Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Richard Grayson, his mother’s Robin, wasn’t a boy who froze. How could he when he was constantly in motion? A pendulum swinging from nest to perch to the arms of his father. It was physics. Fate. An inevitability. Jump, swing, fly, soar, catch, land. 

Familiar motions that Dick had ingrained into his very soul, the traits that were at the core of Robin, that created Officer Grayson. But in the end he was a bat as well, it was Bruce’s guided hand that created the mind of Detective Grayson, his mistakes that bore the creation of Nightwing - a name Jason wasn’t even supposed to know about.

It was still a whisper on the breeze, distant birdsong that Dick had only just begun to hear before the rug had been pulled out from under him. He wondered if the Titans, new and old, knew of this new identity, of this step to independence. 

They probably didn’t considering they had cast the man out, yet Jason didn’t quite believe that the knowledge would have changed anything. Their minds had been made up the second Dick had given them a target, an enemy to hone their anger on and place their blame. Because that was who he was, a martyr, as Richard the young boy, Robin the hero, Richie the distraction, and Dick– Dick the beloved friend. 

And takes it all lying down (head shoved against the cold floor–)

Because of course he does, he bears it with a stiff British upper lip learned from Alfred, and a stone face born from the gargoyles mounted on Batman’s many perches. Jason would have reacted with anger, he knows he would have, it's what he’s done since– well for as long as he could remember. It was a reaction that had served him well on the streets, kept him out of danger and made him seem just as big and scary as every other street rat willing to kill over a bottle of water.

Dick had never learned to react like that.

For all of the circus’ poverty Dick was still loved. Treasured even, by the whole troupe. Jason has no doubt that if food ever ran short Dick was the child given extra rations off of the others’ plate. And Jason hates that they would have given it to him with a practiced smile and easy lies of being full. He might hate Dick’s supposed naivety even more. That he had a childhood where he could believe such great lies.

But despite all of that, all of that permanent movement, constant thinking that he had learned from a young, that had been ingrained in him by both the Bat and by Bruce, here Dick Grayson stood, frozen in place. 

Admittedly, Jason was probably a surprising sight considering he was standing on the older man’s doorstep in Bludhaven, soaked to the bone with an impending chill that threatened an illness.

And yet, Dick barely seemed to register him. It took two long moments before Dick’s face twitched with recognition as he finally comprehended who was standing before him. 

Two moments that wouldn’t have even been noticeable to anyone else. It was a reaction faster than a civilian but one that signalled trouble on a vigilante. A Mask would know to check the peephole, to open the door with more caution, using it as a shield against an intruder, yet here Dick was - a Bat, no less - opening the door wide, leaving himself unprotected and uncomprehending of what he was facing.

Jason wasn’t sure if he wanted to slap the man or croon in concern.

Considering the days he spent travelling to see the man it would be counterproductive to hit his host when he was desperate for a clean bed. And a shower. God he wanted a shower. He hadn’t dared let his guard down for the four days it took to get here. 

Dick’s nose wrinkled like he could clearly tell that. Jason hoped Dick saw his hair as soaking wet (like his clothes) and not pure grease, because that was an embarrassment he wouldn’t be able to bear.

“What?” Dick frowned, pausing on that one word as he came back to himself, awareness suddenly brightening those brown eyes of his. “Jason?”

He sounded so baffled that Jason couldn’t stop the sharp smirk from spreading across his face, he was practically vibrating with how eager he was. Or maybe that was the cold in his bones. God Dick looked so surprised.

“In the flesh.” Jason drawled, jerking his chin up in challenge as though Dick would disagree. “New digs?”

Dick blinks, slow and calculated as he continues to stare at Jason to the point of it being awkward, and Jason is too fucking tired for that so he just shoulders his way in, bag thumping against Dick’s chest as he passes.

“You gonna invite me in?” He calls over his shoulder as the door shuts behind him with a soft snick. “Nice place.”

It’s a mockery; not a compliment.

Dick’s living in squalor. Jason scrunches his nose up in distaste as he nudges some take out boxes with a boot clad foot. He’d always hated that trashy food. It was wrong and tasted fake and was all he could ever afford and he choked on it every time in his haste–

“What are you doing here?”

Jason’s not actively looking for reason to distrust Dick, he just does. In his defence he does it with everyone but something about the way his breath hitches at Dick’s tone feels different. Maybe it’s that neediness in him that he’s never managed to trample out - Bruce gave it a good shot but in doing so he just made Jason crave him more and eventually the old man saw that and gave up. Which is to say he’s stopped pushing Jason away and is trying to be more… fatherly. 

Its so fucking funny but Jason treasures every attempt the old man makes.

But Dick and him have never had that, or anything like that. Their relationship is quite frankly a dumpster fire, no, it’s more of a Rouges fall out after Halloween. Which is why Jason can’t help but watch Dick. For what is anyone’s guess. An unwarranted hit? A much deserved lashing? (he’ll cower back, it would be instinct with a man like Dick but by the gods would he fight back this time)

So maybe he noticed early on when Dick started to fall apart. When he started slowing down, stopped jumping, soaring, flying. When the landings got heavier, the blows harsher. How could he not notice? 

And Jason pushes. He snips and bites and has done from day one. He’s driven Dick up the fucking wall, waiting for it to be too much, for the line to be crossed. And he needs to know when that’s going to happen. He needs to know when to brace. And yet that point never came. Jason had thought that maybe he didn’t matter to Grayson enough, that he was just a gnat but Robin made sure he would never be insignificant again. (never be weak, never be–)

And so Jason keeps watching, keeps waiting, and he sees when Dick begins to fall.

It just doesn’t happen in the way Jason expected.

Robin had always been a shining beacon of hope, him and his Titans were gods amongst men. Jason couldn’t help but liken them to the actual Titans, imagining both pantheons borne from their primordial parents. He could see it easily in Dick; son of Uranus and Gaia; son of the sky and the earth. He could see it so plainly in the way Robin walked among clouds, the way he soared across the ground as if gravity didn’t apply to him.

Yes, Robin has always been a Titan.

And like those deities he too has been cast from his pantheon. Overthrown by a usurper as he had once overthrown his gods’ rule. But Jason imagines the Justice league to be more forgiving; Batman would not have forsaken Robin for carving his own path, no matter what Dick seems to think.

But Robin hasn’t made Jason a god, he is still mortal.

He supposes that if he wants to continue the antiquity mythos as his analogy then at the very least Jason is still a hero amongst men like his namesake. A demigod not by blood but by status. That sounds more accurate, more reasonable for a battered soul (damaged goods) like Jason’s.

In short, Jason is nothing in comparison to Dick.

And he’s wildly aware of that, but if he could just get Dick to acknowledge him as Robin (to love him, to see him as an equal–) then maybe he could be something. Maybe he could learn from the original hero. 

He knows Dick has no reason to keep him around. Jason also knows that he has never been someone easy to be around, too brash, too rude and sharp, and vicious (rabid, filthy trash, you fucking piece–). But Dick accepts everyone, he’d taken in Rose for gods sake, for no other reason than he saw someone alone and in danger. And Jason was better than that, he didn’t need saving (Please help–) nor did he need Dick’s pity, he could make himself indispensable, like he had with Robin. He could be useful. He could fill a gap. (nothing but a hole to–)

Maybe Dick doesn’t like him after everything. (not like how Jason loves, adores, admires…)

Their first meetings – their second, third, fourth – had all been marred by sharp words and prickling defences. Each sentence was a tearing of old wounds and the sharp sting of new. Jason knows he was the only one of them with expectations, the only one who could have been disappointed, but he also knew that Bruce had disappointed Dick. That he felt betrayed. Jason wasn’t sure he understood it, not fully, he thought he had but the more he gets to know Dick the less he trusts his initial (starstruck) assessment. 

But the one thing Jason can’t fully comprehend is that Dick still saved him.

Not Robin. Dick.

Because Robin was safe. Hope and protection in a world full of shadows and walking fears. Of course Robin would save Jason, he already had in so many ways. But it wasn’t Robin who had clung to him out of that window. It wasn’t Robin who sat on that rooftop with him. Maybe that’s why Jason came after Dick, because he owes the man (because he’s the only one he can trust).

Robin isn’t a disappointment, not like Jason, not like how has twisted that suit.

Dick Grayson has always been a disappointment, if not to someone else then to himself. 

Jason doesn’t say any of that to be cruel, that’s not his intention at all. He’s just aware that the original Robin had a lot of pressure on him, unachievable expectations to live up to. Quite frankly the man was incapable of saying no (no, please, I don’t want–). Not when someone asked for help; not when they didn’t ask for help but Dick thought they needed it; not when someone called him a lying piece of shit and nearly broke his jaw with a single punch.

But Jason had never truly expected Dick to dodge Hank’s fist. Not when the man was so clearly looking to be a martyr, to absolve himself through his friends’ pain. 

It's obvious that even now Dick is waiting for Jason to lash out, to scorn him, to tear him to pieces for his apparent sins and lies. Jason has borne far worse than the weight of Dick Grayson lies and secrets, he can take it. But of course Dick is waiting for Jason’s anger, as ornery and arrogant as Jason is, there are no more cruelties he wishes to pile upon Dick’s plate. 

Doesn’t stop Dick from standing there like Jason has travelled four gruelling days just to spit in the man’s face.

Jason is spiteful and dramatic but he’s not that self loathing. He hates people far too much to give them the satisfaction of being the reason he’s driven himself into an early grave. Dick seems to have frozen again, staring through Jason more than at him. Even now, even as he floats through his own home like a ghost, Jason can still see that grace in his slack form. He was right, it is ingrained in Dick’s soul, it can never leave him even as he falls apart around it.

This might be enough (too much) more than enough for what Jason deserves. Either way he quietly places his bag on the floor, determined not to break the stillness of Dick’s abandoned home, the mausoleum he has trapped himself in. Not yet, he wouldn’t shock the man now, not when they were still in the early hours of the morning. The time when vigilantes came alive while civilians slept.

No wonder Dick was still awake when Jason turned up at his door. What even was the time? He had abandoned his phone to the bottom of his bag at some point. Giving up on charging it and just relying on his wits to get him to Dick.

“You look like shit.” Jason quietly points out to the statue before him. “That’s okay, it’s to be expected.”

Dick doesn’t look like he’s comprehending Jason’s sympathy. Jason doesn’t expect him to. Not when he too is still wrapping his head around his own devotion. There’s no ignorance to it, Jason isn’t naive, he’s done this before, he knows how it works, knows what to expect. It’s easy enough to guide Dick through to the hallway in sight, to then follow the man till he stumbles - Vigilante stumbles, so he really just walks like a normal person - to his bed. 

Jason pauses in the doorway, unwilling to intrude. His home is one thing, this room is another. Dick seems to have forgotten him. Just lays there, staring listlessly at the wall.

“Sleep.” Jason commands, he tries to soften his voice but his care has never been gentle. “It will help.”

Dick doesn’t acknowledge him.

That’s okay. Jason wasn’t expecting much from him. He was expecting ire and thrown fists– This was fine, more than acceptable.

His nose still wrinkled when he reappeared in Dick’s main room. It was a shared kitchen / living space. The kitchen back against the wall with the hallway, an island counter serving as kitchen area, dining table and divider to the living room that housed a tv, battered sofa, five take out containers, a crumpled afghan blanket a– 

Jason actually wasn’t going to register anything until he reached that section. 

He had heard a few stories of Alfred Pennyworth. Whatever Bruce was willing to spare amidst his grief. Even with his sparse knowledge he knew the man would be clicking his tongue at Grayson for being so lax with his own, with his own care, but Jason also liked to think the man would have some sympathy.

Jason didn’t have sympathy when it was nearing 3am so possibly more things ended up in the bin than they should have. 

That was a lie. Jason hated throwing things away. Old habits dying hard with how well he had been conditioned to salvage everything and anything, making the best of what he had in life. He had also been raised with some modicum of pride. Catherine was many things, but when she was having a good day or when it was from that time of hazy honeyed memories that Jason cherished, she was a good mum. A good wife too, taking pride in her home and her son. She couldn’t provide much but she wanted to make it clear that she, her home, and her son could be clean and fed.

How well Willis had her trained. But even that was a cruel judgement Catherine didn’t deserve. She had morals, ones aside from those beaten into her. She just lost the ones from Before too soon, soon enough that Jason didn’t remember them.

Either way, Jason wasn’t sleeping till this hell hole was clean.

(He wasn’t leaving till Dick was better)

Chapter Text

The truth was that Dick was a spoiled brat and he lived like it. 

Seriously, how did he manage to live in such squalor? Was he not house trained? God above, and those posh ass socialites at Brucie Wayne’s parties said he was the rabid one, the one who had probably never had a shower. And fuck them, he had a running water under Catherine’s care and the brief times he spent in the foster system, and he had made the god damn best of his rationed water when he was on the streets.

Dick Grayson had clearly never had to do that. 

Despite everything, the death of his parents, leaving (being taken from) the circus, enduring Bruce’s parenting mishaps, becoming Robin, arguing with Bruce, living with the Titans at the tower, abandoning Gotham for Bludhaven, despite all of that, Dick Grayson has always been cared for. Has always been loved. Jason might hate him for that (he could never), maybe he hates that he’s one of those who lov–.

Maybe Jason was an enabler since he’d cleaned up after the man but he’d seen enough of life to know when someone had reached their limit. Dick might not be the tidiest but he wouldn’t have lived like this without reason.

Even now Dick was still lost to himself, though that initial shock had worn away to something more akin to disbelief. Jason couldn’t blame him, his entire world had been upheaved, his worst fears confirmed. Jason bloody knows abandonment issues when he sees them and he’s pretty sure Dick’s have just been born. No, that wasn’t right though. Jason knew Dick, sometimes he wished he didn’t, that he could pretend he didn’t know the man so well, that he hadn’t been watching and learning. But he had and here were his reaped rewards.

It was fear of abandonment. It was self-worth issues. Dick wanted to help everyone, somedays because he truly believed everyone deserves help, others because he thought it was his job, because it was the only way for him to be useful. Maybe fear of disappointing someone was wrapped up in that but it had never truly been the driven force of Richard Grayson. Children raised by supportive people had a different backbone, an unwavering resolve in them that sung about how much they had been loved and supported. 

So it certainly wasn’t fear that kept Dick silent in the morning.

Jason thinks that burning desire for suffering might have abated during the night. Dick Grayson was a martyr through and through but by that same logic Dick wouldn’t want Jason to be the one to deal the killing blow. No, Dick would reserve Bruce for that. There was something about one’s parents that allowed a child to take liberties with responsibilities. With displaced blame and fear. 

And Bruce would endure it all for his son. Would most likely ask to take on Dick suffering, beg for it even, if he thought it would bring his boy some modicum of peace. 

Yet it wasn’t Bruce that Dick returned to. It was Bludhaven. To a reasonable but worn apartment, and a crappy, thankless 9 to 5 job as a goddamn pig– back to where it all started. Where, if Jason understands it correctly, Dick and Rachel first met. He hasn’t thought too much about Dick’s relationship with Rachel, with Gar. Sometimes he looked at them and thought they could be parent and children, others it was siblings, on the worst days it was simply a mentor. 

But Jason secretly thought that mentor might have been best for Dick.

He was turning himself into a family man for the wrong family. It would never work out, they were all too toxic, too codependent. Jason didn’t doubt Dick’s love for Rachel and Gar, he just worried it was yet another form of self flagellation. An endless duty, a continual purpose, he worried Dick wasn’t actually ready to be a father. A worry that proved true when Dick’s first instinct was to emulate Bruce and put them all on a training routine before signing his pseudo kids up for school.

They never did get signed up for that. Sure the excuse for paper work could have been made but they were bats for god sake, and if not that then Dick had Wayne money backing him. It could have been made possible if truly pushed.

Or maybe in all of this Jason was once again being selfish. Desperately wanting to be the centre of attention. Wanting to have any and all of Dick’s attention on him. Just like his foster parent had said–

“Why are you here”

Dick had asked him again this morning. It was a quiet question, a weak one even, that belied Dick’s troubled mind. Jason had never seen the great Robin look so… frail. But in that moment he did and it had set Jason’s heart racing. He couldn’t deal with broken wings. But it wasn’t Robin before him, not even Nightwing, maybe it never would be Nightwing, but Dick Grayson needed him and that was enough of a reason for Jason to stay.

(The truth was, he just wanted to be there; there was nowhere else he could picture himself going)

One of life’s greatest cruelties was this moment; Dick nothing more than a misshapen form on the sofa next to Jason, a trembling pile of vigilante and scared child; Jason, relieved and at peace for this, was the closest the pair had ever been. The longest they had ever gone without Jason fucking it up and lashing out. Without him challenging Dick’s rule or needlessly prickling at unintentional slights. 

But god was Jason allowed to be selfish this once. He had earned it. That’s what Dr Thompkinson had said during the few sessions Jason had agreed to have with her. It was also one of the hardest things for him to agree with her on (but she had never minded his arguments, had encouraged them even and he sort of liked that). Jason deserved good things. 

He would counter that nobody deserves anything, they had a right to nothing in this world that they hadn’t earned. (they had no fuckign right to take him–)

She had, of course, immediately clipped his wings with counter arguments. Straight for the kill; what about children? Children deserve the world. At what age do they stop deserving? When they start becoming selfish. How would you define that? 

Jason getting to sit this close with Dick. The most he’d ever been allowed physically and emotionally. 

Not something big or grandiose. Nothing crude or over the top that would be asking too much of Dick, something that might have made him uncomfortable. Never anything demanding or begging. This was a simple pleasure, paltry in comparison to the commands of man. And yes, it's convenient, a forced coincidence maybe; Jason being there when Dick is vulnerable. But here’s Jason’s question; when is it taken advantage of, and when is it being the only one willing? The only one who cares enough? 

So Jason is being selfish. Not in the way a Selfish Person might me (there’s a distinction between the two; selfish person; person being selfish. He would like that noted down) But for Jason this was more progress than he could have ever dreamed of as a kid. And he doesn’t just mean about Robin. He had always wanted someone to be his. He didn’t care how or who, just that they were his and he was theirs. 

It’s almost overwhelming then, to sit this close to Dick. Side by side on a ratty sofa and Jason’s breath hitches when Dick eventually relaxed enough to slump down a fraction. A miniscule difference that bridges the gap between separated and their sides pressed together.

“You were always going to disappoint them.”Jason murmurs quietly, gaze locked onto the black tv screen in front of them. “There was no way for you not to; You were backed into a corner.”

Dick is despondent beside him, sallow with defeat. It's enough that Jason gently nudges him, wrist shifting enough to brush the back of his own hand against Dick’s. It’s electrifying. A heady movement charged with power. When has he ever been allowed this close to someone? How long had it been since someone had suppressed the instinct to lash out at his touch? (Since he had fought that urge–) A suppression not for the sake of the mission or because they were in polite society but because they seemed content with Jason’s presence.

“The whole team came back fractured.” Jason added on, suddenly wanting to take the blame away from Dick and give it to someone else. “Sure, a leader who keeps secrets doesn’t alway work out, but they had lost faith in the Titans and themselves. You were just the excuse.”

He’s making it sound like Dick kept something life changing from them. Jericho’s death was at Deathstroke’s hands. They were acting like Dick had strangled the life out of the kid. Utter bullshit. And if Jason was being honest, it was very clearly a Titans fault. As in an issue with the whole team. Besides, Dick wasn’t being intentionally cruel. It was just his own misguided sense of blame and responsibility that had him twisting it in his head and presenting himself up perfectly on a platter.

Still, Jason could somewhat understand the Titans’ issue with Dick’s lies. Dick of all people should have known what a lack of trust and missing faith could do to someone.

“You’ll learn. You can do better than that, you’ve grown, changed.” Jason wanted to bring up Nightwing. The new vision that was slowly defining itself. “You’re not Robin anymore.”

Jason hopes Dick understands that for the encouragement it is.

Robin was created when Dick was eleven. A childish vision of hope and safety that had resonated with the children of Gotham (With Jason), and he doesn’t just mean the actual kids. But Dick had grown since then. He knows that Bruce kept Dick sheltered from the worst of what happened on the straights. Only allowing him to be involved with certain crimes once he grew older - a policy that was still in place with Jason, one of the few things he hadn’t argued with Bruce about. Not when he was grateful. He didn’t like the way that old man’s eyes had gleamed with suspicion though. They way he had carefully started tracking Jason’s reactions to certain topics.

It was bad enough to know that Bruce already suspected– Already knew about the streets from his files– No that wasn’t the point. This was about Dick.

He had seen some shit in his days. They both had. Jason’s Robin was different to Dick’s. In important ways and subtle ones but they still had the same core. But Dick would never suit the Robin costume again, he wasn’t that person but he could be someone new. Someone better.

(Someone who could rival Batman)

“You can be something new, something more than Robin - than batman.”

Jason can hear Dick’s doubt in the silence, in the subtle shifts of his body and the changes in his breathing. But that doesn’t matter. Jason believes it and he can stay around long enough to make the self sacrificing fool believe it as well. 

“You're a hero.” Jason reminds him softly. “Not as Robin or a Titan, but as you.”

Who else chose to be a cop on top of their night job? For all of Jason’s hatred for the blue pricks he could admit that Dick’s reasons for signing up were… valiant. Misguided, but his reasons were pure.

But Jason can see all of that, and he can make Dick see that too. 

He gave Dick a whole night to rest, to gather his energy to mourn and grieve the life he lost, the team he lost, and– well, the people he lost too. It might have been years since Garth and Jericho died but Dick still carried them with him. Jason would give him today and tomorrow to wallow but if he’s not willing to pull his shit together after that then Jason would just bloody drag him through the process.

They can both get about fixing the hot mess that is Dick Grayson. Because Jason isn’t letting him get away without facing up to his faults and taking responsibility for what happened with the Titans (even if he hates those petty heroes for abandoning one of their own) Dick needs to repent, it's how he works. Jason will give it to him if that’s what it’ll take.

Robin is the greatest good Jason had ever known.

He’ll be here to see this through, no matter how Dick handles it.

“I’m here,” Jason promises. “You’re not alone.”

Dick steels himself, resolve forming as he straightens up, and Jason tries not to bristle at how the movement forces him away from Jason, forced that slight space back between even as they still sit together on that stupid sofa. Still, Jason takes a risk, a liberty he hadn’t had before, he bumps their shoulders together, turning for the first time all morning to grin over at Dick. A cheeky expression that falters into something more soft when he notes the sharp press of Dick’s lips, the tight jaw that holds back the pain Dick is trying to hide as he stares resolutely at the blank tv.

“Okay.” Dick swallows, throat bobbing. “I’ll do better.”

He’s the second person to make that promise to Jason. 

Chapter Text

See, the thing was, Jason had said that himself, many many times. Because it was the truth; Catherine Todd was sick. 

It was a disease that ravaged her mind and body. It turned her into someone else, and then it turned her into a shell, a walking husk of a woman and eventually not even that. At some point she stopped moving, stopped thinking, just laid there still in the bathtu–

So even without knowing all of Dick situation, without understanding the monsters that drove away sleep, Jason still would have called bullshit on Dick’s feeble lie. I’m just a little sick , The fool had uttered, lip trembling with barely held back tears, I’ll be right as rain in a day or two .

Jason gave Dick the mercy of not challenging him on it. 

“Why are you here?” Dick had eventually asked, again, hours later than the first time, once Dick was alive and awake with the sun and Jason was weak and exhausted and quite frankly vulnerable. He knew a trap when he saw it but fuck was he tired. He’d got there at what? 4ish? Maybe 3 and had stupidly spent the wee hours of the morning cleaning the biohazard that was Dick Grayson’s flat till it was inhabitable once more. “Jason?”

He has no answer for him that isn’t raw. That wouldn’t feel like tearing apart a barely closed wound or worse, clawing a new one into Jason’s skin. He wasn’t ready to answer that question.

“I hated the lights in the Tower.”

Dick, rightly so, scowls. “I’m being serious.”

Jason swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “As am I.”

Dick narrows his eyes, staring at Jason with a shrewd expression as he pauses over the bowl of cereal that had been scrounged up for lunch. It was the only edible thing in the house and even then Jason had only managed four mouthfuls before the sugar was too much.

“Like the cereal.” He murmurs quietly more too himself. “The lights were too much.”

He can practically see Dick running through a list of possibilities; concussion, maybe from an unsanctioned patrol, maybe he was attacked during the journey over; exhaustion and the consequences of sleep deprivation from aforementioned travel - entirely possible; pure and utter insanity–

“I’m fine, D.” Jason rolls his eyes, huffing as he sinks further into himself, into the sofa as if he can curl up and hide from Dick’s scrutinising eyes. Such a fucking detective. “But I am… trying… to tell you. It was just too much.”

“The Titans?” Dick tilts his head, curious and non judgemental. “We were caught up in our own problems, it wasn’t your fault.”

He knows that. Dick knows he knows that. Hell, hadn't Jason basically said the same thing the other night? This morning? Whenever Jason arrived? Cause he clearly hadn’t slept which means there hadn’t been a ‘night’ since that conversation.

“The lights in the hallways and rooms were on constantly,” Jason tries to remember what Bruce and Dr Thompkinson had said about his adjustments. “Ya know they buzz? The electricity I could hear it all the time. Day or night.”

Dick clearly wants to say they could have turned it off. That he should have gone to Dick with the pseudo problem, this symptom of a problem, and allowed him to fix it. And then allowed him to tackle the root cause and let him wrestle into submission. Lord knows that Dick Grayson has never shied away from a challenge, and he certainly wouldn't turn away a desperate soul or an injured bird.

“And the cereal has too much sugar.” Jason pouts, suddenly feeling stupid and childish. He shrugs his shoulders, grin sharp and ornery. “It’s disgusting man, you’re going to give yourself cavities and diabetes.”

Dick chuckles, easily accepting Jason’s change of pace and something in his chest eases, an unwarranted anxiety falling away. Surely he’s allowed this. This is a thing, one that marks Jason as other and wrong and not a Titan and certainly not a functioning being but… but Jason is allowed this sort of thing as Robin, right? Bruce had told him vague stories of Dick’s own troubled origin, the horrors that motivated his Robin. Jason was allowed to acknowledge this, he was allowed to own this.

“I’m not– It’s not something… I’m used to it.” Jason bites out the words, clenching his jaw as he stares at the tv. Their positions were once a mirror image of their first conversation but now the tv was on, a cooking show with no volume, but once again both Dick and Jason were watching it carefully to give the other some dignity. “Dr– Bruce says it's a teething problem; nothing major, I’ll just need an… adjustment period while I get used to–” Not being poor. Not being cold and starving. Time for him to stop flinching every time he sinks into his mattress and his body jolts, expecting to have sunk through to the floor. 

“I hated being in one place.” Dick says, because he’s taken one look at Jason’s clear distress and decided he can’t just let that slide. No, no. He’ll either do everything in his power to make it better or just join Jason in his hell. He shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have panicked and stupidly, desperately said something truthful. He shouldn’t have bared his soul like that and made Dick think he had to share. He shouldn’t have forced Dick into that position.

“We were in a travelling circus and I was born in Haley’s, I’d never known anything else for the first eleven years of my life and it…” Dick hesitated, taking a heavy breath before– “It made me anxious, scared even, to be in one place for so long. I felt… trapped.” Dick chuckles and it’s not a nice sound (but Jason loves it all the same) “Like a caged bird, trapped for the sake of it, not even for entertainment.”

Because of course the showman in Dick would have been content in a cage - for a while - if he was still able to perform. If he still had a purpose, one that made people happy, made them smile as well.

But still, it’s not a confession that Jason was expecting and it has his heart thundering and his mind whirring with all the implications of Dick’s words. Of the trust and honesty that he had craved for so long being shared with him.

“Bruce was… patient, with me. Would let me roam wherever I pleased, nowhere was off limits,” Not even the batcave in the end. “But eventually I grew restless, started testing my bounds.” Dick sighs and Jason marvels at the soft humour in the sound, the almost nostalgic care Dick has for his memories. “I ran away seven times before I settled into the manor.”

Dick grins when he catches Jason’s surprised expression and Jason turns back to the tv too fast but not fast enough to stop Dick from seeing the soft flush that had risen to his cheeks. A burning that spreads to the tips of his ears at Dick’s low laugh.

“Don’t get me wrong, four of those times I either turned back halfway through the night or just slept out in the manor grounds, but those other three…” Dick trails off and there’s a vulnerability there that Jason doesn’t deserve, he hasn’t earned this trust but– He knows this started as some manipulation, a way to get Jason comfortable enough to open up, lulling him into a false sense of security but– but Dick was being so genuine. So shaken and raw that Jason suddenly finds himself hoping that Dick did trust him enough to be honest.

(And maybe there was something reassuring in finding out the first Robin was just as fucked as him)

Sometimes it was too easy to forget that Dick was mortal. That he wasn’t a god among his pantheon of Titans. Or shining gold standard, a myth and legend told to children at night, a talisman to ward off the monsters under the bed. But Jason was starting to like these broken pieces, this man that was a culmination of trauma and loss. He held himself together so remarkably well.

“Well I got a glimpse of what my life could have looked like out on the streets.” Dick sucked on the back of his teeth, a sharp, disgusting sound that grated on Jason’s ears. Jason can see enough of his face to note the pain in the sharp lock of his jaw, the shadows that have darkened his eyes. He wonders what sides of Jason’s city Dick saw. “I can’t even imagine what must have been like for you.”

(gnawing hunger shred at his stomach till heaves and heaves–)

(burning, sloppy, dirty)

“No you can’t.” He snaps, sharp and brittle and oh so broken. 

Dick falls silent but Jason isn’t ready to regret his anger. Not when Dick’s words struck too close. 

“We can change the lights at the tower.” Dick offers uselessly in a vain attempt to salvage the moment, but his voice is too bright with forced lightness and Jason can’t help but close his eyes.

“We’re never going back to the tower.” He mutters bitterly. “You’ve been cast out, Robin.”

“Not Robin.”

“Oh?” Jason challenges but his voice is hollow and tired. “What are you then?”

– – –

He shudders awake, suddenly jolting forward as his stomach lurches. Ragged breaths claw from his chest, stuttering and painful as his lungs burn. (A heavy hand at his throat–) God– What had– he heaves, curling on to his side as his hand clutch uselessly at the mattress beneath him. Fuck– fuck, he can’t hold on, he claws useless at the two smooth material, stomach roiling as he dry heaves once more. 

Jason lists to the side, desperately moving to stop- falling, he’s still falling. Something clatters to the floor and the sound is punctuated by a hollow silence. The kind that precedes–

Jason .

His eyes burn. He hates this. Oh god he hates this. His stomach clenched when he shoves his head into the mattress, trembling with his own fear as he tries to hide away. He’s not falling, he can’t be. But he is.

Stop this. Just stop it, for crying out loud.

He’s been through worse. His whole fucking childhood was worse but–

A wave of tremors passes over him and Jason hastily blinks, forcing the remnants of whatever horrorscape had held his mind captive. He wasn’t there, he was safe . He was in a bed for god’s sake. It had been years since he had such luxury. That alone should have tripped him out of the shock. But he’s still there, unable to forget, haunting by how helpless he was, plummeting from that ledge, eyes fixed on Dick’s as if he could–

There’s a hand at the small of his back. Jason jolts away from its burning touch but he heaves again. Please no, not now . But he can’t seem to move away from it, from that feeling of losing it all. Of everything he has slipping through his fingers. ( No, please not again )The hand comes back, at his shoulder this time and Jason forces himself to focus on its warm weight. He tries to place it, to attach it to a body, to recognise the face it must belong to (that sneering pig) but there's nothing harsh in its movements for him to recognise. It doesn’t drag him closer or shove his face further into the ground, just slowly traces the length of his spine in long comforting–

Dick .

A low murmuring follows his realisation and Jason wonders if he said the name aloud. It doesn’t matter, that name has sounded through Jason’s mind like a summons. An anchor tying him to the present where gentle touches ground him. He’d never had something so… peaceful to focus on before. Always the sharp sting of bruise, never the comforting weight of– Of what Jason doesn’t know, only that it had started happening more and more now that he was with Bruce. Post patrol medical checks were no longer something to fear when they were followed by hot chocolate that could be laced with melatonin on request after the truly bad nights.

Eventually the low reassurances breach the fog of Jason’s mind. Bruce is here. Part of him had known that but the soft call of his name and the earnest promises had sounded so different this time. But Jason treasured it all the same, allowing it to bring him back to reality as he forced his breathing to slow through a combination of technique and exhaustion. 

The mattress. He’s in his room. He can’t fall from his room.

(He can, he always is these days)

Jason’s now steady breath does little to comfort him, even as he still his breath a scream threatens to choke out of him, but he swallows it back, throat bobbing with the physical suppression. Slowly, too slowly to be anything resembling fine Jason shifts his head enough to peer over the side of his bed at–

Oh. Not Bruce.

Something in his heart stutters at that. The stupid, childish part of him that had registered an illness and called out for da– Bruce. He tries not to let the disappointment show on his face even as it crushes that small part of him. He probably fails considering the shivering, sweaty state of himself. But Dick doesn’t look like he cares, not while he continues to soothingly stroke his hand along Jason’s spine and flank like he was some great beast in need of soothing.

Still, Jason blinks his eyes like clearing his vision will clear his thoughts. It’s enough of a movement to have Dick tentatively smiling at him, noting that Jason was finally coming back to himself with a soft: it’s good to see you. Like Jason had gone away, like he’d been gone for eons in some distant land where Dick couldn’t reach him. It’s okay now.

It wasn’t (but maybe it could be with Robin by his side)

A shiver racks through Jason’s body and Dick frowns, brows furrowing with worry as Jason fights the urge to reach out to him. To curl into his warmth and hide himself from the world till the ground is solid beneath his feet once more. He does none of that. Dismissing the urge before he even gathers the effort for such a movement. Instead he does what he always had done and curls in on himself, a slow and painful effort until he’s small and clutching at his knees like a child. 

He feels sick. It’s a thought that makes him want to whine. Make him want to hide away from the inevitable fall, from the unavoidable pain. He hides in on himself, defensive and scared.

But the movement has dislodged Dick’s hand, forcing him to pull away, touch ghosting along Jason’s skin but not touching (never touching something as dirty as Jason). But that gentle hand hasn’t left him, just hovers over his head that Jason had brought unintentionally closer to where Dick kneels beside the bed. Slowly, carefully, that hand smooths back his hair, a light and gentle motion that soothes Jason like a cat. He closes his eyes at the motion, taking the time to smooth out his breathing till each stuttering wet sound has calmed enough to give him back his voice.

“ ‘m fine.” he mutters into his legs and that careful hand falls gently to the back of his neck, his breath hitches but there’s nothing threatening about Dick’s grip. He’s not holding him in place (pinning him against the floor) he just cradles the back of Jason’s head, hand more in his hair than on his neck. A placement aimed for comfort not fear. “I’m fine.” He hates how lost he sounds, strangled by his own stupid fears but Jason has always been emotional, has always felt more deeply than he should have. It’s an effort to breathe through that fear, through the shakes that still wracked his body (like they shook hers) enough to force himself to act with his usual bravado as he assures Dick once more, “I’m okay. It’s fine.”

Hardly a convincing performance, Shakespeare would be rolling in his grave. 

Jason jerks, unsure of why until he feels the hand at his neck pulling away and allowing him to register just how uncomfortable that touch made him (the loss of it made him). But he can still sense Dick lingering by his side, watching over him like a vigilant guard in a way he wouldn’t have in the Before. That was how Jason had come to think of it the three days he had spent with Dick. Before Dick was cast out, a fallen angel with his wings clipped, and After, when Jason had thrown himself out after him. Not Jason had ever been in. He didn't fit with those people.

Dick didn't know how to fall, not truly, not dangerously, with reckless abandon. No, his parents had ingrained how to fly in him from a young age, it was why he had froze for the first time in decades. They had taught him to be in constant motion, a bird that stopped was– well a sitting duck. Jason had always seen Dick’s martyrdom as self destructive, even selfish in its lack of care for those who relied on Dick, for those who loved him. No Jason sees that Dick fears pulling down someone with him as he crashes. A drowning man will doom his saviour after all. But Jason wasn’t going into this blind 

But now, in the After, Dick is still here. A steadying presence that Jason resents taking comfort from. He doesn’t need it. He doesn’t need anything from Dick. Before he wouldn’t have even had this opportunity, Dick wasn’t an option, a person he could need something from. Now though, Dick hovers at his side, patiently waiting while Jason curls over himself. Waiting for him to share whatever horrors have sent him trembling. But–

But Dick doesn’t ask. He can’t ask because Jason can see that haunted look in his eyes. Dick’s not ready to be the one back in control again. He’s not ready to take the lead. Not with something like this.

“I’m here.” Dick stumbles over the words, they almost sound painful, like they were an admission that had been dragged from Dick’s chest but Jason understood it. He knew that Dick felt alone, that he had felt that way for a long time. But he was here, with Jason and it was a rare luxury that Jason can’t afford to squander. Not when Dick thinks so lowly of him, not when Jason is just trouble, when he’s too hard to love–

“It’s fine, nothing happened.” He murmurs back, soft eyes and patient words even as he utters nonsense. Dick doesn’t call him out for it though.

“It doesn’t matter.” Jason flexes his muscles as if to prove his point. Forcing himself to release the death grip he has on himself but his muscles hardly budge and fuck– fuck , Jason can recognise the signs of an impending fever when he sees it. But he’s fine, a little shaken (literally) he can’t argue against that but this is a time-heals thing. Not a Robin please save me thing (Dick please-). He can move on, he has moved on from it, he’s okay now. “Just–”

He cuts himself off and Dick latches onto that hesitation. God how could he forget that cops were like bloodhounds when it came to weakness. Pouncing at the slightest hint of fraility.

“Tell me anyway.” Dick murmurs and Jason finally uncurls enough to peer over his folded arms. It’s a mistake because his breath immediately hitches when he meets Dick’s burning eyes. When he’s faced with the full force of that Dick Grayson concern and attention.

(Part of him preens. A big fucking part. This is all he’s ever wanted.) 

“Time is it.” He croaks, clearly his throat swiftly after as if he could hide it. Dick doesn’t glance away from him and Jason stills under his eyes. Something is different today. Jason can feel it. He’s not the guiding force in this moment; not like he had been for the past days. He’d been the shepherd guiding Dick through the storm of his shock. God he must be fucked if that’s the best analogy he can come up with; what, not even a character refence? A biblical allusion? Bruce was wasting the money he spent on Jason’s education. Not that he had a chance to enjoy it considering he played catchup with his High School Diploma at the ripe old age of 19.

“Why are you up?” Clearly he wasn’t getting an answer on the time but a spared glance out the window suggests it’s early morning, still night even but the glowing embers behind the cityscape suggested the sun was rising. “Go back to sleep.”

Dick tilts his head, a stupid puppy pleading for a longer bed time.

“I heard you.” Dick frowns, unwilling to indulge Jason’s continued stint as a nursemaid. “Didn’t seem like a nightmare.”

Cause it wasn’t. The first time Jason hadn’t actually had a nightmare while he slept and it was because he was coming down with some stupid self inflicted illness. It was his own fucking fault as well. Pushed himself too damn far in his eagerness to see Dick. He could already picture Bruce scolding him for travelling such a far distance in such a short amount of time. For not stopping regularly; taking breaks; having some food and getting a shower. Those things had all seemed secondary to his mission at the time.

Now that he knew Dick wasn’t about to fall this second he wished he’d taken longer.

(That was a lie)

“ ‘sides, I couldn’t sleep.” Dick shrugs, it’s a casual, practiced movement meant to put Jason at ease but only has him more on edge. Because shit, if Dick wasn’t sleeping then it was cause he was too stressed, too worked up and trapped in his head–

“Hey.” Jason blinks, surprised by Dick’s firm tone. “Quit worrying about me.”

He can’t stop his cheeks from burning at being caught.

Jason clears his throat, “Told ya, I’m fine.”

Dick looked like he didn’t believe him, but what did that matter?

Chapter Text

He often wondered about his mother. Wonder about what was left of her in those final hours, days, even weeks of… insanity was the wrong word, it was a word that couldn’t be misused in a city like Gotham. Too many victims of Joker’s laughing gas and Scarecrow’s fear toxin. But Jason wasn't sure he could pin point when it had stopped being… her. 

Sure, he clearly sees the two ends of the scale, the two extremes that made up Catherine Todd but there was a grey area that he lived in, that he grew up in. The places where his mum would hold him in trembling arms, sounding out the words of a battered book with stuttering breaths and broken concentration. ( Well done baby , soft words of encouragement– waste of fucking time, I told you to–) She had been the one who taught him to read, had been adamant about it, he remembers her reading to him every night before bed. It was something she was so proud of, she would always point it out when Jason went to pick up a book of his volition. 

It was an exclamation of ‘I did that’ ‘I made you like that’ and Jason understood it, they were living in an apartment that had two broken windows, no heating and barely any clean running water with how horrible the pipes were. They shared a bathroom with six other tenants, three from their own floor and three from down stairs. It had taken him years to realise the one bathroom was because they had split up two apartments into enough rooms for seven. Which is why there was no kitchen, and why the downstairs bathroom had never been fixed, damn thing was too overwhelmed. Which was to say that Catherine Todd took great pride in giving her son an education, a better start to life than he deserved.

He wondered if her last moments felt like this, a glittering haze of colours and feelings. If there was still enough of her in there for her to feel. He hoped there wasn’t anything left. Not when Jason himself was thrashing across the floor, useless, pitiful whines– (Stop fucking whining boy)

There was a gentle hand on his forehead; his mother’s soothing touch and gentle voice reading out some long forgotten story. A person may be proud without being vain . His mother had been a proud creature, of her son, of her home. She may have been poor but she kept a clean house and made sure her boy was healthy. 

What a joke that had turned out to be. But Jason would give anything to hear her continue reading to him, to finish the chapter she was on. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, he can’t help but finish the line; vanity to what we would have others think of us. It was a long forgotten talisman, a story held in his soul yet one he had not dared read again.

He wants to read it now as he had done many times before. 

He had wanted to read it then, when he was sick in those early days with Bruce, when Dr Thompkinson had been panic-called every other week by a horrified Bat. Dick was never like this , he had heard the man utter once, he was never this sickly . His ailing body was a failure even then. Too weak to support even his own life, let alone the people of Gotham’s. But eventually he had recovered, under the keen eye of meal plans, medications and training routines. Even if Jason had squirreled away the medication once the delirium had passed, he was all of a sudden too sober to stand the sight of them.

But his body had still recoiled at the expensive touch of safety. His first taste of pseudo-freedom and he’d been bedridden in a golden cage, drowning in the marshmallow of a bed he had been placed in. Jason remembers waking, panicked as he was choked by the weight of duvets and blankets that had been piled upon him at some point in his slumber. It had been too much, all of it too much, the feel of the fabric, the scent of the detergent, but he had been too feeble to raise a hand in his defence.

Sometimes he remembered crying. Mostly when he was throwing up but he could never tell if the tears were because of the fever or because he was wasting food.

It had taken weeks for him to recover, the whole first two months at Wayne Manor he had been a burden but it had also taken the entirety of those two months for Bruce to convince him that he wasn’t, that he was safe and cared for there. And how could Jason not believe him when he had proved it through the many doctors appointments, the plates of food that were wasted on him, the passed opportunities to take exactly what he wanted from Jason while he slept.

When he was still in Crime Alley sickness often meant death. Even the smallest of things could spiral. A sniffle could lose a job. A cut could cause an infection. And infection always takes a life. If you were lucky you could wait a sickness out otherwise sacrifices would have to be made for medication. No one could ever afford to buy it, it was always traded in favours (Mummy please, no, please, mum help–) or commodities or–

The streets were rough. He’d got hypothermia twice in the three winters he had spent on the streets, the other was the one sole time he had braved a shelter. A mistake he would never make again.The first time had landed him in the ICU, the grace of being a young minor, only 13 at the time and he was small for his age so he looked 10 which inspired care and attention. The second time had been at the mercy of the working girls who had taken him in and given him a spare bed so long as he helped them. 

He was their runner, picking up odd jobs, making beds, changing sheets, helping with makeup, never, ever, touching clients because those girls were possessive; of both him and their incomes. When he was lucky he could get out from their caring clutches and sell the odd scavenged, and stolen, item. Letting him save up while he had free bed and board. Those girls were even kind enough to give him the food off their plates. Only a little but it was enough.

He had never understood why till Bruce mentioned that winter in passing; the worst one in years. They had been finding bodies hidden by the snow for days after, and far too many of them had been far too young.

But Jason was warm now. He hadn’t been cold in a long time (even when he still shivered and hoarded blankets like he could freeze any second). With Bruce he didn’t have to worry about that, and even Titan’s Tower with its stupidly loud electricity was warm and safe. He never had to worry about the cold there. Dick wouldn’t let him freeze, a fact he was aware of based on the thick duvet currently swallowing him whole.

Dick.

Shit, he was at Dick’s house.

But that thought didn’t inspire as much panic as he thought it would.

– – –

Jason doesn’t remember sleeping, only recalls the echoing soft haze that must have clouded his mind. He wishes for that insanity now as his head thunders with every pain– Oh, oh . A soft chuckle echoes above him and Jason would whine at the insult if it didn’t put that deliciously cold hand on his forehead at risk of leaving. 

“Hey, Jay.” That was absolutely Dick whispering to him. “C’mon back to me.”

He wasn’t aware he’d gone anywhere but he had never been able to deny Dick anything, not really, not even when he was all bluster and arrogant in his dismissal of orders. A soft thread of embarrassment curls around his chest, reminding him of how pathetic and vulnerable he was in the face of his Robin. The whole point of him being sent away to Dick was for him to prove himself worthy, to show that he could learn and adapt.

(And the reason he stayed, instead of running away like he could have, the reason he still followed Dick when he left the Titans was of course irrelevant) (Devotion came in so many forms)

But either way, he wasn’t supposed to be sick. But he was also so fucking tired, desperately wanting to be alone, a harsh ‘fuck off’ would probably solve his problem but what if Dick actually left? What if he left him alone here in this place Jason didn’t know.

“Looks like you’ve got a fever picking up.” Dick mutters and Jason preens as a hand brushes back his hair, clearing it off his disgustingly clammy forehead. “You’re gonna be stuck here with me for a while.” Jason pretended he didn’t hear the lack of irritation in Dick’s voice, the man didn’t sound too bothered by the fact. Sounded relieved even. God Jason hoped Dick was looking for a reason to keep him around. For all Jason’s determined promises to stay by Dick’s side, he hadn’t actually dared to consider the possibility of being turned away.

“This is what you get for driving through the rain.” Jason would have grinned at Dick’s dismay if he could, the man sounded so clearly put our by Jason’s apparent recklessness. “Seriously, couldn’t you have chosen this as one of your times for wasting Bruce’s money?”

No, because that would have been using Bruce’s money for something useful. The point was to waste it and see when the Old Man would snap. Stupid fool hadn’t yet. The closest he’d gotten was when Jason had crashed a vintage Porsche with a fancy pedigree he didn’t understand and that had only stopped Jason because he was uncomfortable with the panic in Bruce's eyes when he’d arrived on scene. Something in his stomach had twisted painfully during those brief moments when Bruce hadn’t yet caught sight of him and Jason was allowed unfettered access to every emotion playing out on his face.

He’d stopped acting out after that. Not entirely, he’d just gotten a little… spooked, by Bruce’s reaction.

Jason flinched when a rolling headache descended upon him, trying to breathe his nose only to cough at the sensation of dry air on an already desert-like throat. Fuck. Breathing through his mouth didn’t help anymore and Jason found himself unconsciously whining, panicked by the pain.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Firm hands dragged him upright, far enough up his bed that the pressure was taken off his airways. “Just breathe, I’m right here.”

“C’mon Jason.” Dick urges as Jason splutters on his breath. “Try and breathe for me.”

Of course he was fucking trying. He’d very much like to breathe, thank you.

Instead he just sniffled and tried again. Matching his movements to the patterns he could feel Dick tracing along his arm, it was a rare touch that Jason allowed and part of him was grateful that sickness had dulled his nerves enough to allow it. 

“It’s alright now, I’m here Jay, relax for me, I’m right here.”

And Jason could never deny his Robin.

– – –

The cobbled stone was slick and cold beneath his feet, making each step unsteady as bricks lashed out to trip his feet as he ran. Jason stumbled, knees scraping against the gravel before he was hurling himself forward, slamming into walls, corners, lamp posts, whatever was nearest and allowing him to drag himself back to his feet. 

It was harder than it should have been. The rain had turned an already dangerous city into a deathly landscape. Each slab stone and brick wall was suddenly covered in the bright gleam of blood of water as it thundered down around, turning the walls dark and the sky thunderous as the storm hounded at the back of Jason’s feet.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t dare to when he could still hear the cries echoing through the streets. Howling, mad sounds that had been ripped from a monster's chest. There was nothing human about it. No creature with a soul could have made that noise yet here was a pack of them. Mongrels wearing human skins as they hunted through the night.

Hunted Jason and every other street rat foolish enough to be out, to have not found shelter. But he had tried, he thought he had found somewhere safe in that broken window nook high enough up a brownstone block to keep him from the street view. But he’d been unlucky, like he had been for the past year, luck had abandoned him many months ago. 

He’d moved on instinct then, like he did now, racing through the backstreets in a desperate attempt to lose his tail and find a safe place to wait them out. 

And so he did. A single beacon of hope in the form of the broken remains of shipping crates. Wooden boxes stacked three high and four across, each one rotten and falling apart, they couldn’t take his weight but Jaosn would just have to take the risk of staying on the ground. He cowered in their broken husks, a trembling heap of sopping clothes and broken skin. The rain drowned out most sounds but it had started to lighten by them, something that caused Jason as much dread as it did hope for he couldn’t hear that pack of hounds following him.

It's enough that Jason relaxes, lets his guard down as the air leaves his lungs in one great breath.

Fuck that was close. Too bloody close, a risk that shouldn’t have been taken.

But it was the pricking of hairs at the nape of his neck that had him truly gasping. This time he truly believed that his heart would race out of his chest, that it would echo loud and clear through the empty street without the rolling thunder to hide it. His stomach roiled with fear but he couldn’t move from his broken perch. He did nothing but huddle there on the floor, chest heaving for breath as each inhale brough the sharp sting of pain. Some distant part of him registered that coppery tang of blood in his mouth.

He couldn’t see anything but that meant nothing. At some point the shadows had descended upon him, blanketing his little corner of the world in darkness with no deep caverns to lure in a bat. He was alone out here. No vigilantes came to Crime Alley, and you didn’t want to run into the cops that did.

So there was nothing to do but focus on the roaring of his pulse as fear blinded him.

He barely remembers running but the sharp swing of the baton would forever be ingrained in his mind. The harsh pain that drove him forwards, faster and farther than he had ever thought possible. He couldn’t recall how he had ever found the energy for such defiance. Not when his legs were mush and his soul ached.

He could hear it now, in his mind, the sound of whatever was chasing. The blue scaled demon that had pursued him for so many streets. Crossing district after district, with no regard for distance or time. He could hear its panting breath. Deeper and more controlled than his own sharp breaths. It was getting closer. Heavy footfalls shook the ground beneath him, unsettling his balance and booming louder than the blood rushing in his ears.

There was nothing he could do. The only thing there was to do was run. A race against a faceless predator. But he had nothing left, there was no movement when he urged his body to uncurl, when he begged his legs to take one more step.

He doesn’t know when it happened. When the blood rushing through his ears began to echo, when it turned to sharp static that fuzzed out his thoughts. Maybe he was growing delirious. Exhaustion had crawled into his bones when he stumbled again and again, each step had landed heavy, no longer light with childish grace but halting as the weight of his mortal blood weighed him down. It wasn’t long till his body gave out. Maybe it already has.

He couldn’t look at it. Not in the face at least. No. Jason just stared and stared at those thick black hooves digging deeper and deeper into the mud as it stalked closer. A faceless beast, a chimera of creatures, starved before its next meal.

Jason could hear its snarls, could feel them reverberating through his soul. But his head weighed heavier and heavier until he dropped, unable to even look up at the beast stalking towards him. 

It was inevitable. Yet Jason was still waiting for it to pounce.

– – –

Run. Run. 

It echoed like a battle cry inside his head. He had to get away, he wasn’t safe, not here, not anywhere, he had to hide from– ( You filthy brat! Where the hell are you? ). He choked on his fear, lurching upright and away from the ringing in his head.

For a second he can’t place himself and these said beige walls, and isn’t that a thought to panic to but– There's a figure in the corner of his eye, carefully relaxed and pliant in an out of place chair. Dick was watching him through half lidded eyes. For all intents and purposes he looked asleep, like a weary soldier standing vigil in the hospital, just another person desperately seeking rest from a shitty chair.

Jason knew better. He could feel the weight of Dick Grayson’s stare upon his skin and damn him for calming at the man’s comforting presence. But Dick said nothing while he lazily blinked, he seemed content to wait while Jason urged those hazy thoughts away from his mind.

“Were you watching me?” He rasps, wincing as his throat sings with pain at the words. Dick uncurls with feline grace at his words, showing no sign of pain from his uncomfortable rest as he reaches over to the nightstand. Jason doesn’t thank him for the offered water but he does relent with a soft flush upon his cheeks when Dick carefully pushes the glass into his hands, his grip gentle but firm as he curls Jason's fingers around the cold glass.

“Of course I have.” Dick whispers, gaze carefully focused on Jason as he takes slow measured sips, treasuring the sharp sting of clean cool water on his tongue. And thank god he was because he nearly chokes at Dick’s words. “What else would I be doing.”

Jason pauses, trembling hands lowering the half empty glass.

“Why.”

Dick doesn’t answer him, just silently reaches out for the glass until Jason acquiesces. 

“Because I want to look after you.”

There’s so many things hiding behind that sentence. So many little thoughts that Jason needs to pull apart, wants to challenge because– Want? 

“I’m going to look after you.” Jason’s breath hitches at the harshness of Dick’s words. It was a soft or delicate promise but it was so transparent in its truth. Such a simple statement full of Grayson determination. Said with all the authority of an arrogant Wayne and broken circus child. For the life of him, Jason couldn’t find any tricks or lies hidden in that statement, not when there was no bargaining, no leverages or threats, or any reason for deception in Dick’s eyes.

He hated it. (he loved it)

It’s such a simple and easy fact that Dick can just repeat it. He can say it twice where Bruce has to awkwardly present him with papers and overpriced gifts that make him want to throw up. He can say it all where social workers hadn’t even looked at him, hadn’t even read his file beyond a few skimmed lines.

This Titan just stands before him and demands to be the one who takes care of Jason.

“I’m not yours to take care of.” The words sound forced to his own ears and Dick tilts his head curiously at them. Acknowledging them like they have worth–

“You are now.” Jason’s eyes widen but Dick just stares at him, face open and calm. “If you want to be.”

(yes)

Yes.

Wait. No. No, he can’t- that’s not–

“I’m a street rat.” the words leave his disconnected mouth of their own volition. “I’m Bruce’s, his charity case, his Robin.”

“Robin is mine.” Dick says with all the petulance of a child. “It is not his to possess. To give or to take.”

Dick’s gaze drags across Jason’s broken form, “As Robin you are my legacy. As Jason…” Dick hesitates, eyes flickering. “That is up to you.”

“I’m not a good person– An easy person–”

“You are.”

“I’ve done some horrible things.” He can’t stop the words as they spill from his mouth. “So many things that you don’t– that Bruce doesn’t…”

“So have I.”

Jason shakes his head, “Not like me, not when– I was young and I…” He chokes, turning away from Dick, unable to bear his burning eyes. He needs to stop before Dick finds out. Before the truth that he so desperately wants to fling in Bruce’s face escapes him and sends them both running. They don’t need this from him. Not in their perfect normal world, no matter how much he wants to shatter that perception for them.

Jason isn’t something to love. He can’t escape that shame.

“I know.” Dick’s voice has gone hard in a way that Jason rarely hears. “That was not fair to you. None of that was– you should have never been put in that position.” It was too much. Too soon. “You were forced to grow up far faster than–”

“Stop it.”

Silence. It’s not any better but at least–

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” He grits out even as his foggy head tries to wrap his head around the words, keeping them trapped in place while he works out their place, their meaning. “Just– f’ck off. I don’t need your– Now?” He shudders at his own demand. “You’re doing this now.”

It’s more that he knows than sees Dick’s shrug, knows the way a soft awkward smile is probably curling at the edges of his mouth. Even when he can’t bear to look at Dick he knows how he’ll behave.

“Yeah, Jason. I’m saying this now.”

“Why.”

Dick hesitates.

“ Why .” 

“Seemed like you needed to hear it today.”

He tips his head back, letting it thump against the headboard as he stares up at the white ceiling in an effort to hide his dawning horror. Because he knew, and Dick knew he knew. Jason had done something during that last wave of fever, mutter some sordid secreted or worse– flinched. A reaction that Dick would spend days picking apart until he had found every wretched possibility to torture himself with picturing.

“I didn’t–” Jason croaks, shuddering as his soul threatens to rip apart. “I didn’t want to. I’m not a bad person if I didn’t want to do it.”

“You’re a good person, Jay.”

He shakes his head, a desperate frantic movement that has vertigo spinning the room.

“No.”

“You are.”

“Stop it, D. Just–” He heaves, it's a painful action, breath punching out from his lungs but– “Get out.”

“Jason–”

“Out.”

– – –

“It’s not as good as Alfred’s but I hope it’ll do.”

“I’ll try anything that’s not actually food.” Dick winces but Jason’s just grateful for the tea and ginger biscuits, the only two things he seems able to keep down with his rebelling stomach. He was content to just enjoy his tea, dunking each biscuit in - pausing only to curse when one broke perfectly in half, muddying the English Breakfast blend that had appeared out of the blue. He makes it through three and half biscuits before he’s reminded of his other… needs.

“Jay?” Dick frowns at him, leaving behind the work tablet that had been occupying him as he leans forward in his chair. “You okay?”

He flushes, “Bathroom.” He’s already fighting with the covers to shuffle out of bed. No way in hell was he having an accident, or using a bedpan or– Dick is at his side in seconds, hovering, arm out ready for Jason to either brace or to be caught with. Jason muttered complaints under his breath, not content to be babied without rebelling but Dick had stopped being swayed by Jason’s insults hours ago.

Problems begin to arise when Jason stands and lurches forward with the force of his head rush. A wave of nausea overcomes him but there’s nothing but liquid to come up with what he had eaten. Jason shuddered, whining as his throat burned but Dick was already there to shush him, having been the one to shove a bin into Jason’s chest when he saw the blood drain from his face.

Jesus, fuck . He hates this. He hates this so fucking much.

Dick had already curled an arm around his waist, the other waiting to catch the bin once Jason inevitably dropped it from his trembling arms. And he did, and Dick did catch it, always cleaning up after Jason.

“Let me help you.”

It was an offer that extended to much more.

“Fine.” Jason gasps, leaning his weight against Dick’s side. “Just get me to the bathroom.”

Dick didn’t fight him on the matter. Not even when Jason was forced to snivel from the burning in his eyes, hastily swiping at the traitorous tears. Why did it have to be Dick. Why did he have to see Jason like this? (Why was he the only one Jason trusted) At least Bruce would have enjoyed it in some bizarre fatherly way that had him enjoying the simple domestic pleasures even as he fretted over a sick chick. (Even when both he and Jason struggled with the younger man’s fear of large men looming over him when he was in a compromised state).

Jason hadn’t questioned why that fear hadn’t arisen with Dick.

Of course Dick couldn’t just take Bruce’s money like a good little trust fund baby ( and god didn’t that please Jason) which meant he had to hobble out of the spare room that had at some point become his and through the corridor to the bathroom. He supposed that he should just be grateful there was a spare bedroom and that he wasn’t having to endure this sickness on a shitty sofa.

“Just a little further.”

“I can fucking see that Dickhead”

Dick sighed, exasperated by the language but unwilling to reprimand the sick person.

“Fuck.” Jason groaned, pausing to lean against the bathroom doorway as if Dick wasn’t carrying all of his weight already. “Just carrying me next time.”

Dick huffed, knowing that Jason would bite his hand off if he tried.

Jason knew Dick was hovering outside while he used the bathroom, probably fretting over how long Jason was taking and how long he was being unsupervised for but quite frankly Jason had preening to do. Including scrubbing the taste of bile out of his mouth. Disgusting but necessary work. At which point he tried to freshen himself, splashing water on his face in an attempt to cool down the hot flush that had risen to his neck and face. He tried to ignore how awful he looked with dull skin, greasy hair and eyes that were so bright they bordered on manic.

He looked just like–

Jason shuddered, breathing heavily as his legs collapsed under him. Dick, the boundary ignorant man that he is, didn’t knock before appearing in the bathroom. Hell, Jason is pretty sure the man just teleported in ready with gentle reassurances and a comforting hand at Jason’s back. Gods he was so pathetic. This was a low point, not an all time low, Jason had plenty worse, but this was definetly going down in the calendar as a shit few days. Was it even days? Had it only been hours. Fuck time for not being linear.

Dick was faffing around somewhere out of Jason’s line of sight, which wasn’t exactly hard to do considering he was sat on the bathroom floor, back against a surprisnglt counter. It only took a minute or so until Dick was back, urging Jason to drink some water while he hovers nearby with a cool cloth, attempting to dab at Jason’s forehead without getting swiped by clawless hands.

“At least let me– Jason.” Dick huffs and Jason dutifully stills. “Just let me put the cloth at your neck.”

(Heavy hands curling around his throat, choking him)

Dick nudges at his shoulder, encouraging him to leans forward (Hot weight pinning him down, holding the back of his throat. He couldn’t breath– he couldn’t) and oh isn’t that nice. Jason let’s his eyes flutter shut at the cold press of the cloth against his overheated skin. Dick didn’t seem to mind when Jason leaned back, pinning Dick’s hand between his neck and the counter. 

“What changed.” Dick murmured, voice barely audibe in the silence of the bathroom. Jason hums non-commitally, not quite understanding what was being asked of him. “Just now I mean. Something made you panic.”

Jason stiffened.

“Hey,” Dick wiggled the fingers at the back of his neck, not pressing or gripping, just getting Jason’s attention. “I’m willing to listen if you’ll tell me.” Jason focuses on his breathing even as his mind races. “I’m here.” For you , went unspoken. 

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me anyways.”

Jason sighs.

“It was the mirror- me, how I look now.”

Dick waits for him to say more but Jason thinks he can turn to stone with time for all he cares. That’s far more than generous than Jason had ever been with anyone else.

“I left Bruce because I couldn’t recognise the Robin staring back at me.” 

Jason feels his breath hitch, an isntictive reaction to the mention of Robin. They haven’t spoke about it, not really. It’s just one of those things that have been left behind in their haste. But now Dick sighs, pensive and patient in a way he hadn’t been in the Before.

“It was stupid to let vigilante work tear Bruce and I apart.” Dick swallows audibly and Jason didn’t dare breath lest hi break the new tension descending upon them. “We… were good. Real good, Jay. Not just as Batman and Robin but as… he was my father.” Dick says the word ‘father’ all funny. Like he’s trying it on for size, mulling on it. 

“No, that’s a lie.” Dick chuckles, its a dark and bitter sound. “He was my dad. The one I went to after a nightmare when I was little. The guy who drove me to my first date even when he had a butler. Maybe we could have survived if it had just stayed that way. With normal, stupid teen issues and growing pains. The worst thing in my life being–” His parents. Their death at Zucco’s hand. “At least we stuck to the tried and true family tradition of arguing over politics and methods.”

“Bruce doesn’t talk about why you left.” Jason whispers it like a secret. “He’d talk about you sometimes, always with such admiration and love.”

“Yeah? I thought it would have just been Robin as a training exercise.”

Jason shrugged, wincing when the motioned reminded him of Dick’s hand still resting on his neck. Surely his arm was burning by now, or at least had pins and needles from blood loss. Dick didn’t seem to care. It probably didn’t affect an acrobat like him.

“Robin…” Dick pauses and Jason sees him shake his head out the corner of his eye. Knows that Dick has just changed his mind about what he was going to share. Jason braces himself for the sharp sting of rejection, for the line drawn in the sand. “The Robin that started out on the job was unrecognisble to the one that ended it.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that. Doesn’t know what Dick needs to hear so–

“Well only one of you was wearing green panties.”

Dick groans but the sound turns into a choked laugh.

“God don’t remind me.”

“Can’t believe Bruce let you go out like that.” Jason shudders. “Irresponsobile in so many ways, you must have bene freezing! Not to mention how obscene it was when you got older.”

Dick winced, “Yeah, I didn’t exactly have enough peer pressure around to check my stupid fashion choices.”

“What changed it.”

Dick blushes, actually blushes. “This older boy at school said it was stupid. That he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something like that at Robin’s age and–”

“You thought he was cool as fuck and wanted to copy him?”

“I had a big ass crush on him actually.” Dick has the gall to grin at Jason like he hasn’t just short wired his brain with that revelation. “Oh the things teens do for puppy love.”

Jason doesn’t have the capacity to answer him but Dick doesn’t seem to mind.

“But that was the problem. Robin was a beacon of hope and I had lost that.” Dick sighed and Jason didn’t have the heart to disagree with him, there were so many difference between their Robin’s between their purposes but now wasn’t the time for that. “I stopped seeing the civilians I was trying to protect. It was just villain after villain after abusers and corrupt officals and it got to me… I stopped pulling my punches.”

Jason had never even started.

But Dick was done for the night, he could feel the man’s suffering in his own soul as if it were his own.

“I saw…” Jason clear his throat. “I’m not too sure what, in the mirror; my mother, perhaps? Failing despite desperately wanting to be good; those children I left behind to die on the streets from disease and exposure.” Jason shakes his head, scrunching his eyes shut as if he can hide from the world. “I should be dead.’

Dick stopped breathing at his time.

“I should have died so many times and yet here I am.” Jason laughs. “This sickness would have killed me out there yet here I am. No one would have even heard my cries out there. No vigilantes came to our territory, no officials or safe cops. No one would have noticed.”

Jason knows Dick’s silence isn’t a choice. Its borne of a helpless that Jason had felt moments ago, the knwoeldge that you need to say something, that you want to say something to help but there’s nothing to be done. That feeling must be killing a man like Grayson.

“I’m listening.” Dick whispers. “I always will be.”

Jason sighs, “Not for them.”

“No,” The word sounds painful. “No, I–” Dick sighs. “We can’t save everyone.”

Jason froze, how could he– how was Dick Grayson of all people–

“This world makes us pick and choose.” There’s a weary hatred in Dick’s tone, one that has Jason’s heart thundering. “So fine. I’m choosing. If you call for me, I’ll be there.”

Dick turns to him, a slow and steady movement that sucks the air from Jason’s lungs when he finally meets Dick’s glittering eyes. He can’t breath, too shocked, to scared of a trick. Dick smiles, its a small action but one that has tension loosing from Jason’s shoulders.

“What?” Dick arches one smug brow. “You get to trapize across the country out of some misguided sense of loyalty but I can’t return the devotion?”

No he fucking well can’t.

Jason turns away. A sharp desperate movement that he knows is worsening his blush. Thank fuck he can blame the fever, but if he’s blaming the fever for that then he might as well–

“What changed.”

Dick waits, noting how Jason seems to be rolling words across his tongue in thought.

“I mean… how you think of me. It’s been a bit of a one-eighty.”

Dick sighs, “I could be cliche and say that my world changed the second I saw you on that ledge.” Jason stutters, he hadn’t dare– (wind across his face. The prospect of relief–) “or I could be selfish and say that you’re the only one who has shown me loyalty.”

Jason swallows back his pain, “but.”

“But,” Dick echoes and the thump of his head hitting against the counter reverberates across to Jason. “But those wouldn’t be the truth. Part of it probably, but not the truth.”

“What is the reason then.”

“I’m not sure I have a good enough answer for you.”

Jason huffs, patience running thin. “Try.”

Dick chuckles at his patience. “ ‘cause.”

He waits, Dick chuckles again.

“That’s it.” Jason demands, suddenly horrified at Dick’s arrogance. “That’s all you’ve got for me? You hated me months ago and now–”

“No.” Dick’s voice has gone hard. “I never hated you, I had shit I should have dealt with better but I never hated you.”

Jason gaped him.

“And what’s wrong with my reason, huh? Can I not just care because I can? Because I want to? Is it so hard to believe that someone might simply like you enough to just care.”

Dick damn well knew the answer to that.

“You’re being cruel.” Jason whispered, suddenly tired as the fight leaves him.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

Maybe he has low standards. It was something Gar had teased him about when they were at the tower. Out of everyone the shifter was the person Jason had managed to get close to. Perhaps it was because he was the only one who didn’t hold much of a grudge. Who had spent a whole day with Jason and then told him he deserved more than the scraps he expected to get.

Maybe he just understood his place in his world. So sue him for crowing over every morsel of care that Dick Grayson spared for him. Even when it's just the two of them playing civil over another box of cereal. 

The bowl of sugar is presented to him with a tight smile and the promise of going shopping. For something Jason can actually eat without– It’s stupid (he loves it) he shouldn’t need Dick to go out of his way. He doesn’t want to be an obligation, another useless responsibility on Dick’s shoulders.

“Eat.” Dick commands when Jason doesn’t move and he bristles at Dickhead’s tone, who has the nerve to chuckle at Jason’s displeasure. “If you want to get back to training you’ll need all the energy and strength you can get.”

How stupidly easy was he to please. Dick makes some vague gesture that he cares about Jason’s health and wellbeing and all of sudden he’s mush. But it’s the little actions like this that make Jason want to pettily send the Titan’s a gift basket. A thank you for giving him Dick and letting him keep the vigilante all to himself. Besides, he would never fit in with the Titans, they were too clean, too shiny and aloof for him ever to be comfortable around them. 

Jason wasn’t sure how Dick ever fit in with them. No, part of him could see it, in the way that the old Dick so clearly shone through at the times, the playful, smiling man that Bruce had talked about with reverence. But that was rare and new. A side that Jason was only just being allowed to see.

But things are different now. Dick was still struggling, irritatingly he was still struggling with the Titans, with their abandonment. Jason could see that every new day crushed more and more of the hope Dick harboured. He couldn’t fault him, not for staring longingly at his phone like someone might call. Like they’d care enough to check where the washout wound up down the river. Maybe they had, maybe they’d spied and checked on him, them, but Jason highly doubted it. One didn’t spy on a Bat. Certainly not on the birds hiding under Batman’s cape.

Other days were worse. Dick would spend hours like a wraith, floating through the apartment, aimless as his thoughts wandered. Jason often wondered where he went at those times, what he saw that inspired such introspection. Memories perhaps, ghosts even, and Jason is nothing in comparison to that and Jason could admit he was more than a little desperate for Dick’s attention. Besides, Dick’s exile might not be a permanent thing (Dick seems to think he’ll be returning) and Jason can’t imagine they’ll last long without Dick’s guidance and skills and resources and experience with the bat and– well, Jason thinks the rest of them pale in comparison (not Wondergirl who’s fucking brilliant just like Wonderwoman). The problem is, he thinks the team are going to part ways before they welcome Dick back. 

A point which Dick ignores because, fair, the man’s life is falling apart, why would he want to consider more hells to add on? Which is fine, Jason can enjoy picturing them for him. Because while the team has fucked off it has meant there’s a lot more time spent as just Jason and Dick. Robin and Robin (Nightwing and Robin). And their isolation in Bludhaven meant Jason had the full force of Dick’s energy and attention on him.

It was the happiest he had been in a long time.

So maybe Jason should feel a little guilty for being so happy, especially considering that he has profited every time Dick’s life has fallen apart; Moving in with Bruce; becoming Robin; joining the Titans (though that was more of Rachel’s life falling apart); Leaving the Titans . But that would be the reaction of a good person and Jason has never pretended to be anything but selfish.

Maybe the Titans will calm down and take Dick back or maybe some mission will crop up and need their attendance. Either way Dick has them train like it will. Its a bit harder to find a place to do so considering Dick’s cramped apartment didn’t exactly have a gym but it had only taken Dick a couple of hours of online sleuthing to find reputable and unreputable boxing rings, martial arts centres and gyms that wouldn’t ask too many questions about their training routine.

A dark look had passed over Dick’s face when Jason had asked what he had done for training beforehand. Initially he had assumed that Boy Wonder was just trying to get out of taking Jason on patrol and training on the job. It later transpired that the man had been training on the rooftop and yeah– Jason got it. His throat had also tightened up at the reminder of his latest stupid decision. He couldn’t blame Dick for not wanting to see Jason anywhere near high ledges (even if it made him want to smash in the bars of his new cage).

But he can be patient. Soon enough Dick will see that Jason is reliable, that he had moved on from his momentary insanity and was back to being Good Ole’ Rob. 

He’s not the only one stir crazy and since the pain Dick’s caused isn’t going to go away any time soon the man seems content to just devote himself to Jason's training. (God it's everything he’s ever dreamed of). They could both pretend it was Bat training, the need to be prepared for anything and everything, to be at the top of their game at all times, but they both knew the need was born from personal stakes - not Bruce’s rules. 

So they prepare themselves for anything.

That first week was the closest thing to heaven Jason had ever witnessed without fearing the prospect of death. Morbid, he knows, but true. They’d spent their time going over every routine, meal plan, medical check and whatever else the Bat had deemed necessary, and had updated and edited them to suit their current needs. 

Bruce had texted then, or rather again since the man had phoned once Jason’s tracker had pinged at Dick’s. It had been hilarious listening to the man try and not sound like a helicopter parent wondering if Jason had been injured and gone to Dick, or if Dick had been injured and summoned Jason to Bludhaven. The man hadn’t bothered to hide his ‘happiness’ at the two boys getting along though, which was to say he didn’t disapprove of it and managed to choke out a ‘glad you’ve got his back’ which was Bat speak for approval.

Jason hadn’t told Dick any of that, though he knew the man wasn’t ignorant of his contact with Bruce. It had taken some time for Jason to reach out to the Old Man after being sent away but once he had calmed down and heard out Bruce’s reasoning; ‘I want you to have friends’ and ‘it’s a good training opportunity’ and ‘you can’t live in a tomb’. Jason was proud of him for admitting that last one, the spark had died with Alfred apparently. 

Now it wasn’t Jason’s place to share what had happened between Dick and the Titans so of course he spent an hour ranting to Bruce on the phone late at night about the matter. Bruce had been concerned, during the first iteration of the story that is, then he had been surprised by Jason’s fervorous hatred, then Jason thinks the old man might have checked out from the conversation out of boredom once Jason started listing his own complaints with the Titans. It had also taken him 16 minutes to realise that Bruce had hung up on him.

But apparently the man could phone back in thanks when he finally - legally - gets his son’s updated medicals on file after a good few years of no contact. Jason is quite smug about that achievement but would also appreciate the pair getting a better form of communication than just mission logs and medical reports.

He’ll build up to that.

He’s a bit busy enjoying Dick to care about Bruce’s long term emotional repression issues. God knows how the man managed to raise Dick so well. Although Dick would probably debate that assessment, Jason thought he turned out pretty great so he wouldn’t be believing any argument but his own.

And it’s exactly thanks to that devotion Jason has for the hero that he finds himself blushing or grinning or just being generally embarrassing every time Dick mentions them training together. It’s stupid, Jason is literally the only option, but now Dick is training him one-on-one and fucking hell does that make his heart race. Because Dick can’t just stop there with the bare minimum, oh no, it’s like he’s gotten a taste of what it’s like to have a partner again and can’t get enough of it. The man’s lonely and Jason is loving it. Because no, his opinions aren’t only taken into consideration but are asked for, when he hesitates Dick is always there with a quick I’m listening or a I hear you and doesn’t that just turn him into a useless pile of jelly.

And that feeling, the one Dick inspires, is beginning to become addictive.

Jason had thought being Robin was pure magic, but being with the Robin (With Nightwing)? He’s on top of the world. It’s so fucking amazing he can’t begin to describe it.

It’s a new feeling, one he’s scared of losing to time when it loses its shine or Dick leaves him for the Titans. But now they have a routine full of things that were once novel to Jason, not just vigilante things, but the ‘simple pleasures’ in life that Bruce had preached about. And how could it not be addictive when he has someone coming to him, asking to spend time with him. 

Even now, a week or so in, Jason is still surprised by their little impromptu coffee shop session. They’d gone out with the mission of shopping, something Jason had taken… Well, Dick had been fine with his odd behaviour around food, his need to plan every meal they had, what food they were getting, when it was going out of date, how it was organised. (Burning fire settled into his stomach– mouth so dry it bled) At first Jason had thought that Dick just couldn’t stand cooking - he was still shocked by Dick’s ‘healthy food’ from the Tower - but he was starting to realise it was a mercy from Dick. Letting Jason work through his stress. 

Then all of a sudden the day's plans had changed and Jason found himself in a coffee shop.

Which is also why Jason was choking down some disgusting latte that he had drenched in hazelnut syrup. The closest he could get to a hot chocolate without ordering one. Dick had only raised his eyebrows at the order, probably surprised by the great Jason Todd not drinking his coffee black. He fucking hates coffee.

“We can get you something else.”

Jason scowled, “This is fine.”

Dick sighed, rubbing at his forehead, “Why did you get it if you didn’t want it.”

“This is a coffee house.”

“They sell things other than coffee.”

“But that’s not what you invited me for.”

Dick huffed but there was amusement in his eyes at Jason’s intentional efforts to be contrary. He grinned, or at least he did till he looked back down at the coffee he was about to suffer through. God he should have just risked the shitty tea here. 

“They have tea.” Dick pointed out, clearly coming to the same conclusion when he catches Jason’s expression. “Just let me go order–”

“No.” Dick freezes at Jason’s sharp tone, clearly surprised by the anger that had been so rare in the past week. “Sorry.” Jason mutters, suddenly embarrassed by his childish display. “There’s no reason to waste perfectly good food, besides, you already had to pay for it.”

Dick tilts his head to the side, watching Jason for a long moment and he tries to puzzle out whatever is going on.

“We’re rich, you know.” It’s said light heartedly but Jason winces.

“That’s not the point.” He whispers, desperately sipping the sickening drink to both prove that he could handle it and hide himself from the tension that he had created.

Dick sighs, a dramatised sound, “Fine, torture yourself with sugar then.”

Jason smiles slightly at Dick’s attempt to be the joking one. It's rare and only ever done when Dick notices that Jason is having a bad day, which is more common than he would like.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Uh oh. You don’t normally ask.” Jason narrows his eyes. “Are you about to get all emotional on me Grayson.”

Dick rolls his eyes but– “Would that be so bad.”

Shit. He really was about to have one of his therapist moments. They’d started a few days ago, as if amidst all of Dick’s careful attention he had suddenly started questioning what actually went on inside Jason’s head. Unfortunately not much when Dick was around to make him blush.

“Fine.” He huffs, grimacing around a mouth of latte. “Ask me.”

Dick hesitates, because of course he does.

“Ask. Me.”

“Why do you want to be Robin?”

Jason shifts uncomfortably, “Haven’t we already had this conversation.”

“Months ago and under shit circumstances.” Dick counters before staring at Jason pointedly. “Besides, I want a real answer this time.”

Of course the son of the World’s Greatest Detective would have picked up on the silly mask Jason had been wearing. Jason hadn’t lied to Dick at the time, he’d just given him the most surface level, basic answer of the ‘Jason Todd Persona’, which was kind of similar to Brucie Wayne and Richie. Though Jason chose brash bravado to flirting suave.

Jason knew exactly why he wanted to be Robin, he just didn’t want to tell his predecessor. There was also the problem of having layers to that answer, ones that would take a long time to explain. Not to mention dredging up old hurts and displaying them for Dick Grayson’s amusement hadn;t appealed to him during their first doomed meeting. 

So he lied, sort of. 

“You could have chosen a different name.” Dick points out calmly. “Sparrow, Bluejay, Mockingjay–”

Jason scoffs, “Really not getting the concept of a secret identity are you. Can’t have people going around calling me Jay out in the field.”

“Is that invitation for me to do so when we’re not?”

Dick grins and Jason flushes, hating when the man uses that Richie Grayson charm on him when he knows how it affects Jason. Which isn’t at all his fault, anyone would flounder under the attention of such an Adonis. 

“Shut up.” Jason groans, once again hiding behind his drink and trying not to look petulant when his face inevitably scrunches up at the taste. “You know damn well that the whole point is to be Robin.”

“Why.” Dick’s expression is eerily calm, like he’s bracing himself. “I just…” Jason doesn’t like it when Dick hesitates. “I need to understand.”

And yeah, okay, Jason could relate to that.

At least Dick gave him the honour of the bird theme with his suggested names. A continuation of sorts that allowed Jason to make something of his own but that wasn’t the point. It had to be Robin. Not just some blip in the vast scale of time. An eternal, just like Batman. A constant that everyday people, children, could look up to in hope.

Grayson was the one who turned the bird into a symbol of hope after all. The youth that represented Gotham’s future. Hope to counter the vengeance. Maybe Dick had lost sight of that. Bruce had never shared why the two had parted ways. If it was a Batman and Robin thing, or if it was Bruce and Dick thing. Jason suspected it was more of a Bruce and Dick thing that had spilled over into their vigilante life. Dick had, after all, been avoiding the Robin costume. Enough that Jason was allowed the opportunity to take over.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about Robin. Isn’t that one of our silent rules?” He challenged pointedly but Dick didn’t rise to the bait, determined to stay on topic despite Jason's shitty attempt at anger. Which, fair, especially when Jason clearly wasn’t up to the task of mustering his usual sass.

Dick held his gaze, waiting patiently for an actual answer. Jason sipped from his drink, grimaced, and reached for the sugar on their table trying not to think of Rachel as he poured copious amounts of it into his cup. Dick stayed silent while Jason made his sugar concoction, and Jason wondered if he too was reminded of the Raven haired girl, if he missed her. 

Jason Eventually looked up again, meeting Dick’s eyes but the older man just raised his brows, waiting for Jason to speak. 

“God you’re needy.” he muttered under his breath, finally taking a proper drink from his cup now that it was more sugar than coffee.

He had screwed up the conversation in the elevator. He’d gotten a test wrong. It was so like a Wayne for Dick to question Jason on his motives, and he had stupidly gotten caught up in being Dick Grayson’s equal. He’d been too familiar, joking bravado instead of a respectful student. He wanted Dick’s respect as a vigilante but Jason hated that he also wanted the man to like him as a person as well. Or to at the very least understand how much he means to Jason. How much Robin means to him and why he has to fix Dick’s mistakes and carry on the legacy.

“Look,” Jason swipes at his mouth as if he could erase his last word as it catches Dick’s attention. “I’m only going to say this once and it’s the only actual explanation you’re getting.”

He has the former Robin’s full attention now and it’s an unnerving thing. Enough that Jason finds himself banding one arm across himself in a mockery of comfort. A hug he had never received.

“You’ve never been on the other side of this life. Sure, you had a childhood at Haley’s but even that was out of the stereotypical mass norm. You went from outsider, to an orphan, then a billionaire kid and finally Robin.” Dick had turned to stone before him, eyes cold enough that Jason avoided meeting his gaze head on. “You’ve never been a civilian living in fear. Or a child staring up at masked gods who play chess with your life. 

“It is not Batman that needs Robin.” Jason makes an effort to catch Dick’s gaze, confidence stumbling as he's faced with Dick’s openly devasted expression. “It’s the people. You made Robin a symbol of hope. One that stopped the fear of Batman. So long as Batman goes through his mission alone he will forever be a dark symbol of vengeance, one that lives in the past.”

“Do you have any idea what it was like to grow up in the narrows knowing that Batman wouldn’t come into the territory?” Jason couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “That you lived in the designated cesspit that Batman had just given up on. Where there was crime at all hours, everywhere, all at once. That there was no Robin to bring hope and a warm blanket on dark winter nights.”

Dick’s expression was blank but Jason could see the guilt in the older man’s eyes. He hated it. Hated that guilt was just self-loathing in disguise. Grayson took no actual responsibility for the Narrows. For the oversight that was their abandonment. He didn’t know the specifics; the call girls who looked out for the street rats only to wind up dead in an alley; the addicts trying to get clean for the children’s sake only to die from laced drugs. Grayson didn’t even know what he was guilty of.

“Do you know what living in total poverty is like? Not poverty, no Bruce taught me all the phrases. Absolute poverty, not just toeing the bread line.” Jason felt his lips twist into a snarl as he smiled darkly, “Living in broken houses that had no water or electricity, no heating and broken windows. And the places that did have those things came at a price. Hell even foster care was mostly a front for human trafficking. When the system was overwhelmed the older kids were just put back on the street.”

Jason hummed sharply, a pointed, expectant sound. “I don’t see Batman giving a shit about those kids. I don’t remember Robin coming around with food donations. And I certainly don’t remember Brucie Wayne and Richie Grayson’s many charities ever being dedicated to our education and health.”

“I have an education now, by the way,” He snarked. “Thanks for asking. Robin means I now have a shot at university and living past the age of 20.”

“Bruce would still pay–”

“I’m not done talking.” Jason whispered, shaking his head lightly at Dick once again desperate to undermine his role as Robin. Another desperate plea for him to just fall into the role of ‘Rich man’s guilt ward’.

“The police don’t care about us. Some of them try - the minority of them that is. And then they get overwhelmed; they see one too many dead bodies floating in the river; corpses in the streets that turn out to just be dissociating victims; brothels full of children since the life expectancy is too low.”

He takes a sharp breath when the bell above the coffee shop door announces another patron. He had gotten lost somewhere along the way. He was supposed to be telling Dick about how much he admires him, how much he had done as Robin and what that meant to Jason. He was running out of time for that. There was no way for him to explain the pure magic that Robin was. Not when Dick was probably preparing to throw him out for his insolence.

“Those people need Robin.” He states it like the fact it is. “And the rest of Gotham needs Robin to stop Batman from going too far.”

“Robin is the promise of a better future.” He finishes softly, suddenly realising that he had just dumped the weight of his own shit life on the man’s shoulders. “It's why Robin was always the best when he was a child. That naive innocence, that trusting hope and the promise that he’ll grow up to be something better. He’ll have the life that so many didn’t have” 

“I am Robin because it is the only answer. There is no life without this. I’d have died before my 18th if I lived out on the streets.” Dick’s expression flickers. “Robin is my future, and it’s a gift I damn well want to share with the rest of the people I left behind.”

Jason was almost panting for breath by the end of it, shaking with the force of the anger and hurt that had come over him. It was too much. All of it was too much at that moment. Dick, Robin, the stupid fucking drink that had his heart racing. So he did what he did best and ran.

– – –

Okay, so he might have been a little hasty and dramatic but the second the cold air had hit him Jason had felt free. But he also wasn’t a complete idiot so he texted Dick about five minutes after he pulled his shit together to let the man know he was going to head back to the apartment and would appreciate Dick picking up their groceries since he wanted dinner.

It was the most blatant he had ever gotten to telling Dick to fuck off out of his own home while Jason had a minor mental breakdown. Or, well it was less of a breakdown and more just sitting on the sofa with his head in hands while he fought the urge to die from embarrassment. 

God what had he been thinking. Where the fuck had all that anger come from?

It was a question that was still troubling him when Dick arrived, the door opening with familiar rustles of keys and locks sliding back into place. Neither of them said anything when Jason went up to help Dick unpack the food, they just carried out yet another of their little domestic rituals as the groceries were put away into the kitchen that had become Jason’s domain.

“Can I ask a different question?” Dick’s quiet and hesitant in a way he hasn’t been since that first day of shock after being abandoned. It's enough for Jason to put away his anger, knowing that Dick is truly genuine, that he actually cares. “What do you see in Robin? And I don’t just mean hope. Robin is yours now, your symbol to define and create.”

“What do I see?” Jason echoed, frowning as he burrowed his head in one of their cupboards. “I told you.”

“No, I–” Dick sighs. “Now an-and then, on the streets I mean, Robin wasn’t a symbol of hope for you.”

Jason spent several long moments reorganising their spices into different categories.

Eventually he muttered, “He was.” but didn’t dare look up as he now put the spices back in their original places. “I just… lost sight of that today.”

Dick hums, thinking, “You’re allowed to be angry.”

“I know.” He’s mostly tired now; the anger has been burned up in him. “But I don’t want to be.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you got left behind.”

“Thanks.” Jason whispers, closing the cupboard door. “I know you were just a kid too.”

“Still,” Dick shakes his head. “It was my job to help.”

Jason smiles sadly, “Not much can be done for Bowery and Crime Alley.”

“You don’t believe that.”

Jason sighs, “Don’t I?”

“No.”

“You sound so sure.”

Dick shrugs, smiling at Jason in a way that makes his heart flutter.

“I know you.”

He snorts, “Oh really?”

“Yep.” Dick pops the sound, obnoxious in his attempts at lightening the atmosphere. “Or I’m getting to at least.”

Jason grins, delighted by the attention and effort, and god damn him for wanting to show his appreciation.

“Robin is safe.” Jason tilts his head, an animalistic movement as he stares Dick down gauging his response. “That’s what I see. Not hope for a future I might not live to see, or vengeance for a crime I might end up committing. But at all points in my life, streets or manor, Robin has been safe.”

Dick’s throat bobs.

“Robin gave me freedom from so many things,” (the dealer that supplied his mother. The one who took a different payment when she couldn’t pay) “But it also gave me the freedom to do so much. Some of that isn’t pretty, I can’t deny that I’ve been enjoying the thrill of revenge, but I’ve also been given some amazing opportunities.” To be a hero, to give a scared kid some comfort, to go to school, to have a father.

“I was forced to do so many things to survive, not just illegal things or dark and dangerous things, but stuff that haunts you, things that debase you and make you wonder if starving is better. If the indignity of eating trash and sleeping on rotten beds is any life at all.” Dick’s eyes are glittering and Jason hopes his own aren’t burning. “I’ve known fear my whole life, (again and again and again; harder and scarier whenever he pleads or says no) I’ve very rarely felt safe. Robin has given me that.”

(The cops that beat him now cower before him and the bat. Never again will a gang prey on him. Jason will never again be in trouble for defending himself.)

Robin isn’t a person, not mortal in the way Jason is, so he doesn’t fear.

Jason doesn’t need to tell Dick what he was running from, he’s sure the man either knows or has guessed by now. He doesn’t like it but at least he doesn’t have to spell that part out, even if Dick has been a little naive about Robin. But everyone has blind spots so who is he to judge?

“Robin is good, and I want to be that.”

“You’re already good.” Dick croaks, Jason glances over at him, desperate to see his expression but Dick is always so aloof, especially about these types of topics, these emotions. He barely gets a glimpse before it's all hidden away again. “You don’t need Robin or me to make it so.”

He does.

Dick’s expression suddenly settles. It’s almost… fond. In a sort of sad and melancholy way. 

“I’ll make you believe that one day.”

Jason’s heart skips a beat.

Chapter Text

Hunger was something he had always known. It was one of the earliest memories he had; finishing his food and his mother offering more. Well it was more than that. It was the day he finally realised he was eating the food off her plate. That she never finished a meal before him because she wanted him to have the option of more.

So he’d watched her go hungry before he had ever felt that hunger himself. 

Then he’d seen what Willis would do when there was no food on the table to greet him. Jason had learnt early on how to help his mother in the kitchen. Something else Willis had managed to take offence to on the few times he had been caught doing so. It wasn’t manly, it was women’s work and if Jason wanted to behave like a women in the kitchen then he could behave like one in the b–

Eventually he had known true hunger. A ravaging of the soul that inspired fear. At some point his little literacy minded brain had started talking off a different sort of hunger, a yearning for… anything, everything, a warm bed, a new coat, new socks , god how he wanted new shoes, of course he also wanted other things, more ethereal things like an education, to lose himself in books, to perform on a stage, to sit in an audience, to go to a food cart and not be turned away before he could even join the queue.

But Jason hadn’t had to worry about that in a long time. Okay, it was a short time and he was paranoid but he’s doing his best to pretend he’s fine. Besides, Dick has been good to him about it. He’s not asked for money (Jason did offer, had gotten angry, scared, and nearly offered something else as well) but he’d also been fine about letting Jason handle the cooking. It was something silly that Dr Thompkinson suggested to him, to allow him more control. He was able to see the food, feel it, and know that it was there, that he wasn’t going to starve.

And then of course he had gotten rather into it. That and the fact Alfred was no longer there to mitigate Bruce’s mediocre cooking. Jason had made the mistake of asking why Alfred had not been replaced. He didn’t ask again, just shut up and ate whatever Bruce could conjure up for them.

They had just returned from one of their gym trips to the many locations Dick kept on retainer. Once again they had mixed up locations, following Dick’s carefully planned out schedule of times and locations that would avoid them from being spotted in the same place twice in a week. It had unfortunately meant a lot of travel around the city to get to these various locations. Sometimes they walked, other times it was the bus or a rare taxi. 

Today had been sunny so despite the extra mile they had decided to walk there and back, which had naturally turned into Jason egging Dick on until they had reached something of a jog before the competition had truly begun.

By silent agreement the crossing light on Broad Street was their starting call, one Jason hadn’t headed as he shot straight through oncoming traffic with all the arrogance of a Gothamite child. He’d twisted around to offer Dick a two finger salute, enjoying the way he could see the man’s wide eyed, horror filled stare even from across the street. 

But of course he had only bought himself a few seconds so he didn’t look back to see Dick lunge across the street in chase. Lithe footfalls had caught up to him two blocks later and despite the way Jason’s lungs were already burning he couldn’t help but smile. At some point Jason bolted down a side street, swinging up onto the fire escape till he could careen over the rooftops with Dick in pursuit.

It was reckless and ridiculous and had Jason had become some mix of himself and Robin during the run. Using skills from the streets and the Bat to help him evade his hunter. Dick wasn’t far behind, even with all of Jason’s dirty tricks (dragging the lid of trash can up the side of a building just to throw it at Dick) he was still closing in. No matter what Jason did to gain ground or throw him off Dick always found him again like a bloodhound.

Jason was still grinning as he started pottering around the kitchen, he couldn’t help himself from crowing with his success, delighted by Dick’s own irritated groans of cheating and an unfair start and being too old for such games. The man in question had flopped down onto the sofa, panting as he tried to catch his breath after a last ditch attempt to race Jason up the apartment stairs. Three flights and Jason is trying to pretend he is sore from being knocked around in training and like his insides haven’t turned to lava after their stupid cardio exercise game. Ugh, the bat has ruined fun for him, all games are now just cardio and opportunity to win in his mind. Either way, he’s not only had he managed to get Dick to tap out during a fight but he’d also beaten him back home so, hah! He was on top of the world right now and would probably sleep like the dead.

(and his dreams will be in no way plagued by the match he had lost, the one where he had tapped out with Dick’s thighs around his throat)

Dick has normally wandered off by now, either to shower after whatever trick Jason pulls on their way back home or to– what, Jason’s not sure the man actually has hobbies but he seems to do something. Probably multitasking, which is probably just case work with the multi part being different cases from different areas of life. But Jason tries not to think about the detective badge that sometimes rests on the side table by the door. Dick doesn’t talk about it, Jason hasn't asked. He’s not ready to think about Dick like that, to see him as one of them, and thankfully the man seems to understand that.

Today, however, Dick hasn’t wandered off. Or, well, he had, but he was back after a quick check of his phone and a glance through the case files on the coffee table. Jason had to hide his surprise when the man just stacked the papers on top of each other, a neat pile that was pushed to the corner of the table as if they were being put on a time out.

For a second Dick just hovers at his elbow, leaning on the kitchen island as he watches Jason pull out various fresh foods and spices.

“When did you learn to cook so well?”

Jason finds himself surprised (By the casual compliment as well). Dick was never particularly interested in him during the Before and even now that interest was something intense, personal yet so removed because they only ever seemed to talk in extremes. Maybe it was naive optimism but Jason thinks that by sharing a little (anything, he’ll tell that man anything he wants) that he can win Dick over. Maybe Dick will grow to like Jason, or at least find a common interest or thought in him. He knew that Dick cared for him, he wasn’t entirely stupid, but he was also aware that there was a difference between responsibility, duty of care, and their weird pseudo-love since they were made family by not just the Bat but by Robin, the Titans and general vigilante life. Loyalty among thieves and masks apparently.

But this could be the opportunity for Jason to not only share but to learn more about Dick. He had never quite grown out of his fascination with the unknown, a curiosity that often got him in trouble but might not for once. (maybe this is the opportunity for there to be something permanent between them. A partnership, not in the parent-child way of the Bat but of two Robins; Equals.)

“At the manor, ‘cause of Bruce.”

Dick frowns, “When did Bruce start cooking.”

Jason snorts, “That was exactly the problem. You had the luxury of Alfred.”

Dick ducts his head, chuckling even as Jason notes the slight flicker of embarrassment for that knee-jerk jealousy. Although he thinks it’s less jealousy now and more just a sad acknowledgement of how the Manor and Bruce have changed.

“You know I can cook.”

“Did you learn from Bruce?”

“Alfred.” Jason finds he quite likes how Dick’s face lights up when he mentions the old butler. “He did his best to prepare me before uni.”

Jason smiles softly, “He sounds good.”

Like a good man, went unsaid, like a grandfather, a father when Bruce wasn’t, a rock amidst the storm of Dick’s childhood. He had a decade in that mausoleum of a house though Jason thinks it might have been full of life with a young Dick Grayson there.

“He was.” Dick smiles turn to something more melancholy. “You would have liked him.”

Jason smiles, knowing he would have from all the stories that Bruce had shared, from the little snippets he had learned from Dick in moments like this. For a while he’s content to just start preparing ingredients; a ritualistic experience of washing, chopping, marinating that consumes his attention–

“What else do you like?”

Jason pauses, frozen in place by a second question in so many minutes. He must stare at Dick dumbly for a few seconds too long because the man follows up with, “Or at least I’m assuming you like cooking. You’re good at it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I like it.” Jason flushes at the compliment. “Well I– I like it now.”

“Not before?”

Jason shrugs, “Didn’t have many options before. It’s nice to do something for… art?” He frowns not like that description because ‘doing something for pleasure’ is not a phrase he wants to use around Richie Grayson. “It’s not for survival and that's… nice.”

He clears his throat awkwardly, focusing on the task at hand so he doesn’t have to look at Dick. Why does he always manage to lower the mood?

“ C’mon them, what else?” Dick grins at him, playful and easy.

Jason finds himself suspicious because, well, the fuck? Where has all this come from? This isn’t Dick’s usual method of interrogation, nor his favoured line of questioning (typically about what horrors have Jason waking up in the middle of the night with gasping breaths that only a vigilante would be able to hear through the walls). This isn’t even his usual method of avoidance and distraction from whatever threatens to devour the great Dick Grayson from the inside out.

From what he’s gathered Dick is a thoughtful and caring guy, a ray of sunshine in his youth, full of bubbling care and questions for his friends that eventually mellowed out into something more tactile and smooth. Granted, he’s always been known as a Bat as well - secretive and defensive of his own personal information. Jason likes to think he too has become more ‘caring’ in that way, Dick has given the opportunity to learn since he’s the only person Jason could ever bear to smooth over his sharp edges for.

And Dick doesn’t ask for much. For someone so high strung, needy and high maintenance, he’s also pretty chill. Low maintenance in his demands and very simply put, lonely. The most he seems to want from Jason is company. So Jason made himself good for that, learning when and what Dick might want from, how to comfort, how to antagonise without going too far.

How to push down that familiar bubbling anger for the Titans that pushed him away so easily when he asked for so little. Just company, friends at his side, that’s all he’s ever asked for. Granted, their leaving probably gave Jason’s staying more precedence than it deserved but he’ll take it.

But the point is, the important part that is, is that Jason is there for him. He’s always there. (might always want to be) but he quite frankly doesn’t care if Dick is an emotional wreck; Jason never pretended to be anything but broken himself. If the man needs company in the form of a chef, a sparring partner, a friend, then Jason will be that (because god does he want that for himself too) If Dick wants to play at Atlas and carry the weight of the world then Jason will be right there with him ready to bear the burden. He might be weak but for Dick he can make himself strong.

But emotional openness? More than just the raw nerve baring of his soul? He can lay his greatest sins before Dick easily, they’re so extreme that they’re taken out of context, he can’t surmount them or put them in context. But for Dick to know Jason, to know him as a person and not just an idea; a list of fuck ups.

“Why?” Jason demands, harsh and abrasive as he tries to consciously unclench his grip on the kitchen knife he was using. Why the hell would Dick start this conversation while Jason was holding a weapon. “Who the hell’s asking?”

Because if this is Bruce's doing– because of course the only time the original duo would work together would be to antagonise Jason.

“Me.” Dick tells him easily, guiltily. “Because I want to know you.”

Dick lowers his gaze, eye locked to where Jason had gone back to frying off veg for something to do with his hands. Jason doesn’t like to think about how much he knows of Dick (how much he has observed, stolen, and hoarded) not when in comparison to how little that same man knows of Jason. Jason had given up on Dick knowing him many months ago, so fuck him for bringing that hope back.

Dick leans forwards in his chair, elbows braced on the counter, hands clasped beneath his chin as he looks up at Jason from beneath his lashes– his stomach flips.

“Yeah?” Jason’s throat bobs, with nerves, with excitement. But Dick just grins, easy and agreeing as he echoes his statement. “Okay.” A matching grin twitches on Jason's lips but he clamps down on it, jerking his head in Dick’s direction. “You first.”

Dick huffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve learnt plenty about me in the past weeks.”

And for the first time Jason wonders if that bothers Dick, if he feels like he’s living with a stranger. And in some way that makes him feel guilty but damn he wouldn’t be Jason Todd if he didn’t take the opportunity to weasel something personal out of the man.

Dick must see that in his eyes for he just sighs, conceding easily to Jason’s whims.

“I mentioned learning cooking for university,” Jason nods as if that wasn’t a comment made barely a minute ago. “Well, I actually had no interest in going to uni but Bruce insisted - he was always preaching the merits of a good education.” Jason grins when he gets to share a knowing look with Dick. “So I picked at random: Business major with something like economics or politics, whatever I thought would look best for Richard Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne.”

Dick chuckles ruefully at his own ignorance, “Bruce was upset. We argued about it at the time. I was too focused on the mission, on needing to maintain the perfect public ruse and play into the character of an expectant ward planning to get a cushy job in the family business. And, well, B didn’t like that. He wanted me to make my own path and chose to do something I wanted, so halfway through the school year he made it clear that he wasn’t going to offer me a job at Wayne Enterprises.”

Jason couldn’t exactly say he was surprised, Bruce Wayne was the type of person to over react and take things too far in trying to make a point. But Jason also couldn’t see Dick Grayson ever being happy with a desk job, with one in business no less. Oh he could see the man being a slimy businessman, conniving and getting his own way, but that was more of a family mobster style business and Jason knew for a fact that the Bats would never take that route.

“What did you do?” He murmurs, genuinely curious about this side of Dick he’d never heard of before. “I hadn’t even realised you went to university.”

Dick shrugs, “it wasn’t exactly big celebrity news. It would have been more surprising if I hadn’t, there was no scandal, so there was nothing to report on.”

“And the job thing?”

“I yelled at Bruce, got drunk with my friends and switched courses to Psychology and Criminology, with electives in data science and forensics - any subject I thought could be useful when I was Robin.”

Something in Jason’s chest begins to ache. A familiar warning sign of… he’s not sure, but he’s suddenly on edge, something in the back of his mind is nagging at him. A warning. But maybe that’s just pity. For all Jason has dedicated himself to Robin he knows he’s had a life outside of it, still has a few interests he’s managed to maintain thanks to the Manor library. Dick, on the other hand, has lived and breathed Robin since he was eleven. 

“Did you enjoy it?”

Dick smiles, “I did. It was… problem solving, interesting and captivating in a way some of our cases had stopped being. Not to mention it led to a job offer at the end.”

Oh. Oh.

Officer Richard Grayson graduated first in his class.

Jason swallows back that instinctive fear that rises in his chest.

“Why.”

Dick’s smile falls at– the question? The way Jason’s voice had suddenly gone hoarse? He’s not sure but it’s the last thing he sees before turning away, hands braced on the counter as he stares resolutely at the dirty utensils before him.

“Why what?” 

Dick knows what, of course he knows, it’s one of their topics that goes unspoken. A conflict that neither dares to resolve lest it tear them apart. Jason shouldn’t bring it up but he needs to. He has to know.

“After everything you’ve seen, why a cop?” Jason’s voice comes out as a trembling whisper, he feels like he’s shaking, from rage, from fear, and he hates, hates the way he loses control whenever those godforsaken pigs are brought out. How can he even stand to live with one? But he’s not living with an officer, he’s living with Dick, and he doesn’t know how to make them one and the same.

“Because I thought I could help in ways that Robin couldn’t.” There’s a raw honesty to Dick’s voice, a sudden seriousness to his tone. “Masks, capes, vigilantes… they’re a community that can only do so much. Systematic change is needed and I… I thought I could leave my former life behind. Thought I had but… I can’t lie; being a cop was just another form of vigilantism to me, a legal one.”

Jason nods, pursing his lips in an attempt to hold back accusations, to hold back tears, screams of a desperate child hating on a symbol.

“Okay,” he whispers. “I understand.”

And that’s that.

– – – 

Jason had never considered leaving Dick. Not once, not ever, he’s not sure he ever could. Why would he leave the first thing that was his. Maybe Dick would disagree but in some part of Jason’s mind Robin was his now, and Robin was Dick, so they were one and the same, and both were his. A new family, one of safety and purpose, and he wasn’t going to give that up for anything.

So the point is. Jason has been there for Dick, in that shitty apartment, out on the streets as they patrol; Robin and Robin; Robin and the mask man; Robin and the bizarre black suited vigilante that was still defining himself. Oh how the name Nightwing sang to Jason, it was like a siren’s call, a new North in the storm of his mind. He still hadn’t brought it up to Dick. Neither of them were ready for that. They couldn’t lose the connection of Robin. The one thing binding them to each other, to Bruce.

And yet, despite not leaving, Dick finds Jason in the public library; three streets away from Dick’s (their) apartment. It’s to both of their surprise that Dick finds him there. Though that in itself is also a surprise because when did Jason start expecting Dick to seek him out? He had always known that Dick would follow if he thought Jason needed help, but seeking Jason out for company? For support? And in this case some bizarre amalgamation of worry and need?

God wasn’t that delightful.

But he has no idea what to do with that revelation.

Dick finds him curled up in one of the worn down armchairs that he had found at the back of the room. Jason had hidden himself between two of the book shelves, hiding out of direct sight lines from both the windows, doorways and the reception desk. Not that he really needed to, considering the only thing peering in through the windows was moonlight.

The library had been easy to break into. It had no security and the little it did have had been disabled a long time ago. Like the libraries in Gotham he had easily found spare blankets, toys, and food bars hidden away in a large trug at the reception, there was even a few first aid kit sets. He’d picked a few things up before he remembered he didn’t need them. That he already had such luxuries back at the flat.

Which had sent him running to the armchair with a battered copy of Plath’s Bell Jar , the eternal re-read of every dramatic literacy nerd who’s questioning their depressive life choice; i.e Jason. God, he really didn’t want to think about all those rotting figs that must be around him as he stupidly grabs for the low hanging fruit. 

But Dick finds him, like he always seems to do, but Jason isn’t aware enough to even greet him, having been lulled to sleep by stress and the words of a familiar book. It takes him a moment to register the shift in Dick’s gait, even through the sleepy haze he could register the man’s presence; having subconsciously tracked his appearance from the window to the chair where Jason rested. It was amazing how easily Dick controlled his body, such an agility and grace as he easily shifted his footsteps from quiet to silent in an effort to not disturb Jason.

Too bad he was finely attuned to all things Grayson.

But Jason is still half asleep despite all that. Even with those new (old) fears coming to light he still didn’t register Dick as a threat worthy enough to wake up for. A folly that anyone else would have suffered for. He registers the book being pulled from his loose grip, the soft snick of a bookmark being slid between pages. 

It’s as Dick is dragging his gaze along the stack of books that he becomes aware of Jason’s soft eyes tracking him.The books were more for the comfort of their titles than the ability to actually read the amount in a night, but Jason still felt the need to gather them. There’s no words spoken between them, just long quiet moments spent looking at each other. Jason instinctively searches the man before him, determined to find out which Grayson is before him; Richie, playful and flirty, ready to tease Jason for running away; Dick, worried and caring, a loyal companion and friend; Richard, concerned and pensive but uncomprehending in the way rich kids are; or Robin, the hero come to rescue a fallen bird. He decided it's Robin, but not Batman’s Robin, his mother’s Robin; the young boy who laughed and smiled, who soared through the sky and loved his family. 

The moonlight has done something damming to those cheekbones of Dick’s, a sharp highlight along his jawline as well. Jason can’t help but admire how elegant he looks like this, with the silver light turning him into an ethereal creature, a nymph, or more like a siren descending from the sky to drag Odysseus into the deep. 

Jason imagines he looks like a wreck, something pathetic and cowering, especially in the light of Dick’s own trials. Worse, the problem seems like a child, running from the bogeyman and imagined fears. Drowsy, loose limbed, with hair no doubt sleep mused and tousled - curls running a riot in a way that has taken away all of Jason’s sharp edges. He looks vulnerable. Felt it too.

But Dick’s eyes are no longer on the books that he had been analysing with a detective’s attention. No, he’s watching Jason with quirked lips, a soft smile and tender eyes that altogether paints a fond and charming image.

“Classics? Never took you for a Shakespearian.”

Sometimes, Jason finds himself astounded by the audacity and utter stupidity of some people. Most particularly; this wreck of a man.

“First of all, the term is Thespian.” Jason drawls, judgmental and dismissive even as his nose scrunches into something of a snarl that only makes Dick look like he wants to smirk. “Secondly, really? Do you want to try and rephrase that, dick .”

“Original.” Dick huffs, unbothered by Jason’s irritation. But even that smug look, that sharp smirk that promises a good fight if Jason can get him riled up enough, all that simply dies away as Dick changes his tune. 

Jason always admires his ability to change and manipulate his own emotions and persona to match the situation. It’s a skill that Bruce had perfected, one that he had spent decades doing so, and even now only had limited range. Dick was a natural showman. It came easy to him. Sometimes, it came easy to Jason (smile pretty for me boy)

Now though, Dick’s disposition easily shifted from arrogant and ornery to something more worried, something soft and inquisitive. It made Jason shift uncomfortably even as some heart-racing part of him finally settled at the reassurance. The knowledge that if he did leave, if he did run, someone cared enough to follow.

“Is it the library or the books you like?”

Jason smiles, heart fluttering at the simple question that reveals so much about Dick. About Jason. Because part of Dick already knows the answer, knows that Jason had gotten spooked and ran to safety.

“It’s the reading I enjoy.” Jason answered honestly. “When I have the time that is.”

Dick tilts his head, animalistic and curious,

“And?”

Jason huffs, “The library is familiar, that makes it safe.”

“But our apartment isn’t.” Dick’s calm expression doesn’t falter but Jason can see the flicker of pain in his eyes. Jason’s instinctively shaking his head but Dick is quicker, cutting him off. “It's okay. That’s my fault, not yours.”

Jason has nothing to say in answer to that. No way to argue that he hadn’t been faced with too many reminders of his past, of Dick’s. He’d pushed at it, poking at an infected wound. 

Dick smiles sadly, “You don’t get along with the police.”

“You’re not one of them.”

“I am.” Dick whispers, head ducking down with Jason– no, that couldn’t be shame. “You know I am.”

Jason grits his teeth, “Well you’re not like them.”

“You hid my badge.”

Jason stills; a rabbit frozen before a wolf.

Dick doesn’t meet his eyes but Jaosn can’t take his own off the top of Dick’s head. The instinctive urge to not let a predator out of his sight.

“I thought it was a mistake at first,” Dick laughs but it’s a bitter sound. “Figured you were just cleaning up and put it away in one of the drawers, but I put it back with my keys next to the door… and it disappeared again.”

Jason’s throat tightens, a familiar choking shaming clawing at his throat.

“And I know you heard me a few days ago on the phone to my boss. I’ve still got a few more weeks paid leave but I thought we could talk about when I go back to work - not now of course but–”

“Why go back.” Trembling whispers, “After everything that happened, in Gotham, to you, to me, how they treated Rachel, why would you go back.”

Dick doesn’t answer him, just clasps his hands together as he stares resolutely at the floor.

“I never seem to be able to catch people.” Dick murmurs suddenly, voice pensive as his body goes lax in a way that Jason recognises from his melancholic episodes. “Everytime I close my eyes they’re falling; my parents, Bruce, my team.” (Dick please! Please) “And I’m reaching out to them but they always slip through my fingers.”

“It’s the worst feeling in the world.” Dick croaks and Jason believes, if not because he understands then because he has seen the way it's been haunting him these past weeks. The insecurity, the exhaustion, the constant feelings of failure. (Hands letting him go, giving up, doing nothing but watching as he falls.) It’s why he’s never shared his own horror after everything Slade did. 

“I told you at the beginning,” Jason whispers, “You can’t save everyone. You’re gonna fuck up and let them down.”

“I know, I know you did, Jay.” Dick sighs, tired and weary. “Doesn’t change how I feel.”

Jason wishes it would. Wishes he knew which magic words would make it all go away for Dick, for him.

“You’re good Dick. You’ll fail like the rest of us, maybe not as often, but you will. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re good. Real fucking good Dick and–” The words are all wrong, they don’t sound like they did in Jason’s head but all of a sudden Dick’s looking at him. Not with the usual desperation that he treats Jason’s words of pain, but with a new look. Something wide and full of wonder. “You catch people when it matters.”

You caught me.

(He’s still falling)

“I don’t.” Dick’s eyes are glistening and Jason doesn’t know what to do with the reverence in his eyes. The way he looks at Jason like he’s something precious, something to be cherished and protected. “I couldn’t catch you.”

“You did,” Jason takes a shuddering breath. “You listened.”

On that rooftop.

(Cold wind biting into the skin of his arms, that feeling of peace smothering everything else out) 

(Their hands rip apart, a desperate scream bubbling in his throat, but gravity still drags him down because he might be Robin but he’s not Dick; he can’t fly)

He can’t face the alternative; Dick’s failure. He doesn’t want to be someone who Robin has failed. They haven’t talked about it, like they haven’t talked about Dick’s work. He’s trying to forget both those things. Because being confronted with the truth makes his throat close up and his chest ache.

As desperate as Jason is for Dick’s attention he doesn’t want it like. Not when he’s being needy out of a silly fear that Dick is being forced to reassure him on.

Jason’s thoughts run wild, that fear he had pushed so far down was suddenly resurfacing and what little control he’d won was leaving him. His body jerked, a sharp jolt as he was falling but had managed to catch himself on the armchair. It’s minute movement, incomprehensible to anyone and yet Dick still catches it– must sense the tension that pulls Jason’s body apart from the inside, the tension that overrides his muscles, choking his breath and stilling every thought but–

Dick finally turns to him, catching his gaze. But he doesn’t reach out. That’s not them. Not now, maybe not ever, and Jason has to resign himself to that. Has to acknowledge that he needs that, no matter how much he wants it, a single touch will send him spiralling in this moment. They’ve been getting better though, and as tactile as Dick usually is with his friends, he’s just… he’s learnt not to be with Jason. But still, Dick reaches out, hand falling short and just resting on the arm of the armchair Jason had hunkered down in. He hates that space between them, how easily it reminds him of that second they split apart, of those hands that didn’t wait patiently before touching him.

“Sometimes it still feels like you’re falling.” Dick confesses and Jason wants to scream, to beg Dick to catch him. “I can see it so clearly in my dreams. I’m trapped in the audience, like Bruce was that night, and you’re up there; Robin, soaring through the skies, flipping and gliding. You’re all together in those dreams.”

Jason thinks if he opens his mouth he’s going to start screaming, and if he starts he’s not going to stop. He wants Dick to stop, can’t bear to hear anymore. This is what he wanted. Or he thought it was. But he doesn't want Dick to see him as family if it’s like this. He doesn’t want to be another falling weight, dragging Dick down. Oh god what if he doesn't scream. What if he cries? (go on, cry louder boy, I don’t think your mama can hear you yet) He’s always been too soft– to emotional and effeminate, fucking dramatic when everything hurts and by god does it hurt now.

“The three of you look so peaceful up there, it was comforting the first night; seeing them welcome you with open arms… but one by one all three of you fall.” Dick’s throat bobs, eyes glistening with held back tears. “Sometimes you try to catch each other but there’s never anything to be done. All you can do is curl up in their arms, or around their heads, trying to protect–”

“Stop.” Jason croaks and Dick chokes on his words.

The library is hollow and silent for a time as Jason sorts through the new information. It wasn’t surprising, he had already suspected Dick’s fears but to have it so clearly laid out before him was… overwhelming; to know that he, Jason Todd, was up there with– it was something to think about later, to keep him up at night when he wondered what he was to Dick.

Eventually Dick clears his throat, breaking the silence between them.

“I thought being Robin would… I couldn’t save them but I could get them justice.” A bitter laugh. “There was nothing just about the revenge I wanted. But it did help, and B stepped in, made sure they went to the proper authorities before I did something I would regret.”

Jason was more than aware that Dick had regrets. That his family was his blindspot. Why did he think Bruce had sent him with orders to help on the Melting Man case? It involved Haley’s which meant that Dick was compromised. At the time he had wanted Bruce and him to deal with it, to not tell Dick until after the fact. Part of that was him wanting to earn favour with both B and Dick but also… He hadn’t wanted to present Dick with photos of his dead family and no leads.

“For a time Robin was the greatest good I knew.” There was sudden fondness to Dick’s voice that surprised Jason. “I thought it was the answer to crime and injustice - despite the fact that Bruce would say otherwise. I never believed him though; how could I? Batman and Robin were heroes, of course we were good, we were a solution to a decades old problem.”

“Eventually, I grew up and started… disagreeing with Bruce. I disliked how we were only ever present in the moment, there was very little follow up for either victim or criminal. We only tracked the gangs, Rogues and any other big hitters. But eventually I started noticing the same petty criminals were appearing night after night, never staying in prison long enough to make a difference.”

Jason bristles, trying not to judges Dick from coming to a similar conclusion as Jason - except Jason had learnt that lesson years ago; they never stayed in fucking prison. It was a revolving door and anyone could get away with anything when there was bigger fish like the Joker to fry.

“I wanted them to stay in prison.” Dick snorts at his own stupidity. “Then I wanted to help them, because some of them were just starving; trying to make ends meet; others were… I don’t need to tell you what they were like.” No he fucking didn’t. “And I… Robin was no longer good. Barely a bandaid in fixing the problem. So Bruce encouraged me to work more with his charities in the daylight, see if I could do more good there and I… did.”

“Becoming an officer…” Jason stiffens, closing his eyes as he finally turns away from Dick, unable to coincide with the two parts of Grayson. “Part of it was that passion, but–  I told you I was going to uni for business?” Jason doesn’t answer him; he can't. “Well, I thought I’d help with Bruce charities, either as boots on the ground or helping create schemes and direct funds.”

“I don’t see how becoming a police officer would help with anything you’ve said.”

Jason doesn’t keep the contempt out of his voice. Why should he when Dick sounds like a fucking idiot. He can’t fault the man for wanting to help, even if part of him can only see it as pity and upper-class guilt. But why the fuck would he think becoming a police officer would help with any of this?

“I- I know you don’t.” Dick whispers, “And I know you have good reason not to but…”

Jason scoffs as Dick trails off, “Just spit it out.”

“But they do help Jason.”  

Jason shakes his head. Furious and disappointed and ridiculously hating how the great Dick Grayson was suddenly losing his halo. It wasn’t right. This wasn’t who Dick was supposed to be.

“I could do more help as an officer than as Robin.” Dick implores, as if pleading with Jason to understand. “I could ensure abusers were put away for longer; I could make sure kids didn’t slip through the system; I could–”

“Stop.” Jason snarls, practically shaking even when Dick does as he asks. “Then why the hell did you try to be Robin again, huh? Why was it Robin that saved Clay Williams? That helped Rachel when the cops did nothing but hunt her?”

Dick hesitated and Jason nearly crowed with a hollow success. Winning a fight that had cost him so much but–

“Moving to Bludhaven didn’t fix my own shit. When I left… part of me was still in Gotham, that little kid who was still trying to make sense of what had happened to me- to my parents.” How easy it was Dick to win Jason over again, to remind him of what a fucked up child he was. One that had stupidly sought an answer in the BPD but Jason had gone to worse, well the whorehouses certainly weren’t worse than the pigs, but they weren’t exactly glamorous. “There was a darkness inside me, one I didn’t know how to handle, and it hurt me… and then I hurt others.”

You didn’t hurt me.

But he had. In his own way, out of ignorance and inattention, Dick had hurt Jason. Not that he meant that, he was probably thinking of the Titans again. How he lost them, how he pushed Rachel away, how Kori rejected him for her own people.

“I used to blame B for it, for all of it. Because of the way he raised me, how he weaponised my childhood.” part of Jason wants to snip that Dick had asked for it, begged for it even, but– god, how could ever say- think those words without wanting to claw at his own throat.

But Dick doesn’t need another burden. Jason won’t be an obligation, a charity case like Rachel, or a damn obligation that was nothing more than a favour to Bruve; he wants to be so much more than that, damn it.

But he’s still falling, still running from those cops, still begging–

Jason’s hand moves before his mind registers the action; bridging the space between him and Dick. He lifts trembling fingers, trying to narrow his eyes into something that would at least make him look angry even if he wasn’t. Even when he was something softer because he could never truly be angry with Dick, he understands him too well, the man had just managed to press on an old terror is all.

The relief he feels when Dick reaches out the rest of the way isn’t something he wants to acknowledge. Nor is the way his chest caves with a shuddering breath when the tips of their fingers brush. He doesn't want that to make him feel safe. As if that connection alone could stop Jason from falling. As if the proof of this being Dick, his Dickie, could take away the nameless, faceless officer who had been sitting with Jason tonight.

But fuck it makes him feel safe. How easily Dick makes it so when he grips Jason’s hand, holding on too tight in the way Jason needs as his thumb rubs soothing strokes along the back of Jason's scarred hand; finger tracing mottled flesh, jagged lines that covered up weary bones. Jason doesn’t want to be comforted like this.

It’s not tangible, reliable, he’ll lose it soon enough.

“I’m not falling.” Jason murmurs, praying that if he says it, he can make it so. “You don’t need to catch me, Dickie.” his throat bobs, “And if I were, I can catch myself. Swear it.”

Dick doesn’t believe him, but he’s still staring at Jason like he’s something precious and isn’t Jason just so desperately grateful to have not lost that.

“Tell me what I need to do to fix this.” Dick whispers, desperate but not pushing. "I want to make it- I want it to be safe for you again."

Jason doesn't know.

"Come back home."

Chapter Text

Jason had dealt with many police officers, or he supposes they had dealt with him. Most of them were quite frankly twats. Pieces of shit that did nothing but abuse their power; to the point that Jason didn’t understand why they had even chosen to be cops. No, he knows why, the gun, the shiny badge, the promise of being part of something bigger, the subtle military undertones without the threat of war and the promise that they’ll be a big man.

He’s not so blinded by his hate that he can’t acknowledge that there were good ones in the mix. Few and far between; most of them young and green at the gills, wanting to make the world a better place. Jason gave them a couple of months before the fear and horrors got to them.

And maybe they could have been a good thing but not in Gotham. And even then, Jason knew damn well that the majority of them were still men, worse, white men. He didn’t need to explain all the fucking problems with that. Though how Dick didn’t find issue with it was astounding, especially when he was only passingly-white on sick days when his pallor was more green than Romani brown.

But Jason was doing his best to accept Dick with all of his flaws, badge included.

The day Dick went back to work was… Well, Jason should probably say that the week leading up to Dick’s first day back was… hellish? Depressing? Made Jason feel like a Victorian housewife sending her husband off to war one day, and a terrified kid waiting for the baton to fall another.

Jason had started spending nights at the library, only when things got bad. But he couldn’t bear to leave Dick, nor could he stand to stay in that suffocating flat. Every time Dick came after him, worry and guilt were clear in his eyes but Jason never turned him away. How could he? Dick was all he’d ever wanted. Some who cared enough to come after Jason went the monsters got too loud.

That distance had helped. It had created a place that was solely Jason’s, where Dick had to walk into his territory and beg for forgiveness. And in a way he had. Jason still didn’t think he had an answer for the question Dick asked that first night: Tell me what I need to do to fix this , and most damningly, I want to make it– I want it to be safe for you again.

Jason couldn’t deny that truth. At some point their ramshackle apartment had become safe. A place where Jason felt protected from the rest of the world, hidden from his fears and nightmares. That stupid fucking badge had come into his home like a plague.

Home .

Jason’s quite proud of himself for keeping his cool when Dick asked him to come home. As in that place they shared, a place where Jason could belong, more than just the manor with its mausoleum halls, a cozy place where Jason was safe (and loved).

He refused to lose that. So they were working on it and somehow that had led to Jason answering Dick’s question. He didn’t know what his answer was, only that Dick seemed to understand. So now, every time Jason ran in the previous weeks he was followed by silent footsteps, steps that tracked him from the second he left through his window, yet still gave him a good hour of peace at the library before intruding. 

Dick was good in that way, protective but not overbearing. Perhaps someone less damaged, less broken, would find it concerning but they had both seen too much shit in their lives to be anything but overprotective (with their love). It was something Dick had shared with Jason during one of their late night chats at the library. Those two armchairs had become theirs, had become a safe place to share and talk and get to know each other outside of the labels, the stereotypes; here there were no vigilantes, no Robins, no wards, no orphans, especially no cops and street rats. They were just Jason and Dick.

And so, Jason had found himself laughing at the ridiculous antics of Barbra Gordon and Dick Grayson in their youth, two siblings that for a brief moment had looked at each other with love before laughing themselves hoarse. Dick had blushed when he had shared that with Jason, the first sign of real embarrassment that the man had ever shown. It was so hard to embarrass a shameless man like Grayson. Yet here he was, blushing badly as he retold the story of how Babs and he felt they owed it to themselves to try and date, they got on so well, so maybe….

Even Jason was laughing at the awkward retelling of the three dates they had managed before calling it quits. But they had still cared for one another and with the passing of a few years were closer to siblings who looked upon their dating mishap with a stupid amount of disdain and abject disgust. Not that Jason could blame them; Dick’s flirting at that age would have left anyone cringing.

Jason tried not to admire Dick for still sticking with Babs after… well after everything. He knew it was stupid of him to do so when it was the bare minimum for family, for someone in love. Yet Jason knows how hard it is to stay with someone and be their carer. His mother had taught him that, how to love but how to be practical, removed from it. Equals yet with different work loads. Maybe he just liked knowing that Dick wouldn’t leave him if something like that ever happened. Maybe he’s just too focused on Dick and his own problems when he should be giving Barbra more credit. (It’s probably that last one but he doesn’t know her, so sue him)

Maybe he too would one day meet Barbra Gordon and become someone she stalks. A weird desire but they were vigilantes, it would be more concerning if she didn’t track them through cameras on patrol, or filter through their messages on both private and secure lines. Jason tries not to wonder about how much snooping she has already done on him without his knowledge.

But he so desperately wants this family. Any family really, but he’s starting to think he won’t be content with any but this.

Which is why he’s still hanging around even when Dick goes back to work: the universal sign of one being fine. Not that Jason would believe that. He’s more than aware that Dick Grayson would be working come rain or shine, the man would patrol with a life-threatening injury for god sake. And that was certainly learned behaviour from someone. 

The day Dick goes back to work Jason is out on the streets.

It’s… necessary. He needs it. He had told Dick as much when he had followed him out the door. Dick hadn’t looked pleased by the answer but had made Jason promise to phone him during his lunch break. So he had, at the time he was relaxing in one of Bluhaven’s few parks, having spent the day walking between odd jobs that needed doing; mailing off a bill; returning library books that hadn’t been signed out; topping up a prescription for an illness neither had but they need the drugs in case of extra curricular injuries. He’d run out of things to do by that point in the day but that never bothered him, he could always find things to entertain himself with and he told Dick as much.

“You know,” Dick drawls, light and amused as they both forcefully keep the topic away from his work. “I used to spend my childhood with the elephant, Zitka.”

“Seriously?” Jason demands, incredulous at the sheer absurdity of the thought. “Damn, I knew you were a circus freak but I hadn’t exactly pictured you in one of those old school troupes.”

Dick sighs at Jason’s insult, it was one made with– (with love) but Dick had never seemed to mind Jason’s insults and sharp edges. 

“Yep, we had a pair of show horses, a tiger, we had a monkey for a short stint but he didn’t last - too aggressive, and I seem to remember something of a parrot that hung around the enchantress but he was old when I was young.”

Jason snorts, “You’re 23.”

“And I can feel it in my bones.” Dick teases and Jason grins, flopping down onto the grass as he stares up at the surprisingly clear skies. It was too sunny a day to warrant any bad thoughts. “Besides, Zitka was an old gal as well. But she was my responsibility and I took it seriously.”

“So they just… left a six year old in charge of an elephant.” Jason was seriously doubting Haly’s. He hadn’t wanted to fall into the judging stereotype of a circus’ running wild with child thieves (Who was Jason to judge a pickpocket’s honest work?) but he had some questions for their health and safety guy… if they even had one. They had to have for the trapeze– oh good god he was starting to sound like Bruce. 

Maybe it should be a little worrying that Dick had to go so far back in his memories to find something peaceful and untarnished, but Jason was too busy savouring the normalcy of it. The little domestic snippets he had been treated to in the evenings. Like last night, at the library, he had learned of Dick’s many baking attempts under Alfred’s guidance.

“Oh she adored me,” Dick crows, so clearly fond of his childhood friend. “Would follow on my heels and– well, I guess she was probably more of a babysitter. She was the only one tall enough and strong enough to lift me down from the trees I clambered up.”

Jason can picture it easily. Poor Mary and John Grayson, tired after rehearsing all day and going out in search of their son to bring him home for dinner. And what do they find? A young acrobat dangling from a tree with a worried elephant standing below, waiting to catch him when he falls. 

It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“She used to carry me around, or, well, lug me about if I was being bratty.” Dick’s laughter is made tinny through the phone yet Jason can still hear the happiness in the sound. “She used to find me when I hid as well… she made everything safe.”

“Sounds like she was more of a friend than a babysitter.”

Because no one can deny the gentleness with which Dick shares his stories, the way he makes every tale of the circus feel a lot like love and longing.

Dick breathes out a huff of laughter, breaking the sad and melancholic attitude that grew the longer he spoke. They settle into a companionable silence; Jason resting out in the sun with a book he should be reading by his side; Dick probably hunkered down in his car or some abandoned office eating the lunch that Jason insisted he take with him. 

“How's the salad?” Jason asks softly, hesitantly. The topic felt present, relevant, and needy.

Dick hums, “Surprisingly good. I wouldn’t have been so doubtful if you had told me you'd added in steak strips.”

Jason grins, chuckling. “But you put on such a good act; looking so grateful for my kind forethought even as you looked disgusted by the greenery.”

Jason was going to get that man to eat healthy food if it was the last thing he did. 

Dick sighs, a sharp but amused sound. “That was an unnecessary trick.”

Jason hums in agreement. “Thought you would have just thrown it away once I was out of sight.”

Dick clicks his tongue, a reprimanding sound that Jason thinks might have been learned from a certain butler. Not that Alfred would have made such a crass sound, no, no, Jason had been assured it was reserved for when Alfred was truly at the end of his tether with irritation. Dick, on the other hand, just mocked it, enjoying the reminder of his pseudo-guardian-parent-grandfather.

“Of course I wouldn’t.” Oh, Jason’s chest does something funny at the sudden softness in Dick’s voice, the easy reassurance, even the slight disappointment that Jason would think such a thing of Dick. “Besides, you made it for me, it’s mine now.”

You’re mine now.

Another topic they had avoided because Bruce had started asking questions about Jason’s return date but Jason didn’t think he had one.

“How’s the book?”

Jason grins, glancing down to the battered copy at his side. Dick had insisted on choosing it himself. If Jason gets to send Dick off to work with food to make sure he doesn’t starve, then Dick is allowed to send Jason off into the wild with a book to keep him sane. He’d spent a good five minutes flicking through the stack that Jason had carted home from the library a couple of visits back before settling on his chosen paperback.

“A collection of short stories actually.” Jason flipped the cover around to stare at the bold title Blood Child “Turns out they’re sci-fi, they’re good - a little disturbing - but plenty food for thought.”

Dick hums, “Not your usual genre.”

Jason’s stomach does that weird flipping thing again.

“No, no.” he agrees easily. “I’m trying to branch out from the classics, read some more modern stuff to be relevant.”

“Jane will be disappointed to lose you.”

Jason gasps, horrified and dramatic, “I’d never leave Jane.”

Dick chuckles and Jason is delighted by the sound.

That high doesn’t leave him all day, not even when he surprises both himself and Dick when he returns home in time for the shitty dinner that Dick had prepared in his absence. Both of them had just assumed that it would be a night Jason spent at the library. Or rather, both of them spent, since Dick would never let Jason out into the world vulnerable with his distress - even if the library was a safe place.

So, in all honesty, Dick returns to work with little fanfare even if Jason spends that first week wandering around Bludhaven like a dramatic Bronte character roaming the moorish streets. But he needed it, needed to… reconnect with who he was, who he once was. He wasn’t a stray anymore, even if staying with Dick hadn’t worked out he could have returned to Bruce. Was likely still to return to the man. 

And wasn’t that a comforting knowledge; Jason had places to return to.

And when he returns Dick is there waiting for him, sprawled out on the sofa next to the armchair that had suddenly appeared after Jason stopped feeling the need to run away and hide behind the wall of books. Jason frowns, or he wants to frown, he wants to find something wrong with the image before him but how can he when Dick now looks like that. There had always been something godly to him before. Cold and sharp in silvery light. Yet here, under the warm glow of the living room lamps as Robin does something as simple and paltry as reading, he looks… human. Relaxed and comfortable with all the grace of a cat but also mortal in a way that's tangible, in a way that’s equal to Jason. 

Jason wonders if they look like a pair sitting together; Dick on his sofa and Jason in his armchair, as if reading in quiet company has made them united.

– – –

Nothing amazing had happened, there was no celebration or event and yet Dick had taken a day of work just to spend time with Jason. He’s sure the detective’s supervisor must have been annoyed, the man had barely been back three weeks before doing so but… well there was something to celebrate; Three months. That’s how long he and Dick had been in Bludhaven. There’s no reason for him to be so giddy, so excited to do nothing but spend the day with Dick. Hanging out.

They’ve done that before of course. Hell they’ve had three months of it but this is the first time Jason is truly appreciating being just Dick and Jason; Robins about town. Mainly because, 

1. He doesn’t feel like a replacement, how can he when Dick bought an armchair for the apartment just because Jason likes them to read in 
2. Dick took a day off work. He stopped being a cop for Jason, even when it risks job security. He didn’t even take cop days off for the Titans since they were ‘doing the same thing’ (fucking idiots)
3. Dick’s in a good mood.

Okay, he’s in a Dick Grayson good mood which is different to a Jason Todd good mood. Dick isn’t as excitable and chipper as Jason but he’s relaxed and smiles softly whenever he catches Jason’s eye so he thinks that counts for something. He’s smug enough that he sneaks a photo of them to send to Bruce. No one can really blame him, he’s happy, Dick’s happy, and that’s a fucking miracle that Bruce Wayne needs to see. And it can count as one of Jason’s every few day check ins that proves both he and Dick are doing okay.

A single smiley face appears on the photo and Jason sighs, rolling his eyes at the– Oh, he grins, smiling away to himself when he sees the single smiley face that had been sent as a separate text. Okay, that emoji did look a little creepy but Jason’s going to ignore that in favour of another success in his efforts to teach Bruce the art of texting. It shouldn’t even be this hard, the man isn’t old and he’s ridiculously tech-savvy - he should be fine! Jason swears he’s doing it just to be ornery.

But Jason doesn’t bring that up, not today when he wants to share his success which he captions on ‘Robins about town; Book faire edition’ because, oh yeah, did he mention that part? Richarch motherfucking Grayson was taking him to a book fair, a radical book fair. As in Jason Todd was going with the –

“Does he check up on you often?”

Jason does not flinch in surprise, Dick is just amused for the sake of it.

He doesn’t mention that this was the second time they texted today. The first had been Jason’s sos text that Bruce had taken seriously until he realised it was Jason having a meltdown over his wardrobe. The ensuing conversation followed a familiar pattern of Bruce ignoring Jason’s dramatics for all of a minute before asking if they’re both okay, followed quickly by Jason’s insistence that Bruce could call Dick himself and ask, and then the show stopper where Bruce inevitably mocks Jason as a form of defence. (This morning it had been well wishes for his date with that fine gentleman Grayson ) (Jason had practically screeched in horror before turning bright red)

“It’s more like I check up on him.” Jason corrects, trying to hide the fact he’s closing his phone before Bruce can send anything that might embarrass Jason. “But yeah, every couple of days or so.”

Everyday. It’s everyday. Jason finally has someone who cares about him, two someones even, and he’s greedy enough to want their attention daily. Even if that comes in the form of sending a photo of the breakfast he’s having, the books he’s reading, or a rare photo of the lesser spotted sleeping Grayson. In return he receives everything from a thumbs up to a phone call (the phone call came when the sleeping Grayson had fallen asleep with his shirt raised enough to show a slither bandages - DaddyBats was not pleased)

There’s a sudden awkward silence between, one that confuses Jason since they’re normally so comfortable together but– Oh, oh poor little Dickie. He wants to ask something but hasn’t found the words. Of course it must be about Bruce, he’s the only person who could ever make Dick so hesitant.

“Is he…” Dick clears his throat, “He’s… fine?”

Jason snorts, “You two are a right pair.” He can't help but smirk when he glances over at Dick’s failed attempt of being casual. “You could ask him yourself if you’re so worried. Last I checked you both had phones - and each other's number.”

Dick scowls, though it's more of an indignant pout because Dick Grayson ‘wasn’t worried’ and ‘why would he be worried’ and Jason huffs at the dramatics can’t help but text Bruce about his worrier of a son. Honestly, the two of them were two peas in a pod, probably a trio when Alfred was still up and kicking, overbearing mother hens the lot of them. It’s only thanks to Dick’s own attempts to look normal that he doesn’t notice when Jason flushes bright red at Bruce’s text:

It’s usually a green flag when your date is so caring towards his family.

Jason scowls, annoyed at being so easily embarrassed by Dick’s attempts at bonding. They weren’t on a date, Bruce was just being an arsehole and taking advantage of Jason’s stupid crush. Also, who the fuck taught Bruce about GreenFlag/RedFlag trends? 

When he asks as much all he gets is; It’s also a green flag when your date pays - have fun stacking up your book order on someone else’s credit card for once

Jason grins, hoping to smile through the embarrassment. Though part of him is a little proud of himself. Buying books was one of the first ways he and Bruce had bonded outside the job. He’d found Jason curled up in the manor library after a rough patrol and offered to buy some newer books for Jason. Thus, Jason’s book lists were born. At first it was silly, how much money can Jason spend before Bruce gets annoyed? Just a little test to see where the line was, one that had Jason on edge for days before Bruce realised he was waiting for him to get angry. 

The man's response? You don’t seriously think a couple hundreds is enough to put a dent in my account?

Jason knows a challenge when he sees one and he’s always prepared to rise to the occasion.

They reach the fair soon enough, it’s being held in an old church that had been gutted internally and turned into an events hall. Which is to say the location was gothic, dramatic and everything Jason utterly adored from architecture. And it’s stupid how easily something in his chest settles at the sight of tables upon tables of books sprawled out before him, even the odd silence can’t deter his happiness (a silence which is actually borne from a captivated audience listening to a poetry reading, so Jason lets his judgement slide) (He’s always preferred libraries full of life to the caverns and mausoleums of the rich)

Jason’s not sure how long he spends walking between the sprawling tables but he knows he spends the time well. He’d been drawn to book covers like a moth to a flame, each one capturing his attention with either a ridiculous title or a gorgeous illustrated cover, hell, even a familiar name would have Jason wandering closer to observe. The whole Dick diligently followed him around, occasionally branching off to do his own investigating but always reappearing when the books got too heavy in Jason’s arms and taking them into his own. 

(Jason was not fucking thinking about that act of chivalry) (It was going to keep him up at night with hope)

Eventually they meander towards where a team of sales workers are hovering at the back. They’re surrounded by signed editions, tote bags, pins, bookmarks, and anything small enough to steal that needs to be guarded. They quickly join the queue and Jason ropes Dick into a selfie with their book stacks that he sends off to Bruce as both an encouragement for Bruce to embrace the simple pleasures that come with mundanity, and also to brag about the good time he was having.

Dick rummages around one handed in his pocket, searching for his wallet but Jason quickly waves him off with a jerk of his phone. Bruce would love to pay but as expected Dick wasn’t too eager to indulge Bruce’s whims. In fact he grimaces with a quiet scoff that revealed a petulance only parents could bring out in their children. 

“It’s fine, c’mon. Weren’t you the one reminding me the other day that we’re rich? Bruce likes taking care of us.” And wasn’t that a damn novelty to find in an adult.

Besides, the man had been pestering Jason the whole time he’d been with Dick. It got to the point where Jason was starting to sneak their grocery bill onto the old man’s card just to reassure him that they were eating and being well taken care of.

“I can pay for us.” Dick sniffs delicately, clearly offended and Jason rolls his eyes. Dick would not be paying for him. It was one thing to let Bruce pay, since it was just an extension of Bruce’s mother henning. But Dick? No, he and Dick were equals, he didn’t need to depend on him financially, nor would he expect Dick to pay for him. Bruce was the fool who signed the adoption paper, he’s the one who gets to bear that responsibility.

Dick’s scoff captures Jason’s attention, if only because he’s surprised by the bitterness in the sound. He couldn’t seriously be that upset about Jason’s offer to use Bruce’s card? He gets his answer when he peers over at Dick’s phone screen, the notifications–

“You don’t have to buy anything for me.” Jason flushes, feeling even his ears burning. “Seriously, I wasn’t expecting you to pay.”

“Tough shit, it’s my treat.” Dick grunts, indignant and annoyed as he taps furiously on his phone in response to whatever accompanying text Bruce had sent along with that money transfer. Jesus, he’d been hoping the man was going to reach out but did he seriously have to be so emotionally stunted about it? And now of all times - in the middle of Jason’s good day? “What kind of person does he think I am?” Dick grumbles under his breath, “I can bloody well afford to get you new books.”

Jason swallows nervously, suddenly wishing he hadn’t complained to Bruce about the rising price of books. The result of that conversation was a line of credit opened in Jason’s name for the sole purpose of books. Bruce justified it as the equivalent to an education fund, Jason had legitimately argued with him for days over it. One of the few times he had gotten upset with Bruce over money, the casual ease with which he spent thousands had made Jason physically sick to the point that now Bruce refused to discuss money with him unless he thought it was necessary.

The man had also deemed it necessary to transfer Dick five hundred pounds with the tagline ‘Jason’s Book Fund’ which, first of all, rude, Jason can pay for his own books (Jason was going to doing Bruce a favour by putting it on the Wayne family card but now he can go fuck himself), second of all, how many books did he think Jason would be buying today? And why oh why did he have to send the money to Dick? Yes, Jason gets uncomfortable around large sums of money, but not enough that Bruce should transfer it all to Dick so he can have his bank babysat.

“Seriously,” Jason murmured, uncomfortable with the way Dick was scowly. “I’ll buy my–”

Dick waves him off and Jason winces at the action, a move which immediately drags dicks attention away from his phone and back to Jason with a worried frown.

“Hey,” Dick murmurs, soft and reassuring. “I’m not upset with you.”

“I know.” Jason's snaps defensively, even as that panic in his chest uncurls at the reassurance. Dick smiles indulgently, already used to Jason’s defensive ways. “Bruce is just being insensitive.”

Jason would probably be more than a little upset too if Bruce had only sent him money for Dick without any care for Jason. Way to go play favourite Brucie. Seriously, he could have at least titled the money as ‘Daytrip fund’, ‘treat yourselves’, ‘pocket money’, literally anything that wasn’t son-specific.

“I know. His lack of trust…” Dick sighs, clenching his jaw. “He still treats me like I’m a little kid, one he barely trusts with any responsibility. I can take care of you just fine on my own.”

He–

What?

Jason thinks he might be gaping at Dick but what the fuck man? They were one hundred percent talking about two different Bruce related issues (god how many of those were there?) but what the fuck was Dick’s problem now?

Dick, catching Jason expression and probably getting the wrong end of the stick frown, and reached out to hover a hand over Jason’s arm - not touching, not for them, but still there, reassuring in it’s phantom weight,

“I’m serious Jay.” Dick frowned, stepping closer into Jason’s space. “I said I wanted to take care of you and I will. That extends beyond the bare minimum of bed and board. If you want the books I’ll get them for you.”

He’s dead. He’s actually fucking dead.

Jason can’t even think beyond the dawning horror of this moment. The utter indignity of being cared for. Not just by Bruce but by Dick fucking Grayson. It was too much. He didn’t know what to do with all this.

What the actual fuck was going on.

“Jay?” Dick prompts and Jason flushes at the nickname (is it even possible for him to get anymore red at this point) 

“You’re not… mad?” Jason blurts out like a fool but Dick’s expression softens.

“Hey, what did I tell you?” God, that gentle voice was going to turn Jason into putty. “This is a Bruce thing, okay? His lack of faith in me doesn’t mean–”

“I thought it was because he’s playing favourites.” Someone should shoot Jason before he manages to bumble his way off a cliff. “Not that he is of course. I can’t actually spend that much on books in a day - which he knows - so the rest of the money was supposed to be yours. It’s just he doesn’t know how to say that so he said it was mine–”

“Jay.” 

Dick does touch him now, a soft grip that burns on Jason’s upper arm but it’s gone before he can register he’s done anything more than take a gasping breath at the interruption.

“It’s okay. Bruce doesn't need you to defend him.” Jason opens his mouth but– “And I don’t need you to explain his reasons. This isn’t something you need to, or should fix. That’s between us.”

Oh he hates when Dick uses that slow and calm logical voice on him. It makes everything seem so easy and simple when he’s panicking. Jason just stares and stares at Dick’s reassuring expression, the easy smile he puts in place just for Jason’s benefit.

“Now,” Dick murmurs and Jason instinctively straightens up when he registers that Dick’s glanced to the side where they need to shuffle forward in the queue. “I’m not upset because the money is in your name. I’m upset because Bruce doesn’t trust me to look after you.”

“He does.”

Dick sighs, giving him a look that screams ‘what did I just say’ but Jason shrugs, unrepentant.

“I’m sending him the money back, I made you a promise and I intend to keep it.”

– – –

Evening has come and gone by the time Dick appears next to Jason’s armchair. It’s enough for Jason to blink up at him in surprise before glancing around and registering how late it had gotten while he was absorbed in one of his new books ( Parable of the Sower , Bloodchild had inspired a sci-fi kick so he was reading more from the author) Normally, Dick would have pulled Jason away from his books much sooner, either insisting on a good night’s rest or an offer to join Dick out on patrol. 

The change has Jason wary and he shows as much through narrowed eyes as he watches Dick carefully, waiting for the man to break and tell him what’s going on.

“Bruce has been texting more.” Dick starts hesitantly and Jason doesn’t share the fact that it wasn’t that Bruce had been texting more, it was just that Jason had started to share those texts with Dick more often. It was all part of his grand scheme to get the pair slowly used to each other again. After a while of just sitting on that statement Dick eventually asks, “Does he need you back?”

Dick barely hides the concern in that question, the worry for Bruce (worry for losing Jason) and Jason is quick to reassure him.

“Not right now. Joker’s in Arkham and the rest of the Rogues are quiet with the oncoming winter season.”

But Jason has always been good at monitoring those he cares about. He calls Bruce more than a 20 year old (nearly 21 - fucking finally, legal drinking) should. But he also checks in on Gotham, watching the news, and talking to Barbra Gordon on occasion. Should Bruce or the Bat need him, Jason can be there. 

(He’s not sure he wants to be by Bruce’s side like that. He’d never been content to be a sidekick and B knows it. Partners worked best for them but they could never truly be equals, not with the way Bruce worries after him) (Sometimes he wonders if that’s why the original Dynamic Duo fell apart; Dick grew up and Bruce wasn’t ready to see him as an adult, an equal)

But Jason had been gone for a long time. Not just with Dick but from before as well, when he had been pushed onto the Titans. (sometimes he thinks that was Bruce’s way of finding him equals to work with) It was a decision that had conflicted Jason. He’d been with Bruce for over a year by then but hadn’t actually been out on patrol for long. It had taken months for him to recover from the streets, to settle in enough to trust Bruce as a guardian, as Bruce and not the Bat. Then of course he had to build up muscle and experience before he could hit the streets. But Bruce should be fucking grateful it all worked out for Jason (and Dick) otherwise he’d have bitched about it for months and probably used it as an excuse to cling to B’s side and get some more patrol time.

Dick must read all this on his face. The contentment but also the longing.

“Do you want to go back?” Dick finally asks and what can Jason say to that? He’ll be here for Dick, at the very least till the Titans take him back or till Dick finally starts talking about Nightwing. But after that…Jason is Robin and Batman needs Robin. He’d like to think that Bruce needs him too. Not to mention that he misses the old fool. A lot. But if he went to Bruce then he’d just end up missing Dick. 

Jason’s gotten too greedy; he’s too soft and dependent on the Waynes now, he can’t choose between them.

“It’s okay if you do. I don’t expect your life to revolve around mine.”

A sweet, but hollow, gesture. Jason was still preening after Dick’s possessive behaviour with the books earlier and now the man just expects Jason to give him up? Hell no. Also, it wasn’t believable in the slightest, not with the unsure look in Dick’s eyes, the hesitancy with which he spoke.

“Besides,” Dick clears his throat, not meeting Jason’s eyes. “You can come back.”

Jason grins. Oh that was an invitation. 

“You could always–”
“Nope.”

Jason sighs but even Dick’s flat out rejection can’t truly dim his happiness. He’s had a good day, and now he’s starting to picture a brighter future than he could have ever dreamed of. Life was good.

“Fine, that was a long shot.” Jason concedes, rolling his eyes with too much fondness for the action to have any actual effect. “But still, I’m sure B would love to see you– hey, why doesn’t he come out and visit–”

Dick groans, “Jason.”

Jason snickers, delighted by Dick’s irritated sneer. How similar the pair were, so territorial over their cities.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” Jason eventually murmurs and the mood suddenly drops at the legitimate prospect of Jason leaving.

“Good, good.” Dick mutters quietly. “I’ll start looking into flights.”

Something tightens around Jason’s throat, “If you were that eager for me to be gone, you could have said so.”

“Eager to have you back home.” Dick smiles, easy and flirting in a way that is far too casual for how easily it flusters Jason. It’s so not fair. “Sooner you’re gone, sooner you’re back.”

“Fuck ‘ff.” Jason huffs, embarrassed but also… home? How dare Dick just lay out all those feelings before Jason where there’s little room for misinterpretation and Jason– he can’t, his brain isn’t wired for this. “Coming on quite strong there Richie Grayson.”

Dick chuckles, dropping Jason’s gaze in favour of taking in Jason’s flushed cheeks, a hot flush that he can already feel spreading to the tips of his ears. When their eyes meet again there’s something like mirth in Dick’s expression, amusement shining in the soft glow his eyes and Jason likes it, likes when Dick looks at him like–

“Oh we both know you can’t handle Richie, not with a blush like that.”

Dick smirks as Jason drops, actually drops as he hides his head in hands and curls up tighter in his armchair, hoping to sink into the cushions and escape this monster of a man. God Jason hates him. How dare he call Jason out like that.

From the way Dick’s laughing it’s clear he caught Jason’s expression before he hid; the wide eyes, a furious blush as he no doubt stared dumbly ahead, too shocked to do anything else. Mortification didn’t begin to cover it and a strangled noise of embarrassment is ripped from Jason's chest as he curses at Dick.

“You’re an arsehole.” He snaps, twisting his head just enough to snap out the words before hiding away again to save what little dignity he still had. “Fuck off back to your room.”

“Nope.” Dick’s cheery voice cuts through Jason’s gloom. “If you’re abandoning me for Gotham then I shall savour all the time with you that I can.”

Oh for fucks sake–

Chapter Text

Jason has had many homes over the years. Some have certainly been better than others. At one point he would have said that, despite everything, it was his first home that he loved the most. The best place he had ever been. The home where he learned to walk, where his mother had taught him to read, when he was together with his family. After everything that happened when he lost the apartment (You gotta pay your rent somehow, boy)(Todd! Where’s my fucking money) he was starting to believe that Wayne Manor might have been his saving grace. 

But now that they’re approaching the runway for landing he’s starting to have some doubts. He might be more than a little stressed about the return to Bruce. It’s not that he thinks the man is going to throw him out into the streets or anything, it’s just… well maybe he is a little scared of that. Bruce would never but the man could easily turn his mansion into a tomb, or worse, a prison. 

And maybe he’s also a little scared of fucking it up and losing the life he’d started to build with Dick in Bludhaven. Because that’s what he had done and it was only as he was leaving that he fully noticed that. 

Bruce had given him a safe haven to recuperate in, somewhere far away from the horrors of his youth. And Jason knew it was what he needed at the time. The Lord knew he was nothing but a sack of skin and bones when he arrived on Wayne’s doorstep; malnourished, traumatised and more trouble than he was worse. But Bruce had still taken him in, had still helped him and given him time and space to recover.

But at some point Jason had stopped engaging with the world around him, with Gotham. Sure, it was easy to trick himself towards the end. He was spending most of his nights out on the streets with B, helping people, learning on the job, making a difference, enough so that he didn’t even notice when he stopped venturing out during the day.

In Bludhaven, however, he had local shops, favourite restaurants, routines and events and locals he knew and got along with. He had had that at one point in Gotham, but it had been lost somewhere along the way and Jason wasn’t entirely sure he wanted it back. Life in the Manor wasn’t one that appealed to Jason; living as Bruce’s ward, another charity pet project but even then they’d have to back-date it. Jason was already 20, he wasn’t a kid, though thank god for that, he doesn’t know how Dick managed to survive that posh ass private school Bruce sent him to. So technically speaking, Jason was at moving out age (he wanted to throw up at the thought) except this is the first time he’s had a home in a while and he’s not eager to start fending for himself again

— – — 

Bruce, the bleeding heart that he is, had attempted to cook Jason a welcome home meal that he was unfortunately proud of. Jason should have never been so honest about his favourite food, he should have lied and said something that included less spices so he didn’t end up sneaking behind Bruce’s back in an attempt to reach the kitchen. It was bloody ridiculous but at least Bruce had been too heartbroken to change any of the layouts that Alfred had instituted before his death which meant that Jason could easily find all that he needed as he counted down his five minute timer.

The first sneak away had been fine, Bruce mentioned checking the food and Jason offered to take his place under the guise of ‘tricking’ Bruce into carrying his bags upstairs. The second time had been the bathroom excuse; The third was grabbing one of the books Dick had bought him the other day to show Bruce (and wasn’t that hell, fixing the food in a sweltering kitchen, sprinting up the stairs, back down the stairs and remembering which book he said he wanted to show Bruce); the fourth time wasn’t really necessary, the other three had been for spices and making sure Bruce had actually cooked the meat through, but he couldn’t resist teasing the old man on his cooking skills so they’d both wandered through.

Jason fucking hated that pride and happieness in Bruce’s eyes. It was undeserved and insulting. How dare the man preen at being a good father when Jason was out here saving them both from food poisoning. But this was the least he owed Bruce so he smiled appreciatively as he tasted the chili before quickly joking and making fun of Bruce’s spice tolerance and adding some more chilli flakes in. He needed proof of why the spice level would be higher after all, couldn’t have Bruce suspecting anything after all.

So they enjoyed a nice meal together where Jason absolutely did not talk Bruce’s ear off about Dick. Even if he did do that, which he didn’t, Bruce had asked for it. Literally. The man had said ‘how’s Dick’ so Jason told him. Well… he’d actually said something more along the lines of ‘how are you liking Bludhaven’ and Jason decided that was a close enough topic jump.

Tomorrow they’ll have to start questioning who Jason is to Bruce. They know who they are but the outside world doesn’t and Jason isn’t quite ready to face their scrutiny, nor what conversations their questions might bring. So for now they just enjoy being them; Jason and Bruce; Batman and Robin; Playboy billionaire bat-cosplayer and the street-rat (whore) orphan who stole his tires.

And Jason’s gotta admit, it’s nice being back in the manor, or well, it’s probably more that he’s enjoying being in Bruce’s company again. Falling into their familiar routines and Jason can practically feel himself regress to that defensive and scared kid he’d been when he’d first stumbled upon the batmobile. Which was nice in some ways, he could never get the childhood he could have had but sometimes Bruce would say or do something that made Jason think he could. 

Normally Bruce would be busy with business, though his CEO Lucius Fox did a fantastic job at running Wayne Enterprises. Jason had never met the man but apparently he was Bruce’s saviour for helping Bruce with the workload at WE. The man never complained when Bruce took more and more time away from the company in favour of spending it with his boys (or out on the streets) but even so, Bruce does have a job and Jason’s grateful he’s making an effort to work remotely for a while.

If only so the manor doesn’t feel so desolate without him.

As a result they spend most of their days either in Bruce’s office or in Jason’s favoured library (and oh how his poor weak heart had raced the first time he had discovered there were two) (it was bad, his poor heart had nearly given up on him and given Bruce the fright of his life and more gray hairs) Both locations have a ridiculously comfy armchair that hadn’t been bought with Jason in mind but were now unequivocally known as his. Somedays they’ll chat with Jason sneaking off to get them more and more snacks (and actual food because he’s trying to avoid cross contaminating Bruce and the kitchen); other times they spend hours in silence with Jason reading or wandering about the room. Recently, Bruce has taken to telling Jason about business, explaining what he’s looking at when Jason peers over his shoulder at the spreadsheets and proposals. It’s droll as fuck but Jason is kinda of proud that he understands what’s going on.

Enough so that he listens and asks questions and tries to stop his chest from bubbling with happiness when Bruce looks so pleased by his interest, so proud when Jason makes an accurate comment or assessment of the information before him.

But at some point Jason has to relent because there’s only so much business chat he can take, especially when he knows there is a perfectly good book for him to be reading. (and a perfectly good room that he eventually retreats to when Bruce has to take a video call) Not that he’s actually reading, he’s more like… wallowing. On his bed though, not in it. There’s a big difference there, an important one. Cause sitting on the bed is just worrying, laying in the covers is just a pathetic attempt at hiding from the world.

Besides, there’s something wrong with his bed. 

Jason eventually rolls himself over, a dramatic move punctuated by an annoyed sound as he ends up stretched across the massive bed. His aimed had partially been to throw himself off it but the damn thing was too fucking big (big beds were reserved for the parties, for visitors and guest who paid–) His breath is caught in his throat, choking him (brusing the back of his throat–) as he stumbles out of his bed, collapsing in the tangle of sheets as he slumps to the floor.

Just go to fucking sleep. You’re in a safe place, the manor has a stupid amount of locks, codes, walls (trapping him like a bird in a cage) there’s nothing coming to get him. There’s not even an active threat. It’s not like he isn’t tired; jet lag has been kicking his arse for hours now but at least he’ll have an excuse to tell Bruce when the man inevitably asks about the dark bags under his eyes. Not that the Batman of all people had any room to judge.

Jason drags one of the heavy blankets onto the floor with him, half crawling, half dragging himself over to the long vaguely ottoman like couch and its ornate rug. A pathetic noise is tugged out of his chest when he manages to curl up on the rug, a useless whine as he bemoans even daring to sleep on that sofa. There was a bed, a good fucking bed, he should be able to sleep on it.

No matter how tired he is or how much he begs, sleep eludes him and the reason is glaringly obvious.

Dick.

(the crisp feel of clean sheets, washed regularly in a shitty motel laundry room)

(A bed, an actual bed, the first he’d seen in months) (don’t fucking close your eyes) (let me see, boy, you cry so pretty for me)

It had to be Dick. (He couldn’t look at that bed) Jason turns, bumping his head against the sofa, he can only huff in annoyance and roll over again to stare plaintively at the ceiling. That high ceiling, the one that separated this room from so many– His face is too warm, flustered and embarrassed (by his own fears) because he’s realising how used to Dick he had gotten. It wasn’t like they shared a room or anything, but Jason had gotten used to knowing he was just the room over. 

It’s stupid but it’s wrong and it feels fucking weird.

Jason is in Gotham, somewhere where Dick wasn’t.

He doesn’t like how easily that changed. One moment he was training with Dick, the centre of the man’s world, the next he was in Gotham with more space and restrictions than he knew what to do with. Which is fine, Jason’s not being needy about this, he knows damn well how to survive on his own, how to be comfortable in his own company. There’s plenty of entertainment to be found around the manor. He likes the space even.

It’s just… well it’s not even like Dick told him to fuck off, nor did he even send Jason away, this had all been Jason’s decision. To come back to Gotham, to check on Bruce, to see his city again, to patrol as Robin with Batman (not with Nigthwing Dick) So it’s not like Jason’s mad or anything, not even with Dick mentioned going to visit some old friends for a while (a fellow Titans reject apparently) Jason just– well it turns out he wasn’t as ready to leave their little bubble as he thought he was. 

And after spending so much time together it’s… wrong, now that Dick isn’t with him anymore. (he wonders if Dick feels Jason’s absence as keenly as Jason’ feels Dick’s) But its fine, it’s barely been a day, he’ll get over it; he can adjust (like he always has). He’s good at adapting even if doesn’t like what’s being changed.

None of these arguments stop him from clawing at the phone he had abandoned somewhere nearby. He’s destined for a sleepless night (for a sleepless few days) then he might as well adapt to that as well. 

Bruce can just deal.

So what if Jason is cranky on little sleep.

Jason’s eyes burn at the backlight from the phone screen, he manages to blink away the sting before idly scrolling through his social media and trying to ignore the lack of notifications waiting for him. Eventually he switches apps, barely sparing the news half a thought before attempting to read one of the books he had downloaded days ago but had never truly got into.

At some point Jason registered he was staring at his chat with Dick. That he had begun scrolling through their past messages, pausing on the photos that had been sent between them. At first it had just been a Dick thing, a surprising move but the man had taken to sending Jason photos of his lunch when he was at work. That had eventually grown to just sharing little snippets of his day through a quick photo when he couldn’t spare the time to type.

The last message sent was hours ago. It followed on from the train of updating messages Jason had been sending on his journey progress under the promise that Dick would do the same considering he was driving out to his friend - a roadtrip of all things. Jason liked to think that Dick was just attempting to fill up his time without Jason, but he was also aware of how nervous Dick was to see this ‘friend’ again after so many years.

Dick hadn’t read his last message but that didn’t mean he hadn’t seen it in the notification. Besides, it was just an acknowledgement that Jason had sat down for dinner with an attached photo of Bruce's offending cooking. Nothing worth replying to.

The only thing that sticks out to Jason is how alone he feels without Dick. No– not alone. Because he has Bruce and part of him knows he still has Dick. He’s just… a little unmoored. 

Jason rolls onto his side with one last heaving sigh.

He still can’t bloody sleep.

– – – 

He’s not sulking. Jason swears he’s not.

Dick had finally replied, making no comment about Bruce or Gotham but had thumbs-up-ed the message before recounting his own progress with the caution of bad signal, driving (so he couldn’t text) and an apology for the time difference. Jason should have probably considered the time difference before stressing over Dick’s lack of reply. He was probably asleep when Jason had texted him.

Some days had passed at this point and Dick hadn't texted him back with anything substantial. There was the occasional good night, a half hearted ‘how was your day’, and from the few times Dick had sent a little paragraph about his own day Jason got the impression that he was exhausted. He should have arrived in StarCity yesterday and Jason was trying not to be worried about the lack of arrival texts.

It’s stupid but he daren’t reach out and ask himself. The shift back to Gotham has made him frustratingly aware of how needy he is. Having all of his questions and moments of reaching out laid before him on a text chat was painful. He could see every fucking time he spoke to Dick and by god was he desperate. Jason knows he’s got a tendency to be clingy and needy. He’s not blind. He’s aware that Bruce doesn’t mind, that he enjoys getting to plat pseudo-father with all of Jason’s requests of movie nights and board games. But Dick is slowly becoming Jason’s person and it’s like he’s having some sort of separation anxiety. Like those cats he sees online for adoption, the ones that can’t be separated.

“Are you ready to share what’s wrong yet?” B-Batman asks and despite the rough voice Jason can hear the genuine concern shining through. “You’ve been on edge all night.”

Jason sniffs delicately, offended. Of course when Jason brings up personal topics while on patrol he gets scolded but when Bruce does it he’s just a concerned mentor. It’s not exactly an ideal time to be stressing about Dick’s sudden emotional distance, or that he’s gone to a different city to be with some other friend. Fuck it’s not like Jason doesn’t understand that said friend has been through something (which has not been specified yet). Dick’s being stingy with the name but not in a ‘I don't’ want Jason to know way’ more of a ‘I don’t want to think of my friend in that way’ which Jason understands (Which is the only reason he hasn’t broken Dick’s trust and found out himself). If one of his friends was going through something serious he would be worried as well. But also, Dick had been the one to reach out, to try and connect again after so many years.

“It’s nothing.” Jason murmurs.

But still, Jason had been checking the news when he couldn’t sleep (which was basically all the time) even with the time difference he was able to see that no pressing news had come out of Star City (Jason studiously didn’t think about which vigilante family ruled those streets). Dick is a grown man, a season vigilante, a detective (which Jason had been steadily coming to terms with) and even with Dickie’s fucked up past he’s still trained; he’s good. Not to mention the martyr complex and do-gooder attitude, if there was a problem then Dick would handle it.

“And yet,” Batman drawls and isn’t that a funny combination. The gravelly voice mixing with Bruce Wayne sarcasm. “You’re still distracted, which makes it important to you.”

The only important thing is that if Star City isn’t a threat, a thing keeping Dick from talking to Jason, then his friend must be.

The silence that descends upon them manages to have a tone, not chiding (Jason is too old to be chided) but he can definitely sense B’s disapproval. That small, weak, part of himself immediately fears that he’s fucked up. Both with Dick and Bruce. They’re both better off without Jason, Dick had easily found another friend but at least Bruce hadn’t decided to find another Robin (yet). God, he’s being so dumb. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t got Dick here to care for, to focus on. Maybe that’s because he’s a control freak. (Dr Thompkinson suggested this might be Jason’s attempts at making himself crucial, needed, so that he won’t be left) (She doesn’t know what she’s talking about; Jason has immense respect for her and hates how much sense she talks)

So, with that Icon of a woman in the back of his mind Jason sighed, dramatically and ridiculously but it was a pointed move that allowed him to breathe deeper and exhale with a forceful puff of air without the embarrassment of doing breathing exercises. 

“Of course I’m distracted,” Jason drawls, with a new resolve to be fine and get over himself. “You’ve got a stalker.”

He had noticed the kid on the first day of patrolling, admittedly it had taken him a while and at some points he had lost track of him (so kudos to guy for not being completely incompetent) but still, if Jason could spot him then B definitely could (and so could anyone else)

Batman continues to glare out at the rooftops before them, ignoring the one that Jason had gestured to with an interesting determination.

The resignation in Batman’s voice when he mutters a simple, “I’m aware.” has Jason’s eyes widening in surprise. “I also know that you’re deflecting.” Which Jason does cringe at but in his defense the stalker is a worthy topic to worry over. Something which B seems to agree with, or maybe he’s giving Jason the mercy of a distraction because he soon learns that the kid had appeared a couple months after Jason’s relocation to the tower. At first it had just been random appearances that for all the world looked like a silly fan who would bow out under a single bat-glare. That had not happened. Despite Bruce’s insistence that the kid return to his parents the boy had stubbornly refused. 

Jason didn’t know how to feel about a kid going out into Gotham, risking his life, just to ask after Robin’s wellbeing.

It was an… odd feeling. Another person had seemingly been added to the list of those who gave a shit about whether Jason was alive or dead. Not that it technically counted since the kid was asking after Batman’s Robin and not Jason Todd. At least he was pretty sure that’s what's going on but there’s also the issue of–

“He seriously wants to try and take Robin from me?” Jason demanded, harsh and angry to cover up his wounded surprise. He’d been gone for seconds and this little shit had suddenly appeared. “Not a chance in hell, you’ve finally stopped fretting about it.”

“He’s not trying to take Robin, nor could he, that is not in a stranger’s - let alone a child’s - power.” Oh, Jason’s brows furrowed in confusion at Batman’s easy assurance. He had always assumed he was one severe complaint away from being benched. “Besides, he was just concerned.”

Because Jason hadn't been seen patrolling? Surely the kid had checked online, there had to be at least a few articles of his bloody messes left during his time with the Titans. Not to mention his appearances in Bludhaven. He glances back in the direction of the badly hidden kid, the flash of light glinting of metal – a camera – catches his attention. With that kind of planning he would assume a budding journalist, or fan. And yet… the kid kept coming out, hadn’t gotten involved in any fights or trouble either so he clearly wasn’t trying to just throw himself into a crime and hope it would earn Batman’s approval. (Which Jason had vaguely considered doing himself during those early months on patrol) But B was concerned, Jason was begrudgingly concerned, Gotham was not known for her mercy but at least she didn’t discriminate against those she punished (except the rich, she fucking coddled those weak bitches)

Jason hums in thought, considering his options.

“Want me to go reassure him?”

“No.”

Jason snorts, ignoring B without a second thought as turned back to waggled his fingers at the kid, delighting when he startled but– oh it was a little cute when he eagerly waved back. A fact that belied his age and reassured Jason cause no way in hell was a kid that young becoming Robin; Bruce had learnt plenty from Dick.

“Stop encouraging him, he’s already too stubborn without your endorsement.”

– – – 

No response from Dick and Jason can only pray that everything is fine.

He wants this to have gone well for Dick, it's the least the man deserves after everything. Even if they were already friends before it's still a big deal that they’re reconnecting and Jason is determined to make sure that Dick’s next round of friends are more worthy than his last. Hawk and Dove can fuck themselves, Donna too for that matter, though Jason still has a bit of sympathy for Kori. The whole amnesia thing and not being a member of the Titans when the Jericho shit went down was really working in her favour.

And if Jason feels a little bitter then that’s a different problem entirely. So what, Dick had friends, still has friends, and is charismatic enough to easily gain more. Jason has… he has acquaintances, people from his childhood who were friends but not– he doesn’t want to say not loyal but he’s wildly aware that they were all just doing their best to survive and keep their heads above the water. 

( Maybe I’ll just forget whose side your on )

The Titans were struggling when they lashed out at him, so maybe it is unfair of him to be upset with them, with Dick for still moving in similar circles of vigilantes, but it fucking sucked.

( I’d rather be with Deathstroke than with you arseholes )

Jason can only sigh as he continues to knead dough before him on the counter. For some ridiculous reason he was still awake after their patrol so he had decided to start cooking. At which point he remembered how late it was and figured baking might be a better way to go. There was something so amusing to him about baking a couple of those fancy sourdough bread loafs in Wayne Manor’s ridiculous kitchen. It was like being in a period drama - one of his Austen novels. 

Not that he would ever say that to Bruce. The last time he had implied that Bruce had been pleased by Jason’s enjoyment before his expression dropped. The following conversation had been awkward as hell with Bruce trying to articulate that Jason wasn’t the help, nor was he there to support Bruce - it was in fact the other way around. God those early weeks were hard. Jason hadn’t believed it when Bruce had said this was all free, he had laid awake at night waiting for his door to open, for demands to be made over the dinner table. 

Nothing ever happened.

So he had taken to cooking. Spoiler: that was another bad move. Bruce was adamant that Jason was not there to be Alfred’s replacement. Jason was determined not to starve or be poisoned by Bruce’s cooking.

At some point the whole process had become fun. To the extent where he was now making bread like one of those fancy cooking influencers on social media. It was trial and error with his cooking experience but he liked to think he had it down now. Which is what gave him so much time to think as he went through the therapeutic movements.

Surprisingly it was Dick Grayson that was bothering him the most but Tim Drake; the kid next door; their stalker, or rather, Batman’s stalker. Though Jason was starting to understand that it was Robin who had prompted Tim to take a more dedicated approach over the last few weeks. He didn’t go out every night, thank god, Bruce would have probably intervened with admonishments of ‘school nights’ if he had. But he’s becoming a distraction with how much effort B is spending trying to keep an eye on the kid. 

On the plus side the kid has enough common sense to fuck off whenever one of the big bad rogues make an appearance.

Maybe that’s why Jason is still up, nights after having met Timothy Drake, even when he should be more concerned about Dick (he shouldn’t really, from the few updates he had been receiving it seemed like things were intense but good) but there was something about the way Tim managed to acknowledge the threat of rogues but not of the everyday man. If that didn’t signal the luxury the kid grew up with then Jason didn’t what did (the camera, the house, the name) But nowhere is safe in Gotham, not even Bristol, and Jason doesn’t want to watch as some dumb naive kid gets hurt.

Which is why he disobeyed B’s strict order to not engage with the kid and spoke to him that evening. It was easy enough, hell he had been stalking the damn stalker for thirty minutes before he made himself known. Tim hadn’t noticed him at all, hadn’t even twitched at the eyes boring into the back of his head. So Jason had naturally used the time to take in the kid, to really look at him. 

Clean, good quality clothes despite the fact they were clearly bought with the intention of being nondescript (you learn to notice these things if you grew up like Jason did) a worn backpack, loved not old, and a flashy camera that was far too expensive for the neighbourhood Jason had found the kid in. Despite his attempt at disguising himself, Tim Drake stuck out like a thumb, as did all of his bones, nobly elbows and a sharp jawline that threatened to be a precursor for malnutrition if the kid wasn’t careful.

Which was really fucking interesting considering his parents owned the manor next door.

So possible neglect. Jason wouldn’t be surprised, rich parents didn’t have time for their kids. Even with all that the kid only looks to be a couple inches shorter than Jason which is really fucking irritating. The Doc had said that this might be as good as Jason will get; years of chronic malnutrition, starving on the streets and extreme illnesses at times had quite literally eaten away at his body. This was it. He didn’t like to think about how he was probably fucked from the womb thanks to his mum. She was a good woman, cared for him, and Jason had fuzzy early memories of her being warm and caring but he still wasn’t quite sure when the drugs started. In practical terms it just meant he was at a higher risk for literally everything. So… fun. At least he could put all those medical bills on Bruce’s tab now.

Tim Drake’s parents, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice their errant son leaving every other night.

“Detective or spy?” Tim squarks, honest to god squarks and loses his balance on the fire escape where the pair were perched, Jason lunges forward, ready to catch the kid but good ole Tim managed to right himself in time. “Jeez kid, definitely not a spy with that kind of reaction, but detective might still be going for you with those kinds of photos.”

Jason was only a little put out about said photos being of crime scenes and not of Batman and Robin. He’d rather warmed up to the idea of a fan. But some of the photos he had caught a glance at over Tim’s shoulder had been ridiculously suspicious: shipments, zoomed in photos of faces, of money passing hands. Jason really didn’t like how much Tim had gotten himself involved with.

Tim hasn’t found his voice yet, still getting his bearings after his near fall and meeting Robin. Jason tries very hard not to let his ego grow at the sight of the starstruck kid. Wonder was practically gleaming in his eyes as he stared at Jason like the sun shined out of Robin’s arse.

“You understand this is ridiculously dangerous for a kid like you.”

Tim’s throat bobs, eyes dimming at the casual reprimand.

“I know… I want to help.”

Fucking naive kids. Jason knows he himself was eager for Robin but at least he wasn’t some rich fool who had never seen a day’s hardship. Had Tim even walked on the streets he was patrolling in or was he too sacred to? Hiding on the rooftops and fire escapes instead. The urge to snap at the kid rising unbidden in his chest, to make Tim understand that he’s just getting in the way, that he’s distracting Batman but– but he remembers what it was like to be turned away, to be called a nuisance, useless, and Jason could never turn away what was clearly a lonely kid.

“You’re not scared of it then?” Jason challenged quietly, “Of the deals you’ve photographed, of the retribution they’ll demand if they find out?”

There’s no fear in Tim’s eyes but there’s a flicker of something, doubt maybe. Either Tim hasn’t witness the worst of Gotham and is thus horrifically idealistic or he’s been fucked beyond the point of caring.

“I’m not…” Tim hesitates, chewing on his lip. At least he knows better than to lie. “Being scared just means I know what I’m getting into.”

Jason nods, “There’s a healthy amount of fear to have with these streets.”

Which is how Jason listens to Timothy Drake’s monologue and tries not to read between the lines. Because if he did that then he would see a young kid desperately in need of love and a purpose. But Tim goes on and on about how he believes in the Bat’s missions - more than Jason ever had himself, he had lost faith a long time ago. But here's this kid who wants to reach out to everyone, who knows Gotham doesn’t discriminate and yet believes everyone deserves a chance, not just those more likely to succeed.

( Do you have any idea what it was like to grow up in the narrows knowing that Batman wouldn’t come into the territory? )

But Batman is just one man and with Robin out of the city someone needed to step up and help. That’s where the photos came into it, so Tim could track the people who Batman forgot. Because he wants to help; because Batman and Robin make a difference; they have been making a difference; but that stopped when Jason left. 

( It’s not Batman that needs Robin, it’s the people )

And fuck if that final thought doesn’t have him working the bread more aggressively than he needs to. He’s been getting lost in that conversation all evening. Circling Tim’s words around in his head, the wonder, the determination, the utter belief but also… the neediness. There’s no doubt in Jason’s mind that Tim wouldn’t make a good hero, just not a vigilante. The kid’s dedicated, smart, rich even, he’s just not got the brawn and from the little Jason had gleaned from images of his parents he wasn’t going to achieve any. It would be an uphill battle for the kid, especially with no background in gymnastics or street life–

But why the fuck is he even thinking of this?

Because one excited kid has put doubt into his mind? Because a conversation with Dick from weeks ago has suddenly come back to him.

( Robin was always best when he was a child. Robin was always the best when he was a child. That naive innocence, that trusting hope and the promise that he’ll grow up to be something better. He’ll have the life that so many didn’t have )

Some pictures might not make a difference but there Tim was, wanting to do his part and make a difference. Worst bit is, Jason knows the kid was sincere. No motivation from fear or tragedy or grief. (he was kind of like Barbra Gordon in that way but at least she had the commissioner for a father) Very simply, Tim just believes.

Oh god, the kid believes that Gotham can be made safe; that Batman is the way to achieve such a thing.

He’d make a good Robin.

– – – 

His bed is fucking useless, Jason has given up on it, it’s been cast out of his good graces for betraying him so. For now Jason resigns himself to laying out on the plush rug, he could be on the ottoman sofa thingy but the floor is calling out to him tonight with its familiarity. 

The blue light from his phone screen blinks over at him.

How are you? Have you settled back into the manor?

He’s finally let it show read after staring and staring at it for hours on end in his notification bar. If it showed as read then Dick might expect an answer, would expect an answer. Maybe he’ll be content with just knowing that Jason has seen it, maybe he’ll assume that Jason is busy, that he’s still patrolling this late at night (early in the morning). Bruce leaves everyone on read all the time. Or at least he does when Jason has texted some desperate plea for an emergency evac away from Richie Grayson’s vicinity. Jason is fine with that cause it’s a joke, and when its not that funny he still knows how much Bruce thinks of him, how much he cares…

But it’s been days of awkward stilted conversations. Rushed updates and no phone calls, and god damn him, Jason misses Dick’s voice. An embarrassing revelation but one nonetheless.

He taps at the phone, refreshing his screen like Dick’s going to text even when the ball is in Jason’s court. It was so much easier when they were together, when it was just the two of them against the world in their own little bubble. He doesn’t know how to fix this, how to help.

Not for the first time does Jason start worrying about what life will be like when Dick returns to the Titans and Jason moves back to Gotham full time. Maybe whatever they had together was just something born of convenience, maybe it’ll die away once they’re parted. At least he could spend more time looking out for Tim if that happened. Something about a scared little bird on his own has Jason’s teeth on edge.

Maybe Dick has finally realised that Jason is more trouble than he’s worth. 

He’s got one of his old friends back now. It might be rough for a while but they still chose each other in the Before. Not like Jason and Dick, where Jason had practically forced himself upon the man.

It’s tempting to send a text, to the point where Jason would if he had anything to say.

But anything he writes now, this late at night, after so much dwardling and angst will only come out needy and desperate. And it’s fine. Dick had said it himself; he wants to take care of Jason. This is a two way thing. Dick’s words weren’t empty, Jason believed in them, in Dick. At the very least he knew that Dick is devoted to anyone he takes under his wing. And, well, Jason has the trump card doesn’t he?

Jason is Robin; Robin is Dick’s.

– – – 

Jason wakes to his phone vibrating in his hand, not an unusual occurrence but considering it’s still dark out it’s clearly not his alarm. He can’t help but groan at that revelation, head already pounding with a desperate need to sleep but there’s no use feeling disappointed about it now. He uncurls himself, shivering slightly at the chill that had settled into his bones - fuck he must have fallen asleep on the rug, without a blanket would be the key point there, but sleep hadn’t been coming easy even after the full week he had spent back in Gotham.

His phone continues to buzz – to ring – for a stupid amount of time. Long enough that Jason slaps out at it blindly, dragging the glowing screen to his face to– oh. Oh.

“Dick?” He croaks in answer, barely registering that he hadn’t yet accepted the call before quickly doing so. “Dickie?”

How can his voice sound even more rough on a second attempt? Fuck the trial run was better than that.

He curls back in on himself, mortified when he realises what he had called Dick. Not just in his head but to the man’s face. Dickie . Fucking hell. What a great way to ruin any attempt at not being needy. 

But also… fucking finally, man. It had been a week since he’d heard Dick’s voice. 

Even amidst all his embarrassment and tired thoughts Jason can feel the stark relief that overcomes him, the contentment that comes with having Dick nearby. Happy as he is to be with Bruce, to be back in Gotham, this is a different sort of a happy, a new one that he was starting to love.

“Hey, Jay.” Or it was supposed to be but Jason finds himself frowning, sitting upright with furrowed brows because Dick sounds off, tired. Its familiar in a way that tempers Jason’s excitement, a tone that reminds him of those early weeks together when Dick seemed to be drowning in grief.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He rushes to ask, heart beginning to pound as he works out how to get to Dick in the shortest amount of time.

“I’m fine, I’m alright, Jay.” Jason swallows nervously, noting the forced calm in Dick’s words, the firm tone that Dick uses when he’s trying to convince himself of something as much as someone else. “I didn’t wake you did I? I forgot the time difference.”

“No, no.” Jason murmurs, rubbing at his already burning eyes, trying to wake himself up so it actually sounds believable. “I’m still getting over the jetlag.”

Dick hums because what the fuck Jason? Jetlag? From fucking Bludhaven to Gotham. But it’s not entirely wrong, even if it is an hour, hour-half, something about the change has Jason unsettled as if he were jetlagged. 

They slip into silence, not one that brings comradeship and comfort. It’s that quiet pensiveness from months and months ago, the one Jason had thought they left behind, but even as he thought it he knew that was a silly wish. This wasn’t something you just moved on from and never returned to. Dick was getting overwhelmed and lost in his own head again. Except it’s not like those other times, this time around Dick called him which means Jason has a job built into his response; menace, support, comfort. Which does Dick need?

“Roy and I got into an argument and I just…” Dick sighs and Jason’s brain seems to malfunction. Roy. As in Roy Harper, one of the original Titans. Speedy . Jason’s brain was doing all sorts of things as he started connecting the dots of that nickname. 

Jason remembers the little Bruce had told him of Roy Harper, it was all after Bruce and Dick had split of course so most of the information was second hand and from reports (and full of Bruce’s fatherly worry and judgement) but it had been a devastating split. Dick had been angry for a time, down right furious, viewing everything that had ‘gone down’ with Roy, all of his fuck ups and lack of care, as a betrayal. One to their family. 

From what Jason understood Roy was like them, or probably more like Jason than Dick, another orphan, a sidekick to a billionaire parent who didn’t get it. A naive and desperate brat who dedicated his entire life to being a vigilante only to find he had nothing to fall back on. 

Jason knew that the Titans had viewed themselves as a family in the beginning. That Donna had been a sister to Dick, that the others had fallen in line and found solace with their equals. But Dick’s whole world view has fallen apart by then, he had been a hero but raised in the Bat’s shadow, only to find a family in other hero’s till he was—

“It’s stupid but…” Dick huffs, it's more of a sharp exhale of breath. “He said some shit, nothing that wasn’t true but I was trying to ignore it.”

“About Jericho.” Caution seemed the best tone to take but Jason still failed to soften that question. “Sorry, I–”

“No, no. We did talk of that but–” Dick chuckles and Jason isn’t sure he likes the sound. “He had a similar reaction to you actually.” Oh, that was… good? “He says it'sabout time those arseholes got off their high-horses’ and some other stuff I won’t repeat.”

Jason snorts, he’d quite like this Roy of Dick didn’t sound so upset.

“We spoke about everything actually; it’s uh, been a long week.” There’s something so open about Dick right now, it makes Jason wish he wasn’t so tired, he wants to appreciate this, to enjoy the trust being shared. “Roy pointed out that for all I’ve been talking about you I haven’t actually phoned since I reached Star’.”

Jason’s heart leapt into his throat, “You’ve been talking about me?”

Dick hums, “ ‘Course, lots to share.”

“Oh.”

“Told him how smart you were, that you were a great Robin.” Those words are said with far too much intention for them not to be a direct response to Jason's doubts. He still blushes. “He’s pleased I’ve got someone like you to have my back - he’s also threatened me into having yours, as if that was necessary.”

That is true, Dick’s overprotective; whether that’s the Bat in him or just simply Dick Grayson Jason will never know.

“He and I, we’re uh, we’re doing good now, I think.” Dick sounds genuinely pleased by the assessment. “I just… I fucked up, before I mean, back with the original Titans and… well Roy called me out on it, on making the same mistakes again, pushing people away, not trusting…” Dick sounds so drained, so tired. “And well, he’s not wrong is he.”

Jason hums, not taking a side. 

“I’m gonna stay a little longer.” Jason likes the sound of determination in Dick’s voice. Even if he hates being away from him longer, it’s hard not to be disappointed by that. “Not for long, but we’re finally working things out and I’d like to finish that and… well maybe we’ll actually spend some time together as friends and not, well whatever we are now.”

“Okay.” Jason says because Dick shouldn’t feel guilty about this, this was good, this was everything they both wanted. “That’s good, sounds like it’s doing some good for the both of you.” He slumps down, sprawled out on an overpriced rug, in a cold bedroom as he stares longingly at a bed he can’t bear to sleep in. “Slumming it with B is a chore I’ll just have to endure.” he tries to make it sound joky but…

“How’s the manor?” Dick asks, cautious in a way that reminds Jason of himself five minutes ago. It’s nice to know they’re both worried, both caring. “Bruce driving you up the wall yet?”

“He’s tried to poison me at every meal.” Jason huffs, delighted when Dick chuckles at the reference. “You’re so lucky to have had Alfred.”

Jason had actually gone to visit the man where he was buried in the Wayne private plot, Bruce had placed him near his own parents but left enough space to surround the grave with the rose bushes that Alfred had favoured. Towards the end the conservatory and its plants was the only thing Alf seemed to have the energy to enjoy. Jason had never met the man but he liked to update him on Bruce and Dick, he’d like to think someone would do that for him if he were in Alfred’s position.

He’d also complained; a lot.

There’s no banter like there would be in their previous conversations, just Jason’s determined voice as he tries to recount everything that’s happened. He fills the silence with his voice, enjoying that he can, that he has someone to listen to even when he’s clearly just rambling. He tells Dick about the stupid shit, what he’s been reading recently, Bruce’s latest board meetings, visiting the office and commiserating with Lucius Fox about Brucie Wayne. He goes on and on and on and yet Dick doesn’t interrupt him, just sits there content to listen. 

(Maybe he likes the sound of Jason’s voice)

At some point Jason’s voice finally starts to go hoarse, his eyes drooping with tiredness, and eventually he runs out of words, of excuses. He wasn’t lying, nothing of the sort, he was just focusing carefully on the positive parts of his visit.

“Sounds like you’re settling in.” And is it just Jason or does Dick sound a little saddened by that fact (lie). “I’m glad it’s going well, I know you were worried.”

Jason hums in agreement, trying not to think about everything that being in Gotham entails.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason swallows nervously, “I’m doing fine.”

Chapter Text

Jason knew how people saw him, he wasn’t a complete idiot and quite frankly perception was important. When he was with his parents, back in those hazy memories where everything was fine, they had taken pride in their home, in their looks, in being clean and well presented. They might have not had much but they were still respectable good people. When that changed Jason remembered keeping up appearances at school, in the neighbourhood, with his parents. Nothing could go wrong, nothing could seem wrong.

Foster care had been a learning curve of an act. Each family seemed to want something different from Jason, even the ones he was only with for temporary stays, no more than a few days yet they had all their rules all their expectations. He had to be docile and unthreatening to those that saw a dangerous child savage, he had to me grateful and respectful to those who wanted praise for taking in a disadvantaged child, he had to be quite but determine with the one who wanted him out of sight, who wanted him to hurt.

The street was a little a better. There was less of a reason to act. You could make friends so long as you knew where you stood in the rankings. When to keep your mouth shut, when to run, when to snap back and make yourself a predator and not prey. Jason was often prey but he was proud of the times he had fought back.

So really, it was no surprise that Tim didn’t know him from Adam but still… the kid’s ignorance hurt sometimes. Although that was too judgemental, it was the way he viewed him as Robin and not Jason. Robin was a hero, a shinning becon of light.

There’s also no way in hell that the kid appreciates how Jason keeps sneaking up on him, appearing out of the blue whenever they have a slow day. Jason continues to do it anyway. Thankfully, Tim’s stop startling like a frightened rabbit, no longer as extreme with his fear as he was the first time. Jason’s sure his camera is extremely grateful, his parents too, no one wants to spend the money replacing whatever thousand pound monstrosity that Tim uses for his crime scene photos (or the hospital bills that will follow Tim’s fall)

They’ve developed something of a routine for the following two weeks that Jason plans to stay (Dick had decided to stay an additional week with Roy and Jason had spitefully added on a few days to his own stay beyond that, just to prove that he wasn’t desperate) (There was a talk from one of his favourite author/actors from broadway that Bruce had agreed to take him to) (Jason had spent hours deliberating the two) Jason pops up at the start of the night, leaves after a bit of a banter and occasionally imparts a warning to stay away from a few big bads that have broken out of Arkham.

Sometimes he manages to check in on the way back but Timothy, being the good lad he is, tries to adhere to something of a bed time. Jason just thinks he’s young and exhausted. If he had the energy to stay up longer, he would be.

But tonight has gone a little a different. There’s been a pointed lack of crime happening out in the open, nothing that the police couldn’t handle on their own for once. There was also the fact that the Bat was off chasing after his Cat, leaping of rooftops with a bragging grace, tugging at her tail, flirting with his comm line open and making Jason gag as loud as he possibly can until the man hangs up. (After a stern command to turn in for the night). Jason hadn’t stuck around after that but he had decided to hang out with Gotham’s most adorable stalker.

Jason casually flips through Tim’s latests photo, noting faces and location on his phone and sending them through to the cave. They’re sprawled out one of the rooftops at the edge of Bristol, the divide between picket fenced houses with pointed roofs, and the flat top city buildings. Tim’s already started to doze off next to him, he had a test he was cramming for the night before (Jason didn’t think it was that serious when the kid was only what? 12?) but Tim had been so determined and now seemed to be suffering the consequences.

Jason doesn’t mind the quiet, it reminds him of Dick in a way. Or how their relationship was early on; easy camaraderie without really knowing one another, just an implicit trust.

But these photos are new, or rather they’re old but new to Jason; a memoir to Batman’s time without Robin and Jason isn’t sure he likes the picture they paint. It’s not even Batman’s slowly devolving control (without the angel of child to judge you sin must be easy) or even how many times Jason’s stomach clenches when a goon r rogue pops up at Batman’s back, where Jason should be guarding him. No, what bothers him is the things he doesn’t see in Tim photos, the types of crimes Batman tends to, the locations where he patrols.

Bruce had long since upgraded from handling thugs and petty criminals (the kind that had killed his parents) to a far more sinister calibre of villain. In a way the Rogues were easier on one’s conscience; insane, good people (typically doctors - that’s what a degree gets you, clinical insanity and a permanent seat at Arkham’s mess hall) who’s crimes were show boating, performative, attention seeking points. There was the occasional rogue-crime lord, penguin and his ice longue, but even he was low on the rugs, greedy for money but little else.

It was harder on one’s morals when trafficking became involved, prostitution rings, international drug trade, gambling rings, rich fucks getting away with whatever they wanted at their gold plated parties. Jason also though that individuals like the Joker and other extreme sadistic psycho paths made the job harder; tried on ones morals, tempted one to kill, but B didn’t seem to agree.

Yet Jason found he was upset by Batman’s lack of attention.

These photos were all of big deals, of B taking down heavy hitters, making extreme progress against the trades so why–

“You were gone for a long time.” Tim’s steeled himself to ask that question, Jason had noticed him doing things like that more and more. The way his behaviours were forced, nervous ticks trampled down till nothing but smooth, aloof control remained. Sometimes he did it instinctively and that… bothered… Jason, because he had heard all sorts of stories about Janet Drake’s cunning ways. Her skills. Her intellect. She was a formidable woman. “Was everything… were you alright?”

It’s not the first time Robin has taken a little roadtrip, not even the first time that Robin left to help the Titans. Though Jason distinctly remembers that the first time Dick left it was for fun, a teenager making friends, the second time was a personal argument with B, the third he had gathered was because of the whole Tony Zucco business, so really, Jason was only resonbile for the fourth disappearance. And even that one had ties to Dickie.

Still, Jason should have been here, to remind Bruce of what and who he was fighting for. What the actual purpose of his mission was. Anyone can take down those big rings, stopping major crime is necessary but it’s also at a federal level and those guys know their shit, they would have been successful with just tips from Batman, let alone his direct help. So why was Bruce clearly wasting weeks on crimes that already had task forces?

“Robin… he– I, was needed elsewhere.”

Jason could never regret choosing Dick but he’s suddenly reminded that all his decisions have consequences. That for most of his life all he had been considering was consequences yet at some point along the way he had just… stopped. Now here he was, facing up against the fallout. He wants to be at so many places all at once, standing by so many peoples’ sides (it’s literally just two people and he’s already biased on that–) The longer he stays in Gotham, the more he settles into Robin’s suit; the more responsibilities he has, a larger purposes in his mission but also a reputation to uphold. It’s not something…. He’d considered it, of fucking course he had, he’d known all about the horrors of Gotham, the legacy he was upholding, but it was like he was finally noticing the weight of it. The limits to Robin’s magic.

“I get that, the world seems to need more groups like the Justice League and the Titans.” Tim nods quietly, looking older than his age with the sudden severity of his expression. “It would be cool if there was a back-up Robin or something, to stay with Batman– or cover for him – when they’re needed elsewhere.”

Don’t encourage him, Jason tries not to sigh as Bruce’s warning comes back to him. But what’s he supposed to do in the face of Tim’s eagerness to help. The kid was calm about it, casual in his suggestion as if he were merely planting an idea but… well Jason couldn’t lie, he could see where the kid was coming from.

The excitement in the Gotham kids had been obvious upon his return. B had been neglecting them but it was Robin who had abandoned them. Robin was the one who came around with warm blankets in winter, food and drink whenever he could carry it. 

( I don’t see Batman giving a shit about those kids. I don’t remember Robin coming around with food donations. )

There was that one time Jason – because it had been Jason, not Robin, even with the mask – had stomped down to Bowery, pushing an abandoned cart full of kids books that he had taken from a closing down library. They weren’t the best gift and most of them had ended up as kindling but he had enjoyed reading to some of the younger kids. Robin was important to them.

( Robin is my future, and it’s a gift I damn well want to share with the rest of the people I left behind )

This was the first time that Robin had been gone so consistently, had spent so much time away without any appearances with the Titans as an explanation. A few unrecorded appearances in Bludhaven didn’t count, he and Dick were flying under the radar while they worked their shit out.

It wasn’t just the little kids who missed him either, Tim had wanted Robin, Batman had wanted Robin but– Dick had needed Robin. Robin was his, his name to have. You can’t just give away someone’s name, their legacy. Jay understood that now, it had taken him a while to truly appreciate what Robin meant to Dick, what the name meant, but now he had regrets about how he joined the vigilantes without the elder’s knowledge. It was something Bruce was still apologising for, still grovelling over.

Batman was there to terrorise their enemies, to strike fear into the hearts of criminals and abusers. It was Robin who was there for the victims, for the civilians (even the more petty criminals - the ones that they and the law believed capable of reform) Robin was there to provide comfort, safety through the wonder and magic that is Robin. 

Robin is the promise of a better future.

Dick had built that damn hero up to be so fucking good and sometimes teh weight of that threatens to crush Jason. Because Jason had never had hope for Gotham, not as a collective, he had dreamed of a better future for everyone, not like Dick had, not like Bruce had done after his parents, (not like Tim was) no, he’d been living in the moment, focusing on his own survival. His dreams were for himself. Of getting out of his hell, of finding somewhere safe, of getting his family back, of having enough food on the table to feed an army (so that he would never have to feel the burning hunger in his stomach again)

I am Robin because it is the only answer. There is no life without this. I’d be dead come my 18th birthday if I live out on the streets.

What a selfish reason.

— - — 

The world goes to shit in the most stupid of ways. (Quite frankly, just like everyone expects it to)

It started with a disagreement on patrol. Or rather, Jason vehemently arguing against one of Bruce’s stupid orders. Because Robin would never argue against Batman on a matter like this, but it was Bruce’s concern hiding in Batman’s voice, so it was Jason who snapped back.

(Tim would have listened, he was good like that, but Jason also thinks the kid would have fought back if he thought Batman was making the wrong decision)

Or maybe it didn’t start with the patrol. It started with a phone call to Dick but Jason could never blame Dick, besides, this wasn’t actually Dick’s fault. It was Roy’s.

Jason had been catching Dick up on the latest Tim Drake stalker gossip, recounting all he had learned of the kid in the short week he’d known him. It was surprising how much one could learn from such little interactions. There was also the fact that Jason had started to stalk the kid back. Absentee parents had made that all the more easier. (And wasn’t that fucking irritating, because if Jason could do it then any number of criminal’s could get to the kid) but that stubborn little shit won’t stay in that fancy manor of his no matter what Batman says; he’s determines to help. Terrified Jason with his casual mention of two Robins (Or maybe he was scared by how little he minded that fact. By how much he agreed with Tim’s version of the mission) Jason knows he’s not a good Robin, he and Bruce argue too much, they disagree constantly and… and Jason doesn’t see the world he does, he doesn’t see it the way Robin is supposed to either. Jason had spent his whole life doing damage control, retribution and survival going hand in hand once he became Robin.

He’s never really mastered the whole ‘hope for the future’ shtick. 

“He reminds me of you actually.” Jason muses after one of his many rambling sessions, it’s still morning for him but nearing dinner time for Dick. “He’s such a dreamer, and idealist like you. Give the kid a few years to get some height on him and he’ll be taking in lost ducklings left right and centre.”

“Oh, Ha, Ha.” Dick mocks, huffing with amusement. “I’m gonna tell Rachel and Gar you said that.”

“Ooh, see if Gar will turn into a green duckling for me. It’ll either be weird and disgusting or cute as fuck.”

Dick sighs dramatically even as Jason giggles away quietly to himself.

“Nah, Tim’s cool though.”

“Does that mean you think I’m cool?” Dick gasps, delighted. “Why Jay, I never knew.”

Jason snorts, “Remind me again; which superhero had a mullet and disco themed outfit .”

“Because I’m cool.” Dick crows, “It was the 70s–”
“You’re 23! You weren’t born moron–”
“-and I was on trend, and I stand by that outfit.”

“No wonder Alfred hid it away so quickly.”

Silence.

“ Alfred did what! ”

Jason winces, he had forgotten that Bruce and Alfred had been treating the whole Discowing phase as a terrible, horrible, embarrassing teenage moment. One that resolved itself by simply throwing the godforsaken outfit out after a month or two of use. Or rather, putting it in storage because Alfred was forced to spend hours making the sodding thing in the first place.

(how nice that Dick actually got to have a stupid teenager phase)

“Fine,” Jason snaps, already annoyed with Dick’s defensive rambling. “You’re the coolest.”

Dick cuts off his ramble with a sudden, soft laugh, gentle in a way that Jason hadn’t heard since they were on their own. That fact alone is enough to draw a shiver up Jason’s spine. God he missed that sound. 

Dick teases, “Say it like you mean it next time.”

They joked back and forth like that for a while and Jason relished in every laugh and inside joke that was wholly their’s. This was all he had ever wanted. God, it was perfect. Eventually the conversation had shifted back around to Dick, a slightly more serious topic despite all the progress he and Roy had made. They’d gone out the other day, headed to the beach and behaved like dumb 20-something-year-olds (Jason wondered if that included flirting with half naked–) and it had been good apparently.

Naturally that had led into a discussion of Gotham’s limited options. It had been doing better over the last decade thanks to Wayne’s funding and consistent effort to make certain areas better. ( Gentrification , Jason had complained during one shadowy patrol, you’re just shoving the poor away into a box ) (He was only half right) They talked about local stores, treats that Jason had never heard of but soon learns that they’re trickle down of Dick’s Romani childhood. Some of the deserts are from all over the world, places where Dick had travelled with the circus. 

Jason shares his own little spots where he talks less about the food and more of the people. He always thought the food was good, the people were passionate but spices were expensive. There had been a good few years where the restaurants had a deal with food mongers, Jason still remembered thinking every meal that came from that deal was god damn amazing (the actual phrase had been the shit but he was embarrassed about that little trend of his youth)

Some part of Jason had been hesitant to explore the richer neighbourhoods. Maybe it would be a betrayal to stroll into one of those cafes as a civilian, not sticking to his roots and supporting his people where he can. Jason also wonders if they can see something wrong with him. If the way he carries himself is off, like they can still see the grime and stench that had clung to him when he first arrived at the manor. But Jason was learning to see that he was torn between two worlds; living in a monstrosity of gothic architecture that had a museum like interior, yet aligning himself with the bowels of Gotham despite being banned from visiting as a civilian. 

Because it wasn’t safe.

“You’ll have to take me there.” Dick murmurs and Jason swallows back his guilt, his anger. “I want to see where you grew up.”

It’s easy enough to let Dick calm him down, to enjoy the easy lull of their push pull conversation, teasing and joking back and forth with competitions and proclamations of the best food house. Eventually they reach the point where plans are being made, promising to visit certain places, in Gotham, Bludhaven and Starcity. And Jason can’t help but be excited by that. It won’t happen any time soon but he’d like to see the city through Dick’s eyes, (and have Dick see it through his) it has him smiling in a way that only Dick can achieve.

But… Starcity.

Dick wants Jason to see Star, most likely to have his friend Roy be there with them.

“Tell me about Roy.” Jason whispered into the comfortable silence and Dick paused but Jason was beginning to learn that Dick would never deny him anything..

So Dick does. He tells him about the arrogant and determined teen who had appeared one day in the tower demanding to join. How that little prick had got on everyone’s nerves, ribbing and teasing until eventually they settled into something of a routine; safe topics, okay jokes, teasing with a gentle tone. Harsh edges had been smoothed, soothed by the unity found in those original Titans. Jason learns that the name Speedy came from his arrow-drawing speed, quicker than Green Arrow, that he had cemented his place by Arrow’s side when he solved a case faster than him.

Dick tells him quietly about Wally West, Kid Flash, Dick’s best friend. How excited he had been when Dick and Donna had reached out to him (because Jason learns that the Titans was Dick’s idea, his way of making a makeshift family for the sidekicks who had to survive with emotionally repressed Justice Leaguers. But also that none of it would be possible without Wonder Girl, Donna’s vicious determination and ability to get Wonder Woman on side where the Bat disagreed) Jason doesn’t ask about what happened to Wally, he knows enough from the reverence with which Dick speaks.

It was something of a surprise to learn that Aqualad had been one of the founders, that he had been encouraged by Aquaman to learn of the land-world. It was less of a surprise to learn that he had been pulled away just when they were settling in, threats of civil war had broken out beneath the waves and Arthur (because Jason also has the mind blowing revelation that Aquaman is a goddamn King) needed his protegee by his side to handle it.

Eventually Dick grows quieter, more subdued as he talks about the darker days of the original Titans. New members joined as the old one’s fell apart. Harder and harder missions, losses that were unrecoverable and then finally… a distant team mate.

It suddenly feels like Dick is one step from falling away, an odd mix of anger and guilt, like he blames Roy yet can’t help but feel responsible. Dick fights to find the right words, to get them out, to explain what had happened. The first time he manages it the distance whisks them away, nothing more than static over the phone, and Jason suddenly gets the impression that this is the first time Dick is saying them out loud to someone else. That it’s becoming real.

“He was sick and I never knew.”

— - —

A wannabe Rogue was attempting to make a name for himself. Starting with a breakout at Blackgate and ending with a debut on Gotham’s crime scene. Jason couldn’t deny that he was a nasty piece of work but he wasn’t Rogue material. B had once told him that the Rogues were good people who had been forced to lose their minds, that when they were in Arkham they made progress and did well. Hell, some of them had even reformed. Ivy had something of a truce with Batman, limiting herself to the central park and only causing non-lethal trouble. The city council hated it but everyone else preferred the property damage over bodies.

This new fucker was cruel. Sadistic in a way that didn’t belie insanity, just depravity. Jason had had the misfortune of knowing the type over his years. He’d never met one like this though. Normally they were opportunistic, (c’mon we’ve got a willing mouth right here–) cruel and bullying but not this confident, not this intelligent.

Organised crime seemed to be the way to go for this one; starting turf wars to take advantage of the following power vacuum. They seemed to be forming a gang of their own with supply lines that B was carefully monitoring but not reporting to the police until they worked out what information connection the new player had.

Their new baddie had some foresight unfortunately, an elusive fucker but not someone can be ignored; drugs, trafficking, arms-dealing - hell of a start to a transportation business. They would be after the docks soon. The potential for death was…. Well, Jason couldn’t leave B to handle it on his own.

But without any leads they were left researching.

Reconnaissance run, compare information, hypothesise, (compare with Dick’s analysis) and repeat over and over again until Jason felt like he was going insane.

And he is devoted, he swears, drug dealers (like Roy), organised crime, arrogant criminals taking advantage of Gotham’s most vulnerable (Like Jason, like Dick) was something that garnered all of Jason's effort and focus. By the end of this Jason was going to end up with a list of people to fuck up but for now…

In an effort to stay sane and entertain himself (and solve the case faster thank you very much) he had been… conspiring with Dick. Not that Dick was aware of his involvement, nor that Jason was acting as something of a middleman between Bruce and Dick when he had been told explicitly by the two of them to just let them handle their own relationship problems. Jason didn’t trust them to handle shit. So here he was, bouncing ideas back and forth between the two of them. Phrasing each contribution as if it were his own to the other, casually throwing comments at Bruce’s hunched back at the BatComputer; sneakingly texting Dick from behind the case file he was reading.

The best part? It worked like a fucking treat.

Jason did his best to hide his smugness at their collaboration but he nearly breaks down a few times in delight when they come back with the same answer to whatever question Jason has asked.

The three of them work well together. (The four of them if Jason counts the photos that came as part of the reconnaissance section of this case)

It’s a nice thought. Tim was right, Gotham could do with two Robins– maybe a Nightwing and a Robin if Dick was ready to address the suit design that had made a sudden reappearance. If he were honest, then Jason would say he had worried that Dick had left behind his efforts for a new identity with the Titans. But he had seen the papers in Bludhaven, hidden but still saved.

Roy renamed himself Arsenal, he’s doing good here, redefining himself after… everything, The purpose seems to have helped.

Because Roy had been sick.

It had been easier for Jason to say that she was sick as well. Easier to stare down at her collapsed form across a broken couch, a dirty mattress, clothes tattered and covered in stains, hai matted to her scalp with grease. It was nothing like the woman who had taken such pride in her appearance. Who had made a point of being clean no matter what their income was. They were not trash, they were not dirty, they were still citizens of Gotham. She had just lost sight of that, and was just ‘unwell’ because this wasn’t her.

Mothers were supposed to look after their kids but he had fallen sick. In the end she couldn’t care for him, but she tried, he knew she did, even when she was sick she did her best. He learnt to read during that time, had done so laying next to his mum on that stained mattress, reading kids books still saved from before and eventually old newspapers when he needed more of a challenge.

She had been so proud of him, so excited when he had raced home one day after visiting the library at school (mere months before he would be forced to drop out) eager and excited to read a chapter book he had found. One that he could understand. She would still point out the words he struggled with, sounding them out slowly, too slowly for the way she slurred and garbled, sometimes to the point of being not help but she still tried. 

In the end, when she was at her worst, he had read to her and she had been so proud. He would read until she fell asleep beside him, resting fitfully and shivering in her sleep. Sometimes she would wake up in agony, gripping him tighten enough to bruise, begging him to help her; to take care of her now that dad–; if he loved her he would–

She was sick. But Catherine Todd was a good woman, a good mother who had loved and cared for him, who had taught him to read, taught him to care for another, to be compassionate, empathetic; taught him how to clean up a mess.

But she was sick.

She was sick.

Roy is sick. Was, was sick. 

Dick was staying with–

– – –

God it was such a stupid mistake - he should have never left his post. Quite frankly ridiculous when Jason considers how easily so many errors had just built up and been ignored over what? The past day? Was that really it? But that wasn’t his fucking fault. And yeah, he’d been excited enough to get out with Batman again, to patrol and actually make some headway with that new transport kingpin arsehole. But still, this wasn’t his fault.

(It was all his fucking fault)

Reconnaissance, that was all it was, all he was supposed to be doing as he sat on his perch in Bowery. In the one place of the city where Batman rarely went. Not tonight. Today they had ventured into the horrible nightmare world of his childhood. That was sarcasm, Bruce. There was nothing terrifying here that wasn’t equally terrifying elsewhere. 

So Robin had sat there for hours while Batman continued to patrol. Hours upon hours of watching the drunks stumbling across the street below, of marking down the sober guards who worked on rotation outside a new club, of wincing every time a John led a too thin girl down into one of the alleys. 

Jason tried not to look at the exchange of drugs even as Robin marked down the dealers. Jason didn't want to see the spaced out looks in their eyes, the tremble of their hands, Robin was the one who didn’t flinch at this sort of thing. But Robin had never been allowed to handle such cases until Jason came along. Or rather, Batman had limited a young Dick Grayson, only allowing him to see these hells once he turned 16. Jason was on his way to being twenty yet Bruce had still tried to bench him from these cases.

(She was sick)

Jason had rebelled against that line, refusing to let Batman ban him from his own home, from his own streets. There was nothing for him to fear there but ghosts.

(she taught him how to read, how to take care of – )

Robin stills at the sound of a child’s cry. He doesn’t abandon his perch, not yet, not when he needs more information but he does peer down at the dark alley below. There’s no signs of a fight, of an adult nearby but the wailing gets louder. 

They’re not in much of a residential area by coding standards but Jason is aware of the many (too many tenants to be legal) who live in the apartments above the shops and nightclubs he’s currently staking out. Some are rented by those who need to be closer to the action, stash houses above the distribution centre, girls unwilling to risk a long walk home after a tiring night’s work. And yes, occasionally, a kid– a family lives in this district. Jason doesn’t like to think about the parents of those kids; what jobs they must be working, what wages they must be receiving, how little food is probably out on the table.

(Catherine taught him about disappointment, the sharp sting of betrayal that follows broken trust. She made him a fool, then taught him how not to be; people will hurt him if he can– people hurt people, it's what they do)

When that scared cry crackles, choking off from tears, Robin finds himself moving; dropping down through the fire escapes until he finds the source: a small girl on the third floor’s fire escape. He barely remembers to soften his expression as he approaches, not that he really needs to; Jason has always loved kids, has always softened around them, something which translated into Robin. Speaking of Robin, he always was the children’s hero - thanks to Dick’s efforts. Something that has Jason (not Robin, Robin would never put his guard down) sagging in relief when the kid just sniffles when she catches sight of him.

“Hi, do you mind if I sit next to you?”

Sniffles and hastily swiped away tears are his only answer but she doesn’t cower away so Robin takes that as his cue to slump down onto the metal step next to her.

“I’m Robin, what’s your name?” The little girl folds in on herself, ignoring him even as she trembles but he doesn’t mind that, “You having a bad day?”

That gets him a silent nod. 

“Yeah,” Robin sighs, “me too. You won’t believe how many things have gone wrong today. Not only did I wake up late and miss breakfast - it was my favourite by the way, but the pancakes were just too cold when I got down there and they didn’t taste that great,” The girl’s nose scrunched up in disgust,

“You still ate them?”

Robin chuckles, no, it’s Jason that makes that sound. Relieved yet irritated that she hasn’t experienced a hunger that would make her eat anything.

(It was easier to tell himself that she was sick; she wasn’t in her right mind. Like Batman’s Rogues; a good person driven insane. She wanted to help. She wanted to care. And she did so… just in her own twisted way)

“Yup.” He makes sure to pop the ‘p’ delighting in her giggles. “That’s not even the worst part of my day– Batman has me on a stakeout.”

He doesn't tell her about the argument, the disagreement. A little kid in her position doesn't need to know Batman and Robin argue.

“Like–” She frowns, confused as she ponders her words. “The police movies? With donuts.”

“I wish there were donuts. A damn seagull stole my only snack!”

She giggles, loud and bright before cutting herself off, Robin grins in response, his happy expression not shifting once when she turns to face him and he can finally see the full extend of the bruising down the side of her face and along her neck.

(She had been willing to hurt him. Anything to make herself feel better and… and Jason knew it wasn’t intentional. He knew it because she never even fucking knew. She didn’t have the capacity to acknowledge it, to notice it. She raised him not to be a fool, yet here is. She’s sick.)

“What about your day, huh?” Robin tilts to the side, as if they were bumping shoulders but they never actually touch. “Why don’t you tell me about it.”

She stares up at him, conflicted, and Jason (not Robin, Robin was better at compartmentalising) stares back at her bruised cheek, at the fat tears running down the swollen skin. 

“I don’t wan’a get them in trouble.” Her voice is no more than a whisper but the words land like a punch anyway.

“Nevermind that,” Robin smiles, easy and calm in his reassurance. “Let's start with getting it all off your chest and we’ll worry about that stuff later.”

And so, the girl tells Jason a familiar story, one he knows inside and out to the point he could tell it himself, could feel its very words etched onto his skin. An unstable home, one that used to be happy and those were the memories that were clung to when there was no escape. Overdue bills, eviction notices, the electricity turning on and off at the company’s whim. He focuses on cataloguing her injuries as she talks, noting that there are no signs of broken bones or bruised ribs, and he could only pray that there was nothing serious going on internally.

But he did know these bruises were a warning, a punishment, designed to hurt but not cause permanent damage. They hadn’t been hidden though. Willis had been much better at hiding the bruises he left upon Jason. Oddly enough it was her eyes that Jason kept getting caught up on. They looked so much like Catherine’s, his mother, his sweet–

(She hurt him and it was okay because she was sick)

“I can help you, if you’ll let me.” Robin murmurs it gently once it becomes clear that she’s done talking. “Get your dad away from you, find your mum some help.”

Her mother, at least, seems to have held on longer than Catherine. Though from the girl’s story she started breaking. But the little girl just looks up at him with a familiar bitterness, one he hadn’t expected to see on her face.

“How?” She demands, sharp and low as her eyes scan his face. 

“There’s a name for it, you know, what he’s doing to you–”

“I know what abuse is.”

“Then you know that he can be arrested for it. I can get him put away, far away from you and your mum.” Robin leans closer, encouraging and supportive. “You’re a smart kid, you know what’s happening, you deserve better than this–  you both do.”

The girl recoils and tenses– Robin freezes as his mind fumbles with what went wrong, what the next steps should be since his words had the opposite effect. (They were Batman’s words, his words would have been different but he wasn’t the one with advice from renowned child psychologists) Before he can say anything the girl is talking once more,

“I should have never told you, I knew it, everyone says not to but I thought you would get it.” There’s a desperation, an anger to her voice that has Jason’s throat tightening. “You’re from around here, I thought you would understand! Everyone around her says you’re one of ours and that you get it but they were lying!”

“Hey, calm down, I’ve not done anything yet!” He raises his hands defensively. “And I was never going to do anything without yours or your mum’s permission. I just want to help.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms and looking away.

“Tell me what I did wrong.”

He already knows, or at least he thinks he knows, it's the same damn thing he faults Bruce. His ignorance. His rich prick mentality. Jason had forgotten his roots.

“You’re just like him! You’re just like Batman, as bad as he is– you’ll never help.” Jason has never been ashamed of the Robin title before, it has always been Jason who has brought shame to Robin, he hadn’t thought Robin capable of bringing shame upon him. But now this symbol of comfort and wealth does. “You know it’ll do nothing, the Bat knows it does nothing, they get out! They always get out! Just like the Joker!”

Robin reels back, heart racing at that forbidden name. The cursed one that is followed by death and clouds. When did Batman start giving it so much power?

“They always get out.” The girl mutters, the fight suddenly draining from her body. Willis got out too. Might even be out now. “And then they’re even more mad, or have more friends than before. Everyone knows that. You do know that, right?”

Robin thinks he might be far away from here, feels like he’s millions of miles away in another year, another decade. One where he’s six and fifteen and nine and eleven and he remembers the nights where he hated Batman too. When he revered him like an avenging god, not a saviour. Where he toyed with the cardboard he was sat upon, shivering against the cold as he scowled at the Bat, hating him for never doing what the kids needed the most.

(Again and again, when he begged and when he screamed–)

Maybe Batman is naive, as optimistic as Tim Drake, a child who hasn’t actually experienced the horrors he preaches against, but Jason is starting to find he doesn’t care anymore. There’s something rotten inside of him, always has been, but it’s started shining though more. He doesn’t know when it started; he knows it appeared with the cops who had come after the Melting Man; during a patrol when they interrupted a would-be rapist; when he was with Dick in Bludhaven and they’d gone after a drug dealer who worked with kids. Batman always talks about that rotten core of his, of that need, that drive, the reason he can’t kill - not just because it’ll break the symbol, but because he’ll open the floodgates.

But he’s twenty, he’s had over a decade of hell and he’s fucking sick of it. Of the excuses, of the broken promises, of being abandoned. And maybe that’s the sticking point of his arguments with Batman, because Jason can’t understand why he won’t use that drive to help him. (Dirty, sloppy–) Why he skirts around the consequence of his mercy just like he skirts around Crime Alley, Bowery, the way he avoids the cesspit that is apparently too far gone.

Well Robin fucking hasn’t, he’s right here, stood next to another kid that Batman has failed. And Jason finds that he’s swearing to do what Batman won’t. He’s some age that has been lost, young, old, ancient, naive, and tired. So fucking tired.

“Okay.” he murmurs blankly, broken, determined. “Alright.”

Robin wonders if the little girl had ever hidden in the closet, shrouded in darkness, a place where monsters should live yet a hiding spot from the one in her hope. He wonders if she ever realised that Batman doesn’t rule those shadows, they don’t live by his rules.