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He wasn't stupid. He knew what rich people did to kids; it had been offered to him countless times, and he had genuinely considered some of those offers, especially when the hunger was too much.
"Jason… it's okay… I won't hurt you. Batman is my friend," said the Wayne guy, looking ridiculous lying on the floor, talking to Jason who was hiding under the bed.
He had woken up an hour ago in this unfamiliar room, with everything screaming money, and looking out the window, he had only seen distance. He couldn't even make out where Gotham was with the number of trees surrounding this place, and the feeling of desperation and fear only grew when he realized he couldn't reach the window lock.
Then footsteps were heard in the hallway, and Jason had instinctively crawled under the bed.
He knew he shouldn't have trusted that imbecile Batman, he knew that crazy guy was connected to the dirtiest things in Gotham. He had heard all kinds of stupid stories from the other kids and from some shitty adults who tried to intimidate him by saying they'd feed him to Gotham's giant bat. But when the guy hadn't hit him for stealing his tires and had instead bought him lunch at McDonald's, Jason had let his guard down.
He had fallen asleep; The guy drugged him after locking him in his car.
A while ago, when he could still afford to hang around Gotham's public library, he had read a book about a boy who also didn't eat enough. The consequences it listed had worried him, so he went to the medical section and looked for a big book that talked about nutrition.
What he found wasn't any better. He would have preferred to live with that ignorance, especially since he couldn't do anything to fight malnutrition. He was just a kid.
"Jason, I don't think we were properly introduced. My name is Bruce—" the imbecile tried, leaning a little into what was now his bubble. Okay, that was enough.
Quickly, he kicked him right in the face. The grunt the guy let out would have been so satisfying if his heart wasn't pounding like a damn race and his hands would stop shaking. He almost fell on his face when he scrambled out from under the bed, running towards the door, but the lock was strange to him; no matter how he turned it either way, it didn't seem to unlock the door. And the guy was already getting up from the floor, holding his nose, getting blood everywhere.
Shit. If he didn't hit him before, he definitely will now, he thought with a quick sweep of the room.
Wayne raised his free hand.
"I'm not angry."
Jason stood firm in his place, never taking his eyes off the adult who seemed to be circling him.
"I won't hurt you."
"That's what they all say," he growled, and Wayne frowned, asking him who 'all' was. He scoffed, "Rich guys like you, the imbeciles on the street. You think I don't know what people like you do to kids?" he asked, and something dark passed over Wayne's face, something that set off a mental alarm in Jason's head.
No one really understood him; everyone thought he was stupid enough, but he could see their intentions. He just had to pay attention.
Then something happened that left him completely lost.
Wayne got down on his knees. He made himself small, almost at Jason's height, fixing him with his blue eyes, relaxing every muscle in his body.
"I promise," he punctuated, "I won't hurt you," he said slowly, removing his hand from his nose.
His face was a mess, his clothes too, but it wasn't bleeding anymore.
"I lost my parents as a child—"
"If you're trying to make me feel sorry for you, it won't work. It's ridiculous," he shot back, and surprisingly, a smile touched his lips, though he tried to suppress it. Something in his face changed with it, making it softer.
"You're a very smart kid."
"Compliments won't work either."
Now he was definitely smiling at him.
A silence passed between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, but curious. Adults always tried to impose themselves on Jason, always trying to show him they were better in every sense. However, Wayne stayed there, looking at him, and something seemed to click when he smiled, looked down, and asked him if he was hungry.
"Batman told me you ate two burger combos," he accused with amusement, and embarrassment took over Jason's body.
He felt his head get hot.
"No—well—they were good!"
"Then the food I have prepared for him will please him even more," said a third voice, making him jump terrified forward, almost falling on Wayne, who raised his hands to catch him but didn't get close enough.
He quickly turned to the door again, finding an old man in a full suit, a damn penguin looking at him with an air of a rich bastard.
Who was he? Jason hadn't heard him approach.
He looked between Wayne and the guy, getting more alarmed by the second.
Now there were two. There was no escape; he couldn't fight them. His mind supplied, and he began to stand straighter, lowering his gaze to the floor and falling silent.
Both men seemed to exchange a message with their eyes. Wayne seemed to grasp something, yet he also looked confused, as if he wasn't really sure whether to be confident or not. That frustrated him, and above all, scared him, though he would never admit it out loud because there are guys with weird tastes.
Clearing his throat, the man in the black suit with perfect posture shot a look at Wayne, asking him in a tone that wasn't really a question but more of a request—with a perfect British accent, which was weird.
First: Jason knew Bruce Wayne was the richest guy in Gotham.
Second: From what he'd heard, Wayne had no family.
So why did the guy visibly shrink, apologizing for having shitty manners?
Jason frowned at both of them.
"Jason—" Wayne began, and Jason had only told his name to Batman, not to this rich bastard.
I glare at the rich guy, Wayne, when he told me that Batman had simply ratted on him.
"You're lying," Jason responded quickly, and there it was—the little slip on Wayne's face as he looked at the other man.
"I swear it's true," he replied, pitching his voice higher, showing him the palms of his hands to gesture toward the old man. "Jason, allow me to introduce Alfred. Alfred, Jason," he presented, making signs from one to the other, explaining that the old man was actually his family's butler.
Sure, a butler. Rich people stuff, he thought, not very surprised, and Wayne blinked, slightly amused and unsure under his unimpressed gaze.
Seizing the opportunity that had presented itself, the old man said, "Now that we are all on the same page, it is time for breakfast," and Jason's stomach growled as if it had a life of its own.
Giving him a satisfied smile, both Wayne and his butler opened the door to ask him to follow them to the dining room, strategically placing the old man in front and Wayne in the rear, blocking any possible escape attempt, though the mere idea of food was enough stimulus for Jason to resist running like a lunatic.
He stopped in shock.
The room in front of him was ENORMOUS. Jason had never seen such a huge table. He didn't focus on it too much because his eyes quickly scanned the rest of the room. Okay, there were three doors. Jason didn't know why they needed so many doors, but he didn't complain. He kept his mouth shut and waited.
When Willis was alive and he still lived with his mom and him, he always hit Jason when he made a move he didn't want, even though it was stupid because there was no way for Jason to know what he wanted before he said it. So he learned to wait and pay attention to how Willis behaved around him. He did that with Wayne; he waited. Watching as the guy looked at him for a second, something seemed to pass between them. Jason didn't know what, but Wayne nodded silently, walking to the head of the table just as the butler appeared, taking the chair on the right side to pull it out.
He didn't need more words. Slowly, and without taking his eyes off Wayne for too long, he approached the chair, feeling a little embarrassed when the old man said he would need a bit more support, appearing with a cushion.
"Perfect fit," said the old man, pushing Jason's chair in. Jason looked at the plate and the tray in the center of the table with a teapot and a cup, which he served for Wayne, leaving him looking to announce he would bring his breakfast.
"I can have tea too," Jason said, though it had been a long time since he'd had a cup. That was a luxury on the streets, and when he used to stay with Miriam, she offered him coffee, as it was the only drink she had in her apartment.
He shrank a little when the butler looked at him decisively, though kindly.
"Given that you are still growing, a more nutritious meal would be most appropriate," he stated, placing a glass of milk, a plate with what looked like chopped fruit pieces, and a bowl of what Jason had seen in advertisements as oatmeal in front of him. They weren't big portions; he thought that being rich, they would have more food, but he was really happy with what he could get for now.
Still, he didn't touch it.
Looking around, he evaluated his options again. The butler didn't sit at the table even though Wayne offered; the guy just stood by one of the doors, watching in a creepy way until his eyes met Jason's, and he smiled—a small, soft smile that made him shrink back a little suspiciously and erase it from his face to concentrate on a boring vase. His eyes focused on the next adult. Wayne had a plate with what looked like a sandwich; it looked appetizing, especially when the guy took a huge bite, pretending he wasn't watching him.
Jason was grateful he still had the same clothes from yesterday. He checked his pockets, finding a piece of gum, a cigarette, and a few coins that barely added up to a dollar. He took them out and offered them to Wayne, who looked at them and then at Jason, totally confused.
"I don't have much money, but I can give you this," he said, and Wayne made no attempt to take it. The guy just stayed there, looking at him.
"Money?" he finally asked.
Jason nodded.
"Jason… I don't want your money," he said, so Jason frowned.
"Why? Isn't it worth it?" he asked, bristling. A small cough made him turn, almost snapping his neck. His eyes went to Alfred, who now had a feather duster and was dusting some knick-knacks that surely cost more than a damn apartment.
He looked back quickly enough to notice that Wayne was also looking at the old man.
Something in his expression changed; he seemed less tense. It was his shoulders; his shoulders had dropped a little.
"Of course it is. It's probably worth more than mine," he said, though Jason didn't understand. He looked at his coins for a moment, confused. "What I mean to say is… you don't need money to eat here… it's free. You also don't need money to shower or sleep."
"Why?" he asked.
Wayne took the napkin next to Jason's plate, extending it to murmur "excuse me" and place it in extremely slow movements on his lap.
"Because I promised Batman I would take care of you."
"Then I have to pay Batman," Jason concluded quickly, and another cough sounded, though he didn't look in that direction because Wayne pressed his lips into a thin line, tense, his gaze fixed on him. Jason instinctively tensed up too in the instant the rich guy's expression went from surprise to confusion and then to another emotion he couldn't identify, but he immediately relaxed.
He sent a smile to Jason.
"I don't think Batman cares about money. Do you?"
"Everyone cares about money," Jason responded without hesitation, and Wayne gave him a sad look, promising him that here he wouldn't have to worry about that.
Jason didn't believe him, but he still didn't question it when Wayne told him he could eat, making a gesture toward the breakfast, which he practically inhaled.
Today was undoubtedly a strange day, and Jason didn't know if it would be the first of a whole lifetime.
Or the first one.