, looking around at all the legos scattered across the hall.
“The Batmobile I was building,” Jason spat, crossing his arms and glaring at Bruce, “I don’t want it anymore.”
Bruce’s face fell, as he looked down at the pieces again, a little more frantically. He looked almost… heartbroken, as he said, “Jay…” and knelt down to start picking the pieces up. Like he was actually upset Jason destoryed his car.
“Fuck you Bruce,” Jason snapped, stomping a foot. He wasn’t gonna feel bad about anything. This was all Bruce’s fault. “You said I could trust you.”
“You can—“
“No I can’t,” Jason screamed over him, “You’ve been lying this whole time. About everything!”
“Jason,” Bruce said, softly, still kneeling on the ground with a few Legos in his hands. His eyes shone, and Jason didn’t even want to try to interpret them. He didn’t care what Bruce felt about anything.
“You said— you promised,” he cried, pressing his hands into his eyes to try and stop himself, “You said you’d never do anything—“ Jason had to stop, because he’d started crying too hard.
He angrily swiped at his eyes, and looked down at the stupid Batman hoody on the ground, right where he’d thrown it two days ago when he went back to his room. He grabbed it and threw it at Bruce, too, letting out a muddled growl as he did.
The hoody hit Bruce right in the face, and he had to reach up and pull it down off himself to get a good look at it.
“I don’t want any of your shit,” Jason yelled, “I hate you.”
Bruce did a double take to the hoody, then asked, “You figured it out,” gently. When he moved to get up on his feet, Jason took a step backward, so Bruce froze and gave Jason a helpless look.
“What, did you think I was too stupid,” Jason asked, scrubbing at his eyes again because they wouldn’t stop. Of course Bruce had been lying about thinking Jason was smart, too. Of course he was.
Why else would he have brought Jason into his house, if he honestly thought he was smart enough to figure out he was Batman?
“No-“ Bruce started, but Jason cut him off.
“I trusted you,” he cried, stepping back and slamming his bedroom door closed again, right in Bruce’s stupid face, before he collapsed down with his back up against it and buried his face into his knees.
He didn’t want to listen to anything.
Trusting Bruce had been his biggest mistake.
- - -
Bruce left him alone again, but only until the next morning. Because it was Friday, which meant Bruce came back to Jason’s room and stood at his doorway, knocking on the door persistently until Jason finally shouted, “What,” at him.
“Jay,” he said, sounding far more patient than Jason would have been, in his position, “we need to leave for your appointment soon.”
Jason scowled at the book he was reading and snapped, “I’m not going.” Why would he even want to go to therapy? That would require leaving his room.
“Because you’re mad at me?” Bruce asked, and Jason only scowled harder.
“Yes,” he started, “No. I’m not going.” It didn’t matter why he didn’t want to go. He just didn’t.
With a sigh, Bruce said, “Jason, if you don’t give therapy a chance, there’s no way it can help you. And skipping it when you’re upset is not giving it a chance.”
“I’ll just tell her about you,” Jason snapped. If Bruce made him go, he was gonna tell her all about how he was a giant liar and seemed to think being trustworthy and lying went hand-in-hand.
Bruce hesitated for a long moment, then said, “If that’s what you need to talk about, then talk about that.”
Jason paused, and furrowed his brow as he kind of felt the fight leave him. Bruce couldn’t be serious. He got up and went to his door, opening it to see Bruce standing there, looking absolutely exhausted.
Good.
“You’re okay with me telling someone you’re Batman?” he asked, trying his best to solve the puzzle that was Bruce Wayne. How could Bruce be okay with that, but he wasn’t okay telling Jason a week ago?
Bruce sighed, but nodded. “I ask you don’t tell just anyone,” he said, “but your therapist? Yes, that’s fine.”
“Why?” Jason asked, narrowing his eyes at Bruce. How did that make sense? Why did Bruce never make sense?
“That’s what she’s there for. You’re supposed to be able to tell her anything.”
“Oh sure, you trust her but you didn’t trust me,” he grumbled, crossing his arms tightly as he turned away from the door.
“Jason,” Bruce said, firmly but not angry. Jason didn’t care either way.
“Whatever,” he said, grabbing his sneakers from his closet. He shoved his feet inside then snatched his phone off the couch, then walked back to the door.
Bruce took a step back, but then held an arm out as if to say well, let’s get going then.
They took the Tesla, of course. And Jason sat in the backseat. Alfred always let him sit up front, but he didn’t even try with Bruce. He didn’t want to sit next to him.
Not if Bruce was gonna keep being so infuriating forever. Maybe Jason should see if Alfred would be willing to take him to therapy in the future. Just so Jason didn’t have to deal with Bruce.
“Jay,” Bruce said, half way through the drive. He thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel, even after Jason looked up, then finally continued, “I meant it. You can tell Liz anything. Even if it’s about me.”
“Yeah. I heard you the first time,” Jason said, leaning his head into his hand, with his arm resting against the window. He mumbled about a second later, “I don’t get why you trust some random lady you’ve barely met but you didn’t trust me,”
“It…” Bruce started, but he paused and looked back at Jason through the rearview mirror, giving him a truly quizzical look. “Is that why you’re mad? You think I don’t trust you?”
Jason scowled at the seat in front of him. He wasn’t even gonna deign to respond to that. Obviously Bruce didn’t trust him.
“Jason, you would not be living with me if I didn’t trust you.”
“Gordon made you take me home,” Jason snapped back, sitting up and shooting Bruce a withering glare. He was not going to sit there and listen to Bruce gaslight him like that.
“I was there,” he continued, “I heard everything. You told him you didn’t want another kid and he said you had to take me anyway because I wouldn’t be safe anywhere else.”
“Which was true,” Bruce said calmly, “for about 24 hours, until I took out Donny’s house and the FBI placed all the other boys into protective custody. Gordon offered to take you then, too, and have you placed with the other boys, but I said ‘no.’”
“Why would you do that,” Jason grumbled, kicking his foot at the seat in front of him as he turned his scowl toward it.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Bruce asked, “You were such a funny kid, and so bright, too. Some of the things you said, the thoughts you shared, amazed me to no end. Then to find your stuff in that house, and see that it was all books and homeschool material. Even in the worst of situations, you still looked ahead to a brighter future. Still had dreams and aspirations and actively worked to achieve them someday… how could I not want to keep you? To help raise you and make sure you were given those opportunities, and realize those dreams?”
Jason… wasn’t sure what to say to that. Wasn’t even sure what to think.
How was he supposed to respond to that???
He could feel his anger running away from him, and Jason didn’t want to not be mad. He might cry if he didn’t stay mad.
“Lad,” Bruce said, softly, “I didn’t lie to you because I didn’t trust you. I did it because I wasn’t sure how you would take it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean,” he asked, slumping down in his seat. How was there more than one way to take it?
“I was afraid me telling you would just scare you, make you think I could lock you away in the Batcave forever or something. I didn’t want to scare you any more than I already did. I just wanted you to feel safe.”
“Right,” Jason said dryly, “So instead you lied about everything all the time instead.” That made total sense. Bruce was actually an idiot, then.
“I’m sorry, bud,” Bruce said, and Jason just rolled his eyes. Jason didn’t want Bruce to be sorry. He wanted— he just wanted everything to be good again. But he didn’t see how that was possible, since even when it was good, it had been a magnificent lie.
For the first time in Jason’s life he’d thought everything was good and happy, and it’d turned out to be a lie. How was he even supposed to get over that?
“I’ll do better,” Bruce promised, “I really was enjoying our time together, before the Justice League interrupted.”
Jason pressed the palm of his hand into the corner of his eye, trying to keep himself from crying as he laughed a little wetly and said, “That’s the coolest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Him building a Lego car got interrupted by the Justice League. Calling Bruce. For help. How did Jason even manage to get Batman as a guardian??
Bruce looked back at Jason, through the mirror again, and offered a hesitant smile.
“I’m still mad at you,” Jason said, scowling again. Because he was.
“Okay,” Bruce hummed, “That’s fine. I deserve it.”
“Yeah,” Jason agreed, sitting back again and looking out the window. Bruce did deserve it. Because… “I wouldn’t have taken it like that.”
Bruce looked back again, and raised an eyebrow.
“Like you could lock me away. I know…” Jason paused, and looked down at his red hoody’s sleeves as he mumbled, “Batman wouldn’t do that.” He always knew Batman wouldn’t have hurt him. Always.
And had Bruce just told him.
Well.
Maybe he wouldn’t have thought Bruce might.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce said again, with a solemn nod, “I’ll be better.”
Jason merely nodded. He wasn’t— he didn’t know if he could believe him but…
He really wanted to. It had been nice before Bruce ruined it all.
Notes:
🥺 This baby, I love him so much.
We are getting relatively close to the end, my friends. I'm not sure if that means there is 5 more chapters or 20, but plot-wise, I'm running down to the end of my list of goals. 🤗 This is officially the longest thing I've ever written. (If we don't count my In For a Pound series as one story.)
Chapter 54
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason ignored Bruce the whole time they sat in the waiting room. Bruce sent his turn on scrabble to Jason’s phone, but Jason flicked the notification off his screen and kept reading the news articles he thought sounded interesting.
Although almost all of them were super boring. And he kind of wished he could figure out how to get his kindle books on his phone. He knew it was possible, he just hadn’t looked into how to do it yet.
Liz finally came and got Jason, though, and Bruce didn’t really bother Jason further while he had to wait. Once Jason was back in Liz’s office, though…
“How was your week?” she asked, like she always asked first thing, once they sat down at the table. But all Jason did was shrug as he sank down in his chair.
And of course Liz made him elaborate by not saying anything until he did.
With a huff, Jason rolled his eyes and said, “I don’t know,” maybe a little shortly.
He didn’t even want to be there, but Bruce made him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, leaning forward so more of her weight was on her arms, rested on the table. She looked so fucking nice, despite Jason’s attitude all it made him do was avert his eyes down to his hands, hidden under the table. “Maybe we can figure out how to classify it together,” she added.
“I… don’t know,” Jason said. Because he didn’t. Bruce said he could. Talk about it and stuff. And like, Jason believed him and everything.
But should Jason? Secret identities were secret for a reason…
Which apparently included being secret from even the kid they supposedly cared about and trusted and let live with them. For no other reason than ‘I thought you were too big a baby to handle it.’
Jason glowered at his hands for a second.
Stupid Bruce.
Maybe… maybe he could talk about it without telling her, though?
“It’s just…” he started, but hesitated as he flicked his eyes up at Liz and back down again. Maybe it would work. With a deep breath, he said, “I don’t know. It was good until Bruce ditched me a couple-a times and lied about why then acted like telling me the truth should make me feel better but it didn’t because he still ditched me and then lied about it.”
By the end of his explanation, he was glowering again. Bruce was stupid. Jason shouldn’t have listened to him in the car at all.
“So you’re mad at him,” Liz said, drawing Jason’s eyes back up to her.
“Yeah.” He was so so so mad at him.
“Okay,” Liz said, with a slight smile, “why don’t we back up then. You said he ditched you?”
“Yeah. We were building a new lego set he got me and he got a phone call and just never came back even though he implied he was gonna come back in a second, but he flat up left the house instead.” Jason totally shouldn’t have forgiven him for that. “Then the next day he was trying to ‘make it up to me’ and he took me to work and got me a donut and coffee and toured me around his building until he got another phone call and that time brought me to an empty penthouse and ditched me there. Alone.”
And sure, Bruce had been literally saving the Earth from aliens, but he didn’t have to ditch Jason alone in a penthouse.
“Then he called his friend,” Jason exclaimed, “and had his friend come over and keep me company even though I didn’t even know who they were!”
“That sounds pretty scary,” Liz said, and Jason sat back in his chair again and blinked.
Because.
“Yeah,” he said, feeling slightly hallow thinking about it, “I didn’t know where we were or why we were there and he was lying to me and I didn’t know why he was lying or what he was lying about, but I knew he was lying and he called his friend and—“ he had to stop, because his stupid voice cracked.
Obviously it had been fine. There had been nothing to be worried about.
“It’s dumb,” he said, brushing his sleeve up against his face for a second. He put his hand back down and swallowed down everything.
There was absolutely nothing to cry about.
In Liz’s office.
“Why do you think it’s dumb?”
Jason scowled. “Because,” he retorted, “it is. Nothing happened.”
Liz tilted her head and asked, “What were you afraid would happen?”
No.
No no no no no, Jason was not talking about this.
“You know,” he snapped, as he pushed his chair back and stomped off from the table. Liz knew exactly what he thought might happen, so there was zero reason for him to tell her. They were talking about how big of an asshole Bruce was, anyway. Not Jason.
“Besides, I know Bruce wouldn’t make me work,” he exclaimed, “Not like that. And… I don’t know.” He just never wanted to work ever again. “I really know Bruce wouldn’t do that to me now. Like. Never ever, ever will he made me work. But he was lying,” Jason exclaimed, throwing his arms out, “they were all lying, and Dick said! He said lies were necessary!”
Jason’s skin felt like it might explode, it was doing the crawling thing but worse. Like… like there was way too much energy in there, all pent up and wanting out.
“Dick is such a jackass,” he grumbled.
Lies weren’t necessary.
Lies were mean.
And Dick was always the one saying they were brothers, and Bruce called him son and still they lied.
All the fucking time.
About everything.
“How am I supposed to trust them when they’re liars?” He spun back around to see Liz, still sitting over at the table, just calmly watching him stomp around like an idiot. He didn’t move to sit down again, though. He kind of wanted to throw more things at Bruce, actually.
“You feel betrayed,” Liz said, when Jason didn’t offer any more rantings.
And. “Yeah,” he agreed. That was probably a good word for it. Since Bruce had promised him and then broken that promise.
Broken a lot of promises, actually.
Because he sucked.
“Did you tell Bruce this?” she asked, tilting her head again.
“Uh,” he stammered, trying to think, “not like, in those words.”
“What did you say?”
“I-uh,” Jason said, before he half-laughed and ducked his head a little, “I yelled, ‘fuck you Bruce,’ and threw my Batmobile at him…”
“You threw your what at him?” Liz asked, looking genuinely confused.
Because.
Right.
“I was building a Batmobile out of legos,”he explained, with a shrug as he side stepped so he could lean back against the couch near Liz’s desk, “But, uh. I threw it at him, and it’s broken now.”
Jason couldn’t help but slump his shoulders, a little. He’d worked so long on that car…
He hadn’t seen it on the floor that morning, either. So Bruce probably finished picking it up.
“You must have been really mad,” Liz said.
“Well yeah,” Jason said, scowling again. “He-he, you said it. He betrayed me. He kept saying I could trust him and he promised I could trust him and he’d never ever do anything to break that trust once he had it and he did.”
Jason had given him his trust for, like, five seconds and he immediately broke it.
“How can I trust him when he lies?”
Liz nodded, then asked, “What was he lying about?”
“Just…” Jason stammered, as he felt his stomach drop a little.
He… he couldn’t tell her. Or. He could. But.
It. It was too big a secret to just… tell.
And how could Bruce trust him, if literally the first person he saw after he found out, he went and told?
Even though Bruce said he could…
“Stuff,” he said, lamely, “Like, where he was going and what he had to do.”
Liz nodded again, and didn’t seem to care Jason completely dodged the question as she said, “But even after he betrayed you, you still lashed out at him. You threw your Batmobile and yelled at him.”
“Yeah.”
“What were you thinking about when you did that?” she asked, and Jason furrowed his brow.
“I—I don’t know,” he said, as he pushed himself up a little so he could sit on the arm of the couch behind him, “I was mad. He was being annoying.” Kept calling him buddy when Jason told him they weren’t buddies.
That was such a stupid nick name. Buddy.
“Were you thinking about how he might react to your actions?” she asked.
“No,” Jason grumbled, shoving his hands into his hoody pocket, “I was hoping he wouldn’t dodge the car so it would actually hit him.”
But of course stupid Bruce had to be stupid Batman and capable of dodging some stupid 12-year-old throwing legos at him.
At least the hoody hit him in his dumb face.
“Okay,” Liz said, with a gentle smile, “Did you worry afterward whether he was going to retaliate? You’ve told me before you get nervous an adult might lash out at you if they aren’t happy with you.”
Jason stilled, his face going slack as he actually thought. “No,” he said, slowly. Because… it hadn’t even crossed his mind.
Because… because Bruce wouldn’t do that. Batman wouldn’t do that to him. Just like he wouldn’t make Jason work.
He—he was Batman. Bruce had said Batman protected all the little boys in Gotham… and that included Jason.
That extra included Jason.
And Bruce said he wanted to raise Jason… and help make sure he grew up happy… and he said hitting Jason was bad and would traumatize him and obviously if Bruce thought all that, he definitely wasn’t going to do it. Because how could Jason be happy if Bruce was traumatizing him, in his own mind?
Jason maybe kind of was happy, not getting hit all the time…
“Bruce wouldn’t do that,” he said, a little numbly, as he let that sentence settle deep into his chest.
Feeling so confident about something was so… so… scary, almost. But it was true. Bruce wouldn’t do that.
“It sounds to me like you trust him, still,” Liz said, gently again, “At least enough to be kind to you and take care of you properly.”
With a dramatic sigh, Jason collapsed backward onto the couch, and let out a “I guess,” as he did.
This whole damn thing was stupid.
He wanted to be mad, and instead he was… he didn’t even know!
Everything. He was everything.
He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to scream at Bruce more or… or hug him.
Jason’s skin started tingling, faintly at that thought.
So no. Definitely not hug him.
“I think you should be proud of yourself for how you’ve handled this,” Liz said, after Jason lay there for a full minute, staring up at the ceiling above him. He swung his legs around, off the armrest, so he could sit up and face her as she continued, “You allowed yourself to be upset by something that was very upsetting, then you told the person who wronged you that you were upset.”
“Yeah,” Jason whispered. He hadn’t done that in forever, had he?
Donny upset him a lot, actually. But Jason kind of just… didn’t think about it.
Telling Donny off would have never resulted in him saying ‘sorry’ seventy-billion times like Bruce.
Hell. Dad sometimes upset Jason, and Dad would not have cared one bit. And didn’t care, whenever Jason told him he was mad. ‘Get over it,’ Dad would always say.
If he didn’t punish Jason for back talking…
Bruce was so different from every adult he’d ever known.
“You are right,” Liz went on, “Bruce should not be lying to you. It’s not helpful to you to have a guardian you aren’t sure if you can trust.”
“It… it wasn’t a bad secret,” Jason mumbled. Maybe if Bruce had been in the mafia or something, it would be different.
But he was literally Batman.
“I just wish they didn’t think I was, like, a fragile piece of glass that might break if they look at me wrong,” Jason mumbled, dropping his eyes down to his hands, still buried deep in his hoody pocket.
Maybe if Bruce didn’t think he was such a baby, scared of everything, he would have been up front with Jason from the start.
Or… at least earlier. It kind of made sense that Bruce wouldn’t tell him right off. It is a pretty big secret… and Jason had been maybe trying to find a way to escape, at least within the first day, to get back to Donny…
Wow he had been an idiot, there.
“Do you think you’re a fragile piece of glass?” Liz asked, startling Jason out of his thoughts a little.
He shrugged. “No,” he said, but then reconsidered and said, “Maybe sometimes, I don’t know. I cry way too easy.” All the fucking time.
“Crying is not a sign of weakness,” Liz said, but Jason cut her off.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I know why people cry.” He’d read about that on the internet the other day. Too much emotions, since emotions were actual chemical reactions or something, and his body was getting rid of the extras. He got it.
Still didn’t mean he should be crying all the time.
Especially when he used to never ever cry.
“Okay, we can talk about that next time,” Liz said, “but I have seen you be very strong several times today. To me, you are the exact opposite of fragile. You stood up for yourself, which takes a lot of strength, and clearly you are a strong person, to survive everything you’ve been through and be siting here today. I’m quite proud of you.”
“For yelling at Bruce?” Jason asked, but he could feel his cheeks heat up a little. It was kind of a dumb reason to be proud of him, but he wasn’t gonna argue…
“For all the progress you are making.”
He… he was making progress, wasn’t he? He hadn’t exactly thought of doing stuff like, telling Bruce he was upset was something that counted as progress, but…
There was no way Jason would have done that a month ago.
Liz walked Jason back out to the lobby, to find Bruce sitting right where Jason had left him an hour previous. He smiled a little nervously at Jason, but turned his attention to Liz as he shook her hand, like he always did, and said, “Thank you, Doctor.”
Jason rolled his eyes and said ‘bye’ to her, himself, before he just started for the front door, not caring one bit if Bruce was following.
Obviously he did, because where else would he go, and he quickly caught up to Jason so he could open the door for him and hold it as Jason stepped out.
“How did your appointment go?” he asked, once they were outside and crossing the parking lot over to the car.
“Fine,” Jason said. He stopped at the Tesla, and waited for Bruce to step up and unlock it, so Jason could open the back door and slip in.
“That’s good,” Bruce said. He slipped into the driver seat and started the car up, while he clearly was trying to figure out what to say. Finally, he settled on, “Did—“ but Jason cut him off.
“I didn’t tell her.” He wasn’t sure if Bruce was worried about that, but what else would he be so nervous about?
But Bruce nodded, and said, “Okay, thank you for telling me. It’s entirely your choice if you do, in the future.” Bruce paused for a moment, then looked back at Jason again as he asked, “Did you want to go get your treat still?”
They were still gonna do that?
Even though Jason told him an hour earlier he was still mad at him? And hadn’t even wanted to come in the first place?
“I still owe you lunch,” Bruce said, letting out a self-depreciating laugh as he did, “I owe you a lot, I think, actually.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, numbly. He… he would maybe like to get lunch.
“Lunch?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow at Jason, through the mirror.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “can we get burritos?”
“We’ll do whatever you want,” Bruce said, as he tapped on the dash’s giant screen to make the car navigate to a local Mexican restaurant.
“Anything?” Jason asked, trying not to smile too wide. There was one thing he kind of wanted to do…
Bruce paused, his finger hovering over the screen as he looked back at Jason. A smile slowly took over his face, as he amended, “Within reason.”
But Jason felt his request was perfectly within reason.
“Can I see the Batmobile? The real one?”
Now Bruce’s smile turned into a full on grin, as he told the car to go. “I think that can be arranged.”
No fucking way. Jason could scream, he was so damn excited.
He didn’t though. He kept his cool, and said, “I have to see if it’s cooler than Superman’s car.” He needed to know if he’d picked the right model, too, to build his Batmobile off of. Maybe he’d have to change it up, when he rebuilt it. Use a different model, or even just take a picture of the car and use no lego model.
“Superman doesn’t even have a car,” Bruce grumbled, but he was still smiling, so Jason leaned back against his seat.
“I have a lego version that begs to differ.”
Bruce huffed, and said, “I will show you the Batmobile after lunch. I promise it’s way cooler than anything Superman could ever wish to have.”
“Superman is an alien, I bet he has a spaceship.” Spaceships were definitely way cooler than cars, full offense to cars.
“He doesn’t,” Bruce said, but the way he looked downright mischievous made Jason sit up some before Bruce said, “He has to borrow mine when he wants to go into space.”
“He what,” Jason exclaimed.
How the fuck did he not know Bruce was so cool??
Notes:
Ahhhh, that was a hard chapter. I've got a semi-solid plan for the rest of this fic. Compared to how long it's been so far, it's really not _that_ far off from the end. I think I counted 9 or so chapter left, but then I remembered one more loose end I needed to tie up, so maybe 10ish? We'll see.
I'm still planning on doing original fiction in November, and because some asked: I have no clue what I'm gonna do with it, whether it'll be just Ao3, self publish, or pursuing actual publishing. No clue. I only have a first draft right now so it's no where near any shape where I can pretend anyone would want to read it 😂 Hopefully I can get at least one more chapter of something posted before November starts, but we'll see! It's been a crazy few weeks.
Thanks for sticking around so long and following Jason's crazy journey! ❤️ you all.
Chapter 55
Summary:
Jason was dying. Literally dying, okay? Bruce just said he could see the Batmobile, but now he has to sit through lunch before that happens, and he was going to die from anticipation.
At least the lunch out was pretty nice.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Bruce picked some Mexican place for them to eat, and Jason tried his best to keep calm as a waiter sat them down and handed them the menu.
To say he was excited would be the understatement of the century.
He was going to see the Batmobile. He really super hoped Bruce would take him for a ride like he did with the Hellcat, because that would be fucking epic. How many kids got to go for joyrides in the Batmobile?
Jason sat across from Bruce and tried his best to read over the menu. He’d wanted to go out to eat, he reminded himself. Bruce owed him this. Even if half of him wanted to skip lunch all together and get right to the best part of the day. But no matter how hard he tried, Jason could not stay focused on the menu.
Every few seconds he found himself peeking up at Bruce, just sitting there. Looking like a totally normal dude as he read over the menu himself. He’d look up every half minute or so and scan the restaurant, and Jason finally understood what he was doing.
He was checking their surroundings.
Because he was Batman.
And kept track of stuff like that. Wherever he was.
Batman was just a regular dude.
Or, well. He was a super rich, weird dude, but still. He was just a regular dude, who took his foster kid out for burritos and to the lego store and for walks in the park and movies and-
Jason wanted to ask Bruce so much. Like ‘Do you really have a spaceship?’
And could Jason see the spaceship?
Could they go into space?????
If Bruce went into space, did that make him an astronaut? And if he was, how the hell did he not talk about it all the time??? If he brought Jason up to space, would that make Jason an astronaut?
Bruce looked up again, and caught Jason’s eyes. He offered a smile and asked, “Did you figure out what you wanted?”
“What?” Jason stuttered, looking back down at his menu, “Uh, no.” Because he couldn’t fucking stayed focused.
If Bruce was such good friends with Superman, could Jason meet him, too? Or Wonder Woman??? Could Jason meet the Justice League?
“I personally like the smothered burrito,” Bruce said, a slight hum in his voice as he turned the page on his menu, “The burrito grande is good, too.”
“How are you—“ Jason started, but cut himself off. Because he couldn’t just ask how are you so normal, right there in public. The last thing Jason wanted was to lose trust by immediately blabbing to everyone about Bruce being Batman.
But.
How could he be so normal?? He’d just told Jason he had a space ship, and now he was talking about which burritos were good.
Bruce raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question Jason further. Instead, he asked, “Did anything catch your eye?”
“I can’t focus,” Jason admitted, picking the menu up and blocking Bruce entirely from his view with it. He hunted down the burrito grande to read its description, while Bruce laughed.
“That excited, huh?”
“I’m dying,” Jason groaned. The burrito grande sounded good, though. Especially with cheese sauce on top. And rice and beans on the side.
“I’m sure you’ll survive another hour while we eat,” Bruce said, although he sounded so fucking amused Jason kind of wanted to kick him.
But he was Batman, so he doubted it would even hurt.
Did Batman have superpowers? There were rumors that he did. That he could fly, felt no pain, and had super strength, but Jason had always doubted them. Most people said he had no superpowers, and that was what made him so scary.
Could Jason ask questions if he phrased them in a way that made it sound like they were just speculating? Maybe he should just be patient and wait like Bruce literally just told him to do.
He was definitely going to die, though.
“I guess the burrito grande looks good,” he finally said, setting the menu back down.
It took another minute, but the waiter finally came over with a basket of chips and a huge bowl of salsa, and they both put in their order. Bruce ordered the smothered burrito and a bowl of queso for their chips, since Jason asked if he could have some on the burrito. And already Jason loved this place.
But that was before he even tried the chips and salsa.
“We should come here every week,” Jason exclaimed, after eating a second chip with a massive helping of salsa on top. Some of it fell right on the table, but he didn’t even care. It was spicy and delicious.
Bruce smiled wide and pulled a napkin out of the little holder, handing it straight to Jason as he said, “I have no objections to that.”
“I could eat only this salsa and be happy,” Jason declared. He took the napkin and cleaned up the mess he made, before eating another chip filled with the salsa.
It took Bruce a few seconds to respond, but Jason didn’t really care. He was long past over worrying about Bruce and his dumb hesitations between talking. Bruce finally did, though, and all he said was, “Well, we can get you a bowl to go, then. So you can eat it at home.”
“Awesome.”
The waiter came back with the bowl of cheese, and this was officially Jason’s favorite restaurant ever.
Not that he’d been to many restaurants in his life.
Bruce needed to take him to more, so he could have more ability to proclaim this was the best.
“How is your math coming along,” Bruce asked, after a few more minutes had passed.
“Good,” Jason replied, sitting back in the booth. He’d not exactly been working much on it, the last week, but he’d still made progress. “I finished the first module of 7th grade.”
The 7th grade stuff was harder than the 6th grade stuff, so it was taking way longer to complete, but Ms. Griffen was still his teacher, and he was pretty happy about that. She was super helpful, whenever he got stuck or had a question. So far they hadn’t needed to video call, but he’d emailed back and forth with her several times already with questions.
“That’s great,” Bruce said, after finally eating a chip with salsa himself, “Do you think you’ll finish by the beginning of the semester?”
“I dunno,” Jason said, shrugging, “I’m trying.” He hoped he finished by the start of school, but if he didn’t, it might be okay. Ms. Griffen said he could go to regular school and take classes with Cornerstone if he wanted. Apparently lots of kids took ‘extracurriculars’ online, while attending real schools. Like languages or specialized classes like sociology or whatever.
Jason would definitely have to look into that, depending on which school he ended up going to.
“You’re doing great, bud,” Bruce said. He paused, when the waiter came over with their drinks. After thanking him, Bruce turned back to Jason and asked, “Did you look at the email I sent you the other day?”
And, well… “No,” Jason admitted with a grimace. He hadn’t looked at it. Bruce sent it while Jason was mad at him, so obviously he didn’t read it. He pulled his glass of Dr. Pepper toward himself and put his straw in, while Bruce frowned.
“Well,” he said, “I sent you links to all the schools you could attend.”
Yeah, Jason knew that was what it probably was. Bruce had said he was going to do that. “I was mad at you,” he grumbled. He was freezing Bruce out.
Bruce deserved it. Jason was only talking to him now because of the salsa and the Batmobile. Obviously.
“I know, that’s all right,” Bruce said, almost soothingly. Like he thought Jason was gonna throw more stuff at him or something if he didn’t.
Which. Was kind of funny.
Jason didn’t have anything to throw at him, though. Not without making a huge mess and probably getting them kicked out.
Also he wasn’t that mad anymore.
“We’re running out of time to choose, though,” Bruce added, “so I need you to look into it this week, okay? And pick one.”
“Sure,” Jason agreed easily. He probably would have done that anyway, soon. He wanted to go to school, after all.
“Good,” Bruce replied. And basically went quiet after that.
Which just made Jason start thinking about all things Batman again.
How could Bruce not talk about it constantly?
“Theoretically,” Jason started, leaning forward on the table after he’d sat there for several long minutes in torturous silence. Bruce looked up from his phone and raised an eyebrow as Jason finished, “Does Batman have superpowers?”
Bruce laughed.
He honest to God started laughing as he sat back and crossed his arms. “Theoretically, huh?”
“Hey, it’s a debate,” Jason exclaimed, “the boys at Donny’s debated it all the time. Some of the guards would join in, too. One guard said he got beat up by Batman once and Batman definitely had superpowers.” Apparently getting beat up and arrested by Batman wasn’t enough to deter him from working with the mob.
Was he there when Bruce raided Donny’s place and shut it down? Jason kind of hoped he was. He was a total asshole.
“What superpowers did he think Batman has?” Bruce asked.
“Invisibility. He said Batman materializes out of no where.” Although Jason was willing to bet that was just his black suit. Gotham was so fucking dark all the time, but especially at night, Jason was almost positive Bruce just used his suit and cape to hide.
“Hm, well,” Bruce said, clearly suppressing a smile, “As far as I’m aware, Batman does not have superpowers.”
“Lame,” Jason grumbled, as he sat back in his seat. It was kind of a bummer, actually. Having a foster parent with superpowers would be fucking awesome. But, then again, it was already pretty much as awesome as it could be having Batman as a foster parent.
Having Batman care enough about him to want to help him grow up and go to college one day…
“I bet Scooter just told everyone that so he could save face,” Jason mused after a second, “Didn’t want everyone to see he was too stupid to notice Batman looming behind him, or whatever.”
“Scooter?” Bruce questioned.
“Yeah, that’s what he went by. I don’t know why.” Especially since the guy’s real name was Paul. Like, who has a normal name like Paul and goes, yeah. I’m a Scooter???
Crazy people.
People he hoped were sitting in jail alongside Donny. Just for pushing Jason around so much when he didn’t have to. Jason always went where the guards told him to go. Getting shoved was completely unnecessary.
“Was Scooter part of the crew the night Batman busted them?”
Bruce looked thoughtful for a moment, but said, “I’m not sure. I can get you a list of all the adults arrested, if you want to see.”
“That’d be cool.” Jason hoped all the assholes were on the list.
“And maybe you can share names of those missing,” Bruce said, slowly. Almost cautiously.
Jason narrowed his eyes, but before he could ask ‘like a snitch?’, the waiter came over with a huge tray of their food.
Or, well, it had to be their food and another table’s food because no way was all of it theirs.
“This looks fantastic,” Bruce said, as the burritos got put down in front of them, “Thank you.”
“Thanks,” Jason also said, eager to dig in.
Because Bruce was right, it did look fantastic.
Once the waiter asked if they needed anything else and then went off to give the other table their food, Bruce picked up his fork and knife and said, “Just think about it, buddy. No one is going to make you do anything.”
Good, because Jason wasn’t a snitch.
Except.
He had kind of just said the name of the guard. Or, nickname at least. And he’d snitched on Beaumont…
And nothing bad had happened to him for that… only to Beaumont. And all his asshole friends.
Plus, Batman was personally protecting him. So maybe…
“I’ll think about it, I guess,” he finally said. At least Bruce had never brought back up testifying to him.
Cause, he’d still say fuck no to that. At least telling Batman stuff wasn’t putting his name and face to everything he said, right out there in public.
They finished up lunch rather quickly, and didn’t talk much during it. Mostly because Jason absolutely scarfed down his delicious burrito and rice and beans.
It was actually so much food, he felt a little sick after eating it all. But it was worth it.
“Can we go now,” Jason asked, the second he finished off the last bite of his food. Bruce had already finished his food and got the extra bowl of salsa to go, and all he had to do was pay up at the counter.
And Jason was dying. He had been patient long enough. Now he wanted to see the Batmobile.
Now.
“Are you excited or something?” Bruce asked with a smirk, “What’s the rush?”
“Bruce,” Jason whined, pushing his plate to the side so he could collapse down.
“All right, all right,” Bruce said, chuckling, “Let’s go.”
Eagerly, Jason jumped up, and only stopped when Bruce said, “Don’t forget your salsa.”
“This is the best day ever,” Jason whispered, as he followed Bruce up to the front of the restaurant to pay.
Bruce looked down at him, when he stepped up to Bruce’s side at the counter, and smiled. “I’m glad you’re excited.”
Jason grinned back. He was beyond excited.
And so, so glad he lived with Bruce Wayne.
Notes:
Hello~~~~ If you follow my cdelphiki works, you've already seen my little note on The Time Before, but I'll repeat it here. I haven't written in two months, so I didn't actually do nanowrimo this year. :( There was a lot going on the last half of last year, and I ended up stepping away from most everything just to get my head back on straight. I'm doing much better now, and am super excited to wrap up this and a couple other writing projects. For the time being, I'm going to aim to get one chapter of something posted each week. I am moving next month, so Feb might be another hiatus, but after that I hope everything gets back to normal and I can create a more permanent schedule.
As for this chapter, it split into two. LOL Right back to my normal habits. It's slightly on the short side for me, because the cave scene is only mostly drafted and is already 1k words, so the cave scene itself is likely going to be 3k words in the final form. 😅. I'm loving the progress Jason is making, though. He's turning into such a happy boy. I love him so much. 🥺
Thanks for reading and dealing with that hiatus! I'm so grateful you guys have stuck around. ❤️
Chapter 56
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
At home, Jason rushed to put the salsa in the fridge, barely saying, “hi,” to Alfred as he passed.
“Walk in the house,” Alfred hollered after him, but he sounded far more amused than anything else. Jason still slowed down, just a little, before catching up with Bruce in the hall.
“Where are we going?” Jason asked, not even trying to hide his excitement.
Bruce had said the Batmobile was inside. Sure, Jason hadn’t explored every inch of the manor, but he couldn’t think of a single place big enough to be hiding a whole-ass-car. With a smile, Bruce said, “This way,” as he turned and started walking toward the back of the house, back to where his study was.
Admittedly, if there was anywhere in the manor Jason hadn’t explored much, it was Bruce’s study.
That or his bedroom. But his bedroom was upstairs, and how the heck would he get a car in and out from up there?
Then again… How would he get a car in and out of the middle of the fucking house?
Jason couldn’t think of a single place where where Bruce could easily get the car in and out without Jason even noticing. And he’d explored all around the house from the outside, and he was pretty sure there wasn’t any spot where a car could possibly be slipping in and out of the house without being noticed. Except the garage. But the Batmobile was not in the garage.
Bruce pushed open the door to his study and walked deep into the room, so Jason walked up to the doorway and leaned against the frame. “Do you keep the key in here or something,” he asked, looking around the room.
There was definitely no way the car was in the study.
“Something like that,” Bruce said cryptically, and Jason just narrowed his eyes.
What was Bruce trying to pull?
Before Jason could accuse him of being an asshole and stringing Jason along, though, Bruce stepped over to the broken grandfather clock, and started messing with the hands on it.
Then.
“Holy fuck,” Jason breathed, watching in absolute wonder as the clock clicked and slid to the side, revealing an opening behind it.
Maybe Bruce did have a car in there.
“When you spend all day in your study, are you actually in here,” Jason asked, skeptically, “or are you back there?” Because if there was a bunch of cool shit back there, Jason understood Bruce spending all his time in the study.
“I’m usually in here,” Bruce admitted, “At least… I have been, since you came to live here.”
Jason lifted an eyebrow and wondered why that would make Bruce change his habits. It wasn’t like Jason ever bothered him when he was in his study.
Or at all.
Ever.
Bruce turned fully toward him, still standing beside the opening he’d revealed, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I want to be around, if you ever need me,” he admitted.
Jason didn’t even know what to do with that. Jason had bothered Bruce, like, twice ever. And only one of those times had he done it without being told to do so by Bruce, first.
Did Bruce seriously spend all his time in a boring study instead of a cool hideout? All just in case Jason wanted to ask him for something?
“Come on,” Bruce said, motioning for Jason to follow before Jason could start thinking too hard about everything. He stepped through the opening first, so Jason hurried across the room to follow.
Just inside the opening, all Jason saw were two poles in front of him, leading down to something below. “Are these like what firemen use?” he asked, stepping closer in an attempt to look down. Firemen used poles to get down to the garage fast, right? Did Bruce have a garage below? Like a basement? Because Jason highly doubted this was some weird stripper lounge Bruce had hidden.
“Sure are,” Bruce said, but he stepped to the side and held an arm out, blocking Jason from getting any closer. Jason scowled up at him, but Bruce pointed off to his right, toward what looked like a staircase as he said, “One day I’ll let you slide down one, but for now we’re using the stairs.”
“Aw, that’s so lame,” Jason whined, but skipped toward the stairs anyway, eager to get downstairs.
Bruce was not at all amused, apparently, because he said with a touch of challenge, “It is a long way down and takes practice to stick the landing without getting hurt. I had to catch Dick the first few times he used it. Do you want me to catch you today?”
And all Jason did was look back at Bruce, as they descended the stairs, and shoot him a withering glare.
It wouldn’t be the end of the world if Bruce did, but fuck him anyway for bringing it up.
He could have just said ‘no’ and been done with it, but noooooo. He had to bring that up.
They were supposed to be having fun and looking at the Batmobile, not talking about what freaked Jason out.
“I didn’t think so,” Bruce said.
“Where’s your car,” Jason said, picking up the speed down the steps. That was what they were there for, not anything else. Not even talk.
But as soon as he passed down past a large chunk of rock, he was pretty sure the wall was rock at least, he outright froze.
Because holy shit.
Bruce had a dinosaur.
“Why is there a dinosaur here,” he asked, picking up the speed again and outright rushing down the rest of the stairs.
The stairs went on forever. It was, like, four stories worth of stairs, at the very least. Because they were descending into what had to be a cave.
Under the house.
“It’s a souvenir from one of our missions,” Bruce explained, just as Jason finally landed at the bottom.
He jumped the last few steps and ran off to the foot of the dino as he asked, “From where, Disney World?”
The dinosaur was freaking huge. The top of the foot came to Jason’s shoulder, making the whole body of it, like, three stories tall.
Bruce chuckled, but said, “Dinosaur Island.” Like that was a place Jason should have known existed.
But before he came up with something to say in response, his eyes finally landed on the Batmobile.
Sitting there, almost like on display, in a long line of sleek, black vehicles.
How many cars did Bruce have???
“She’s beautiful,” Jason breathed, as he walked across the floor to it. His lego model was definitely wrong, though. Definitely. It looked more like… a McLaren, maybe. But with a longer engine compartment, and wings over the back wheels.
And a rocket, just like the online forums had speculated.
He’d seen a McLaren lego kit, he could definitely pull those instructions and modify it to look like the real Batmobile. The Dodge Challenger he was building was way off, though. Way. So he was kind of glad he broke it, now. He’d have to take it apart, anyway.
“Is it what you imagined?” Bruce asked, from where he’d leaned up against a desk, off near the wall in front of a massive set of monitors.
Jason looked at him briefly, then turned his attention back to the car.
“It’s got way fewer scratches,” Jason said. He thought Batman ran into stuff with his car all the time, but he didn’t see many scratches on it at all. There were still a few, though.
Bruce shrugged and said, “I buff out or repair most damage done to it.”
“I bet you gotta repair shit all the time.” No way his car never got keyed, either.
“Yes, but I like working on my cars,” Bruce said, and Jason could just hear his stupid smile in his voice. He wasn’t looking, though. He was far too busy walking around the entirety of the Batmobile, checking out every beautiful inch of it.
“I would too, if my car was the Batmobile,” he said. Jason thought he said it far too quietly for Bruce to hear, but apparently not.
Because Bruce said, “Maybe next time I’ll let you help me work on it.”
Jason looked up sharply, over at where Bruce was standing about 10 feet away, and asked, “Are you serious?” That would be so fucking cool.
Bruce nodded, so Jason grinned.
So fucking cool.
Moving back around to the side of the car, Jason tried to admire every inch. He stopped at the driver door and pulled it open look inside, happy that Bruce left it unlocked. When Bruce didn’t make a peep about it, he slipped into the driver seat and grinned even wider.
He was way too little for it, obviously. Because Bruce was as massive as a tank and the car was build for him, not for normal humans. But Jason didn’t care.
It wasn’t like he was gonna actually drive it. He didn’t even have the key.
There was so much to look at inside the car, Jason didn’t even know where to start. So many screens and buttons and everything, all over the dash.
Honestly, how many gadgets did a car need?
Before Jason even reached out to touch anything, the car hummed to life, making Jason jump in his seat. It wasn’t him. He did nothing.
“Welcome,” a computerized voice said, as all the screens lit up, displaying the Batman symbol. Kind of like how computers did, showing the windows or mac symbols when booting.
After a second, the welcome screen cleared from all the little screens and a lot of stuff popped up.
Maps. A police scanner. Several screens with what looked like those radio things, where the two lines wiggled when someone talked. Then there was another, large screen, that was just blank.
The passenger door opened, and Jason looked over to see Bruce lean in. “Can I join you?” he asked, “I’ll show you what everything does.”
“Heck yeah,” Jason exclaimed, sitting up in his chair. He wanted to know everything.
All the things.
“Why do you have so many screens?” Jason asked, as Bruce slipped into the passenger seat, leaving one of his legs dangling outside.
“Sometimes I need to see a lot of information at the same time,” Bruce explained, as he reached over and started tapping at the screens to walk Jason through all the tech in the car.
Apparently the whole thing was connected to the batcomputer, which was the dumbest name Jason had ever heard in the history of forever.
Batmobile, Batcomputer, Batarang. Bruce was so uncreative with names. He was surprised Robin wasn’t called Batkid.
But Bruce could use all the power of the batcomputer here in the cave and do any research he needed for his Batmanning stuff, wherever he was. Alfred could talk to him, too, over the radio. Because apparently Alfred sometimes helped Bruce with stuff.
They spent probably half an hour messing with everything and even listening to the police scanner some. Bruce showed him how the computer automatically pinpointed on a map where each report was from, making it tons easier for Batman to know where crime was going down.
It was really super cool, but Jason was getting bored of pressing buttons.
“Can we go for a ride,” he finally asked, once Bruce had pointed out what had to be everything.
Including how to turn the rocket on and how to turn the car amphibious.
Like. So it could swim.
Because cars needed to be able to swim.
“Not right now,” Bruce said, clearly a little regretfully, “the Batmobile can’t be seen out and about in daylight.”
Why not, Jason wanted to whine, but instead he asked, “Tonight?” Since obviously it was possible Bruce had shit to do, and Jason had already taken up a lot of his time that day.
“We’ll see.”
Jason hated that phrase. Hated it, but he pushed that aside and asked, “Afraid the Justice League might call you away?” It was probably smart of Bruce not to go promising shit again, so soon after having to break we’ll do that promises because of stupid aliens attacking.
Probably.
Jason still wanted to go out, though.
“It’s always a possibility,” Bruce said, “but no. It just depends on what’s going on tonight, whether it will be safe to take you out for a little while.”
What the fuck did that mean, Jason wondered as he scrunched his brow. Just trying to make it make sense.
Why wouldn’t it be safe? He wasn’t going to go out with him, or whatever. Like to fight stuff. He just wanted to go over to the industrial area and race around, or something.
“The Batmobile can be a target,” Bruce explained, “and it’s not entirely safe sitting inside it if I have to deal with something. I don’t want to put you in danger, lad.”
“Isn’t Dick Robin,” Jason asked, flatly. This was the dumbest fucking excuse he’d ever heard.
Bruce shifted, but confirmed, “He is.”
“And he’s been Robin forever.”
“It’s been a while,” Bruce admitted, frowning a little.
“Then why can’t I just go for a ride?” he whined, “I don’t wanna fight Two-Face or whatever. I’m twelve. That’s older than Dick was when he started! And he was actually fighting. I just want a ride.”
“Dick had training,” Bruce said, but Jason wasn’t gonna listen to this shit.
“What kind of training?” he pouted, scowling at Bruce, “I have training.” Bruce just didn’t like the kind of training Jason had.
Besides, if anyone knew how to handle himself around a bunch of criminals, it was Jason.
And, beside all that, he just wanted to go for a ride! Around Bristol!
Bruce ran his hand down his face and sighed loudly. Jason wasn’t quite sure if he was happy he elicited that reaction, or if he was nervous.
Could it be both?
He was both.
“Lad,” Bruce said, through a quieter sigh, “I promise I’m not keeping you from a ride in the Batmobile for any reason but your ultimate safety.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Jason grumbled, opening the car door and slipping out. Bruce could definitely take him out without making it dangerous.
They didn’t have to go into Gotham.
Bruce was just being stupid.
Jason looked around the cave and settled on checking out the Batcomputer, since it was giant and awesome looking. It was probably super cool doing research on it, having so many different screens. Bruce could keep, like, seven different things up all at once.
Once he reached the desk, though, intent on sitting in the spinning chair, he got distracted by a box sitting on the desk.
Or, it was a shallow plastic box, more like a bin, and inside were legos.
His legos.
The ones he’d thrown at Bruce.
Well, he was 98% sure that’s what they were, because most of them were black, with a few orange and grey ones mixed in. The only thing that was throwing him was the fact half of them were put back together, but not in a way he’d put them together.
“Why are my legos down here,” he asked, anyway. He doubted Bruce wasted time playing with legos when he had so much work to do.
The fact he’d spend as many hours as he had building the Lambo with Jason was pretty impressive, already.
Bruce was a lot busier than Jason had originally thought.
“I--“ Bruce started, but stopped. Jason cut his eyes over and watched as he climbed out of the Batmobile and walked over. It only took a little bit of strength to keep himself from stepping out of reach, when Bruce stopped right next to him and looked into the bin.
“I was trying to fix it,” he said, softly, picking up the chunk of legos all put together.
Jason considered it for a minute, tilting his head so he could see the underside of the lego thing. Bruce saw, and turned it so he could get a good look. “It looked nothing like that,” he said, looking back down at all the pieces Bruce hadn’t used yet.
“I know,” Bruce said, through an awkward laugh, “I couldn’t figure out how you had it.”
Why did Bruce even care? Why would he want to fix it? Jason was the one who broke it.
By throwing it at Bruce’s head, no less.
He was still a little bitter Bruce dodged it…
“It’s my fault it’s broken,” Bruce said, after Jason had been silent a moment, “Had I not lied to you and upset you so much, it would still be intact.”
“I’m the one who threw it,” Jason said slowly. Sure, Bruce was right and he was stupid and mean and an idiot, but he didn’t make Jason break his Batmobile.
Bruce nodded and said, “I know. I realized,” he paused, holding the car out for Jason to take, “I couldn’t fix this by myself.”
“It—“ Jason frowned, and looked back down at the car. Did Bruce mean he wanted Jason to help him fix it?
Or… he wanted to help Jason?
He turned the car over and over in his hands, and couldn’t for the life of him figure out what Bruce was even going for. It resembled a half-built lego car, sure, but it looked nothing like one Jason had ever seen.
It didn’t even look like the real Batmobile.
“It wasn’t right anyway,” Jason finally said, “Now that I’ve seen the Batmobile, it’s all wrong.” He would probably definitely use the McLaren as a model.
Bruce shifted and took half a step back, to lean against the desk behind him as he crossed his arms. He cleared his throat, making Jason cut his eyes back up at him and off the mangled lego car. “I’m sorry I kept secrets from you,” Bruce said.
And Jason merely nodded. He wasn’t sure if he should listen to the sorry, even if Bruce had said it like 15 times already.
He’d been told ‘sorry’ a lot in his life, when it never actually meant sorry I won’t do that again, just sorry you got upset about it.
As if Bruce could read his mind, though, he added, “From now on, no more secrets.”
“You promise?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow at him, “no more lying?” Did Bruce even know how to do that?
“I swear it,” Bruce said, seriously. Determinedly. Looking like he thought this was the most important thing he’d ever done.
But should Jason trust it?
He stared at Bruce for a long moment, looking back and forth between his eyes, trying his best to find any lie in there. Any hint he wasn’t telling the truth.
Jason wasn’t sure what he’d be able to do, if Bruce was lying, though.
Tell on him to Alfred, maybe.
Then again… would Bruce have showed him his secret cave if he intended on still keeping Jason in the dark about stuff? If he really hadn’t cared he upset Jason so much? He really didn’t have to show Jason all this. He could have easily kept denying that he was Batman, and Jason wouldn’t have had any proof to dispute that.
He seemed genuine enough with everything, so far…
Trusting him… trusting him wasn’t the worst thing in the world, right?
What was the worst thing that could happen, if it turned out Bruce wasn’t being honest here?
Jason honestly didn’t know. He’d get upset and be mad at Bruce again for a week, and Bruce wouldn’t do anything about it except to say ‘sorry’ seventy-billion times.
“Fist bump?” Jason asked, a little hesitantly as he held a tentative hand up.
Because. Liz said he trusted Bruce already, right?
Bruce absolutely lit up, which was weird to see on a grown-ass-man. Jason felt his face heat, but kept his fist held out for Bruce to gingerly bump.
“No take backs,” Bruce promised, “I swear it.”
Jason could only grin in response.
Liz was probably right.
Notes:
I love him so much 😭❤️
Chapter 57
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next several days were the strangest days of Jason’s life thus far.
But not, like, strange in a bad way.
Just strange in a he-wasn’t-sure-how-to-classify-it way.
He’d definitely put it in the good category, though.
For one, Bruce sat with him several times while they worked on the Lambo together. He offered to help Jason rebuild the Batmobile, but he said he’d rather wait for the new pieces so he could actually finish it this time.
Dick joined them once, too, before he inevitably had to go back to New York. The morning after Jason got to see the Batmobile, but not ride in it.
Because Bruce held firm to it being too dangerous.
Which was still super lame.
Jason was still kind of mad at Dick for being mean, but not so much anymore. Maybe. He kind of got Dick’s point, about lies were necessary to protect secret identities.
It’s just, he totally disagreed that Jason fell into the category of people they should have been lying to. Since they wanted him to trust them and everything.
And especially since, now that he knew what the big secret was, everything was feeling more like… more.
He didn’t know.
How books always said family was supposed to be. Happy and good and, and warm.
Was he allowed to claim Bruce and Alfred and Dick as his family? They all played a game together, like they were one, the night before Dick left so maybe he could? His foster family at least?
Jason didn’t know. And thinking too hard about it was making his head hurt.
With as good as everything was feeling, Jason was expecting nightmares to ruin it.
Or for him to wake up and find that this had been the dream.
That would be the most plausible explanation for getting a literal superhero as a guardian. It was all a dream he made up to deal with a week from hell with a client.
But with as much sleep as Jason got the next couple days, no dreams woke him.
Not much woke him, actually. Not even the knocking at his door.
Well. It did wake him, but not much. Jason burrowed down into his pillow further, and tried to block it out.
The knocking continued. Persistent and…. Annoying.
Very annoying.
But not so annoying Jason wasn’t able to let the sleep pull him back under.
“Jason,” a voice said.
It sounded…
He didn’t know.
Loud.
Why were they being loud? He was trying to sleep.
“You need to answer me, we’re getting worried.”
Jason should probably answer, he thought fleetingly. Though, he wasn’t even sure if he was awake.
“I’m sorry, Jason, I’m opening the door.”
Something in Jason whispered, that was a problem. He should be concerned, maybe. Open his eyes and yell at the intruder.
But he was just so tired.
Next thing Jason knew, there was someone right in front of him. A hand touching his face. A palm pressing into his forehead, before it retracted. And knuckles brushing across his cheek.
He pulled backward, trying to escape the touch, but there was something behind him, stopping him.
He was too tired for this. Way too tired.
“Alfred, he’s on fire,” the voice said.
But no, he wasn’t. He wasn’t on fire at all. He was freezing. His whole body shook, with how cold he was.
His body hurt too. Everything, everywhere. He didn’t remember getting so beat up. Or… or working so hard. Every muscle felt like it was burning, and every movement was enough to make him want to cry.
Why did he hurt so much? What had he done?
The hand tapped on his face, and Jason scowled at it.
“Jase, buddy, I need you to open your mouth,” the voice said, along side the tapping hand.
“No,” Jason whined, pulling his blanket up over his face. Donny never used to make him work when he felt this bad. He was so tired.
So, so tired.
And he hurt.
Why was he making him now? Why was it changing.
“Jason,” the voice said, in an almost wounded tone.
Good. Jason hoped he got all upset and cried about it, but didn’t make Jason do anything. Get his money back or something and go away.
“Buddy, open your eyes,” the voice said, moving the blanket off his face before the hand tapped on the side of his face again, “come on, look at me.”
Jason tried to resist, he did. But the hand settled on his face gently, and the thumb started caressing his cheek.
It felt.
It felt nice.
Why did it feel nice?
That was the worst part of everything.
When he thought they were nice.
It never, ever lasted.
And only made it hurt all the more, later.
Reluctantly, Jason cracked an eye open, the one not squished into the pillow under him.
Everything was so bright. It hurt, just looking, so he squinted to try and look at the owner of the voice and the hand. Finally, his vision cleared, and he made out who was kneeling next to him.
Bruce.
“Oh,” he sighed, closing his eyes back.
It was just Bruce.
Bruce was nice. He was mean and an asshole and a liar, but he was nice.
“No, stay with me,” Bruce said, his hand back, “Come on, I need you to focus.”
“M’tired,” Jason whined. He just wanted to sleep forever.
“I know, but look, I need to take your temperature. Can we do that?”
“Everything hurts,” Jason whined. No. Cried. He was crying.
"I know buddy, I know,” Bruce soothed, still stroking the side of his face. “Alfred is getting the children’s Tylenol right now, it will help, okay? It’s going to help.”
Jason nodded. He liked when he got medicine. It always fixed everything.
Something cold touched his lips, making him jump.
Which just made everything hurt more.
He clenched his teeth tighter and shook his head, trying to free himself of the hand.
The hand moved, retracted. But then Bruce said, “I need to take your temperature. Jason this is important. We might need to get you to a doctor.”
“No,” Jason cried. He didn’t want to see the doctor. Anything but that.
“Then open your eyes and focus, lad.”
Jason opened his eyes miserably, and tried not to cry harder with how much his head hurt. But Bruce held out a thermometer out, so Jason let him put it under his tongue and hold it there. He didn’t want to make his own hands hold it out in the icy cold air outside his blanket.
Slowly, Bruce held his free hand up, over Jason’s head. Jason followed it with his eyes, until he couldn’t see it anymore as it landed on the top of his head. Then just rested there.
Jason thought it might feel nice, if his everything didn't hurt so much. He closed his eyes again, and relaxed into the peace.
“103.2,” Bruce said, after what felt like an hour had passed.
He opened his eyes again, and saw Bruce sit back on his heels, retracting his hand from Jason’s hair, leaving a cold spot in its place.
“Oh my,” Alfred said, from where he absolutely materialized next to Bruce. Jason hadn’t even noticed he came in, too. He cut his eyes over to Alfred, and saw nothing but worry on his face.
“Here is the Tylenol, lad,” Alfred said, handing the medicine bottle to Bruce, “I’ll get an ice pack.”
The medicine was the red kind.
Jason hated the red kind.
“Okay,” Bruce said under his breath, as he read the side of the bottle, “Looks like you need 15 milliliters.”
“Kay,” Jason mumbled. He wanted Bruce to hurry up so he could go away and let Jason sleep more.
“Stay with me, Jason,” Bruce said firmly. Jason opened his eyes again, because he hadn’t realized he’d even closed them. “Sit up and take this.”
Bruce placed a hand on his back and helped him sit up just enough to drink the nasty liquid.
Cherry flavor.
Gross.
“You don’t like cherry?” Bruce asked.
“No,” Jason grumbled, after he’d swallowed the medicine. He pushed Bruce’s hand away so he could lay back, and pulled the blanket back up to his neck.
Now that he’d taken the medicine, Bruce could go away.
“Jason,” Bruce said slowly, “Your fever is very high. We need to get you cooled down.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, nodding without opening his eyes.
“The blanket and hoody aren’t helping.”
Jason opened his eyes and stared up at Bruce in alarm, clutching the blanket even tighter. “You said—“ he started, but Bruce cut him off.
“Your fever is very high,” he stressed, “if we don’t get you cooled off, and it gets any higher, we have to take you to the ER. At the ER they will put you on an IV. Which would you rather do, cool down now or get an IV put into your hand?”
“But I’m so cold,” he whined. He’d be even colder without the blanket.
He didn’t want to do either. No ER and no losing the blanket. The medicine would fix it.
He could take more of it, if needed. Even though it was gross.
“I know buddy,” Bruce said softly, “but that’s the fever doing it to you. Your body is actually too hot. You need to cool off. You’ll feel better once you cool off.”
Slowly, Bruce pulled at the blanket, and Jason reluctantly let go of it, letting Bruce pull it off completely.
The breeze in the room was freezing. Like they’d turned winter on inside. Jason shivered, and pulled his legs up into his hoody.
Footsteps crossed his room, the floor creaking along with them before Alfred appeared next to Bruce again, handing him a cold compress.
“Here,” Bruce said, still kneeling next to Jason on the couch, as he placed the cold compress on Jason’s forehead.
It was so cold, but it still felt good on his headache.
“Jason, lad,” Bruce said, “Please take the hoody off.”
What?
“No,” he cried, pushing further back into the couch and away from Bruce, “you promised I could have it.” Bruce didn’t get to break his promises just because Jason was sick.
He was wearing his Batman hoody, too. He didn’t want to lose it.
“I’m not taking it away,” Bruce tried. But he was. That’s what he wanted to do.
If Jason wasn’t so tired and didn’t hurt so much, he’d get up and run.
He bat Bruce’s hands away, when he reached out for him. What was Bruce even going to do with them?
Take it off himself.
“Please,” Jason cried, pushing himself into the corner of the couch, “I want to keep it.”
“You can keep it,” Bruce said, pulling his hand back again, “you can keep it right here with you, you just need to take it off.”
“I don’t want to take it off,” he whined, pressing the pillow into his face, knocking the ice pack off his head in the process.
“Jason—“ Bruce said, but Jason cut him off as he started crying even harder.
“No,” he exclaimed, “You said-you said I could say no. I’m saying no.” Bruce was supposed to respect his no. “Please,” he whispered.
Bruce made an almost wounded noise, and picked the cold compress up to place it back on Jason’s head.
“Lad,” Alfred said. He stepped forward, and motioned for Bruce to move, so he could squat down next to Jason. “We hear you, my boy. You do not have to take the hoody off.”
Jason’s shoulders dropped as he sank back down into the couch.
At least Alfred was on his side.
Alfred held an instant ice pack out and said, “But you still need to cool off, so can you place this on your chest, under the hoody? It will help bring the fever down.”
Reluctantly, Jason took the ice pack and pulled it in under his hoody, through the too-big sleeve and did as Alfred asked.
“It’s so cold,” he whined, as he pressed his arm back into the sleeve and away from the cold.
“Yes, lad, I know, but we have to get this fever down. If a fever gets too high it can cause brain damage.”
“Oh,” he whispered. He didn’t know that.
That would be really, really bad.
“How long have you been sick?” Bruce asked, but Jason didn’t know.
“A couple days,” he guessed.
“And what are your symptoms?” Alfred asked, readjusting the cold compress on his head again. Every time he moved, it slipped off.
Jason closed his eyes and tried to suppress a shiver before he said, “my throat hurts and my head and my ear and—“
“An ear infection,” Bruce said, and Alfred hummed in agreement.
“Which ear is bothering you, lad?” Alfred asked, so Jason pointed to the one not on the pillow. He’d purposely flipped around on the couch, just so he wouldn’t be laying on the hurting ear.
Jason felt a tug at his earlobe, spiking the pain inside there. He opened his eyes again to see Alfred’s tie right in his face, from how Alfred was leaned over him, looking into his ear.
“Oh dear,” Alfred said, “that is certainly infected. Does your other ear hurt, too?” Alfred leaned back, so he could look Jason right in the face, and Jason could see the otoscope in his hands.
Otoscope was such a funny word.
“No,” he said, “but everything else does.”
“Muscle aches?” Bruce asked.
Yeah. That was the word for it.
For everything hurting like he’d worked out way too hard.
“M’tired,” he mumbled, turning further onto his side and closing his eyes. The ice pack fell off his chest, so he reached into his hoody to fix it, while Alfred fixed the one on his head again.
“I know you’re tired, buddy. Just hang in there a few more minutes and then you can sleep,” Bruce said, from the same level as Jason’s head again. He didn’t bother to open his eyes and look, though. Alfred wasn’t gonna let him take the hoody.
“Check his temperature again,” Alfred said, his cold hand brushing across Jason’s cheek. He knew it was Alfred’s because Bruce’s was way bigger.
“Here, Jay,” Bruce said, just as he felt the thermometer touch his lips. This time, Jason didn’t fight it and let Bruce take his temp a lot faster.
“103.0,” Bruce announced, after a moment.
“Good,” Alfred said.
Bruce stood up, then, leaving a cold spot next to Jason, beside where Alfred was still sitting. It was weird, to feel the cool air there. He opened his eyes, and watched as Bruce pulled his phone out and said, “I will go call Leslie and get you some antibiotics to make you feel better. Do you know if you’re allergic to any antibiotics?”
Jason shook his head.
“Okay, buddy,” Bruce said softly, from a few steps further away, back toward Jason’s door, “We’ll get this fixed, okay?”
“Okay,” Jason whispered back, already ready to go back to sleep.
Alfred didn’t let him sleep, though. He shifted, so he was sitting criss cross in front of Jason, and started talking to him soothingly. He asked Jason all sorts of questions, about all his symptoms. Did his stomach hurt? Was he nauseous? Had he thrown up?
The answer to all three were yes. He’d forgotten, but he did throw up. After dinner, with Bruce. The steak Alfred made. Jason woke up in the middle of the night with just enough warning to run into the bathroom. He wasn’t quite sure how long ago that was, though. He only knew it wasn’t the middle of the night anymore, based on how much sunlight was in his room.
“You ate that dinner two days ago,” Alfred said, brushing his hand through Jason’s hair, “have you had anything to eat since then?”
“No,” he admitted. He didn’t even realize more than one day had passed since then.
Alfred disappeared for a second, but came back over with a bottle of water. “Okay, lad. Why don’t you sit up for a little while and drink some water.”
“I don’t want to,” Jason whined. They said he could sleep.
“I know, lad, but you need to. Just a few sips.” Alfred helped Jason into a sitting position, then sat down on the couch right next to Jason, as if to make sure Jason didn’t lay back down.
Jason hated him in the moment for that.
“Alfred,” he whined, but moved the ice pack from his chest up to his shoulder, so maybe it would stay put there.
“Come on, lad,” Alfred said, holding the now open bottle out to him, “take a few sips.”
With a scowl, Jason took the water bottle from Alfred’s hands and took a single sip.
At first, the water hurt against his throat, but after the second sip the pain went almost completely away.
“How about we get you some crackers and popsicles at the store, to help. Do you think you could stomach those?”
“I dunno,” he mumbled, before he took another sip. He had to readjust how he was sitting, because he started slipping sideway, but Alfred was sitting there in his way from laying down.
All he wanted to do was sleep.
“Do you like round crackers or square ones better?” Alfred asked, a pleasant hum in his voice.
Which just made Jason want to sleep more.
“The-the square ones,” he said after a slight hesitation, “saltines?” He was pretty sure that’s what they were called. He wanted those. His mom always got him those, when he was little and sick.
Why couldn’t he still be with her?
She’d wrap her arms around him and hold him all day long, when he felt this bad.
At least he had Alfred, he supposed. Alfred just kept talking at him and made him drink water and be cold, but he was still nice. And acted like he cared that Jason got better.
That was way better than how Donny was. The only nice thing Donny did when he was sick was not make him work.
Usually.
He never cared how Jason felt, though. Just as long as Jason didn’t die and make him ‘train another boy.’
“The prescription should be ready at the CVS up the road in 20 minutes,” Bruce announced, as he walked back into the room.
Alfred made Jason take one more sip of water, then took the bottle away and stood up, finally letting Jason lay back down.
“I will go pick it up along with some saltines and popsicles, then,” Alfred said, as he placed the closed water bottle right next to Jason on the couch, “lad I want you to drink another few sips of this in ten minutes.”
Jason opened his eyes and looked up at Alfred a little frantically.
He didn’t want Alfred to leave.
“I’ll be back soon, my boy,” Alfred said, leaning over to run his hand through Jason’s hair, before repositioning the cold compress that had fallen off completely, “Bruce will stay with you until then, all right?”
“No,” Jason cried, pushing himself back into a sitting position. Both ice packs fell off again, but he didn’t care.
“Hush,” Alfred said, very softly as he knelt back down, placing a hand on Jason’s knee to squeeze it, “you’ll be fine. I will be back before you know it.”
But Jason didn’t want Alfred to leave him with Bruce.
Alfred was the one being nice to him. Bruce was mean and wanted to take his hoody away.
“He’ll take my hoody away,” he said, still crying. Sort of. Tears were pricking at his eyes, but that was it. He reached up to scrub them away.
“I won’t,” Bruce said instantly, but Jason barely paid him any attention. He’d already tried to take it, and Alfred didn’t let him.
But if Alfred wasn’t there, he couldn’t stop Bruce.
“Can’t I come with you?” Jason asked. He could stay in the car, maybe. Just sleep in the locked car while Alfred went inside. They were in Bristol, it would be okay.
“Lad-“ Alfred started, but just based on his tone Jason could tell he was going to say no.
“Please Alfred,” Jason begged, “I’ll behave and drink all the water and, and-“
“Lad,” Alfred pressed again, squeezing at Jason’s knee, “Bruce is not—“
“Please,” he cried, “I don’t want him to look at me. I don’t want anyone-I don’t like—“ Jason couldn’t finish his thought, because his gaspy breaths got in his way.
“Jason,” Alfred said, standing up just enough so he could sit next to Jason and wrap his arms around him. Jason collapsed into them without even thinking. Maybe if he sat with Jason he wouldn’t leave him with Bruce.
“My dear boy,” Alfred whispered, “Bruce will not take it away, and no one is going to look at you or do anything bad to you here, remember?” Jason nodded, he did remember that. “You are safe here,” Alfred reiterated anyway.
“Don’t let him take my hoody,” Jason said, just in case.
Maybe Bruce didn’t want to take it for bad, but if Jason’s fever got high again he’d make him take it off for that.
“I’ll go to the pharmacy,” Bruce said solemnly, and Jason buried his face further into Alfred, so he didn’t have to look at him, “you stay here with him.”
Alfred ran his hand up and down Jason’s back as he said, “You’ll need to go to the grocery store next door, as well.”
“Okay,” Bruce agreed easily, “Can you text me a list?”
“Certainly.”
“I’ll be back in a little while, buddy,” Bruce said, but Jason ignored him.
Alfred held him for a couple more minutes, until Jason started falling asleep again. He freed himself from Jason, and helped Jason lay all the way back down on the couch, then sat down on the floor next to the couch again.
“You get some sleep, lad,” Alfred said, brushing Jason’s hair out of his face before placing the cold compress back in place, “I’ll wake you when Bruce returns with your medicine.”
“Okay,” Jason whispered.
“I hope,” Alfred started, but paused for a few seconds. He sighed, and touched his knuckles up against Jason’s cheek again before he continued, “One day I hope you realize how much Bruce loves you.”
Jason sniffled, and rubbed at his face with his hand, dislodging Alfred’s hand in the process.
He didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to think about any of that or what it could mean or if it could be bad.
His head hurt and he was cold and his everything ached and all he wanted to do was sleep.
But all he could think about, even as he tried to find the sleep he’d been struggling to escape all afternoon, was the only person who had ever said that to him and meant it was his mom.
And she was long dead.
Notes:
Jason is a whiny sick kid, and quite delirious throughout this chapter. It was kind of difficult to get down. I usually cop out when writing a delirious character and write from someone else's POV but this story doesn't allow for that. 😂 I hope it turned out okay. Jason got a lot of physical affection without even realizing it 🥺 He's come so far.
Chapter 58
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Alfred made Jason sit up twenty minutes later and drink more water. It was an absolute outrage, but then Alfred explained that he was extremely dehydrated and Alfred wasn’t ‘too keen’ on letting Jason die just because he wanted to sleep.
“I’m not gonna die,” Jason grumbled, but he sat up and did drink the water as directed. His head still hurt really bad, but everything was a little dulled.
“No, you won’t,” Alfred said softly, patting down Jason’s hair from where he assumed it was sticking up all over. He stepped back and took a long look around the room before refocusing on Jason and saying, “Why don’t we move you downstairs, since you’re on a couch anyway.”
Jason barely had enough time to frown before Alfred was already placing a hand on his arm and gently encouraging him to get to his feet. “Come on lad,” he said, “this way Bruce and I don’t have to keep coming into your room.”
“Fine,” Jason grumbled, handing Alfred the water so he could stand up. It wasn’t bad Bruce and Alfred came into his room, but he had to admit not making it a habit was probably a good thing. He looked down at the couch and considered bringing his blanket, but since he wasn’t even allowed to use it, what would be the point? He did grab his bear, though, from where it was wedged between the cushions in the back of the couch. Alfred looked at it, so Jason scowled at him, and Alfred looked away, setting a hand on his back to guide him out of the room.
“Do you not sleep in your bed?” Alfred asked, looking over at the bed as they passed. It was still covered in legos from the last time Jason worked on one of his cars there.
Jason’s spine stiffened and his shoulders inched up to almost his ears as he mumbled, “I don’t want to talk about it.” It wasn’t any of Alfred’s business.
Really, neither of them were supposed to find out.
“All right, lad,” Alfred said, rubbing his back a moment as they started down the hall, “but let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. If you’re getting decent sleep on the couch, I’ll leave it alone.”
He nodded and scrubbed at the side of his eye with his sleeve. He was sleeping fine. Usually.
It wasn’t any of Alfred’s business. Jason had it handled.
The trek downstairs was exhausting. By the time Alfred led him into the living room with the comfortable couches, Jason was ready to collapse down and sleep again.
So he did.
And he didn’t wake again until Bruce walked into the room, saying his name.
Jason opened his eyes blearily as Bruce rounded the couch and sat a glass and a couple bags of stuff down on the coffee table in front of him.
“I’ve got your antibiotics,” he said, pulling a paper bag out of the larger plastic one. He ripped it open and pulled the bottle out and started reading the side, then shook the bottle. “This should take care of the ear infection, which is what is making your fever so high.”
So Jason could use his blanket again, if he took the medicine, right? He sat up when Bruce motioned, and took the gross looking pink liquid without complaint when Bruce handed him the measuring spoon thing of it.
It didn’t taste nearly as gross as it looked, although the texture of it was thick and gross.
“I always liked amoxicillin as a kid,” Bruce said, “I thought it tasted like bubblegum.”
Jason shook his head and said, “It doesn’t.” But it certainly was better than the cherry Tylenol, that was for sure.
Although, Jason had to admit it was kind of funny Bruce was giving him the kid stuff. He was almost thirteen, for crying out loud. The kid stuff was for kids under twelve.
Bruce handed Jason the rest of his water bottle and added, “You need to drink liquids with it.”
The water helped Jason wash the thick feeling away, but he was out of the water way too quickly.
Which didn’t seem to matter, because Bruce pulled several bottles of pedialyte out of a bag.
More baby stuff.
“You’re very dehydrated,” Bruce explained, as he picked up one of the bottles and looked at the side, “so I picked up some of this. It will help a lot more than just water or gatorade. If you don’t like any of the flavors, we can switch you to gatorade tomorrow, but you really need to drink this today.”
“Okay,” Jason rasped. He had to cough, to clear his throat enough to talk clearly again, but that just made his throat hurt again after the brief reprieve from the medicine and water.
Bruce frowned, but said, “Their red is a strawberry flavor, so I wasn’t sure if you’d like it or not. I also got unflavored, so we can put our own flavor in it, if you don’t like any of them.”
Jason just stared, and looked at the five bottles Bruce had there. He kind of… went way overboard, honestly. No way Jason was going to drink all of it.
And if he only had to drink it that day, then there was no way he’d even finish off a single bottle.
“Would you like to try the grape flavor first?” Bruce asked, holding the purple one in his hand out, as if Jason would want to inspect it first.
He merely shrugged, and scooted back so he could rest his back up against his pillow. Grape would probably be his favorite flavor, anyway. He usually liked grape juice over all other juices.
“Okay, we’ll try it, then. If you don’t like it we can try something else,” Bruce said, as he opened the purple bottle and poured it into the glass he’d brought, which was filled with ice and had a straw in it.
Jason took a sip once Bruce handed it to him, and he had to admit, it was pretty good. It helped get rid of the feeling of the antibiotics way better than the water had.
“What do you think?” Bruce asked.
With a shrug, Jason said, “It’s good,” and took another sip. His stomach didn’t seem to be mad about it, either.
“Here,” Bruce said, pulling a sleeve of crackers out of one of the bags.
Jason reached out and took them, and was quite pleased to see they were the same crackers his mom always got him. He sat his drink down on the floor beside him so he could open the crackers.
“There’s more in the kitchen if you run out,” Bruce explained, “I got bananas, too. Alfred said those would be easy on your stomach. He’s also whipping up some oatmeal for you, if you feel up to that later. We’ll keep it in the fridge for you for whenever you want it.”
Jason simply nodded as he pulled a cracker out and took a tiny little bite of it.
“What else,” Bruce said, almost to himself as he started rifling through the bags again, “Oh. I got other flavors of Tylenol.”
Why Jason wondered, as he watched Bruce pull four bottles of Tylenol out of a bag.
Or. One was actually Motrin. Jason had no clue what the difference was.
“We still have a few hours before your next dose, but you don’t have to take the cherry again.”
“Oh,” Jason said, after he swallowed his bite of cracker. He waited for his stomach to get mean, but it didn’t, before he asked, “Why can’t I just take the pills?” The pills didn’t have flavor at all.
Bruce blinked, then looked down at the medicines before he asked, “Of Tylenol? I can go back for the chewable ones, but I always thought that was far worse than drinking the liquid.”
“No,” Jason said, shaking his head. He had to pause to cough again, and picked his drink back up to soothe his throat again before continuing, “I mean, the white ones you swallow?”
“Technically you can,” Bruce said, slowly, “but we can get a far more accurate dosage with the liquid. You don’t weigh enough for the adult dosage.”
“That’s what I always took at Donny’s,” Jason grumbled. The bottle said 12 and up. And he’d taken the adult kind when he was younger than that, too, and didn’t die. So clearly it was fine.
The label underestimated what a kid could have, anyway. So it wouldn’t kill them if they took a little too much. That’s what Donny’s doctor said.
Bruce’s eyes went distant for half a second, so Jason looked away and focused on drinking what was left in his glass. Finally, though, Bruce cleared his throat and said, “Well. I don’t intend on taking childcare advice from Donald Falcone.”
Jason smiled into his cup, and asked, as innocently sounding as he could manage, “Why not?”
But Bruce rolled his eyes and handed Jason the thermometer. “Take your temperature again.”
This time, Jason held it himself while Bruce took Jason’s glass and refilled it with more of the grape stuff. Then he started rooting around his bags, like he was looking for something specific.
The thermometer beeped, so Bruce turned around and took it, saying, “101.5, that’s great. Do you feel any better?”
All Jason did was nod, as he rolled onto his side to settle down into his pillow. His head felt a ton clearer, that was for sure. And he wasn’t shivering anymore.
Bruce disappeared for a moment, but Jason didn’t care enough to sit up and watch what he was doing. He was actually about ready to sleep some more. But he reappeared after a few seconds with a blanket in his hands.
It was one that looked woven, but in a very loose weave. Meaning there was basically tons of holes in it, and there was no way it was actually warm.
“Here,” he said, holding it out for Jason, “you can use this one. It won’t trap the heat in as bad as other blankets.”
“But I can keep the hoody on,” Jason asked skeptically, as he reached out and took the blanket. If he had to choose between blanket or hoody, he was going to choose hoody.
“Of course, Jason,” Bruce said quickly. He rubbed at the back of his neck, then sat down on the coffee table in front of Jason, careful not to knock over anything he had sitting on it already. “I’m sorry I suggested taking it off earlier. I wasn’t thinking.”
Jason just stared for a moment. Finally he held his drink out for Bruce to take, so he could spread the blanket out over his legs. He had to admit, he did feel far more comfortable with a blanket over his legs, even if it didn’t actually make him warmer.
It was just more comfortable.
He reached out with a grabby hand for his drink, and took another sip once Bruce gave it back.
“I won’t suggest it again,” Bruce promised.
Bruce wouldn’t have to promise that again, if he hadn’t broke the promise in the first place.
“You say sorry too much,” Jason eventually said, snuggling down into the blanket more. Maybe Bruce should stop saying sorry and start not being an asshole all the time.
That would solve that problem.
Bruce opened his mouth, but shut it abruptly, clearly at a complete loss for how to respond.
It was kind of a little funny.
With a half laugh, Bruce returned Jason’s smile and said, “I didn’t mean to scare you like I did. I never mean to scare you, so I feel I should apologize when I do.”
“I wasn’t scared,” Jason said flatly.
“You weren’t?” Bruce gave Jason a flat expression, like he was basically screaming I don’t believe you.
Well Jason wasn’t changing his story. “Nope.”
“You acted—“ Bruce started, but Jason cut him off.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He crossed his arms, but then had to sit up a little to cough.
“Okay,” Bruce said, doing his weird sigh-slash-half-laugh again. He picked up Jason’s glass and held it out to him and said, “You’re right.”
“Of course I am,” Jason rasped, gratefully taking the glass to fix his throat again. Once he took a few sips, he handed it back and settled back down into his pillow and blanket, absolutely ready to sleep for a few more hours.
He looked back up at Bruce, though, when Bruce didn’t move from where he was sitting, right in front of Jason, his arms crossed while he looked… constipated. Maybe.
It was a weird look on him.
Bruce hesitated for a long moment, but finally said, “You scared me, though.”
How the fuck, Jason wanted to ask, but talking more would make him have to cough and then drink more and he wanted sleep. Okay? Sleep. Bruce needed to get the memo.
“I thought- when I saw you there,” Bruce said, his words choppy and almost forced sounding, “so out of it, so dehydrated and with such a high fever…”
Jason could only look at him in bewilderment as Bruce leaned forward and pressed his palm into Jason’s forehead. Jason relaxed backward a little, so Bruce ran his hand back through his hair and retracted it before he said, “I’m very glad you’re already feeling better.”
All Jason could do was nod.
Because.
He didn’t want to think about how Bruce had just said I was scared you were dying and I’m glad you didn’t.
Bruce got up and started picking up all his trash and extra stuff before he grabbed the remote off the table and handed it to Jason, so Jason gladly took the distraction and flipped the TV on to find something to watch.
Or, sleep to. That’s what he was going to do the second Bruce went away.
“Oh,” Bruce said, after he’d picked up his bags but before he finally left. He fished something out of the bag and held it out to Jason, saying, “I almost forgot.”
Jason scrunched his brow at what Bruce held out, almost right in Jason’s face. He looked past it, at Bruce, confused, and slowly took it out of Bruce’s hand.
It was a Tootsie Pop.
Because. Jason needed a Tootsie Pop, apparently.
“What’s this for?” he asked. He wasn’t mad or anything. It was a blue one, and those were his favorite.
And he hadn’t had a blue Tootsie Pop since…
Well. Since before his mom died.
“Uh, well I saw them at the register,” Bruce stammered, “and I remember you said you like the blue ones.”
“I did?” Jason didn’t remember telling Bruce anything like that.
“When the nurse gave you a chocolate one,” Bruce explained, though he rubbed the back of his neck again as he did, “you said the blue ones were the best, not the chocolate ones.”
“Oh,” Jason whispered, looking back at the Tootsie Pop as he clutched it in his hand.
Bruce remembered that?
He’d never… picked blue as his favorite, he didn’t think. But when he was little, his mom would bring him back a Tootsie Pop, whenever she went to the store. And she always got him a blue one.
Mom couldn’t often afford much, but she could usually scrape together 25 cent for a Tootsie Pop.
She’d always hide it in her pocket and pretend she didn’t have anything, and after Jason helped her put everything away, she’d pull it out and present it to him.
‘You think I could forget about my favorite boy,’ she’d say, handing it to him along with a kiss to his cheek.
Jason had started playing along, pretending like he didn’t expect it.
The Tootsie Pop felt heavy in his hand, as he clutched it tighter.
Bruce… Bruce didn’t mean the same thing with it. He just—
He just remembered. A very super obscure thing Jason forgot he even grumbled way back in the first week Bruce even knew him. And then bought it for Jason when he saw it, because he thought Jason might like it.
And Alfred said—
“I’m going to put this stuff away,” Bruce said, as he rose back to his feet, “I’ll be back in a little while to check on you, okay?”
“Sure,” Jason said, trying to shake himself of… whatever was happening.
He-he should sleep.
So Jason took another sip of his drink, then settled back down again so he could flip through the channels on the television. TV would be the perfect distraction.
He fell asleep listening to a documentary about desert animals, the Tootsie Pop still in his hand.
Notes:
I have been DYING to write this little arc for a year now. Seriously, I wrote the first draft almost a year ago.
This chapter is a little on the short side, but that's because this was shaping up to be a MONSTER of a chapter. I still had 2k words of draft to go, and my final drafts tend to be 2x the length of the rough draft. So that was another 4k of words. So here is where I split it. It just means y'all get 1-2 more chapters of sick-fic fluff. 🥺
It's also kind of ironic, I've been planning on Jason to be sick at this point in the story for about a year, and of course as soon as I finally get here to write it, I'm doing so while sick with covid. 😩 So i'm sort of mayyyybe projecting my whining onto Jason. My throat really hurts. 😂
Also, I forgot to share this with you guys before, but check this amazing art by whizradio of Jason in his hoody!!! HES ADORABLE!!!
Chapter 59
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next thing Jason was aware of was Bruce saying, “Hey buddy.”
He blinked his eyes open to see Bruce knelt down right in front of him again, a thermometer in his hand.
“We need to check your temperature and get your next dose of Tylenol,” Bruce said, apologetically.
Jason rolled backward onto his back, groaning. The groan quickly turned into a whine, because damn did his throat and head still hurt.
Being sick sucked. He used to enjoy being sick, but without the need for a break from stuff there wasn’t a single upside.
“Let’s take your temp real quick,” Bruce said, holding the thermometer out above Jason, “then you can drink something.”
With a nod, Jason took the thermometer and sat up. While it checked his temp, Jason watched Bruce set back out the zillions of bottles of Tylenol next to him, where he was sitting on the coffee table again.
It was kind of impressive the short table could support Bruce’s weight.
Finally the thermometer beeped, so Bruce took it from Jason and handed him a fresh glass of pedialyte. Grape flavor again, Jason noted as he took a long sip of it.
“102 again,” Bruce hummed, “that’s because the Tylenol wore off. Which flavor do you want to try this time?” He pointed at all the bottles and raised an eyebrow.
“Bubblegum,” Jason rasped, before he coughed to clear it all away.
Bruce nodded and grabbed the bubblegum bottle, then went about measuring out the right amount in the little cup, holding it up to his eye level as he did. “Did the Tylenol help earlier?” he asked, nodding at the cup and then handing it to Jason.
“Yeah,” Jason said. He took the medicine quickly, then followed it up with more of his grape drink.
The bubblegum tasted way better than cherry.
“Jason, lad,” Alfred said, from the doorway behind Jason. He turned, and saw Alfred standing there, smiling gently as he asked, “Would you feel up to a bowl of oatmeal?”
“Maybe,” Jason said, with a shrug. He’d ate a few crackers earlier and didn’t get sick.
Alfred nodded once and said, “I will bring a small bowl, then. You can eat as much or as little as you want.”
Jason turned back around to find Bruce settling down into the armchair perpendicular to the couch. He smiled at Jason, and asked, “Was the bubblegum better?”
“Much.”
“I’m glad,” Bruce replied. He leaned over and picked up his tablet off the end table, then settled back into the chair with it.
So… Bruce was just gonna sit with him, then? Was this why Alfred wanted Jason downstairs? So Bruce could sit with him without breaking his promise of entering Jason’s room?
Although Bruce had done that already. But since Bruce said he thought Jason was dying, it probably fell into the same category of grabbing his arm that one time.
Jason took another sip of his drink and set it back down so he could readjust his pillow to leaning up against the armrest, so he could lay back on it in a mostly-sitting position. He squirmed around, trying to get comfortable, but there was something hard under him.
He sat up some and fished around for whatever it was, only to pull the Tootsie Pop out from under him.
“Oh,” he said, staring down at it a moment. He looked up when he felt Bruce’s eyes on him, and quickly set the Tootsie Pop down on the ground.
“I turned the sound down after you fell asleep,” Bruce said, tipping his head toward the television, “I didn’t want a loud commercial to wake you.”
“You were in here earlier?” Jason asked, as he leaned over and grabbed the remote off the coffee table. He held down the volume up button until he could hear the pointless jabbering of whatever show host was on.
He hadn’t heard Bruce come in earlier.
Or. Well, he hadn’t noticed Bruce came in to wake him up then, either. He’d only woken once Bruce was right in his face…
Bruce looked at his watch and said, “I’ve been sitting here a few hours.”
Jason turned his head toward Bruce and just stared.
Because.
What?
“I-“ Bruce started, but he blinked. And looked genuinely thrown. “Uh, do you want me to leave?” he asked, “I can go work in my study.”
“No,” Jason said quickly, “I just— I hadn’t noticed.”
“You were asleep,” Bruce said with a nod.
Which… was true.
But Jason thought he would have woken up to Bruce’s footsteps.
Then again…
When was the last time Bruce getting home at night woke him up?
-
The Tylenol really kicked in after Jason ate his bowl of oatmeal, and Jason was starting to feel tons better.
He and Bruce watched an episode of Loony Tunes together while Jason munched on some crackers, as well. Since his stomach was fine, too.
And by the time the pig popped on the screen saying That’s all folks, Jason felt wide awake, with some actual energy to spare. And…
Jason felt really gross. He hadn’t showered in several days, if Bruce and Alfred were right and he’d been as sick as long as he was.
His hair was kind of itchy, and he, at the very least, needed fresh clothes.
“I think I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, pushing himself into a sitting position and swinging his feet off the side of the couch. He paused, for a moment, but did not feel quite as dizzy as he expected.
Bruce nodded, clicking his tablet off and setting it down on the table. “Do you want me to get your stuff so you can take one down here? Or are you okay climbing the stairs?”
Jason hadn’t even thought about that. “I can do stairs,” he said, because he thought he could. He did have energy. And taking a shower would refresh him, he knew it.
“Is it okay if I follow you up the steps, just to make sure you don’t fall?” Bruce asked, after a brief hesitation.
“I won’t fall,” Jason shot back quickly. He wouldn’t. Bruce didn’t need to be all creepy stalker.
He grabbed his glass of drink and slurped up the last few sips as Bruce nodded.
“That’s fine, I won’t follow you if you don’t want me to.”
Jason sat his empty glass back down, right next to his Tootsie Pop. He stared at it for a long moment, then flicked his eyes up to Bruce. Who was sitting forward in his chair, his hands clasped as he clearly waited for Jason to make a decision.
Because Bruce would follow whatever decision Jason made. He only wanted to make sure Jason didn’t, like, pass out and die on the steps or something. Because Bruce…
“Uh,” Jason stammered, “you can follow, I don’t care.”
Sure enough, all Bruce did was walk him up the stairs. At the top, he stopped and told Jason, “Let me know if you need anything. I have my phone on me.”
Jason nodded, and turned toward his room. His phone was still plugged up, so he’d have to get it and make sure he brought it downstairs with him later.
“If I don’t hear from you or you don’t come downstairs in an hour, I’ll come check on you,” Bruce called after him. He waited long enough for Jason to acknowledge he heard, then turned around and went back downstairs.
Back in his room, Jason had to sit down for a few minutes. Just because climbing stairs was exhausting, and he just needed to catch his breath.
He grabbed his phone and started looking through it, and found over a dozen texts from Bruce, Alfred and even Dick… all in increasing levels of concern, practically begging him to answer.
Bruce even thought Jason was mad at him again. Even though Jason couldn’t figure out what he would be mad about, this time.
Except the whole, not giving Jason a ride in the Batmobile thing.
But Jason played games with Bruce and worked on his lego car with him since then, so that didn’t even make sense??
It was currently Tuesday afternoon, though, true to Alfred’s word. And the last text Jason answered was on Sunday.
He didn’t mean to do that.
Alfred and Bruce obviously knew he wasn’t dead, but he texted Dick a quick, ‘sorry I was sick.’ Before he could back out of the text line, his text got marked as read, and Dick immediately started typing.
“I heard, Bruce told me,” his text back read, “Feel better soon. When you’re up to it we can play some games together. It can be pretty boring being bed ridden.”
Of course Bruce would have told him. Duh. Bruce had probably been asking Dick to bug Jason, too. Just like he did when Jason was mad about the Batman thing.
‘Okay,' Jason sent back. He considered it for a second, before adding a second text that read, ‘my head hurts too much today.’
Just looking at his phone screen was pushing it.
“That’s fine,” Dick replied instantly, “once you’re feeling better. Love you, kid.”
Jason stared at the message for a long minute, trying, and failing, to come up with a way to respond.
First Bruce… and now Dick.
He really didn’t know how to respond to any of them.
But… did this mean he was allowed to call them his family?
-
It took him over an hour to shower and get changed. True to his word, Bruce texted him, so Jason replied back that he was fine. He was just super tired.
Maybe he should have taken Bruce up on the offer to bring his stuff downstairs…
Once he was wearing clean, fresh pajamas with his Wayne Enterprises hoody, this one much thinner and cooler than the Batman one so hopefully it wouldn’t make his fever bad again, Jason grabbed his phone to go downstairs.
As a last second decision, he grabbed his switch and current book, too, just so he wouldn’t have to come back upstairs for them later. He’d already decided he was sleeping downstairs that night. Just so he didn’t have to climb stairs again.
When he went back downstairs, the living room was empty, but his glass was full again and there was a banana sitting next to his crackers and lollipop on the table. Jason didn’t bother with either, and collapsed onto the couch to sleep.
The afternoon passed the same way the evening did, with Jason sleeping.
Alfred or Bruce woke him every few hours to check his fever and make him drink something or take more medicine. And when dinner time came around, Alfred brought Jason a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
It was the best bowl of soup Jason had ever had in his life.
“Can you make that when I’m not sick,” Jason asked, when Alfred came back for the bowl.
“Of course, my boy,” had been his response, “I’m always happy to make you things you like.”
And Jason realized, he had to add Alfred to the list alongside Bruce and Dick.
Obviously.
Bruce got up once Alfred left, and crouched down in front of Jason. He held his hand up for a moment, as if making sure Jason saw it before he set it down on Jason’s forehead.
“Just checking your fever before I go,” he explained, when Jason furrowed his brow at him.
Jason would have believed him, if he hadn’t left his hand there way longer than necessary. But Jason didn’t call him out on it.
It. It maybe didn’t feel bad.
“You’re going?” Jason asked, melting back down into his pillow. It was night time, so obviously Bruce was going out. “Batman stuff?”
“Yeah, Batman stuff,” Bruce said, with a chuckle. He moved his hand to brush through Jason’s hair as he added, “I’ll be back late tonight. Alfred will stay with you, okay lad?”
All Jason did was nod. Nod and close his eyes.
“Sleep tight, buddy,” Bruce said, with a quick ruffle of Jason’s hair as he got to his feet. Jason didn’t even open his eyes to watch.
“Night,” he mumbled.
Jason was asleep again before Bruce even left.
-
Alfred stayed with Jason all night, just like Bruce promised. He didn’t sit with Jason like Bruce had, but it wasn’t like Jason even noticed. He’d been asleep for the most part. Alfred did wake him around midnight for another dose of medicine, but the next thing Jason knew, it was morning.
It was morning, and Bruce was back in his armchair, his legs propped up on the coffee table, his arms crossed, and his head dipped down, resting against his chest.
He was clearly asleep.
And there was no way it was comfortable.
Jason didn’t want to wake Bruce, but as soon as Jason moved enough to reach his drink, which someone had refilled at some point in the night, Bruce snapped awake.
Sure. Bruce could move around and settle down in a chair without Jason noticing, in his sleep, but Jason moves and Bruce is instantly awake.
Regardless, Bruce didn’t seem annoyed at all, because he sat up and stretched as he said, “Good Morning, Jase. How are you feeling today?”
With a shrug, Jason took a long sip of his drink, just to help with his sore throat. Once he was satisfied he wouldn’t die if he tried to talk, he mumbled, “Better than yesterday.”
“Do you want ice for that?” Bruce asked, gesturing to the room-temperature glass in Jason’s hand. But Jason shook his head, because it tasted find like it was.
“Okay, well,” Bruce said, looking down at his watch, “we should probably get your antibiotics. Do you feel like you need more Tylenol, too?”
Jason nodded ardently. He wanted it to help with his throat, at the very least.
They went through the motions of medicine and everything.
His temperature was 101.1, and Bruce was pretty damn happy about it.
“That’s without Tylenol in your system,” he explained.
After he took everything, Jason finished off his glass and handed it to Bruce to go refill, then settled back against his pillow, tucking his bear in behind him on the couch.
It was kind of a little mortifying that he’d hugged onto it the whole time he slept, and Bruce apparently saw.
He was almost thirteen. He wasn’t supposed to be sleeping with a teddy at night.
Then again. Jason wasn’t a normal thirteen-year-old.
Since normal thirteen-year-olds were capable of sleeping in beds without freaking out.
Jason shook his head lightly, and reached out for the TV remote. Someone had turned it off at some point in the night, so he had to flip it back on to start channel surfing for something to watch.
It was apparently after 9am. On a Wednesday. Which meant almost nothing was on.
Bruce came back with another glass of his drink, saying, “We’re almost out of the grape. Do you want another flavor later, or do you want me to go get you more grape?”
“Other flavors is fine,” Jason said. Though it was kind of funny Bruce would go all the way back to the store just to get him more grape. Even though he had like seventy-four other flavor options at home already.
“Great,” Bruce said, “what about breakfast? Do you feel up to some? I can heat you up a bowl of oatmeal.”
“Okay,” Jason said with a shrug. He was a little hungry, if he thought about it.
With a nod, Bruce turned toward the door and said, “I’ll be back in a bit. Text me if you need anything.”
Jason just rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but smile, a little.
There was no way Jason would need anything in the ten minutes Bruce was gone. But it was funny how much of a worry-wart Bruce could be.
And even funnier that Jason had never noticed. But he probably should have.
Sure, Bruce didn’t hover around him all the time. But Jason had made him promise not to. And Bruce seemed somewhat serious about keeping most of his promises.
Dick had been shocked Bruce was even capable of ‘not stalking,’ as he had put it, way back when Jason first met him. ‘I know you stalk me because you love me,’ he’d said.
Bruce reappeared in the living room much sooner than expected, with two bowls of oatmeal. He handed one to Jason, then sat back down in his chair to eat with him.
“Don’t you have work today,” Jason asked, after a few minutes had passed. He hadn’t found anything interesting on TV, so was just watching the news.
Which was super boring already.
“No,” Bruce said, with a shake of his head, “I took a couple days of sick leave to stay with you.”
“Oh.” Because he was a worry-wart.
Though Jason had almost died, according to Bruce’s brain, so maybe Jason couldn’t fault him for being worried.
He was much better now, though.
“If you want me to leave you alone, just tell me,” Bruce said, after he took another bite of oatmeal, “you’re always allowed to say ‘go away.’”
“I know,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. That wasn’t what he was saying.
He-he didn’t mind Bruce’s company. And being alone all day long sounded boring.
And it wasn’t like Bruce was annoying. Just worried.
“I don’t mind,” he eventually said, before turning back to his oatmeal.
He did have to admit, it was nice being doted on for once, while he was sick.
It’d been years since someone cared beyond worrying about how much money they were losing, with Jason being sick.
-
Jason didn’t spend near as much time that day sleeping as he had the past few. He did still sleep, but he mostly spent the day watching television with either Bruce or Alfred, since Bruce disappeared for a little while that afternoon.
Which wouldn’t have bothered Jason much, but then Alfred had to go cook dinner, so Jason was left alone in the living room, bored out of his mind.
He picked up his book and tried to read, but trying to focus his eyes was making his head catch on fire.
Or maybe someone was stabbing him. From inside.
Yeah. Someone was stabbing him right through his eyeballs, all because he wanted to read his book.
Frustratedly, he threw his book on the floor and pouted up at the ceiling.
He was so sick of TV.
-
Once Alfred had dinner ready, he encouraged Jason to get off the couch for a little while and actually eat in the dining room. With Bruce.
Which was fine, if not a little exhausting having to sit up that long.
He only ate half his bowl of soup, too. But that was just because Alfred fixed him a gigantic bowl, and served him crackers, too.
By the time dinner was over and he’d made it back to the living room, he was ready to collapse down on the couch and never get back up again.
“Do you want to sleep in your own bed tonight,” Bruce asked, from where he’d followed Jason into the living room and taken a seat in his chair. He propped one foot up on the coffee table and started flicking through his tablet, doing who knew what on it.
Did he work on Batman stuff on his tablet? Jason kind of wanted to know.
“No,” he grumbled, twisting himself up in the blanket Bruce had given him. He didn’t care much to sleep on his couch, either.
Because if he went upstairs, he’d just have to come back down again in the morning. And they’d have to bother him in his room, probably. To make him take medicine.
“Okay, bud,” Bruce said easily, “you can stay in here as long as you want. Do you need me to get you anything from upstairs?”
Jason shook his head, and flipped the TV back on.
He switched through all the channels twice, but it was all crap and he didn’t want to watch any of it. He’d watched TV all day long, and was beyond tired of it. So he clicked the TV off in a huff, and tossed the remote onto the coffee table.
Bruce looked over and frowned, then motioned toward Jason’s book, now sitting on the coffee table next to the remote, “If I didn’t already know you were sick, the fact there’s a book sitting there and you aren’t devouring it is a dead give away.”
“Reading makes my head hurt worse,” he lamented, rolling onto his back and throwing his arms to his sides dramatically, “but TV is so boring.” He wished he could play video games, maybe. But he’d tried that, earlier, and it also made his headache worse.
“Here,” Bruce said, setting his tablet aside and sitting up, just so he could lean forward and fetch the book, “Fahrenheit 451,” he said, inspecting the cover, “I remember this being good. Where were you at?”
Jason tilted his head, so he was looking over, and just furrowed his brow.
Bruce opened the book up and asked, “Start of part two?” pointing at the page where Jason’s bookmark had been.
“Yeah,” Jason said, nodding slowly.
“Perfect,” Bruce said, before he settled back in his chair and cleared his throat.
Then he started reading aloud.
Jason stared at him for a long few moments, just letting the ridiculousness of the situation wash over him.
Bruce Wayne—
Batman.
Was reading him a book.
Because he didn’t feel good and was bored.
He was starting right in the middle of a book he hadn’t read in a long time, just to help Jason feel better. Or… at least less bored.
Alfred had said Bruce loved him a lot. And even Dick had said something like that, almost two weeks ago when Bruce wasted a ton of money on Jason for no reason other than because Jason might have liked the lego kit.
Jason-
Jason wasn’t sure what the hell he’d even done to earn any of it. But he couldn’t dispute it, either.
He felt kind of bad for being so mean to Bruce for so long…
Notes:
🥺🥺🥺🥺 I live for Jason realizing stuff.
Chapter 60
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next day, Jason woke up on the downstairs couch to see Bruce asleep in his chair again, looking just as uncomfortable as the day before.
And just like the day before, Bruce woke up the instant Jason moved more than a few inches.
“It can’t be comfortable sleeping like that,” Jason rasped, as he sat up enough to reach his cup of orange pedialyte, the flavor he picked after the grape officially ran out.
Just a couple sips made his throat completely stop hurting. Actually, Jason in general felt a ton better. His head didn’t hurt at all and felt way clearer. He wasn’t cold either, though he was drenched in sweat.
Bruce stretched his arms way up in the air, then smiled slightly at Jason as he said, “It’s fine. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Jason said, “you’re worse than my mom with the hovering.” He definitely wasn’t going to die if Bruce slept in his actual bed, instead of right there in the living room.
Not even Jason’s mom did that. Sure, sometimes she slept with him, but usually she just got up and checked on him a few times instead, so she could actually sleep.
“Is that bad?” Bruce asked, as he leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied Jason.
Jason couldn’t help his smile. He tried really hard to suppress it, but he couldn’t. “No,” he admitted, “I always liked her hovering.” And Bruce’s has been nice, too. He couldn’t deny that.
Bruce blinked, and stared at him for a long minute. He looked…. honestly thrown. And incredibly fond, as he’d been doing more and more before Jason got mad at him and cut him out for that week or so.
Of course Bruce was fond, Jason thought to himself. Bruce loved Jason like a son.
And actually…. Bruce had been giving him that look for months.
Since… since really early on.
“You look like your fever broke,” Bruce said after another moment, during which time Jason really studied his hands. So he didn’t have to watch Bruce. Jason looked back up to see Bruce get up and grab the thermometer, then hold it out for Jason.
Sure enough, once it beeped, it showed he was already down to 98.2. Jason had no clue how Bruce could just see that his fever was gone, but he couldn’t argue with right.
“That’s great, bud,” Bruce said, “Do you still want some Tylenol?”
“Yeah, for my throat,” Jason said without hesitation.
“Sure, let's get you your antibiotics, too.”
-
The rest of the day went by fast.
Jason only took one nap, which was super refreshing. Though it did mean he got bored a lot more.
He and Bruce worked on his Lamborghini some after lunch, and Jason was excited that they’d finally moved onto the last box of legos, which meant just a couple more hours and it would be done.
Where was he going to put it, once it was done? And what would he work on next?
Probably his Batmobile.
As they were finishing up dinner, Bruce sat back in his chair and looked at Jason for a long minute before he asked, “Are you going to sleep in your room tonight?”
“Yeah,” Jason answered easily. He was feeling tons better, so there was really no reason not to.
Plus it meant Bruce wouldn’t sleep in that stupid chair again, and Jason didn’t have to feel bad about it.
“Do you…” Bruce started, but he stopped. And just. Didn’t say anything else.
Jason looked up and raised an eyebrow at him.
But Bruce was playing his choosing his words game that Jason hadn’t seen in a while. He waited patiently, and after a minute Bruce finally asked, “Do you sleep on your couch?”
With a scowl, Jason sank into his chair and pulled the neck of his hoody up over his mouth. “Did Alfred tell you?” he grumbled. Alfred said he didn’t have to talk about it. Alfred said it was fine.
“What?” Bruce asked, a little startled, “No. I-I mean. I found you on your couch, and your bed has legos sorted out on it. Do… do we need to get a mat or something for your floor, for your legos? Or maybe a coffee table?”
“No,” Jason said, glaring at his empty plate just so he didn’t have to look over at Bruce.
Alfred said he didn’t have to talk about this.
“Okay. Is— is there something wrong with the bed?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jason grumbled, shoving his hands into his hoody pocket.
Bruce nodded, Jason could see out of the corner of his eye. But instead of fucking drop it, he said, “Okay. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. We can change your room around, get different furniture, whatever you need to sleep well.”
Jason just kept staring straight ahead and used his face to readjust the hoody to cover more of his face. He had no clue if different furniture would even help, and he didn’t want to try because then he’d have to talk about it and he didn’t want to talk about it!
“This—this is something you could work out with Liz,” Bruce ventured.
“I sleep fine,” Jason said, scowling harder. He didn’t want to talk about it. “Alfred said that was good enough and I didn’t have to talk about it.”
“If it’s ever not good enough,” Bruce said slowly, almost carefully.
But Jason was beyond over talking about it. “Yeah, I got it,” he snapped.
With a nod, Bruce said, “Okay. Do you want to play a game? I’ve got another hour before I need to go downstairs and start on the night.”
Jason’s shoulders dropped, and he smiled a very little smile as he said, “Sure.”
He’d love to play a game before Bruce went and did his Batman thing.
- - -
The next morning, Jason woke up in his bedroom to the text from Bruce about breakfast. Since it was Friday again, he took a few minutes to stretch, then get dressed and ready for his therapy appointment.
He had no idea what he was gonna talk about, but he knew for a fact it wasn’t that he didn’t sleep in his stupid bed, no matter what Bruce said.
Jason had that handled. Maybe he’d clear off his bed soon and try to sleep there again. His skin had quit trying to escape whenever Bruce was near, and he even slept in the same room as Bruce, and didn’t even notice. Not a single bad dream.
So maybe he had it fixed already. All it took was knowing Bruce was Batman and would rather beat up people who tried to touch Jason than do it himself.
On his way to the dining room, Jason cut through the kitchen to find Alfred finishing up on french toast. Which was Jason’s absolute favorite breakfast thing.
“Ah, Jason, lad,” Alfred said, when he looked up. He pulled the couple pieces of toast off the frying pan and set them on a plate with a whole pile of done-toast, “Come take your antibiotics. How are you feeling this morning?”
“Good,” Jason said, as he skipped over to Alfred, who was pulling his medicine out of the fridge.
Alfred straightened to his full height and shut the fridge door, then held a hand up to Jason’s face and asked, “May I?”
Jason nodded. It was kind of funny now someone asked if they could touch his forehead.
Not that he’d minded anymore, anyway. Maybe Bruce could tell Jason didn’t mind? He didn’t know.
“You look better,” Alfred said, as he pressed his palm against Jason’s forehead, then moved it to his cheek before retracting it, “your face has color again and you don’t feel hot anymore.”
“I feel better,” Jason confirmed. He waited for Alfred to measure out his medicine, then took it just as Bruce walked in.
“Oh good, you took your medicine,” Bruce said already.
“He did indeed,” Alfred said, as he took the measuring spoon from Jason, “Why don’t you boys go sit down, I’ll bring breakfast out forthwith.”
No one had to tell Jason twice.
French toast.
“I got a call from Liz’s office,” Bruce said, as he led the way to the dining room, “Your appointment got cancelled. If you need to talk with her, Liz said you’re welcome to call her. Otherwise she’ll see you next week.”
Oh. “Why’d it get cancelled?” he asked.
Bruce took his seat at the head of the table and explained, “She’s not feeling well. Something went around her office, which I guess is where you got sick.”
Jason nodded. That definitely made sense, he’d been wondering why he got sick but Bruce and Alfred didn’t.
And like. Where. Since he didn’t go anywhere.
Breakfast ended up being more than just French toast, like usual. Alfred always had a huge spread for breakfast, and Jason definitely wasn’t complaining.
Alfred helped him pile his plate high of French toast, bacon, and fruit salad, then poured him a big glass of orange juice, and Jason dug right in.
He’d been eating plenty the last few days, yeah, but he still felt starving. It was nice to finally eat something more than oatmeal or crackers or bananas.
“I guess we have today free,” Bruce said half way through eating, “is there anything in particular you want to do today? We can still go out.”
They’d still do his treat even if he didn’t do the thing that earned that treat?
Although, Jason hadn’t had anything in particular in mind. So he simply shrugged. He’d be totally cool with finishing off his lego car and working on his math some.
“Do you want to visit your mom?” Bruce asked, after a second had passed.
And Jason blurted out, “What?”
Because.
What?
Bruce knew his mom was dead. He knew that.
How in the hell could Jason visit her?
“You,” Bruce started, “well. When you were pretty out of it, you told Alfred you wanted your mom, and—”
“I did,” Jason cut in, a little horrified. He just knew his face was bright red. Why did he tell Alfred that?
Why would he even say that??
He knew he couldn’t have his mom. He knew that.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Bruce rushed out, “You’re a kid. Moms are important. I still miss mine, and it’s been twenty-four years.”
Jason wasn’t quite sure how to take that. He stayed sitting there, his fork hovering over his plate completely forgotten in his hand as he stared at Bruce.
Yeah, he missed his mom sometimes, but not like… all the time. It was only sometimes, and he usually got over it fast.
There was nothing more he could do, but get over it.
He hoped it didn’t still hurt sometimes, in another twenty-one years. That would fucking suck.
“It made me think,” Bruce said, almost cautiously, “based on… everything that happened after she passed, I wasn’t sure if you’d ever been to her grave.”
“I—“ Jason started, but paused. He’d never really thought about it. What was the use in thinking and dwelling on it?
There was nothing he could do to change it.
Although, no. He’d never been to her grave.
In fact… “I didn’t even go to her funeral,” he admitted.
How could he have? He’d ended up with Donny Falcone pretty darn fast after she died. He never even got told when the funeral was.
Or if one had even happened.
Bruce nodded, like he already knew that, and asked, “Would you like to visit her?”
Would he?
Why wouldn’t he….?
“Can we bring her flowers?” Jason finally asked. With Dad in jail, probably no one had ever brought her flowers. They didn’t have any more family.
Or. Well Mom did, Jason thought. But he remembered knowing they’d cut her out, after she ran away with Dad. So even if they had brought her flowers, they didn’t count.
Mom deserved flowers that counted.
“Of course, we’ll do whatever you want,” Bruce said, with a smile.
Good. Mom deserved flowers. Her favorite flowers at that. “Dandelions,” he decided. He knew most people probably brought ‘prettier’ flowers to the cemetery, but Mom would like dandelions best.
“Dandelions?” Bruce asked, a little skeptically. Or, well Jason could tell he was trying not to seem skeptical, but Jason could tell anyway.
“Yeah,” he said, finally looking back at his food to pick up his last bite of toast, “Everyone calls them weeds, but she thought they looked so pretty. She always commented on how they dotted the grass with a happy yellow and then had seeds you could blow around like snow. She liked doing that.” Whenever Mom brought him to the park, they always made sure to do that, if the dandelions were in bloom. That way the flowers could spread more and there could be more of them the next time they went.
“Then we can certainly find her some dandelions,” Bruce said with a nod.
Jason finished off the last of his breakfast, then took a long sip of his juice before he said, “There are some in the back yard.”
“Okay. When do you want to do that?”
“Can we go today?” Wasn’t that why Bruce had even brought it up?
Bruce smiled wide, though, and said, “Absolutely. If you’re done, we can go pick some flowers.”
Jason eagerly drank the last of his juice, then jumped up. He was done, and definitely ready.
“I saw the dandelions way back in the back near the trees,” he told Bruce, as they left the house through the patio door. Big, pretty ones, back in the tree-line. The yard otherwise was free of dandelions, and it was kind of ugly in Jason’s opinion. Just plain green.
But Alfred or someone probably spent a lot of time keeping it looking that way.
“Lead the way,” Bruce said, “I haven’t spent much time out here in years.”
So Jason did lead the way, cutting right through the garden and straight back toward the swing area.
“I like it out here,” he said, as they walked. He didn’t get why Bruce didn’t spent a lot of time outside. Especially since he spent a lot of time reading and stuff on his tablet. He could very easily do that outside. The internet still reached the garden.
Bruce put his hands in his pockets and smiled, as he walked alongside Jason, and said, “I’m glad.”
“I never got to go outside at Donny’s.” Never ever. He should probably spend more time outside, now. While it was still summer and pretty out.
“That must have been tough,” Bruce said.
“Yeah,” he said. He’d never really thought about it, though. Not until he was here and had the time and freedom to go outside whenever he wanted. “When I lived with Mom, we didn’t have a yard or anything but we had a roof, and I liked to climb up there and play up there. One of the neighbors had a little garden, and sometimes she let me help her prune the flowers.”
Which was always super fun. She grew tomatoes and potatoes, too, and would let Jason help her pick those, and when she had too many to eat before they went bad, he got to eat them.
“That sounds lovely,” Bruce said.
“It was. But it was nothing like Alfred’s garden.” Alfred had, like, seventy different things he was growing.
Which might be exaggerating, but he grew lots of spices and vegetables and stuff. Jason couldn’t even identify half the things he had growing.
“I bet if you asked, Alfred would be thrilled to have you help him take care of it.”
Jason grinned, and picked up the speed as they crested the last little hill to his reading spot. He’d probably definitely have to ask Alfred about that.
“This is where I come to read at,” Jason said, once the swing was in view. He pointed over at it, then pointed to the tree-line and said, “I saw all the dandelions while out here.”
Bruce looked around, and somehow looked vaguely sad. Even though he still had a very tiny smile on his face. He looked down at Jason, and his face softened some before he said, “This was my mother’s favorite spot. My dad put up this swing for her. She liked how you could just barely see Gotham on a sunny day.”
“You can?” Jason asked. He’d never noticed.
With a nod, Bruce stepped over and knelt down right next to him. He leaned over, so his face was closer to Jason’s then pointed way out on the horizon in the direction of Gotham. “See that tall pine tree right there?” he asked.
“Yeah.” There was a lot of pine trees, but there was one distinctive one out beyond the Manor’s property that pointed up higher than the rest.
“A little to the right, you can just barely see the skyline.”
Jason squinted but… yeah. Yeah, maybe. He could kind of see a faint grey outline of some buildings. “I never noticed.”
“It’s easy to miss, with how the haze is in the summer,” Bruce said with a nod.
“Oh, there are the flowers,” Jason said, when he looked back down at the trees to his right. He skipped over to where they were and they were some of the biggest dandelions he’d ever seen. They still kind of looked like weeds, but they were a couple inches in diameter, so they looked more like flowers than most dandelions.
He spent a few minutes collecting up the biggest and pretties ones he could before he walked back over to Bruce, a handful of flowers in his hand, looking sort of like a bouquet.
Bruce was looking up at the swing, messing with the chain a little. When Jason approached, though, he looked over and said, ‘Those are pretty. I can see why your mom liked them.”
Jason smiled wide. “Do you think she’ll like these?”
“I think she’ll love them,” Bruce said, returning Jason’s smile. He looked back at the swing and asked, “Do you want me to lower the swing for you? It's a little high. The tree has grown a lot over the decades.”
“How would you do that?” Jason asked, looking curiously up at how high up the swing was attached to the tree. He couldn’t imagine a ladder would work too well, with the soft ground and how tall the ladder would have to be.
“I’d figure it out,” Bruce said, with a sly smile, “I could climb up there pretty easy.
Right.
Because Batman.
Jason scrunched his nose as he stared up. While it would be super amusing to watch Bruce climb up however the heck Batman would do that, he finally shook his head. “Nah,” he said, “I like how high it is.”
Bruce gave him a skeptical look, so Jason held out the bouquet of flowers and said, “Here, hold these.” Once Bruce took them, he quickly hoisted himself up into the swing by using both his arms to boost himself up. With practiced ease, he flipped around and sat on the swing, making it sway a little as he did. “See, I can get up easy.”
“Indeed you can,” Bruce said, “but let me know if you ever change your mind.”
It wasn’t likely he would. Jason would get taller faster than the tree.
“Can we go see my mom now?” he asked, as he hopped down.
“Of course,” Bruce said, motioning with his head for the house. Jason rushed to catch up, as he started walking, and took his flowers back. He was looking forward to giving them to his mom.
- - -
Crazily enough, Jason started to feel super nervous as they drove out to the cemetery.
Bruce said she got buried at the giant cemetery in the middle of Gotham, so it took them about 45 minutes to get out there.
He sat in the back of the Tesla, like normal, and tried his best to stay calm and steady. But every couple minutes, he looked over at the cluster of flowers sitting next to him, and couldn’t help but wonder if they were good enough.
His mom would have loved them, for how big they were. He knew that. But he also knew they weren’t the kind of flowers people usually brought to their loved ones graves.
Would they make other people think someone hated her? By bringing her weeds?
Plus.
He wasn’t really sure what to expect at the cemetery.
Mom had been dead for years, but something about… seeing. Where she was buried.
Well. It was making his stomach twist around.
What was he even going to say? Should he say anything? It wasn’t like she could hear him talking at her grave any more than she could hear him talking to her picture.
Did she even know he was visiting? That he had never visited yet?
Did… did she even still exist?
Jason barely noticed when Bruce parked on the street and looked back at him.
“Ready?” he finally asked, when Jason looked up at him.
All Jason could do was nod.
Bruce knew exactly where Mom was, and led him down a winding path through several different large sections of the cemetery.
It was an old cemetery, he knew that much. The trees were massive, and there were probably thousands of graves, with probably a couple dozen people walking around. Milling about. Some were walking dogs, others were clearly visiting people. Just like Jason and Bruce were doing.
Before they took the final turn toward where Bruce said Mom was, Bruce leaned down and picked a rock up off the path and pocketed it. Jason raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t ask about it.
His stomach was maybe getting even more flippy.
“Do you want me to come all the way with you, or would you rather I hang back here and give you some privacy,” Bruce asked, once Mom’s plot was in view.
Jason looked up at Bruce uneasily, then over at where Mom was.
He’d…. Never been in Gotham alone. Not since… not since before everything.
“I’ll stay right here on this bench if you want me to hang back,” Bruce said, pointing at a little stone bench just off the path. It was only about 50 feet away from where Mom was buried, so it wasn’t that far away.
And Bruce was Batman.
And Jason doubted the mob was even looking for him. Bruce was probably right, they had far bigger things to worry about than Jason.
“Okay,” he finally said, “I’ll—You can sit here.”
Bruce nodded, then held his hand out toward Jason. He hesitated for a second, but finally set it on Jason’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m right here if you need me.”
Jason nodded and mumbled, “Thanks.” He took a deep breath, but offered Bruce a tiny smile before he started the walk over to Mom by himself.
It felt weird, being on his own. But a quick look back showed Bruce was, indeed, keeping an eye on him.
So it was definitely fine.
His mom’s gravestone didn’t say much, he noticed immediately when he stopped in front of it. All it said was her name, birth date, and death date. There was no beloved mom or any words like so many of the other stones had.
But… it probably cost money to put extra words on it, and Dad was in jail. And Jason didn’t even go to her funeral.
As far as the world knew, she wasn’t a beloved mom.
Jason knelt down in front of the stone as tears swelled in his eyes.
“You are a beloved mom,” he said, the tears starting the spill over some. It wasn’t fair that no one else knew that.
Not even her stupid family would know, if they came to visit.
Although there were no flowers on her grave already, like most the other graves had. So maybe her stupid family didn’t visit.
He looked down at the flowers in his hand and said, “I miss you so much Mom. I wish I could have come and given you flowers sooner.”
The world needed to know she was loved.
“But life… life has kind of sucked since you left.” Bruce would probably remind him it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t visited.
It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t visited.
Even if he never even asked Donny if he could come here.
“I really hope you didn’t have to see that,” Jason whispered. He’d never let himself think about how Mom might be watching over him.
Because if she had been… it probably hurt her. To see what Jason was doing.
Jason scrubbed his sleeve across his face, and looked back at his mom’s name, etched into the stone.
Catherine Johnson Todd.
“But I’m okay now,” he said, “I have a foster family now. Bruce and Alfred are taking good care of me, you’d be happy I think.” Mom always wanted him to be happy and safe.
“Bruce even says I’ll go to college one day. Not maybe but definitely, because he thinks I’m smart enough to catch up in school and do well, and he’s going to pay for everything.”
He knew for a fact mom would be happy about all that. Even Dad would be happy about that.
Jason cleared his throat, and looked down at the flowers in his hands as he added, “Bruce even said he’ll send me to Gotham Academy, if I want. I—I don’t think I want that, though. All the… all the rich kids go there. And—“ he stopped, to take a deep breath and try to get back to steady.
He didn’t want to cry. Not in front of his mom. Not… out in public.
If he thought about all the rich kids who had rich dads he’d have to see… he might cry.
Jason swallowed, and said, “I don’t want to go there, I think. But I’ll still go to college.”
College would still take him if he just went to the local public school. And if he didn’t like the public school, college would still take him if he just did all his schooling at Cornerstone.
He laughed, through his silent tears, and said, “I hope you’d be proud of me,” as he sat the flowers down at the base of the stone.
Jason sat there for several more minutes, but he couldn’t really think of anything else to say.
A look back at Bruce showed him Bruce was still sitting on his bench, just watching Jason from so far back. But when Jason turned back around, a second later he heard Bruce’s footsteps crunching against the grass behind him as he approached.
“Everything okay?” he asked, stopping not far behind him.
“Yeah,” Jason said, as he stood up. He brushed the pieces of grass that stuck to his legs off, before he stood up completely and said, “I think I’m done.”
Bruce made the last few steps between them, and sat a hand on Jason’s back. He fished the rock out of his pocket and leaned forward, so he could reach the gravestone and set the rock on top.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“It’s a tradition my mom taught me,” Bruce said, patting Jason’s back once as he did, “Stones last forever, unlike flowers. I like to bring my parents flowers, too, but the stones will stay for years after the flowers die. One on a gravestone means ‘this person is loved and their legacy lasts forever, just like this rock.’”
“Oh,” Jason whispered. He looked up at Bruce, and couldn’t help the tears that started welling in his eyes again, so he looked away and wiped them away with his sleeve.
Maybe the world would know Mom was loved, then. Even if the gravestone didn’t say so, the little rock on top did. Looking around, he only saw rocks on some of the gravestones around him.
Bruce rubbed his back for a second, before he moved his hand to the shoulder opposite him, so his arm was basically wrapped behind him. Jason leaned into it, a little, as Bruce squeezed and said, “She must have been a great woman, to have raised a great kid like you.”
Jason wasn’t really sure how to even react to that. He tried to nod, but his chin was wobbling and his eyes were filling up again. He pressed his sleeves into his eyes, but even that didn’t help. He couldn’t make it stop.
Bruce’s hand squeezed again, just as Jason let out a sob, so he turned into Bruce’s hold and pressed his face into Bruce’s side.
It didn’t make him stop crying, though. Because Bruce froze for a second, then tightened his arm around Jason more, and all Jason could do was absolutely lose it.
Because Bruce loved him, and cared about him, and thought his mom was good and made sure everyone would know she was loved and he had been the one to think Jason should come see her in the first place. Jason wasn’t even really Bruce’s kid, just his foster kid he accidentally stumbled upon and got stuck with, but he cared and Jason hadn’t had anyone care about him in years. Not since Mom died.
After a second, Bruce loosened his grip, but only long enough so he could kneel down and wrap his arms around Jason better. Jason leaned his head down on Bruce’s shoulder, so his forehead was resting there as his whole body shook with his crying.
“I miss her so much,” he cried. He didn’t hug Bruce back, because his hands were still pinned in front of him, pressed into his face, and he didn’t want to squirm and make Bruce let go. Because Bruce would let go if he thought Jason was scared or uncomfortable.
But Jason didn’t want Bruce to let go.
His hug was so strong and big and—and.
And it felt so safe.
Jason hadn’t felt that safe in a very, very long time.
“I know, buddy,” Bruce whispered, “it’s okay.”
“I wish she was still alive, so she could see me go to college. But—“ Jason sniffled, and finally did free his arm enough so he could scrub at his face better.
Just like he expected, Bruce let go of him, but he didn’t jump away from Jason. Instead, he just leaned back, one hand still settled on Jason’s shoulder.
“But,” Jason said again, between his deep, gaspy breaths, “if she was still alive, I wouldn’t be going to college, because I wouldn’t know you and Alfred and—“
And Jason had to go through hell for three years to even get all this. And Mom had to die.
“Jay,” Bruce whispered. He opened his arms, as if asking, do you want another hug, and.
Maybe yes.
Jason wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck this time, and buried his face there so he could hide from the world as he cried.
“I’m not happy she’s dead,” he cried. He wasn’t.
“I know buddy, I know that,” Bruce said, rubbing a hand across Jason’s upper back.
“But I’m happy I know you,” he said.
Because he was very happy with how his life was now. And he wouldn’t have this life, if his mom hadn’t died.
And.
That was so mean to think about.
But the best thing that had ever happened to him was Bruce buying him.
Him getting sold. To a rich dude. Who only ‘bought’ him to rescue him and keep him safe and send him to school.
Best thing.
And that wouldn’t have happened, had he not been away from his mom in the first place.
Bruce tightened his hug, and moved one of his hands up to the back of Jason’s head, holding him there fiercely.
“I’m happy I know you, too,” Bruce whispered, “I’m so glad I get to call you my family.”
Maybe.
Maybe Jason shouldn’t connect the two things together, and just be happy.
Because he was happy. Even if he missed his mom.
Notes:
🥺🥰. It only took 60 chapters. (and also it snuck up on me, I wasn't expecting that to happen this chapter but then Jason initiated it.) 😭🥺🥰
Chapter 61
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Do you have any interest in seeing your dad,” Bruce asked, once Jason had finished crying his eyes out into Bruce’s freaking shirt and they started making their way out of the cemetery.
Jason merely shrugged. “He’s in jail,” he said. And would be. Forever.
Unless he escaped, but if he did that, seeing him would be an extra bad idea.
“I know,” Bruce said evenly, his hands in his pockets as he walked alongside Jason down the gravel path, “but the jail is only a couple hours from here. It wouldn’t be hard to go visit.”
“Really?” Jason asked. He’d never… thought that was even an option.
Him and his mom never ever visited Dad when he was in jail, back before he got sent there forever. Except for the one time Mom went to bail Dad out.
Bruce nodded and said, “It might be a little… complicated getting you an appointment set up, but they’ll do it. Your dad is allowed visitors.”
What would make it complicated?
Then again… it was probably pretty complicated getting witnesses inside a jail to visit people…
Were there any of Falcone’s men in the same jail as Dad? He remembered Mom mentioning that Dad got sent to federal penitentiary, because of some gang and organized crime act that escalated his charges to federal instead of state.
Just like…. Just like Donny and all them.
“You checked?” Jason asked.
Bruce looked down at Jason and rubbed at the back of his neck as he slowly said, “I did. He’s your dad.”
“He is,” Jason agreed. And he should want to see his dad, right?
And until… until Bruce got him, Jason had wanted to live with Dad. Not just see him.
Even though that would never be possible again.
“You can think about it, buddy,” Bruce eventually said, as they finally exited the cemetery and reached the parking lot, “The offer will always be on the table.”
Could Jason see Dad more than one time? Like, could it be a regular thing? He could go and see his dad every couple months and catch him up on everything? Show him his school projects, or whatever?
Even if it wasn’t, and he could only see him once, it would be cool to see Dad.
Right?
Because. Because if he had the opportunity to see his mom one more time, he’d definitely take it. So.
“I think,” Jason said, once they reached the car and he reached for the back door’s handle, “I think I’d like to. See him.”
“Okay,” Bruce said softly, as he opened the driver’s door, “Then I’ll set it up.”
“Good.” Jason slipped into the back seat and shut the door behind him.
Seeing Dad would be cool.
He just… he wasn’t sure how happy Dad would be to see him.
Not after everything Jason had done.
- - -
The weekend passed in relative quiet. Bruce got a visitation appointment set up for first thing Monday morning, really early in the morning so Jason and Dad could be the only two in the visiting room, or something.
Because Jason’s suspicions had been right.
There were Falcone’s in the same jail as Dad.
He didn’t know if Donny was in that jail, because no one would answer that question when he asked, but whoever was in there, the cops and everyone felt it was necessary none of them knew Jason was coming.
“Is it really safe to go,” Jason asked, Monday morning when he and Bruce were putting stuff in the car for the two hour trip. The appointment was in the 7 o’clock hour, so they were leaving at 5 am.
Alfred packed them breakfast to eat, since eating at 4:45 was way too dang early. Jason was fairly certain Bruce hadn’t even been home more than an hour or two at that point, either.
“This had to pass through several hands to set up,” Bruce explained, as he put the small cooler Alfred gave them in the footwell of the back seat, so Jason could reach it, “It’s early enough the prisoners will still be in the cells, and only Willis will be taken out to come see you. The bare minimum number of agents at the prison have been told someone is coming to see Willis, and almost none of them know who.”
Jason nodded his head, because Bruce had explained this to him twice already. It still… it didn’t stop his stomach from knotting up, anyway.
“And,” Bruce added, “I’m going to be right there with you the whole time.”
That was a good point.
Plus. All the mobsters were in jail.
The worst they could do was tell mobsters not in jail where Jason was. But Jason was already safe from all them, at Wayne Manor.
“Do you still want to do this?” Bruce asked, as he leaned over the door and looked in at Jason, who was sitting nervously in the back seat, running his fingernail along the pages of the closed book in his lap, listening to the thhhhhh-wack sound the pages made.
He’d started reading the Percy Jackson series, that week. Thus far it’d proved to be an adequate distraction.
But despite all the… everything.
“Yeah,” he said. Because he did want to see his dad.
The drive was long.
Obviously Jason knew it would be a long drive, and had both his book and his phone with him. He tried to read some, in the beginning, but wound up watching a podcast on Youtube the whole way as he munched on the fruit and yogurt Alfred packed him. All the talk and speculation about Tesla’s cyber truck was just distracting enough that he didn’t think too hard about… everything.
They finally arrived just past 7, and Jason’s stomach immediately plummeted into his shoes when Bruce smiled back at him and said, “Ready?”
He wasn’t, but it wasn’t like he had a choice, either.
Jason left his phone and everything outside, at Bruce’s suggestion. To make going through security easier, he said.
Because they had to go through security.
First thing.
“I need you to take your hoody off,” the cop at the X-ray machine told Jason, the second Jason stepped up, “Hoody and shoes need to come off and go on the belt. Your jacket and belt, too, sir,” he added, motioning toward Bruce, “and everything from your pockets.”
Jason looked down frantically at his hoody and up at Bruce.
“You’ve got a shirt on, right?” The cop asked, and Jason had to swallow to keep from bursting into tears right then.
Over nothing.
He nodded, because he did have a shirt on under it, but that didn’t mean he ever planned on taking it off. He looked up at Bruce helplessly, but Bruce was already shedding his jacket and belt, like requested.
“It’s okay, Jason,” Bruce murmured, “it’s just for a minute, then you can put it back on.”
“But-“ Jason started, but Bruce knelt down so he was Jason’s height, and smiled softly.
“I know,” Bruce whispered, “Listen, I don’t know how prison security works, but if it’s anything like airport security, the only way to get past the X-ray without taking bulky clothes off is by getting a pat down. Which is very invasive and uncomfortable.”
Jason cut his eyes over at the cop, who was big and bulky, looking at them with a raised eyebrow, his blue gloved hands clasped in front of him.
He didn’t want a pat down from that guy either.
Tears started welling in his eyes, so Jason shut his eyes tight and pressed his hands into them, trying to make it all stop.
“I won’t make you do this,” Bruce said, still from right in front of him, “but I think you’ll regret it if you turn back now. Your dad is just down the hall waiting for you, and this will only take a minute, okay? You can count to sixty and see how quick it’s over. And nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”
Jason nodded, but didn’t uncover his eyes just yet.
Bruce was right, he would regret it if he didn’t go see Dad when he could. And it would probably piss Dad off, to find out Jason had chosen not to see him because he didn’t want to take a sweatshirt off. For a single minute.
And Bruce was right there. And he knew how to punch people being gross.
“You can do this, buddy,” Bruce whispered, before Jason heard him stand back up to his feet.
The cop said, “Step on up, feet on the footprints and arms over your head, like the diagram.”
Jason opened his eyes to watch Bruce do as he was told, and get scanned.
Then, sure enough, it was over in no time, and he was grabbing his jacket off the belt just past the X-ray.
With a deep breath, Jason pulled his arms inside the hoody. He paused there, for a second just to take another, deeper breath, before he shut his eyes and quickly yanked the thing off. He threw it in the bin the cop had laid out for him, then wrapped his arms tightly around himself.
He felt so naked without his hoody on.
Which was weird. Because he hadn’t even had access to hoodies for more than a couple months. He counted in his head. Like. 12 weeks, tops.
“Step inside the machine,” the cop said, though a lot more gently than he’d spoken to Bruce, “and put your feet on the yellow footprints. Then hold your arms over your head like in the diagram.”
Jason looked up at the diagram, then shut his eyes tightly as he did as he was told. Just so he wouldn’t have to see if people were looking.
No one was looking, he told himself. It was just Bruce and the security guy, and a few more cops out beyond the security area. And so far Jason hadn’t recognized anyone.
No client had ever told him they were a federal cop, anyway. He only ever heard GCPD.
Or… wasn’t told occupation at all.
“You can step out now, son,” the cop said, and Jason opened his eyes and looked out, to see the officer smiling at him, “you passed.”
Jason wrapped his arms back around himself and nodded, then walked over to the machine to watch his hoody get dragged through under the smaller X-ray.
“You okay?” Bruce asked, stepping up to his side.
With a nod, Jason grabbed his shoes off the belt and shoved his feet inside, then eagerly watched his hoody get spit out of the machine, ready for him to put it back on as quickly as he could.
“I’m proud of you,” Bruce murmured, once Jason finally felt normal again. Safe inside his red hoody.
“Thanks,” he mumbled. He kind of wished he was allowed to wear his Batman hoody, but Bruce had strongly discouraged it.
“A lot of people are in there because of me,” he’d said, when Jason had put his Batman hoody on without thinking, “they won’t be thrilled to see my symbol.”
That was when Jason remembered Dad was in jail because of Batman.
Dad would probably be pissed to know Jason wore Batman’s symbol around…
Even more pissed to know Jason lived with Batman….
But Dad would never know that. So it was fine.
“Good morning,” a new cop said, as she walked out from behind a desk to greet him and Bruce, “If you’ll follow me, we have your visitation set up and ready to go. Unfortunately we only have 30 minutes for you, I’m sorry we couldn’t make it longer but it was difficult to find a time this private.”
“We understand,” Bruce said, as he nodded with his head for Jason to follow him and the cop, “Thanks for setting it up, we appreciate it.”
Jason nodded, but pulled his hood up and over his head and shoved his hands deep into his hoody pocket as they walked. The reminder that there were Falcones within those walls was making his stomach flip around.
Even more than it had been already, at the notion of seeing his dad.
Would his dad be happy to see him?
He… he really hoped so.
Or would Dad just know what Jason had been up to for the last few years? Had he been talking to the Falcones? And been told?
Was he disgusted with Jason?
Dad was part of Two-Face’s gang, not the Falcones, but maybe all those people talked. Jason didn’t know.
The cop led them down a long winding hall until they stopped at a door, which had a window with bars on it she looked through first. She had to scan her badge to unlock it, then opened it and motioned for Jason and Bruce to go through.
So Jason took a deep breath and stepped through, then paused just a couple feet inside the doorway of the cafeteria-like room, just staring at his dad across the room.
His dad.
“I’m going to sit back here, okay, Jay?” Bruce said, from right beside him. Jason looked up to see Bruce pointing at the table right next to the door. “You can call me over if you want or need me.”
Jason merely nodded, then looked back over at his dad, who was still just sitting there, staring down at his hands on the table. He hadn’t looked up at all.
Did he even know who was coming to visit him?
Did he care?
There was another guard standing against the wall, next to a door in the back of the room, matching the one standing next to the door they just walked through. The back guard was kind of close to Dad, but probably not close enough he could hear them talking?
Maybe.
With another deep breath, Jason crossed the room.
Willis didn’t look like Jason remembered. He was a little more haggard, his hair more unkept than normal. A little longer. He was older, too. Noticeably so. But he was still Dad.
And he was sitting at a little cafeteria table, his right arm chained down to the middle of it. Looking under the table, Jason could see his feet were also bound.
Which.
Was just a reminder of where they were. And why.
Dad finally looked up when Jason was half way across the room. Jason forced a smile, but Dad just stared at him as he kept walking. He really couldn’t tell if Dad was happy to see him or not.
“Uh, hi Dad,” Jason mumbled, once he finally reached the table. He stayed standing behind it, with Dad sitting on the other side. It had benches attached to it, where he could sit, but Jason wasn’t sure if he should sit.
Did Dad even want to see him?
“Jay?” Dad finally asked, furrowing his brow as he gave Jason a good look up and down.
“Yeah,” Jason exhaled. He knocked his hood down, too, because maybe Dad didn’t recognize him because he couldn’t even see Jason.
And it had been four years since Jason last saw him.
He’d been… he’d been eight, after all, when Dad went away.
Once Jason’s face was fully visible, though, Dad’s whole demeanor relaxed, and his expression smoothed out into something much softer.
“Look at you,” Dad said, “turning thirteen this week, huh?”
“Yeah,” Jason said, nodding. On Thursday.
Even while in jail, Dad remembered.
“What are you doing here?” Dad asked next, back to slightly scowling at Jason.
“My, uh. My foster dad said you were allowed visitors, and, uh…” he trailed off.
Maybe he shouldn’t have come, then. Even if it seemed Dad did maybe care.
Or maybe he just couldn’t help but remember when Jason was born.
“I heard about your Ma,” Dad said, a few seconds after Jason trailed off.
All he could do was nod in response.
“She was—,” Willis started, but he paused and nodded at himself. After a moment he cleared his throat and looked back up at Jason and snapped, “You gonna just stand there or’re you gonna sit down?”
Jason laughed, a little nervously, as he mumbled, “Sorry,” and slid onto the bench across from Dad.
Dad didn’t sound mad, though. His tone was half-hearted, like he was just feigning being mad.
It didn’t really ease Jason’s nerves, regardless.
“You said you got a foster dad?” Dad asked, looking Jason up and down again.
“Yeah.”
“He good to you?” Dad asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah,” Jason said again, letting a little smile creep onto his face, “He’s nice.”
Willis nodded, but asked, “Feeds you, school, all that?”
“Yeah,” Jason repeated, “I’m gonna go to Bristol Middle School next month. He says he’ll pay for my college, too.”
He hadn’t told Bruce he chose the school, but that was the school he chose.
It had no uniform requirements and was public, so hopefully it would be a good fit for him.
“Bristol, huh,” Dad said, thoughtfully, “Impressive. And good, you need to go to college. You was always smart. Smarter than me.”
Jason just sat there, because he had no idea how to respond. Agreeing would just piss Dad off, because it would be calling Dad stupid, but disagreeing might also piss Dad off. Because it was going against what he said. Or back-talking.
It was always tricky talking to Dad. Jason had kind of forgotten that.
“Got that from your mother,” Dad continued, “she was a smart woman.”
That, Jason could nod along with. Mom was smart, and he missed her. But he couldn’t remember Dad ever calling her smart before.
Usually he called her a dumb bitch…
Jason shifted in his chair and shoved his hands into his hoody pocket.
“Go be a doctor like her,” Dad said, lifting his head a touch, as if telling Jason to lift his head higher.
Jason kind of hated that he did without even thinking about it.
“Don’t fuck with the mobs like me, don’t end up in here like me. Be a doctor. Do something with yourself.”
Jason pulled his hands out of his pockets and set them on the table, so he could stare down at them. He wasn’t even sure what Dad was talking about, but he certainly was not going to go fuck with the mobs.
He’d spent more time than he ever wanted to with the mob, he was so done with that.
Batman would protect him from that, anyway.
“That him over there,” Willis asked. Jason looked up to see him nodding over toward Bruce, so he turned and saw Bruce still sitting at the table near the front door. He had his phone out and was messing with it, probably reading the new or emails or something, seemingly not paying them any attention.
But knowing Bruce, he probably was keeping an eye on Jason, just super covertly.
“Yeah,” Jason said, as he turned back to his hands.
“Bruce Wayne?” Dad questioned.
“Yeah,” Jason repeated.
Figured Dad would recognize him.
“He don’t touch you, do he?”
“No,” Jason said quickly, looking back up at Dad. He was scowling, but not in one of his if you say one more thing to piss me off I’ll kick your ass, sort of way.
It was more like how he always looked, when talking to other adults he knew. Or, argued with other adults he knew.
Jason had never really figured out that sort of anger.
He saw it on Bruce a lot now, though. It was always anger at other people, on Jason’s behalf.
Figured Dad would also know about all the rumors about Bruce and Dick.
“He’s not like that,” Jason added, “Really. He’s the nicest guy I ever met.”
Dad nodded, but kept staring at Bruce for another minute before he finally turned his attention back to Jason. “Go some place like Princeton, if he’s gonna foot the bill. Imagine that, an alley rat at Princeton, that’ll be something.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, grinning, “that would be something.”
If Princeton even let him in.
It wasn’t like Dick went to Princeton. “His son goes to Hudson University.”
“Never heard of that,” Dad said, “You get Wayne to send you somewhere prestigious.”
“I will,” Jason promised. He could try, at least. He knew Bruce would pay for it…
Willis looked over his shoulder at the guard on the wall behind him and asked, loudly, “Yo, can I hug my boy?”
The cop nodded, so Dad jerked his head to the side, telling Jason to get up and round the table.
So Jason did. He got up and walked over, and forced himself not to tense up when Dad wrapped his free arm around Jason’s back and pulled him in close.
Jason wrapped his arms around Dad in response, and just stood there while Dad hugged him tightly.
“I love you, Jay,” he whispered, with a tighter squeeze.
“Love you too, Dad,” Jason mumbled back. Though a pit was starting to form in his stomach.
“I’m so proud of you,” Dad said, his voice containing a slight rasp, “you’re gonna be a great man one day.”
“Thanks,” Jason whispered. Tears were starting to well in his eyes, and he didn’t want to cry into Dad’s shirt.
Dad always hated crying.
And also, why was Dad even saying all this? Jason could see him again. He could.
Especially after Donny’s trial passed.
Right?
Wrong, apparently, because Dad repositioned so his mouth was right next to Jason’s ear and he whispered, barely audible, “Don’t come back here, boy. I owe people money, they find out I have a kid, they’ll take you to square up.”
Jason stiffened, his shoulders inching higher as he asked, “The Falcones?”
Was that why he was with Donny…?
Why… why he’d been working?
He was just repaying Dad’s debt? Not even his own?
That was why Donny always made him work so hard? Harder than the other boys??
Dad pushed him back with his free hand and demanded, “How’d you know that?”
It was, wasn’t it?! He was just—He was just—
“What did they do,” Dad demanded, a little louder, as a dangerous glower formed on his face.
Jason took a step back, but Dad grabbed his upper arm and held him still as he demanded, “Tell me boy, what did they do?”
“Dad—“ Jason half choked, looking down at his arm in Dad’s grasp. His grip got tighter, and it hurt.
A lot.
“Let go of him, Todd,” the guard said, from behind Dad.
Willis did let go, and Jason took another step back as soon as his arm was free. He scrubbed at the ghost of Dad’s hand on his arm, and didn’t know what to say.
“Who,” Dad demanded, his voice somehow even angrier, “Dammit, Jason, tell me who.”
Jason flinched when he heard footsteps behind him, but then Bruce appeared in his peripherals, so he took yet another step back until he was standing right next to Bruce.
“Everything okay?” Bruce asked, his voice a gentle murmur. The exact opposite of Dad.
Bruce… Bruce was the opposite of Dad in a lot of ways.
“Who touched my boy, Wayne,” Dad demanded, turning his anger on Bruce, “Tell me which Falcone, now.”
“I’m sorry,” Jason said with a wobbly voice. He wasn’t really sure whether he was talking to Bruce or Dad, but he was sorry.
He hadn’t meant to piss Dad off and ruin the whole visit. He hadn’t.
“That’s enough, Todd,” the guard said, his deep voice taking on a scary edge.
Even scarier than Dad.
Jason side stepped until he was almost pressed into Bruce’s side. There was still a sliver of space between them, though.
“It’s okay, Jase,” Bruce murmured.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” Dad seethed. Jason took another step back, even though there was no way dad could reach him now. His arm was still attached to the table and Jason was standing next to Batman.
Bruce lifted his arm, and looked under it at Jason, since he was basically behind Bruce now. He frowned, but looked back up when the guard left his post and stormed over to Dad.
“That’s it, Todd,” he said, his heavy footfalls making Jason flinch again, “Let’s go.”
Dad struggled against the cop’s grip, when he grabbed Dad’s upper arm, and looked at Jason as he repeated, “Jason, tell me who. I’m going to kill them.”
“Quiet,” the cop said, as the door slammed open and three more cops came inside.
Bruce placed his open palm on Jason’s chest, from where Jason was still standing half behind him, and gently pushed Jason back until they were out of the main path and between two tables in the other row.
Jason could only watch as the cops had to slam Dad down on the table and force his arms behind his back to cuff him, before they finally unhooked him from the table. The entire time, Dad kept demanding names while the cops told him to shut up or he’d get charged with criminal threats.
“I don’t fucking care,” Dad snarled at them, “Someone touched my boy, and I’m gonna fucking kill them.”
Finally, the four cops got Dad subdued, and lifted him straight off the ground by his upper arms.
As they dragged him away, Dad turned to Jason and shouted, “I’ll kill them all, Jason. I’ll kill them for what they did to you, I promise.”
The back door slammed shut after the cops dragged him out, and Jason jumped at the sound once more.
Jason looked up at Bruce, and couldn’t help the wobble his chin was doing.
“I didn’t tell him,” Jason said, a little desperately, “I didn’t mean to tell him.”
“It’s okay, Jason,” Bruce said, as he spun around and knelt down in front of Jason, “It’s okay. No one is mad at you.”
“Dad is,” Jason protested. Because Dad was furious.
“No buddy, he’s mad for you,” was all Bruce said, before the final cop, still standing back at the front door interrupted.
“Come on,” she said, holding the visitor door open to usher them out.
Jason followed Bruce on shaky legs, and tried his best not to cry while inside the prison.
Bruce was probably right, and Dad was furious for him.
He’d never even stopped to consider Dad would be mad at everyone else for the work Jason had done.
For the work… Donny had forced Jason to do… to repay Dad’s debts.
How could… how could.
Jason didn’t even know how to process that.
Had literally every thing Donny ever said to him been a complete lie?
Notes:
I am finished moving :D. I couldn't write this chapter because Genius me packed my notebook away in a box, and I had to FIND it after I moved because it had this chapter written in it. 😂. I wrote this chapter in October of 2020!!!!!! And I didn't have to throw ANYTHING out! I added stuff, but nothing got cut. I'm so happy. That's never happened before, usually the vast majority of chapters written far in advance have to get thrown out.
I hope y'all enjoyed. I cried while writing this chapter. 😂
Thanks for reading. ❤️
Chapter 62
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason managed to keep it together until they got in the car, and even then, he managed to not completely lose it.
“I’m going to get us out of the parking lot,” Bruce murmured, when Jason buckled himself into the back seat and miserably collapsed his head against the window, as the silent tears finally started falling, “we can stop somewhere if you want to talk, okay?”
With a shrug, Jason curled further in on himself, against the car door. What was there even to talk about?
Or… did he actually want to talk about any of it?
He—he didn’t even want to think about any of it.
Or even acknowledge the tears trickling down his face as he wiped them away with his sleeve.
Bruce pulled the car from their parking spot as he asked, “Do you want to see if Liz can talk with you? I can text her and ask if she can do a call with you this morning, or maybe even see you in person this afternoon.”
Jason looked up at Bruce, through the rearview mirror, and shot him a questioning look.
“I would find someplace to park and wait outside the car as you two spoke,” Bruce said, as if that was what Jason was thinking about, “so you two could have privacy.”
But Jason shook his head. “I’m okay,” he whispered, as he turned back to staring out the window. He wasn’t so pathetic he had to talk to his therapist just because he got scared and cried.
Kept crying.
He really shouldn’t have been scared at all. He had been perfectly safe the whole time, surrounded by good cops, probably, who weren’t gonna let Dad do shit.
Obviously.
That one cop told Dad to let go of him almost immediately.
Plus, Bruce was there.
Jason rubbed at his arm, where he could still feel the faint ghost of Dad’s hand, wrapped around it.
He wasn’t really one to bruise easily, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was bruised.
Dad had grabbed him pretty tight.
“Is your arm okay?” Bruce asked.
“Yeah,” he whispered with a nod. It was really nothing. He was probably overreacting, anyway, just because he’d not had much more than a stubbed toe in weeks and weeks.
Bruce frowned, but was silent for several long minutes as they got out on the rural highway and started making their way back toward Gotham.
Jason spent that time trying his best to get his eyes dry and stop sniffling.
Eventually, Bruce looked back at him again and sighed. “I’m sorry, Jason.”
“Why?” Jason asked. Bruce had done literally nothing.
“I,” Bruce started, thoughtfully, like he hadn’t even known what he was apologizing for. He knocked his head back and forth, before he elaborated, “I’m sorry that your visit ended like that and got cut short.”
“Oh,” Jason said. That wasn’t Bruce’s fault. Jason was the one who told Dad about the Falcones on accident.
He shouldn’t have done that.
Had he just kept his stupid trap shut, maybe Dad would have kept hugging him and saying nice things to him.
Or… he would have just finished telling Jason he never wanted to see him again.
“We can try and set up another visit,” Bruce said, “I’m sure there will be a set amount of time before he’s allowed visitors again, but—“
Bruce cut himself off when Jason shook his head.
“Dad told me not to come back,” he admitted. Maybe now that he knew the Falcones already had known about him, Dad would change his mind, but Jason wasn’t sure…
He didn’t want to go back just to have dad interrogate him the whole time about which Falcone.
Bruce absolutely deflated, though, and looked honestly crushed about that. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
Jason merely shrugged. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about Bruce being so upset Jason’s visit went bad.
Because… he clearly was upset for Jason.
He cared that much.
Bruce sighed, but sat up a second later as the little highway they were on approached a little town. He slowed down and asked, “Do you want something to eat? I see a drive in, and I need a coffee.”
Jason scrubbed one last time at his face, erasing all evidence of the tears as he sat up and asked, “What do they have?”
“Let’s see,” Bruce said.
They pulled into the little parking lot and Bruce parked right next to one of the menu boards. Jason spent a couple minutes reading over the whole gigantic menu, but settled on some french toast sticks and tater tots, while Bruce ordered himself a breakfast sandwich and gigantic coffee.
Bruce leaned his chair back a little as he settled down to wait for the food. The cooler sitting on the floor behind it blocked him from going back too far, though, and he huffed when the chair wouldn’t go any further.
Jason grabbed the cooler’s handle and tugged at it, until it slipped through the tight space between Bruce’s seat back and the back seat, so he could set it down on the floor in front of him, instead.
“You don’t have to—“ Bruce said, but promptly shut his mouth when Jason climbed up into the passenger seat, over the center console. He was extra careful not to kick Bruce as he flipped around to sit in the seat, even though he’d already kicked his shoes off and it wasn’t like it would hurt, if he did. Bruce lifted his arm up out of Jason’s way, regardless, and scooted closer to his door until Jason was fully settled. With a smile, Bruce settled back down in his chair and leaned it back a touch further.
“Are you doing okay?” Bruce asked, once Jason settled himself, sitting criss cross in the front seat.
He’d yet to sit in the front of the Tesla.
It was really really cool.
Jason shrugged, at Bruce’s question, but did offer him a tiny smile.
At least he’d stopped crying.
And was now sitting up front in the Tesla.
Hesitantly, he reached out for the gigantic screen right on the dash, and when Bruce didn’t make a single comment, he started pressing buttons. Bruce had used the screen to lean his chair back, so he found the controls for his chair, and started messing with everything.
Bruce yawned and crossed his arms across his chest, as he shut his eyes for a few minutes while Jason played.
He… he looked really tired.
It was likely he hadn’t gone to sleep at all last night, and yet he was still there. Driving Jason for four total hours all for ten minutes of talking to his dad.
Even if it had only been ten minutes, Jason was so, so, so glad he got to have them.
Because it was ten more minutes than Jason thought he’d ever get again.
“Thanks,” Jason mumbled, as he quickly swiped at his eyes and refocused on the car’s buttons. Bruce had the radio on, but down real quiet and the murmur of the host was completely incomprehensible.
Jason was gonna find music to listen to, instead.
“What?” Bruce asked, as he turned his head toward Jason, one eyebrow raised at him.
“Uh,” Jason said, as he felt himself flush, “for taking me to see Dad.”
Bruce smiled softly, and turned his head back so he was looking up at the ceiling. “Of course Jason,” he said, “I’m sorry it didn’t go well.”
“It—“ Jason started, but was interrupted by a dude tapping on Bruce’s window.
“Ah,” Bruce said, as he sat up and told the window to roll down.
“Here’s your food,” the guy said, handing Bruce a bag and the gigantic cup of coffee, “Can I get you anything else?”
Bruce looked inside the bag before he handed it over to Jason and said, “I think we’re good, thanks.”
Jason dug through the bag filled with napkins, forks, packets of ketchup and little dipping cups of syrup, and pulled out Bruce’s sandwich.
He took it, after he sat his chair back up, and asked, “What were you saying?”
“Oh. It didn’t go bad,” Jason said, as he pulled his little box of french toast sticks out.
Because his visit with Dad hadn’t been bad.
It’d been nice, until Dad got mad.
“Really?” Bruce asked, raising his eyebrow at Jason again. Like he didn’t freaking believe Jason.
But he supposed if all Bruce saw was Dad’s outburst, it made sense he doubted the whole thing didn’t suck.
So Jason nodded, and said, “He wanted to know if you take good care of me, and if I’m in school, and—and. Stuff.” Maybe Jason shouldn’t mention the whole Dad assuming Bruce was a pedo thing. He looked over, and saw Bruce watching him with a pretty neutral expression on his face.
“Uh,” Jason stammered, “he also said I have to go to college.”
At that, Bruce did smile.
“And that I should go to Princeton.”
“Princeton?” Bruce questioned, but Jason shrugged.
Jason didn’t know why Princeton, either. Maybe it was the only fancy school Dad could think of.
“He said I should go be a doctor like my mom, and not a crook like him.”
But that didn’t even make sense.
Why would Dad even say that?
“But,” Jason said, as he sat the bag down next to him, his french toast sticks sitting forgotten in his cup holder, “My mom wasn’t a doctor. She was a waitress.” Sometimes. Or a cashier.
Or a druggie… there at the end.
Jason pulled his knees up higher so he could wrap his arms around them, tangling his fingers together as he looked over at Bruce.
And Bruce… Bruce was looking forward, now. Not at Jason.
“Bruce?” Jason asked, because did Bruce know something? “Do you know what he was talking about?”
How would Bruce know what Dad was even talking about? They hadn’t talked, as far as Jason was aware.
But Bruce sure looked like he knew what Dad was talking about.
Bruce ran his fingers over the steering wheel, wiping away imaginary dust before he asked, cryptically, “You didn’t know?”
“Didn’t know what,” Jason snapped, scowling at Bruce now, “are you saying my mom was a secret doctor?”
If she was a doctor, why wasn’t she working as one when Jason was a kid?
Was Jason the reason why she wasn’t a doctor anymore? Did she have to quit to have him?
Had something worse happened? Had she been, like, fired? For some reason? Doctors had to do really bad stuff to get fired.
Unless it was, like, stealing drugs…
But no. There was no way. Mom was only eighteen when Jason was born. He would have remembered her being in school.
Doctors had to go to school forever, and Mom didn’t even go to college.
“No,” Bruce said. He took a slow, long sip of his coffee before he set it down and looked over at Jason. He said, slowly, “Jason. Catherine adopted you.”
“What?” Jason nearly shouted.
How did— what??
That didn’t make any sense. Catherine was his mom. He didn’t remember having any other mom. She took care of him when he was a baby. He had pictures to prove it.
Or… he’d had. There were pictures, that proved it.
Once upon a time.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce said gently, “I thought you knew.”
“You’re lying,” Jason snapped, his scowl turning into a glower, “she was my real mom.”
“Yes,” Bruce said slowly, his whole face carefully neutral, “she was your real mom. Adopted parent doesn’t mean fake parent. Biological parents are the ones who contributed to creating the child, but parents are whoever raise and love the child. Often there is no difference between the two, but in the case of adoption, or step parents, there is. Them not contributing genetic material to the kid doesn’t mean they aren’t real parents to him.”
“So,” Jason started, but paused to get his thoughts to-fucking-gether. His eyes were starting to sting really badly, but he didn’t want to cry.
And none of this made any sense.
Why hadn’t anyone told him?
“I was adopted?” he asked, “Is my dad really my dad? My-my biological dad?”
He’d never heard of poor people from crime alley adopting.
Unless. Unless he was, like, really their nephew or something.
But why wouldn’t they have told him???
Bruce nodded and said, “Catherine married your dad when you were an infant, and she adopted you when you were one.”
“How do you know this and I didn’t,” Jason demanded. Had Bruce talked to Dad?
Dad acted like he’d never seen Bruce, though. So what the heck?
“I saw your birth certificate,” Bruce said, matter-of-factly, “It lists Catherine as adoptive mother.”
Jason looked straight ahead, at the empty parking lot they were facing, and tried to process.
This was— he was—
He was adopted?
“So… I have another mom? One that was a doctor?” And neither Dad or Mo—Catherine ever felt the need to tell him?
That had to be why Dad always told him he could be a doctor one day, right? His whole life, that’s what Dad would say. “You’ll grow up to be a doctor.”
Why had Dad kept that secret?
And why did Jason need to be adopted??
“Did she die, too?” Jason asked. Because he knew lots of kids who had divorced parents, and they saw both parents.
But Catherine had been his mom since he was a baby.
“I don’t think so,” Bruce said, thoughtfully, “I can dig into her a little more, if you’d like.”
“You know who she is?” Jason asked, but immediately followed it up with, “So she, what? Did Dad just steal me from her?”
Or worse.
Did she not want him?
“If Catherine adopted you,” Bruce said, “it’s because she signed off on her rights.”
“What?” So his mom didn’t want him?
What was wrong with him, that he mom didn’t want him? When he was just a baby?
He hadn’t done anything yet as a baby. Except maybe cry a lot. But that’s what babies did.
Bruce shifted, so he was turned more in his seat and actually facing Jason as he explained, “Living parents have to sign off when a child is adopted. It’s why I can’t adopt you, your dad is alive. He would have to approve and sign off his parental rights. Or a judge would have to terminate them.”
“You—“ Jason started, startling right out of everything.
Bruce wanted to adopt him?
Catherine had adopted him?
“Catherine didn’t have to adopt you,” Bruce added, “she could have just been your step-mother. She must have really loved you.”
Mom did love him. He’d never doubted that.
So…
Was Jason why she put up with Dad all those years? Why she stayed? Even though he called her dumb bitch and screamed at her and hit her and, and. Beat her.
“I forgot how mean Dad was,” Jason admitted.
Bruce frowned.
“He’s really, really mean. He, he was. When cops weren’t there to watch.” And Jason had forgotten…
Or. Maybe. He hadn’t realized how mean Dad was. Because. Because.
Weren’t all men like that?
Jason just thought all men were like that. Women were usually nice and sweet, but men were really mean and easy to piss off.
Then there was Bruce and Alfred and Dick…
“I’m sorry, Jason,” Bruce said.
“He used to— he’d call Mom names and hit her and, and—me,” Jason admitted, as tears were welling in his eyes. Dad had been so mean. To Mom way more than him. “But if I’m Dad’s kid and not her’s that means she had to put up with him just—“
“Jason,” Bruce admonished, cutting Jason right off and eliciting a flinch him him, “You can’t know that.”
“But it’s true,” Jason shot back, “she was too good for him. She should have left him, but she didn’t want to leave me.”
Jason was the reason she was miserable in a bad marriage and got hurt all the time and, and.
And got into drugs.
Because drugs were her escape.
“She adopted you, Jason,” Bruce said.
“I know, you told me.”
And it was the reason she got trapped.
“That means she had just as much right to you as Willis did,” Bruce pressed, “She would have won you in a custody dispute. Especially with how many domestic violence charges Willis has against him.”
“Dad had domestic violence—“ Jason started, but cut himself off.
So mom could have left, but just didn’t?
“Then why did she stay?”
Bruce sighed. “That’s a question millions of people have asked about those who stay in abusive relationships. It’s often a very complicated relationship.”
“What about my first mom?” Jason asked, “Why didn’t she love me?”
“Jason,” Bruce said, almost back in his admonishing tone.
It just made Jason scowl harder.
“You can’t know that she didn’t,” Bruce continued, “People sign their rights away for many, many reasons that have nothing to do with not loving their child.”
“She left me with Dad,” Jason snapped.
“Ja—“
“She left me with Dad,” he reiterated, “And Dad got involved with the Falcones, and the Falcones took me to-to pay off his debts and-and—”
“Oh, Jay,” Bruce whispered.
“And, and—“ he tried again, but he couldn’t get his thoughts in full order.
“Jase”
“I’m just a pawn. Donny was lying. He was always lying. He wasn’t ever gonna let me go. He—he--“ He looked back up at Bruce, to see his own pain reflected right back at him, in Bruce’s face.
That was all it took to make Jason fall over the edge, and deteriorate right into sobs again. “How could I fall for it?” he cried, curling up so he could hide his face in his knees, “how stupid am I?”
Dad was wrong. He couldn’t go to college.
He was too dumb.
“Jason, you’re not—“ Bruce tried, but Jason interrupted him.
“He was gonna make me work until no one wanted to fuck me anymore, then sell me off to work in some—in some factory somewhere. Or a mine. Or, I don’t know!” A ranch, maybe. A coffee plantation.
“Where did you hear that?” Bruce asked, gently, though with a hint of anguish in his voice.
“I looked up what human trafficking was,” Jason cried, sitting back up. That’s what the news and Liz and Bruce and everyone says happened to him.
He’d been trafficked.
Just like over half a million people every single year.
“I was gonna be— gonna be a slave for—“ he tried, but stopped because he was crying too hard. His vision was so blurry he couldn’t see anything but three blobs of color, so he buried his face away again.
The Falcones would have never let him go.
Did they ever let boys go? Or did the boys who got too old and too big to be appealing always get sold off elsewhere?
Why would they let any of them go, if it was all about making money off them?
“And it was all because my dad owed them money, and if my mom really loved me, why did she—“
“Jason,” Bruce whispered.
Jason pulled his face up out of his arms, and tried to actually look at Bruce, but his eyes were way too watery.
“You can’t think like that.”
“I can do whatever I want,” Jason said petulantly, as he buried his face back into his arms. No one controlled him anymore.
Bruce was probably right, though. How could his biological mom have known Dad would get caught up in the mob, and then the mob would traffic him?
Slowly, gently, Bruce’s hand settled on the back of Jason’s head, and Bruce ran it down over Jason’s hair, flattening out his curls.
“Is this okay,” Bruce asked.
Jason nodded, even though it made Bruce lift his hand for a second, before it settled back down.
And he was starkly reminded that Bruce really loved him.
He’d basically just said so, by saying he wanted to adopt Jason.
Even though he didn’t have to, just like Catherine didn’t have to adopt Jason.
And Bruce—
Bruce was way nicer than Dad. Way, way, way nicer.
Why—why couldn't have Bruce just—
Jason hiccuped, between his deep, heavy sobs and Bruce’s hand retracted completely.
Because he probably thought he had upset Jason
By touching him.
Because Bruce respected—
Bruce outright startled when Jason sat up and threw himself at Bruce, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck as he buried his face into his shoulder.
And just like he had at Catherine’s grave, Bruce returned the hug fiercely, holding Jason tight.
Jason didn’t have to try not to tense up, this time. Not with Bruce.
Because unlike Dad, Bruce would never hurt him.
Unlike almost everyone Jason had ever known.
Donny… Donny hadn’t hurt him a lot.
Personally.
But he was the one who brought man after man—
Jason tightened his grip on Bruce as he heaved a sob, “I was just a slave,” he cried, “I hated—I hated it all. I hated everything.”
And it was all for money.
“I know,” Bruce murmured, his hand back to petting at Jason’s hair, “It’s over now, I promise.”
“I never want to do it again,” he cried, “I—“ but he didn’t even know what he was saying.
“You won’t, I promise,” Bruce said fiercely, “I’ve got you now.”
And Bruce—Batman would protect him.
“It was all my dad’s fault”
Bruce pushed him back and put a hand on the side of his face as he said, “Jason, hey. Look at me. Don’t think like that.”
“But it’s true,” Jason insisted.
“No, it’s not,” Bruce said, gently, “Your father was not the one who trafficked you, and based on that reaction he had to finding out it happened, I’d wager he would have never gone along with it.”
Jason pressed a sleeve into his eyes and he lost it all over again.
Dad would have killed Donny. Jason knew that. Not just any dude who touched him, but Donny too.
Just like he told Jason he would do, now. Even though Donny couldn’t ever get his hands on Jason again.
Not for the first time he wished his dad hadn’t been in jail when mom died.
“You heard him,” Bruce said softly, “He’s furious with the Falcones. He is not to blame in this.”
“He borrowed money,” Jason hiccuped. Even if Dad hadn’t handed him over to Donny, he’d practically put Jason up as collateral when he took that cash.
Bruce nodded. “Which wasn’t a wise move, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s responsible for you being trafficked. It was Donny and your social worker and whoever else was involved in that deal. Every single adult who knew what was happening to you, and let it keep happening. They are to blame. Not you, not your dad, not your mom, and not your biological mom. The Falcones.”
Jason sniffled, and sat back into his chair, further out of Bruce’s arms. Bruce dropped his hand, and set it in his own lap as he watched Jason.
The Falcones were the ones who took him.
And the ones who thought Jason should have to pay Dad’s debts.
Who did that? Why—why was that a thing?
Jason had been eight. Eight!!
He didn’t even know Dad had borrowed money. Where had that money even gone? They definitely never had money, as far as he could remember.
But no wonder every single man Bruce could get the name of was going away to prison. If just knowing about Jason had been enough to be complicit in everything.
“Is that why you bought me?” Jason asked. Because had Bruce known about him, and then not done anything, he would have been complicit.
He would have been guilty of helping to traffic Jason. To the next and next and next asshole who slipped Donny a $50.
“What?” Bruce asked, clearly completely thrown.
Jason swiped his sleeve across his face as he said “To- to not traffic me.”
“I did not buy you, Jason,” Bruce said wearily, because he had kind of said it like fifty times to Jason now, “I gave Donny money so he would let me leave with you, so I could rescue you without revealing my identity, or risking harm to come to you in the time it took me to switch to Batman.”
“Thanks,” Jason said.
Whatever mental gymnastics Bruce had to do, to keep from saying he bought Jason didn’t matter. Jason was glad it had happened.
At least— at least one thing good happened to him, out of everything in his stupid life.
Bruce held an arm out, practically begging Jason to let him hug him again, so Jason leaned forward until he was close enough for Bruce to wrap him up again.
“Of course, Jason,” Bruce rasped, setting his cheek down in Jason’s hair, “Of course.”
There was so much going through Jason’s head. So many things to—to. He didn’t know.
Think about and figure out.
But at least Bruce wasn’t one of those things, he thought, as he wrapped his arms around Bruce in return to cry into his shirt again.
And Bruce, of course, didn’t mind at all.
At least he had that.
Notes:
🥺🥺🥺🥺
Oh and I forgot to say last chapter: I wrote two little one shots in this AU.
One shot set like 6 months in the future: here
Drabble about Bruce visiting Catherine's grave: hereThat last one I might rewrite and expand on and post it to ao3 eventually, but we'll see.
Also I adored all the comments I got last chapter, writing Willis was fun, and I think there should be more complicated Willis & Jason relationship out there. And for THIS chapter, no one can convince me in this day and age, Bruce DIDN'T know pretty much instantly after digging into Jason's past about the whole Catherine and Sheila thing. I will buy Bruce didn't think to mention it to Jason, under the assumption Jason already knew, but NOT THAT HE DIDN'T KNOW. Since birth certificates do get reissued when a child is adopted. So thus, this chapter. Hahaha.
And oh nooooooooo, if Jason knows about Sheila at the age of 12 and doesn't find out about it at a particularly vulnerable moment when he doesnt feel loved by Bruce, how on earth will she lure him to Joker to be murdered. Oh noooooo~~~~~~~ (the answer is: she wont. Joker aint touching my baby)
Chapter 63
Summary:
Jason spent the next few days wallowing in his room, but when Bruce asked "Do you want to go out for dinner," there was no way Jason could say "no."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason spent the rest of Monday and all of Tuesday hiding away in his room.
Well. He wasn’t hiding, he was just… not leaving his room. Sitting on his couch or in his window reading books or playing games, completely ignoring the outside world. And the inside world. He did at least go downstairs to get food, so it wasn’t like he was starving himself or anything. So Jason didn’t get why Bruce was so upset about it.
Bruce had texted if he was sure he didn’t want to try and see Liz before Friday, and Jason said he was absolutely positively sure.
What the heck would he even talk to her about? So his mom wasn’t his real mom and his dad was the reason he got trafficked in the first place and everything Donny had ever said to him ever was a lie.
Big deal.
It was fine. Everything was fine.
Because it was fine. He wasn’t trafficked anymore. The mob couldn’t get at him again, and he had Bruce, who was literally Batman, protecting him now. So. There was no need to think about anything or talk about it or anything.
He was going to play his Switch and read his Kindle and finish his math work and that was it.
But then on Wednesday afternoon, Bruce texted him again. But this time it read “Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?” and how on earth could Jason say ‘no?’
He loved going out to eat.
“Dick will meet us there, wherever you pick,” Bruce replied. Because Dick was coming home. For Jason’s birthday. Just like he promised.
‘I get to pick?’ he texted back, as he dug his sneakers out of his closet. They were kind of a little buried. By his dirty clothes. That he hadn’t put in the hamper for a week.
“It’s your birthday we’re celebrating,” Bruce texted back, and Jason couldn’t help but grin.
His birthday wasn’t until tomorrow, and yet they were already celebrating.
After he tied his shoes, he slipped on his WE hoody and skipped down the stairs to find Bruce where he always was, in his study.
“I can pick anything,” he asked, when Bruce looked up the instant Jason was within sight from his desk.
Bruce let out a short chuckle and said, “Well, I might steer you away from a couple places, but generally yes.”
Finishing his trek into the study, Jason leaned up against the back of one of the chairs in front of Bruce’s desk and asked, “Like where?” Were there mob restaurants in Bristol? Like Marzoni’s? Why else would Bruce not want to take Jason someplace?
Did Bruce normally go to mob restaurants and just wouldn’t with Jason? Or was he at Marzoni’s that day on purpose?
Bruce pointed at the phone in Jason’s hand and said, “Why don’t you get on that and look at what is in Bristol and see if there’s anything that catches your eye.”
With a huff, Jason unlocked his phone and pulled up the little map app and started scrolling through all the restaurants nearby. “Are any of these mob restaurants,” he asked. He really couldn’t tell just looking, because honestly he had no clue what mob restaurants even looked like on their little info pages. Maybe he should look up what Marzoni’s looked like on the internet.
“No,” Bruce said fairly quickly, “I just won’t support a few because of who owns them.”
“Why?” Jason asked, curiously. What would make a rich dude boycott places?
Bruce leaned back in his chair and explained, “Many reasons. Some people around here are connected to Gotham’s criminal empires, and I refuse to indirectly fund any of that, but the restaurants themselves aren’t fronts for anything.”
“But you’ll eat at Marzoni’s,” Jason mumbled as he looked back down at the phone. Bruce really made no sense ever.
“Only when following leads,” Bruce said evenly.
Jason looked back up and raised an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t planning on finding a kid that day.” How could he have not meant to find Jason while also following leads?
“I wasn’t,” Bruce said with a slight smile, “I thought I was going to bust an illegal weapons deal.”
“Oh,” Jason said, “Did you?”
Bruce smile shifted to something more fond as he said, “I got distracted by something far more important.”
“Oh,” Jason said again, with a slight smile of his own. He was important.
Important enough that he had to pick where to eat his birthday dinner at now. Jason looked back down at his phone and scrolled through the list again. “I can pick anything?” he asked again. There were just so many options.
“What do you see?” Bruce asked in response.
There was a lot. And tons and tons of stuff he’d never tried before. Indian food. Thai. Cuban. That one was pretty neat. Or Moroccan.
“Can we try Brazilian,” he finally asked. The food in that restaurant’s picture looked fantastic.
“The Brazilian Grill,” Bruce asked, saying the super creative name of the restaurant Jason had found. Jason nodded, so Bruce said, “Sure, that’s a fun place.”
“Why is it fun?”
“It’s an all you can eat place, but instead of a buffet, they bring the food to you.”
That did sound fun. “So when are we leaving,” he asked. Jason was ready to leave right then.
But then Bruce said, “In about an hour. Dick is too far out for us to head over now,” and Jason absolutely deflated.
He slumped down over the seat back he was leaning on and let out a groan. An hour was so far away.
Bruce shifted, and Jason heard him open one his desk drawers. Jason looked up to see him pull a deck of cards and hold them up.
“Do you know any card games,” Bruce asked.
“Go Fish,” Jason said immediately, “Or, kind of Blackjack and Poker.” He’d need refreshers on those two, but he was pretty sure he could figure them out quick enough without one.
“Hm,” Bruce hummed, “How about Gin Rummy?”
“I’ve never even heard of that,” Jason said honestly. It sounded kind of dumb, though.
“Would you like to learn? Alfred taught me it when I was about your age.”
Oh. Well if Alfred had taught it to Bruce, then maybe it wasn’t too dumb.
With a nod, Jason rounded the chair to sit down, so he and Bruce could play on the desk between them.
It was maybe sort of super cool Bruce would share something like that with him….
“All right,” Bruce said, as he cleared the desk off, “So here’s how it starts.”
Jason listened attentively to the entire spiel, then tried his best. And the hour absolutely flew by as Bruce patiently walked Jason through the game three different times.
Jason didn’t really get it, but at least by the time Bruce said, “All right, I think we should head to the restaurant,” Jason had figured it out enough not to outright lose instantly.
“Is Alfred coming, too,” Jason asked, eagerly following Bruce out of the study and toward the garage. It would be weird not having Alfred there, since this was his birthday dinner or whatever. Shouldn’t the whole… everyone be coming?
But Bruce said, “No,” looking a touch regretful, “he suggested we eat out tonight so he could spend the evening baking your cake.”
“I get a cake?” Jason couldn’t help but grin at that.
They were seriously doing so much for his birthday. They hadn’t even known him all that long, and they were doing way more than his own parents ever did.
Because he hadn’t had a cake in years. Maybe not since he was, like, five.
Sometimes his mom at least got him a cupcake at the store, but she didn’t always… remember. At least not those last couple years.
It wasn’t her fault… she didn’t remember much near the end…
“Of course,” Bruce said, “Alfred said you ‘didn’t know’ what your favorite kind of cake was when he asked a few weeks ago, so he wants to make each layer of the cake different flavors, I think.”
Jason grinned even more. “Alfred is so awesome.” He’d have to figure out a nice way to say thank you to Alfred.
He still kind of wished Alfred was coming with them, though. Maybe he could pester Alfred into going out to dinner with them some other time. Or ask Alfred to take him to therapy one week, so then he’d have to take Jason to get his treat after and they could eat pastries or hotdogs together.
That would be fun.
“I’m glad you think so,” Bruce said, opening the door to the garage for him, “Pick a car for us to take.”
“The Lambo,” Jason exclaimed instantly. Next to the Hellcat, that was the coolest car in the garage, and Jason hadn’t rode in anything but the Hellcat or Tesla so far.
Well, other than Alfred’s Bentley, obviously.
Sure enough, Bruce took the Lamborghini’s key from the key-box and unlocked it, so Jason ran over to the passenger seat and got in.
Bruce was awesome, too.
- - -
Dick beat them to the restaurant, mostly because Bruce totally took a super long way there showing the car off to Jason.
They went fast. And it was amazing.
Jason’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much by the time Bruce parked in the spot next to Dick’s Porsche.
As soon as they were parked, Dick got out of his car and grinned as soon as Jason got out, too.
“There’s the birthday boy,” Dick said brightly, holding a fist out toward Jason, “put’er there.”
Jason returned the smile and bumped Dick’s fist. “Hi, Dick,” he said once he did.
“Hey,” he said back, “You picked an awesome place for dinner.”
“Have you been here before?” Jason asked, walking alongside Dick to the back of the cars.
Bruce joined them there and wrapped an arm around Dick’s back in a quick side hug. “Good to see you,” he said, letting go too fast for Dick to even return it.
“You too,” Dick said, clapping Bruce on the back, “And yeah, Bruce took me here a couple times as a kid. We never went often, though.”
“I want to try all the restaurants,” Jason said, skipping along. All of them. In Bristol, at least.
Trying to eat everywhere in Gotham, too, was probably impossible to do in a single lifetime.
“We should go out to eat more often than we do,” Bruce said as he opened the door for Dick and Jason to go inside first, “or at the very least order delivery more often.”
“Yes, please,” Jason said, “and Alfred has to come with us at least sometimes.”
Bruce merely smiled, but Dick laughed and said, “I bet if you asked him, he’d actually do that.”
“Really,” Jason asked.
“I think Alfred would do anything for you, Jason,” Bruce said, just before the hostess asked them if they needed a table for three.
Jason didn’t have any time to think about that statement before they were seated and a waiter was explaining how the whole dining experience worked.
There was a salad bar for them to fix their own gross vegetables, but the main event was all the different meats waiters would walk around and serve to any one that wanted them. Their waiter went ahead and took their drink order, iced tea for Bruce and Dr. Pepper for Dick and Jason, and gave them their card that told all the servers if they wanted more food or not.
Dick handed the card to Jason from where he’d sat next to Jason, so Jason gladly smacked the card on the table to let everyone know they were hungry.
“This is so cool,” he said, looking up at Bruce across the table from him.
“It sure is,” Bruce said, “I’m going to fix my salad, would you boys like anything?”
“Not right now,” Dick said, and Jason just outright shook his head.
No way. Why would he eat veggies at an all-you-can eat place? He was going to eat zero vegetables that night. Alfred wasn’t there to put them on his plate if Jason ‘failed to.’
But a few minutes later, Bruce came back with a plate for Jason, anyway, with a whole array of salad stuff and veggies on it.
Jason scowled at the plate, but at least Bruce didn’t get him huge scoops of stuff.
And there were no peas, unlike his own plate.
“At least eat some of it,” Bruce said, “so I can report to Alfred I fed you properly.”
“How come Dick isn’t being forced to eat healthy stuff,” Jason grumbled, but he stabbed one of the olives with his fork and ate it first.
“I trust Dick will fix himself a plate in a little while,” Bruce said.
Dick started to respond, but they got interrupted by one of the servers with a giant piece of meat on a stick.
The guy carved servings of lamb onto their plates while their water finally came back with their drinks, and honestly Jason was dying to start eating.
He’d never had lamb before. Never.
Unless Alfred had fed him lamb without telling him that’s what it was.
“Hey,” Bruce said. Jason looked up and watched as Bruce picked his glass up and held it out, motioning for Jason and Dick to do the same.
Jason picked his glass up and grinned, because he’d never done that before. What was it called? A toast? Cheers? He didn’t remember.
But he listened as Bruce said, “It’s your last night being twelve. Here’s to a good night and a great thirteen.”
“Yes,” Jason said, clinking his glass against Bruce’s and Dick’s. He had no doubt both those things would be true.
“We’re gonna start the year off right by getting ice cream every single day I’m here this week,” Dick said, while Jason dug straight into his food.
“The ice cream bracket?” Jason asked, through a mouthful of lamb.
“Jay,” Bruce sighed, but Dick just laughed.
“Yep!” he said, “We have to try at least six more flavors this week.”
Jason finished his bite that time, before he said, “Deal!”
And Jason had absolutely no doubt. With Bruce and Dick and Alfred, thirteen was gonna be great.
Notes:
Woohoo! Still getting closer and closer to the end, but this chapter was a surprise bonus chapter not included in my final outline. It was born from 'i need a scene to transition into the birthday party to get Jason back into a better mood' and then it ended up being its own chapter. LOL Maybe I won't go over 70 chapters? NO CLUE, we'll see.
Oh and just a little housekeeping note: With blocking being a thing now my new policy will be: I will block anyone who leaves criticism. I love you guys and appreciate people wanting to 'help,' but I do not want any form of criticism. Thank you for respecting that. <3
Chapter Text
Bruce and Dick kept Jason up late that night. Jason was pretty sure it wasn’t on purpose or anything, but after they got home from dinner they played Monopoly with Alfred, because Jason had gone and found him where he was tidying up in the Batcave and dragged him upstairs to join them.
It had been so fun, even if Jason had almost gone bankrupt…
Dick had maybe slipped him a couple hundreds under the table when Jason realized he couldn’t pay rent to Alfred, and Alfred and Bruce pretended not to notice. After that Jason had managed to score both dark blue places and was working hard to get a hotel on Boardwalk.
But the next thing he knew, it was midnight, and Bruce was looking down at alerts on his phone, sighing.
“Batman stuff?” was all Jason had to ask, and Bruce nodded.
“You should probably get some sleep, anyway,” Bruce said, “We can play more tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Jason said easily as he stood up off the ground he’d been sitting on, “but it’s my turn next.”
Bruce set the dice down in front of his spot and smiled. “We won’t forget, lad. Good night.”
“Night, Jase,” Dick said, still sitting on the ground next to where he’d been.
And Alfred also said, “Sweet dreams, dear boy,” and Jason couldn’t help but smile again.
“Night,” he told them all, before skipping out the room and up to his.
It’d been a good day, and he just knew tomorrow would be an even better one.
Jason barely remembered laying down before he was out like a light.
- - -
His birthday morning was no different than normal mornings for him.
He woke up on his couch, as he always did, and lazed around for a while, just chilling. He knew Bruce would text him around 9 about breakfast, so he made sure he got ready for the day before then.
When he did go down for breakfast, he was elated to smell it was French toast. His absolute favorite.
“Good morning and happy birthday, lad,” Alfred said, as Jason entered the kitchen to peek at the food.
Jason grinned and passed through the door into the dining room, to see Dick and Bruce already sitting at the table.
Both of them wished him a happy birthday, too, and really Jason was already so happy. It was already the best birthday ever.
Of course, the celebration didn’t end with Jason’s favorite breakfast. Dick and Bruce spent the entire day with him, while Alfred was off ‘setting up,’ for his party, apparently.
Right after breakfast, Dick dragged Jason and Bruce outside, and the three of them played baseball, of all things.
Jason had never played baseball before, but he had a ton of fun learning. Even if really all they did was take turns pitching and hitting the ball, with the third person trying to catch the balls. It was kind of fun, until it started really heating up outside. Running after the ball was actually really miserable, in his hoody.
“I’m too hot,” Jason had whined, when Dick told him he had to run if he hoped to catch the ball.
“We really need to get you a summer hoody, bud,” Bruce said, for at least the third time.
“I’ll just take it off,” he grumbled. They were at home and it wasn’t like Bruce or Dick were gonna look at him, anyway.
Right?
Jason tried not to think about it as he slipped the hoody off and threw it to the side. The cool breeze hit him hard, making him shiver slightly, but it was so much better.
Even if he felt a little… exposed.
Bruce did look at him, but only for a split second before he turned back toward Dick and asked, “Ready, Jase?”
“Yeah,” Jason exhaled.
They played for another twenty minutes, until Jason called it quits.
“I have to use the bathroom,” had been his excuse that neither Bruce nor Dick objected to.
Really what happened was all his skin started itching, but the mere thought of putting the hoody back on outside threatened to kill him of heat stroke. It could happen, after all.
Bruce was probably right… he should get some summer hoodies…
Not long after they went back inside, and Jason escaped to his room to wash up and switch to a not-sweaty hoody, he got called back downstairs for his party.
Because they did, indeed, throw him an actual party with decorations and everything. It was honestly maybe a little overwhelming, just how much they had done when Jason made his way back into the dining room.
Or, well. How much Alfred had done, since he was the one that cooked and decorated and everything. And after their lunch of burgers and homemade french fries, Alfred brought the cake out to the table, with thirteen candles on it already lit. All three of them actually sang him Happy Birthday.
Jason refused to think about how he’d never been sung Happy Birthday before. If he thought about stuff he might cry, and he was supposed to be happy. He was happy. So much so.
So he grinned wide and waited for them to finish before he blew out the candles.
“Present time,” Dick exclaimed, as soon as Jason got the last candle out, “You have to open mine since it’s the best one.”
Jason looked over to see him holding up a gift bag he hadn’t even seen before. He shifted, so he was sitting up on his knees and was tall enough to look into the bag Dick sat down in front of him. Before he opened it, though, he looked up to see Bruce and Alfred stack more gift up in the middle of the table.
A lot of them.
Like. Five more gifts.
Why were there so many??
And hadn’t Bruce and Dick both already given him his ‘birthday gift???’ The Lego set and the Batman hoody?
“Go on, open it,” Dick said, drawing Jason’s attention back to the gift bag in front of him.
The bag itself wasn’t anything fancy. It was mostly white with rainbow confetti and a simple Happy Birthday on the side. There also wasn’t a card, or even a tag that said who it was from.
He supposed that wasn’t necessary.
Jason sat up a little taller so he could look down inside the bag as he pulled the tissue paper out.
And he couldn’t help but grin wide when he saw the symbol staring back up at him.
“A Superman hoody,” he said, pulling the bright blue hoody out to look at.
Bruce sighed, loudly, and Jason just grinned wider.
“I figured you needed one.”
“Why does Bruce hate Superman so much,” Jason asked, as he pulled the tag off the hoody. He kind of wanted to wear it, so the pictures Alfred was not-so-secretly taking would have the Superman logo in it instead of the Batman one. The Superman one was tons thinner, too, and made from that athletic material that was super cool.
Maybe it would be the best hoody out of all of his for playing outside in the middle of August.
“I do not hate-“ Bruce started, but Dick absolutely cut him off.
“He’s just jealous,” Dick said, “Superman can fly, I mean, it’s hard to compete with that.”
“Why don’t you open your next present,” Bruce said, cutting Dick right back off.
“Thanks Dick,” Jason said, as he set the hoody aside and took the next present Bruce pushed his way.
He looked down at the little tag on it and read, “From Selina?”
Selina had gotten him a present?? He’d only met her the one time.
“She’s quite fond of you,” Bruce said with a shrug.
Which was weird, since, again, she’d only met him the one time.
But Jason had liked her well enough, too. She was funny.
Jason turned his attention back to the neatly wrapped box and ripped the wrapping off, then opened the box inside.
And.
It was a stuffed animal. A cat specifically, but still a stuffed animal.
“How old does she think I am,” he said with a little laugh. Maybe she just assumed he was ten, like Donny always told people.
Yeah, he had his stuffed bear he slept with, but that was different. His mom had given that to him.
“She wanted to get you a real cat,” Bruce said dryly, “I talked her down to a stuffed one.”
“Really?” Jason asked. Why would Selina want to get him a real cat? That would be a weird present.
He wouldn’t, like, hate a real cat, though. He was just more of a dog person.
“It’s cute,” he finally said, as he set it down on top of his Superman hoody. He could at least put it on his shelf.
It was neat she liked him enough to get him anything at all.
The whole… party… was neat, Jason had to admit. But he couldn’t think about that, either. No way in hell was he going to start crying while opening presents.
“This one next,” Dick said, picking up a smaller rectangle gift, wrapped in Batman wrapping paper.
Jason grinned again and took it. It didn’t have who it was from on the outside, though, so he asked, “Who is this one from?”
“The Gordons,” Bruce said.
“The Commissioner,” Jason asked. The Commissioner got him a birthday gift??? Even though the only time Jason met him, he’d been kind of a giant brat to him??
“And Babs,” Dick said, “I think she picked it out specifically, but yeah, Commissioner Gordon, too.”
“There are a lot of people who are very happy you exist and are safe, Jason,” Alfred said, and Jason had to look down at the neatly wrapped gift for a moment.
He was not. going. to. cry.
Slowly, trying his best not to show how shaky his hands felt, Jason tore open the wrapping and had to turn the book inside around, so he could read the title.
A Tangle of Knots, it read. “I’ve never heard of this one,” he mumbled, as he opened the cover. A card fell out, and Jason jumped to catch it before he fell off the table and to the floor. He set it aside as he looked at the note on the first page, written in super neat handwriting.
‘Jason,’ it read, ‘Happy 13th birthday! I read this book recently and thought about you. Bruce doesn’t collect new fiction often, so I figured you might not have it already. I know Bruce has a library straight out of the movies, but there’s something special about public libraries, so come visit me sometime so we can nerd out about books together. If you like this book, I have heaps more suggestions for you.’
“She got me a library card,” Jason said, as he picked the card up and flipped it over. There was a string of numbers and a little sticky note on it that said his online pin was the last four numbers of Bruce’s cell phone number.
“We’ll have to take you over there sometime,” Bruce said.
“I can take you tomorrow,” Dick offered, “I’d love to see Babs.”
“That would be fun,” Jason mumbled, as he turned to the next present in front of him.
It was a gift bag again, and Bruce was the one to push it over in front of him. This one did have a tag on it, so Jason turned it around to read ‘from Bruce’ written in cursive on it.
“You already got me the legos,” Jason grumbled.
But he didn’t grumble it too loudly.
Because.
He kind of maybe liked so many people wanted to give him something for his birthday.
It was just the day he was born on thirteen years ago, and they wanted to celebrate it this much.
Not even his own mother loved him enough to want to stick around to see his first birthday—
Nope.
Jason was not thinking about any of that.
“Yes,” Bruce said, “but then I saw this.”
Jason had to suppress a smile as he pulled the tissue paper out and pulled the colorful box out from the bag.
And it was… an actual model of a Hellcat, Jason thought. Like metal, and needing gluing and painting and… Jason didn’t even know.
“You seem to enjoy building lego cars,” Bruce explained, rubbing the back of his neck, “I thought you might like these, too.”
Jason turned the box over and looked more closely.
“My dad was into models, when I was a kid,” Bruce said, “I used to sit and watch him build them.”
Jason looked up at him and asked, “Will you build it with me?”
“Of course,” Bruce said instantly, smiling wide.
And that was another thing Jason was not going to think about. Bruce wanting to spend time with Jason the way his dad spent time with him.
“One more gift,” Dick said, before Jason could respond again. He sat up in his chair and pulled the last one from the middle of the table and pushed it over to Jason.
“This one is from Alfred,” Bruce said, as Jason pulled the last gift closer to himself.
It was suspiciously shaped like a stack of books, and certainly felt like it when he pulled it closer.
He smiled and ripped the wrapping off, although more carefully than the last wrapped present, since the shiny gold wrapping looked a lot nicer than the Batman wrapping.
But when he got the paper off it, he very delicately opened the top book up.
Because it looked old.
“Is this…” he started, but trailed off as he read the title page for the second time. ‘Pride and Prejudice A Novel in Three Volumes.’ But it was missing the by Jane Austen part.
Since the book was originally published anonymously.
“It’s a first edition, yes,” Alfred said
“Wow,” Jason breathed, as he carefully picked the first volume up and opened it up. He kind of felt like he should be wearing gloves, “How much did this cost,” he whispered
“Does that mean you like them,” Alfred asked, and Jason had to look up at him.
He— he didn’t even know how to answer that.
Yes he liked it.
“This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, as he looked back down and carefully turned the pages to the start of the book.
But there was no way he could actually read these, could he?? He didn’t want to ruin them.
Jason jumped to his feet and rounded the table, to where Alfred was standing and wrapped an arm around him. “Thanks, Alfie,” he said with a smile.
Alfred placed a hand in his hair and said, “Of course, my dear boy. I’m so glad you like them.”
“Should we eat cake now?” Bruce asked, and Jason pulled himself away from Alfred and nodded enthusiastically.
“Wait,” he said hastily, “I gotta put the books away so they don’t get cake on them!”
He grabbed the books and carefully cradled them in his arms, and ran off to his room.
There was a lot Jason wasn’t going to think about, but as he made his way up to his room super carefully, even if a little fast, he couldn’t help but think this was the best birthday ever. And they hadn’t even had cake and ice cream yet!
Really, Jason was so so so so glad he knew the Waynes and they were his family. He needed to figure out when all of their birthdays were, so he could get them things, too.
Well. He didn’t have any money, but he could figure it out. Maybe he could make them all something, he didn’t know.
All he knew was he was so happy he lived with Bruce.
Notes:
Thank you so much to everyone who gave me book recommendations for what Babs could get Jason. Someone on anon recced the one I picked, but seriously I've added so many of those books y'all offered up to my own reading list and have already read The House in the Cerulean Sea from it.
Since the last time I posted, I added two new chapters to Forging Safety, so check those out if you haven't already! They do take place in the future, but I don't feel like it 'spoils' anything at this point. We all know Jason is settling into a happy child here. 🥺
And as always, thanks for reading! ❤️
Chapter 65
Summary:
Jason thought his birthday was already the best birthday in the history of forever, then Bruce offered him the one thing he'd been dying to do.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Back downstairs, Alfred served everyone a massive piece of cake, starting with Jason.
Like, seriously, it was massive. It was super tall with six different layers, and Jason just knew he wouldn’t be able to finish it. Especially not when Alfred put a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the plate next to it.
The layers of the cake were all different colors, and Jason honestly couldn’t even begin to guess what each flavor was. But the pink layer looked the richest, so he tried it first and was delighted to learn it was strawberry flavored.
He’d never even heard of strawberry cake.
When Jason looked up, he saw both Dick and Bruce had a piece of cake, but Alfred didn’t. Instead, he was putting the lid back on the ice cream and was acting like he was going to disappear, like he always did during dinner.
There wasn’t even a fourth plate out.
“Aren’t you going to have a piece,” Jason asked. Alfred spent forever making the cake, obviously he had to eat it, too.
“It wouldn’t be prop—“ Alfred started, but Jason cut him right off.
“Alfred,” he whined, “it’s my birthday and I want you at my party, too.” Alfred was definitely part of the family if they even were one, so there so no reason for him not to sit with them.
He was ready to get up and make Alfred sit down, but he didn’t have to. Because Alfred paused, but dropped his shoulders and smiled softly. “Very well then,” he said, “I don’t believe that is a wish I can deny.”
Jason grinned when Alfred pulled out another plate from the china hutch and cut himself a piece of cake. When he sat down at the table next to Bruce, since Jason was sitting in Bruce’s normal chair, Dick held a fist out to Jason.
“Nice work,” Dick whispered, when Jason gave him a fist bump, and all Jason could do was grin wider.
The rest of the day was just as fun as the start. They played the rest of their Monopoly game, then they had chili for dinner. Just because Alfred said he noticed how much Jason liked it the last time Alfred had made it.
Jason was ready to call it the best day ever by bedtime, when Bruce went and said something to make it seventy-million times cooler.
“What do you say about joining Batman and Robin out for a spin tonight?” Bruce asked, just before Jason usually went up for bed.
The question was so out of left-field, Jason froze for a solid second before he sat forward in his seat on the couch and exclaimed, “Like, in the Batmobile?!”
Was Bruce really seriously offering that? Because Jason might just die if he was.
“If you think you’d enjoy it,” Bruce said evenly, though Jason could tell he was hiding a gigantic smile behind his faux disinterested facade.
Jason was too excited to even call him on it. “Are you kidding?” he shouted, jumping to his feet. There was nothing on earth he’d enjoy doing more.
Nothing.
“YES,” he nearly shouted, “Right now? Can we go right now?”
Bruce finally gave into his smile then, and let out a chuckle as he said, “All right, all right. Why don’t you go see if Dick is ready to get going for the night.”
“DICK,” Jason screamed, already running out of the room before Bruce had even finished his sentence. He ran up the stairs and toward Dick’s room, where he’d slipped off to earlier to answer a phone call. Jason had been nervous Dick was gonna bail and leave, but Bruce had assured him Dick was just chatting with friends.
Jason still wasn’t sure how Bruce even knew, but when Dick never came down saying I’m sorry, Jay, but I have to go, Jason decided Bruce was probably right.
“Dick,” he shouted again, once he reached Dick’s room. He knocked on the door hard enough the door creaked open from how it was cracked open. Since Dick wasn’t on the phone anymore, but was just laying in bed playing on it, he said quickly, “Dick, Bruce said I could go for a ride tonight with you and him but you have to come downstairs!”
With a smile, Dick laughed and said, “I told him you’d be ecstatic about that.”
“Come on,” Jason whined, shaking the door a little from where he’d grasped onto the knob, “I’ve been waiting forever for Bruce to let me ride in the Batmobile.”
“Okay, okay,” Dick said, holding a hand up as he pocketed his phone. He literally flipped out of bed, then made it to the door in three long strides, “I guess we can go downstairs then.”
Jason grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked alongside Dick toward the stairs. “The Batmobile is my favorite car ever.” And he still couldn’t believe he even got to see it, much less was about to ride in it.
“I thought the Superman car was,” Dick said, as he motioned for Jason to go down the stairs first.
“That’s what I told Bruce,” Jason said, skipping down the stairs. But obviously the Batmobile was way cooler.
Obviously.
“Oh, so you’re a little troll, are you?” Dick laughed, “No wonder Bruce and Alfie are so taken with you.”
Jason bit his lip, he smiled so hard, but he shook himself of it and said, “Hurry up,” as he darted off down the hall toward the study.
Dick laughed again, but did speed up a little and caught up with Jason in the study.
“Do you know how to open the clock?” Dick asked, when Jason just stopped at the clock, waiting for Dick to come open it.
“Bruce only showed me once, but I wasn’t paying attention to what he did,” Jason admitted. He’d been convinced Bruce was fucking with him by saying the Batmobile was in the study.
“Well, it’s easy,” Dick said, reaching up to the clock face, “Set the clock to 10:48 and it will unlock.”
How mad would Bruce be if Jason just went down to the cave on his own? He was wiling to bet Bruce would somehow know the cave had been opened, though.
Once they passed through the clock, Jason looked at the fireman poles and asked, “Did Bruce really have to catch you the first few times you slid down the pole?” The poles just looked too fun not to slide down, but he also didn’t want to get hurt.
Especially not right before he was supposed to ride in the Batmobile!
“Oh yeah,” Dick said, as they both started down the stairs, “if you’re not careful you can go fast on those things.”
How fast?? Was there a way to control ones speed? “I want to try it sometime,” he said.
Not that he went into the cave often. This was only his second time, after all.
And he’d known about Batman for a couple weeks.
Although he did know how to get down there on his own, now…
“I’m sure Bruce would love to teach you how,” Dick said, as he skipped down the last few steps.
Jason sped up and followed after him, and wondered to himself if it had to be Bruce that taught him.
Then again… did it matter if it was?
“Ah, there you boys are,” Bruce said, before Jason could mull over that thought any longer.
He looked up at Bruce only to see it wasn’t Bruce that had talked.
It was Batman.
In his uniform and everything, just without his mask on. Sitting at the Batcomputer.
All Jason could do was stare for a moment, because while he’d known Bruce was Batman, and he’d seen all his Batman stuff, he’d yet to actually see Bruce dressed as Batman.
And it was kind of really fucking cool.
“Let me go get changed,” Dick said, disappearing off into one of the side rooms of the cave.
Jason turned to Bruce and stared for a long moment. If Bruce noticed, he didn’t say anything, just kept flipping through lots and lots of information on the giant screens.
“So,” he said, finally walking over toward the desk so he could hop up on it and sit next to Bruce, “you really don’t have superpowers?”
“No, I do not,” Bruce replied without looking over. His lip twitched, though, as he kept typing away on his computer.
With a nod, Jason asked, “Does Dick?”
“No,” Bruce said, which was no surprise. Dick would be an ass if he hadn’t told Jason about super powers.
Jason kicked his feet and looked around the cave. “So,” he said, as he stared up at the spaceship he still couldn’t believe existed, “What made you decide one day to dress up and go beat people up? And, like, go into space and fight aliens and shit.”
Bruce glanced over briefly, then turned back to the computer where he typed for another few seconds. He rather definitively smacked the enter button before he pushed his chair back and turned fully toward Jason.
“Well,” he said, “When I was eight years old, my parents were murdered by a mugger right in front of me.”
Jason nodded. He knew that. Vaguely. It was a story every Gothamite knew. “But, like, lots of people have thad that happen to them. It’s Gotham,” he said.
Hell, half the boys Donny had over the years had witnessed some brutal murder like that. Jason was kind of glad he hadn’t.
Okay. Super glad.
“Exactly,” Bruce said, “It happens far too often. It shouldn’t happen at all. I had to grow up without my parents because of the crime plaguing this city. I’m fortunate enough that I had Alfred, and my family’s wealth to protect me, but growing up without parents is a pain no child should have to live with.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Bruce, “but, like, don’t you fix that by being a foster parent.” Because, it wasn’t like Jason was really an orphan, and crime hadn’t exactly taken his parents away. Not in the way Bruce was talking about, since Dad was the criminal and doing drugs was technically illegal… but still. Without Bruce taking him in, he would have grown up the rest of the way without parents.
Or… at least without adults acting like parents to him.
He couldn’t see how going out and beating people up was achieving that goal more than taking Jason and Dick before him in.
Bruce smiled, then. One of his smiles-are-illegal smiles Jason hadn’t seen in a while. Lately he’d just been smiling like a normal human.
Weird.
“I’ve been able to do that for two of you now, yes,” Bruce said, “But what about all the other little boys and girls in Gotham? I can’t take them all in. Not and give each of you the attention you deserve.”
Jason merely shrugged. “You could fund an orphanage and, like, hire people to do that.” And that would still be doing more than punching people.
Bruce nodded absently and said, “The Wayne Foundation already funds one orphanage, but I could certainly look into funding more if the city needs it.”
“Well foster care is just so fantastic,” Jason said sardonically.
With a heavy sigh, Bruce slouched back in his chair some and said, “Before I met you, I thought it had been doing far better than when I first met Dick.”
Raising an eyebrow, Jason gave Bruce a you’re-fucking-kidding-me look.
Because.
He was fucking kidding, right?
“They put Dick into Juvenile Hall and treated him like a criminal when all he had done was lose his parents at a time foster care was full,” Bruce explained, “It seemed to be much better now, but now I know they were solving the ‘too many children’ problem by trafficking them. Not by utilizing the city’s orphanages.”
“Juvie definitely would have been better than Donny’s,” Jason mumbled.
Bruce nodded grimly. “Yes, but neither are good options for grieving children.”
Jason frowned, but looked back around the cave and asked, “But the dressing like a bat?”
“To prevent as many children as possible from having to grieve in the first place. Fixing foster care and starting orphanages and taking you in are all acting after-the-fact. I want to prevent the tragedies from occurring in the first place.”
Nodding a touch, Jason stared at Bruce for a good minute as he took in just how serious he looked.
“Ya know, I was so right about you,” Jason finally said, letting a smirk take over his face.
“Hm?”
“You’re a fucking idealist. An optimist.” And it was hilarious Jason had fucking pegged him within three hours of knowing him.
“I believe you called me a ‘dreamer,’” Bruce said, smiling again.
“That, too,” Jason said, returning the smile.
It wasn’t like it was a bad thing Bruce was like that.
Or that Dick was Robin. Because Dick finally came back out of the locker room dressed in his brightly colored suit, looking way cooler than Bruce’s broody one.
Actually, it was kind of funny Bruce had a broody looking suit, since he wasn’t a broody type person. He was way too optimistic and, and… caring to be broody and dark.
“What do you think, Jay,” Dick said, holding his arms out in a look-at-me gesture as he approached the computer desk.
Jason jumped down off the desk and said, “I can’t believe you guys are superheroes,” grinning wide.
“We’re more vigilantes,” Dick started, but Bruce cut in quickly as he stood up.
“Okay,” he said, “if you’re going out tonight, we have some rules we have to go over first.”
Jason nodded enthusiastically. He could follow any rules Bruce put forward if he was really gonna go out in the Batmobile.
“One,” Bruce said, holding a finger up, “there will be absolutely no leaving the car.”
Eagerly, Jason nodded.
That was easy.
“I need you to verbally agree to that,” Bruce said sternly, “It’s extremely dangerous out there and we might be occupied and unable to protect you if something goes wrong.”
“No leaving the car, got it,” Jason said seriously.
“Two. You must wear a mask,” Bruce said, as he walked over to some storage along the wall and opened a drawer. He rummaged through for a moment and pulled a mask out that look a lot like Dick’s, except this one was black instead of the green of Dick’s.
With a grin, Jason asked, “Really?”
How was that even a rule? That was a perk.
“Yes,” Bruce said, as he handed the mask to Jason, “and I want you to keep your hood up all night. It’s unlikely anyone will see you through the tint of the car, but I want to be cautious. Hold that up to your face, does it fit?”
Jason looked down at the mask briefly then asked, “Wait. Am I gonna watch you guys fight crime?”
“No,” Bruce said quickly, “not if we can help it. We will drive around a while, but just in case we have to respond to an emergency, I want to be prepared. Does the mask fit?”
“Oh,” Jason said, trying not to deflate much. He actually didn’t know if he would want to watch Batman and Robin fighting crime.
Finally, he held the mask up to his face to find it fit perfectly.
Bruce held his hand out, so Jason handed the mask back.
“Being prepared is kind of Bruce’s superpower,” Dick said.
“Okay,” Bruce said, completely ignoring Dick. He grabbed a bottle of something off the desk and walked back over to Jason, stopping right in front of him. “I’m going to need to touch your face.”
“That’s fine,” Jason said.
Nodding, Bruce opened the bottle in his hand and explained, “This is glue specifically designed for use on skin. It kind of feels like pulling a bandaid off at the end of the night, but it doesn’t hurt.” The tip of the bottle had a brush on it, and he used it to spread the glue all over the back of the mask.
Jason nodded, but Bruce said, “Hold still,” so Jason did. He tried to watch, but really couldn’t as Bruce carefully placed the mask on his face.
Instead, he just watched Bruce’s concentrated face as he gently pressed the mask against Jason’s face all over, like he was making sure it adhered well and was actually fitting properly.
Once he was done, he pat Jason’s face and said, “Looks good. How does it feel? Secure?”
Jason shook his head as hard as he could and grinned. The mask didn’t even budge. “Yep!”
Dick walked around from behind Jason and pulled a phone out. Except it looked different from his normal phone since his phone had a dumb case on it. This one was sleek black with Batman’s symbol on it.
“Smile,” he said, pointing the phone at Jason.
“Wait,” Jason exclaimed, quickly pulling his hood up like Bruce had told him to do, before he grinned wide for the camera.
Dick took the photo and smiled at it before he turned the phone for Jason to see.
“I look so cool,” he exclaimed. He usually hated pictures of himself, but that one was awesome.
Bruce cleared his throat and said, “Final rule.” Once Jason looked over, he said, “Cave stuff stays in the cave, like that picture.”
Jason nodded seriously. He’d kind of figured that much. As awesome as it would be to put that picture on his desk or whatever, obviously he couldn’t do something like that.
“At the first sign of trouble, Dick is bringing you back to the cave or the penthouse, okay? We’ll come back for you as soon as we can if it’s the penthouse.”
“The penthouse?” Jason asked warily.
He didn’t exactly enjoy his last visit to the penthouse…
But then again. Nothing bad had actually happened.
“We have a special Batman entrance,” Dick said.
“And that’s only if there’s an emergency,” Bruce added, “and then Alfred will be in contact with you so you won’t feel alone.”
With a glance over to the Batmobile, Jason took a deep breath then nodded. It would be so worth it.
“Okay,” Jason said loudly, almost bouncing with anticipation, “keep the hood up, don’t take the mask or whatever out of the cave, and stay in the car! Can we go now?”
Bruce smiled wide as he pulled his cowl on, and Dick just laughed.
“I’ll let you have shotgun,” Dick said, she he walked over to the car and opened the passenger door. He climbed into the back seat then popped it back into place and pat at it, so Jason quickly ran over and hopped in.
Batman took a few seconds longer to head over to the car, but when he finally did he slid into the driver’s seat and asked, “Feeling good?”
“I feel amazing,” Jason exclaimed, “I’m so excited.”
Smiling even wider, Batman said, “Buckle up kiddo,” as he started the car.
And the second Jason had his seatbelt buckled and the straps tightened, since it was the kind of belt that went across both shoulders and connected to the three parts that went around his wait and between his legs, Bruce threw the car into gear and without warning stepped on it.
Jason was giggling before they even left the main cave area.
Batman zoomed them through the winding, dark cave tunnels with his clear years of practice, and by the time they were into the open night, Jason stomach already hurt from all the laughing he was doing.
Also all the cake that was in there. That probably wasn’t helping him, either.
They didn’t talk much during the drive, but Jason loved every second of it, regardless. It only took them fifteen minutes to get to Gotham, which was just insane.
It often took them forty-five minutes when going for Jason’s appointments.
Batman took them up and down the docks and through the abandoned amusement park, both super fucking creepy at night, but somehow cool looking from the safety of the Batmobile. Sadly, though, they only drove around Gotham for about ten minutes before a call went out from help by the GCPD. Bruce turned the police scanner volume up and Jason watched with amazement as his face went from open and happy to closed off and serious. Only a thin line for his mouth as he took in all the report information.
It was a hostage situation.
Without warning again, Batman did a sudden u-turn in the middle of the street going, like, fifty and Jason couldn’t help but laugh as he got tossed to the side. No wonder the car had such intense seatbelts. It was all that kept Jason from slamming into everything all the time.
“Looks like this is where we have to end tonight, buddy,” Bruce said after he got the car going in the right direction, toward the little dot on the computer’s map.
“Aww,” Jason whined, “Can we do this again sometime?”
“Whenever Dick is here, yes,” Bruce said easily.
Jason did his best to turn and look at Dick, who just smiled back at him.
He would definitely have to harass Dick about coming to visit more often.
Batman stopped the car a couple blocks away from the situation, inside a dark creepy looking alleyway. He unfastened his seatbelt and said, “Dick will take you back home, I think I can handle this one myself.”
So… they would drive around a bit more? Without Bruce?
“Okay,” Jason agreed, watching as Batman opened his door and slipped out.
He stuck his head back in, though, and said, “Good night buddy. I hope you had a happy birthday.”
“I did,” Jason said, grinning wide, “Today was the best day ever.”
Bruce’s hard Batman-face softened for a second, as he said, “I’m glad. I’ll see you in the morning.” He leaned further into the far and held his fist up to Jason, so Jason grinned even more.
“Night,” Jason said, bumping Batman’s fist eagerly, “Kick some ass!”
As Robin drove them home, going the long way, way too fast, and absolutely blaring rock music, Jason couldn’t help but think his life was fucking awesome.
Notes:
Jan 2024 update: I'm still around! This fic is on my list to finish up eventually, it's not abandoned just on a hiatus at the moment. I'm also cdelphiki on here and am currently updating Jason and the Three Terrors until it's finished!! I've just managed to busy up my schedule so I only have 2 or 3 evenings a week actually free for writing... haha.
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