Chapter Text
Bruce’s attention is solely on the newspaper as he walks through the hallways, sipping his coffee and smirking to himself as he reads the details of the fourth trafficking ring Batman had found and broken up. The article doesn’t mention what happened to the scumbags that were running it, but he supposes that’s not something the public needs to know. The memory of bones cracking under his fists is more than enough satisfaction.
“Good morning Alfred,” he says as soon as he steps into the kitchen, his eyes still on the photo attached to the article of the silhouette of Batman hopping onto a roof. He never stays around for photos, he gets enough of that as Bruce Wayne, thank you very much. “Have you seen the news? I'm sure the mob is–” he freezes, finally spotting Jason sitting on the counter.
His back was to him, thank god, and he seemed preoccupied with a book, so maybe Bruce could make a getaway before Jason saw him and panicked all over again–
Alfred pinned him down with a glare, and he closed his eyes in guilt. Objectively, he knew that Alfred was right when he said that avoiding Jason all the time would only make things worse, but he didn’t know what else to do. At first he’d thought that the boy was just cautious and confused. He’d tried to explain as much as he could, but it was difficult to know what he forgot to mention when Jason was always too scared to ask for clarification. He’d assumed that the boy was still affected by his time on the streets, that maybe he’d had a history of abuse– so many street children did, after all.
He’d never, in a million years, thought that the little boy staying with them had gone through something like– that. The worst thing a child could ever go through.
And that he’d thought that Bruce wanted it from him– it made him sick to think about, and his heart aches to imagine the amount of fear the boy must’ve lived through those first few weeks.
Or, the fear that he still might be feeling. He’s not sure just how much Jason believed Alfred when he said that Bruce would never hurt him like that. It’s times like these that Bruce wishes that Dick is here. He was always so good with kids, exuding an air of safeness and amusement that’s irresistible to children. Even with the language barrier and how distrustful Jason is, Bruce has no doubt that Dick would have been able to win him over eventually.
If it weren’t for their fight.
Bruce scowls a little to himself, and slowly walks to the counter, making sure his footsteps were heavy so Jason could feel the vibrations through the stool.
He does, and jerks his head over to Bruce. Instead of instantly running or panicking as Bruce feared, he murmurs a quick, “hi,” his shoulders now drawn up high, like he thinks he’s going to get attacked.
Well. Baby steps.
Bruce awkwardly sits on the counter– far away from Jason so that he won’t think that he’d– yeah.
Jason, after a cautious glance, goes back to his book, clearly taking a chance that Bruce doesn’t want anything from him right now. He’s tempted to leave him be, but.
The kid has already been here for weeks now, and it’s finally occurred to Bruce what that must look like to Jason.
Of course he thought that Bruce wanted to assault him, what else was he supposed to think when he’d been snatched off the streets and kept in a strange man’s home? It’s so easy to assume that Jason knows what’s going on, that he understands what Bruce offhandedly says to him, and he’s very sure that it’s partly his fault on top of Jason's preexisting trauma that he came to the conclusions that he did.
Jason needs to know that he’s not a prisoner here, that he has choices, that he has some amount of control in his life.
He clears his throat to get Jason's attention, then mentally smacks himself as he switches to tapping the bench next to his book.
Jason holds back a flinch– barely, and looks up at him, tense and distrustful. Bruce swallows. He’s had a lot of kids look at him like that, but none that he’d grown to care about in such a short amount of time. Well, except for Dick, but–
Thinking about Dick will help no one here. There’s only one child in the manor, and Bruce is going to do his damndest to make sure that kid turns out happy and safe.
He pushes his notebook to Jason, and waits for him to read it. In it, he’s written the three choices that Jason can make, although two of the three options make his heart squeeze.
The first option was for Bruce to find a foster family, a good family that would care for Jason until he turned eighteen. He wasn’t sure how Jason would feel about that. From what he’s seen so far, Jason has a strong dislike for strangers, and he’s noticed that communicating with strangers seems to be harder for him than people he already knows. He can lip read a large majority of what they say, as opposed to his first few days here, where he missed almost everything.
The second option is for Bruce to foster Jason, and then send him to boarding school. There’s an excellent School of the Deaf the next state over that Bruce can really see Jason flourishing in. He's run intensive background checks, and from what he could see, it was nothing like the schools for the deaf in the past. There’s no abuse, and education was a priority, not making the children be able to ‘assimilate’ along hearing people. The teachers are Deaf, and it would be good for Jason to be able to join the Deaf society, immerse himself in their culture and connect with students like him. Bruce has the strong feeling that Jason is very lonely, and being in a place where he isn’t the odd one out seemed like it would do wonders for him. The only catch is that everyone only talked in sign. Jason would have to learn more if they want the transition to be as smooth as possible.
They hadn’t had any lessons since– well.
The last option is for Bruce to foster him, and Jason would grow up with him like Dick did. It’s the option that the selfish, spoiled part of Bruce wanted Jason to choose with all his heart, but he knew it wasn’t realistic. The boy was still terrified of him, no matter what Bruce and Alfred told him, and it would only take time and Jason risking everything (from his perspective,) to try and trust him. Although Bruce loves the idea of having another boy in the house, helping this bright and fiery boy to come into his own as he had done with Dick, it isn’t fair to Jason. Not if he didn’t want it.
Jason jerks his head up when he finishes reading, looking up at him with a renewed brightness in his eyes.
“I could go to school?”
His heart warms all over again for this kid, and it nearly overpowers the spark of disappointment. At least, if Jason wants to go to boarding school, then he’d need to come back for the holidays, at least until he turns sixteen.
“Yes,” he signs. “It's a well-funded, good school with many classes. I have no doubt you’ll flourish there.” it’s obvious that Jason barely understands half of what he’s signing, by the way his eyes are stuck on his lips, but Bruce signs anyway. Constant exposure is excellent for learning languages. Jason looks more and more happy with every word, and to say this next thing and ruin the boy’s rare look of happiness crushes his heart. “But–” Jason's face immediately shutters back into its constant defensive state, and Bruce swallows thickly. “You’ll have to learn more ASL before you can enter. I'm happy to teach you, and you can learn however you want.”
Jason blinks. “Wait, there are schools where you have to know Sign to go in?”
“Well, yes.” he says, before he remembers himself. “It’s a School of the Deaf. Almost everyone there is deaf, and while there are oral speakers, it’d be easier for everyone if you had a decent grasp on ASL.”
Jason’s eyes are wide, and Bruce has a strong suspicion that this is the first time he’s ever heard of anything like this before. “Wow,” he says, his voice faint. “And they– you can just sign to the teachers, and they’re okay with that? They won’t be mad?”
“They won’t. Most of them are Deaf themselves, and many communicate only through sign language.”
Jason’s eyes are practically bugging out of his skull, “deaf people can be teachers? You’re not fucking with me?”
Bruce’s heartstrings are pulled once more, and he smiles sadly at Jason, “Deaf people can be anything they want to be. Are you interested in going?”
Jason nods excitedly, and it warms Bruce’s heart to see him act his age. The poor kid’s been through far too much.
“I'll have to foster you for that to happen, though.” he warns, and Jason dims a little. “That means you’ll have to come back for the holidays. At least until you turn sixteen.”
He bites his lip, thinking that over, and nods. “Yeah, I can handle that.”
Bruce nods, and signs, “starting right away isn’t a good idea. The school year’s half over already, and like I said, we’ll have to restart your signing lessons.”
Jason darkens, but he nods anyway, “yeah. Cool,” he mutters, playing with the edge of his book. Bruce holds back a sigh.
“We can have Alfred teach you,” he offers, “I can take over the chores he’d usually be doing in the meantime.”
Jason huffs out a small breath of air, and for a moment, Bruce isn’t sure what that means until, “no way. You’d burn down the house if you tried to do what Alfred does,” the quip seems to leave Jason's mouth before he even realises what he’s said. Instantly, he tenses, but Bruce can’t reassure him, because laughter is bursting out of him and he’s slapping his knee before he can stop himself.
Jason stares at him bewilderingly, like he’s not sure if he did something good or not, so Bruce makes sure to smile.
“You right.” he signs, and Jason relaxes a little, “that would be a disaster. How about we learn in the kitchen instead? That way he can butt in if I'm doing anything wrong,” and Jason won’t have to be stuck in an enclosed space with Bruce. Honestly, even without the horrifying knowledge of Jason's past, that wasn’t the smartest move on his part.
Jason nods, looking a little more optimistic, and Bruce smiles back. “You want to start now?”
Jason lets him see one of his rare grins, and sets off. Bruce watches him go, his heart aching at the knowledge that soon enough he’d only see the kid for a few weeks at a time, but he pushes it down. There’s nothing he wants more than for Jason to be happy, and if he has to be a state away, so be it. Jason deserves nothing less.
Alfred raises his eyebrow at him. He raises his hands, “what?”
“If you’re planning on fostering the boy, then you need to inform Master Dick.”
Right. That would be a good parenting move, but– “do I have to?”
Alfred rolls his eyes so far that they almost disappear into the back of his skull, “Bruce. You are a thirty two year old man, not a sixteen year old avoiding their best friend. You know how it would make Dick feel to know that you’ve conveniently acquired a child mere months after he’s left home.”
Bruce blinks, “but it’s not like that.”
“I know, but Dick doesn’t. Tell him about Jason before the week is over, or I will,” and that would make their already tense relationship even more fraught. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. Crap.
Jason bites his fingernail as Bruce looks through the dictionary for a sign that he’d forgotten. Apparently, he didn’t actually sign all that much before he met Jason, so he’s a little rusty.
There’s a part of him that’s annoyed that the only person who can teach him sign isn’t completely fluent in it himself, but beggars can’t be choosers. Jason should be grateful– is so grateful that he gets to learn, but…
He’s just getting spoiled. He’s got more access to food, to warmth, to books, than he ever did in his life. The house has a whole-ass library, a fact that Jason is still reeling from.
Or, well, he guessed the house is actually a manor. Jason learnt that word when Bruce signed, “big house,” but wrote down ‘manor,’ to describe where he lived a few days ago. Jason still thinks that houses so big that it needs its own name is dumb and stupid.
He shouldn’t be thinking that. If he thinks stuff like that too much, then one day he’ll say it to Bruce’s face, and then who knows where he’ll be?
Probably out on the streets, exactly where he started. It’s been a week since Bruce started fostering him, and Jason is...
He doesn’t really know how to feel about it.
Bruce makes the tiny jolt people make when they find something they’ve been looking for, and he looks up to see Bruce triumphantly sign, “tree.”
A small smile quirked at his lips, only because it was funny to see a big guy like Bruce be so proud about such a stupid word. He honestly still wasn’t really sure how to feel about the guy. There was what Alfred said, when he held him in the study, but then there was also how Bruce acted around him afterwards. Like he was scared.
He’d sit a seat away from him, he’d make sure that Jason wasn’t alone with him– Alfred was washing the dishes in the kitchen next to them right now. And he’d make his presence known, stomping his feet a little harder than people normally did so Jason could feel the vibrations through the wooden floors.
A strong part of him insists that it’s all to buy his trust, to make him let his guard down around him, but then Alfred's words echo in his head.
“that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he help me just because?”
Because he believes that the world should be a good, safe, place, and he’s willing to put in the work to accomplish that, even for just one person.
He doesn’t know. All he can do right now is… wait? For something to happen? There has to be some kind of catch, even if it wasn’t what Jason thought it was, but he’s not gonna freak out again like he did the first time. No way.
And Bruce staying away from him and not touching him and making sure Alfred is always there helps. There’s still a tight ball of anxiety that refuses to leave whenever Bruce is in his presence, but it’s easier to fight off the memories of the man, when Bruce doesn’t touch him.
It’s stupid, he shouldn’t be complaining at all. This is literally the best foster home he’s ever had. Getting adopted by a rich guy and sent to boarding school is practically every orphan’s dream. Hell, it’s literally half the plot of Annie. But Jason has been fostered before, and he hated it. The beatings weren’t even the worst part. No, it was the utter lack of control he had. His foster parents would always measure his food down to the cent to make sure they were profiting off of him. They made him do all their housework and make all their food, and he barely even got to eat a bite of it. Long story short, Jason doesn’t regret running away, even if it led to the worst experience of his life.
He– doesn’t know how this is gonna turn out, though. Just a week and a half ago, he would’ve thought one hundred percent that Bruce wanted to make him a permanent toy, but now--
He doesn’t know. He thinks, logically, that if Bruce wanted to do that with him, he would’ve by now, it just didn’t make sense for Bruce to want to hurt him like that. But that doesn’t stop his muscles seizing every time the man sits next to him, his breaths quickening when Bruce makes to fix a sign he’s got wrong. He always aborts the action, though, his hands awkwardly grasping the air for a brief second before he brushes it off, and shows Jason the right sign without touching him.
Honestly, even if Bruce wanted to hurt him, in any way, Jason would happily take it. The guy was planning on sending him to motherfucking school. Boarding school. Jason would only ever have to deal with him for a few months at a time, and he’d– he’d be with other people like him. People who spoke like him, and he wouldn’t have to strain to understand, or get hurt for being so dumb. He’s willing to take anything for that.
His thumb twinges when he bites skin on accident, and it shocks him out of his thoughts. Bruce raises an eyebrow at him, “you okay?” Jason nods, for lack of anything else to say.
“Sign it,” Bruce orders, and Jason resists rolling his eyes. His stomach hurts.
“Yes, I'm okay,” it’s the easiest sentence in the world to sign, but Bruce still smiles and nods like he did something impressive.
“Good. You’re –––––– a lot,” Jason nods.
Bruce raised his eyebrow. “You sure you got that?” urgh. Sometimes Bruce would throw in words that Jason doesn’t know to try and teach him to ‘tell him when he doesn’t understand something.’ He hates it. If he told anyone that he didn’t know something, there was always a far too big chance of ridicule that Jason doesn’t want to take. It feels wrong, like there are snakes in his belly to ask for clarification, ever.
“I, uh. I didn’t get that middle word. What is it?” He's supposed to sign when he talks, but his hands feel stiff. Bruce lets it slide, and writes down the word improved, then signs it.
“You’ve improved a lot, J,” he repeats.
“Oh,” his cheeks start to get hot, which is stupid. It was one compliment. How lame was he?
Bruce gives him a smile-not-smile. Jason almost returns it, if it hadn’t completely slipped off of his face, as he stared off at something behind him.
Jason blinks, and after a moment, turns to look behind him, hesitant to put Bruce out of his sight and– there’s a guy?
There’s just a strange man, teenager, really, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Bruce is blinking rapidly, looking more surprised than Jason’s ever seen him. He didn’t even know his face could move that much.
“–––,” Bruce says, and it’s completely lost on him. He has the prime spot of being in the middle of the two, which means he gets to very obviously whip his head to the side like he’s watching a tennis ball game just to maybe get what they were saying. No luck.
The man looks at him, searching him like he’s looking for something, and it makes icy dread pool into his stomach.
He says something, stalking forwards, and the tension in the air is practically palpable. His skin tingles with the urge to get out of here and run, but he’s literally stuck between the two.
After exchanging a few words that Jason has no hope of following, the man exclaims something animatedly and points at Jason. Bruce stands up, his hands held defensively upwards, and years of watching his parents fight over and over tells him to get the hell out of dodge before things turn ugly, regardless if he’s stuck between the two.
Jason does not want to see in real time what Bruce’s fists could do to him.
He slides out of his seat as soon as the man steps over to be closer to Bruce, both of them clearly fighting, now, not that it’s his problem, as long as they don’t notice him–
The man’s eyes lock with his.
Stupidly, he freezes like a deer in headlights instead of running the hell away, and stares dumbly as the guy says something– to him or to Bruce?? He can’t tell, he just looks pissy– and then he’s walking towards him, and he’s grabbed him by the arm– Jason’s being pulled out of this room by this strange man and Bruce isn’t doing anything, he’s just pinching the bridge of his nose and looking down at the ground, and the guy’s taking him to god knows where and did Bruce sell–
They’re in the hallway now, and if he hesitates any longer then god knows what’s gonna happen– he shakes his head wildly, and punches the guy as hard as he can. “Lemme go!” he snaps, and the guy doesn’t let him go, but he does– stop? What? Jason thought for sure he’d get smacked hard for pulling that stunt. The guy doesn’t look mad now, just confused, and he says something that Jason doesn’t catch.
“I'm– I'm deaf,” he mutters, before he can get hit for not listening, and he watches the guy carefully for his reaction. Instead of getting pissed off that his purchase is broken, his eyebrows rise to his hairline, and he lets go of Jason's arm.
“Shit,” he says, “sorry,” he bashfully rubs his fist in circles against his chest. “Thought you could hear.”
He blinks. “You know–” he jerks his hands up, remembering at the last second. “You can sign?”
“Yeah?” he raises an eyebrow, “B signs, so why not me?” he shrugs.
Jason blinks, taking a second to realize who the letter B stands for. He swallows, his head spinning. Just moments ago Jason was sure he was going to relive his worst nightmare, and now the guy is– talking to him?? He doesn’t seem mad at all? Who the hell even is he?
However his thoughts show on his face, the guy doesn’t like it, because his face darkens. A lot. “B didn’t tell you about me,” it’s a statement, and Jason tenses, sensing that the ground underneath him could shatter at any moment.
For the first time, he takes a good look at his face, and realises that it’s kind of... Familiar. His hair is long and floppy, and there’s something about his eyes and the shape of his chin that makes recognition light up in his brain.
“Robin?” he breathes, and Dick’s eyes turn sharp.
“He told you about–” he stops, and lifts his hands, his signs sharp, jerky, and difficult to read. “You know about Bat-man?”
“Y-yeah?” he starts, uncertain. “I met him, when he was–” he pauses. He doesn’t know the sign for bat, even though Dick had just shown him, he was signing too quickly for Jason to remember the movement. Instead he settles for holding his index fingers to either side of his head, mimicking the ears on Batman’s cowl.
Dick stares, blinks, and suddenly bursts out laughing, his shoulders shaking. Jason stares, unsure if this was a good laugh or a bad laugh. Should he be laughing along? What if his laugh sounds stupid or something?
Luckily, before he can make any decisions, Dick is already straightening up, wiping a small tear from his eye. “That’s amazing, that’s his sign-name now. Can’t believe I didn't think of that soone,” he crosses his arms and looks at him appraisingly. It’s the same too-intense stare that he’d gotten from lots of other men on the streets but this one feels different. Like instead of trying to judge how much they’d like a go at him, Dick is trying to judge something else entirely. “So, you know our secret identities?”
Jason nods slowly, feeling like the ground is slowly cracking under his feet.
Dick grins, and it’s all teeth, “what’s stopping you from running to the first villain and selling us out? Why can I trust you?”
“You can’t,” Jason blurts out before he can think better, and Dick raises an eyebrow. That was definitely the wrong thing to say, but the Crime Alley in Jason just balks at the idea of asking a stranger to trust him. There’s nothing more suspicious than that. “But–” he jerks up his hands, “B is sending me to boarding school. For deaf. And– I really want that, so–” he mimes zipping his lips. “I'm not gonna ruin everything for myself.” Dick stares at him, and Jason stares back. That’s as truthful as he can get, and if he were Dick, that’d be reassuring enough. He has no ill will, and surely the price for his boarding school would barely make a dent out of the literal multi-millionaire’s savings, right?
Dick seems to mull it over for a second, and then signs, “so… he’s just fostering you so you can go to the deaf school?”
Jason nods. He wouldn’t have accepted Bruce fostering him for any other reason. Dick huffs, then turns his face away and says something. Jason can only catch one word, ‘replacing.’ What did that even mean in this context? A twinge of frustration rises at the knowledge that Dick can so easily hide what he’s saying, but before he could really get mad, Dick’s arm darts out and loops around his neck, pulling him closer to Dick.
“In that case, welcome aboard!” he signs, his gestures big and energetic now, and Jason has to dodge to avoid getting smacked by a stray fist. “We need to squeeze in all our brotherly bonding before you go off to school– when is that by the way?”
“Next year–” he says, his hands kind of distracted by vainly attempting to pry Dick’s arm off him. Getting held so firmly against a body so much bigger than him is making his brain fuzz out a little, the memories of the man doing a similar thing– Dick’s arm loosens suddenly, and Jason quickly escapes, crossing his arms. “And I'm not your brother.”
Dick pouts, miming his heart breaking. Jason rolls his eyes. To get back his attention Dick smacks his hand against his arm and he reluctantly looks up, already feeling exhausted just by spending two minutes with this guy.
“C’mon,” he signs, and it’s finally calm. Or, well, as calm as this guy can seem to be. His gestures are no longer sharp, or too big. It’s in a happy middle, still energetic, but not enough that he risks accidentally decking Jason. “Ice cream? On me. I bet you’re going crazy in here! I know I was.”
Jason blinks, and slowly nods. Ice cream… would actually be really nice. He hasn’t had it since Mom died.
“Okay,” he signs, and Dick grins wide. “But don’t touch me,” he adds, and he’s not sure why he did. It’s not like Dick would listen to him, if he really wanted to–
“Sure,” he says, like it’s nothing. “Now come on. It’s getting late already, so we don’t have to worry about the lunchtime rush.”
He heads off towards the garage and Jason blinks, having to jog a little to catch up. “What about Bruce?” he asks, and Dick waves off the idea, something dark and sour on his face.
Jason’s stomach turns. He knows from getting in between Mom and Dad’s fights what someone looks like when they’re only using him to get back to the other person. But if he’s not planning on hurting Jason, then he doesn't mind much. And if Bruce gets mad at him, he can say it’s all Dick’s fault. Sure, snitches get stitches, but Jason's certain that the stitches Dick would give him would be nothing in comparison to what Bruce would give him.
Plus, it’d be nice to actually be outside. Jason from just a month ago would think he’s crazy for missing the feeling of soft winds outside, but he doesn’t even care. As long as this isn’t some elaborate plan to dump Jason back on the streets, he’s happy.
Jason kicks his legs as he bites into his ice cream, glancing around his surroundings while Dick seems occupied with his own rapidly melting scoop. Bristol is so different to Crime Alley. He knew that Park Row is one of the worser places in Gotham, but the difference is stark. Everyone’s in clean, mended clothes, they’re actually talking to each other instead of hurrying along as fast as they can, and to top it all off, the ice cream place actually looked up to code.
Anger stirrs in him again as he once more has it shoved in his face how much better Bristol had it. Everyone here had like… light in their eyes. Like they thought that the world was a good place. Sure, that was more the teens than the adults, they looked dull, their eyes dead behind plastic smiles, but they weren’t completely world-weary like the adults in Crime Alley. It was better here, sure, but so stifling and fake. How could Dick even stand it?
He could feel repetitive vibrations through the table and he looked up to see Dick tapping his fingers, having gotten his ice cream under control and dangerously close to his no-talking limit.
Jason sighed. He should probably be the one to start the conversation this time. Throughout the drive, Dick had been the one to initiate all of the talking while Jason got lost in his thoughts. He didn’t care about the imbalance then, he does feel a little bit of guilt now. He was still hurting from the scare that Dick was a rapist, earlier, but now he’s spent some time with him, Dick didn’t seem like a bad guy. It wasn’t his fault that Jason jumped to conclusions when he dragged him away.
“So,” he started, talking because he was holding an ice cream cone and he could barely sign with two hands, let alone one. “You were in the circus?”
Dick, who had bought his ice cream in a pottle, placed it down to free his hands. “Yeah, it was awesome,” he grinned, “i was part of the flying g-r-a-s-o-n-s, you hear of us?”
Jason shrugged. He might have seen them on a poster, once, but that was it. He’d known that they’d never had the money to go to the circus, so he never dwelled on it. “What did you do?”
“We were acrobats. It was so fun. My Mom would hold me by my hands, with her legs hooked onto the big-swing, and they would swing me back and forth for what felt like forever until she tossed me over to my Dad, who was on another big-swing. He’d always catch me.”
Jason blinked. That was... A big explanation. Bigger than anything Bruce had said to him at once. He was having trouble putting all the words together. Dick saw the lost look on his face and demonstrated with his fingers what he meant, and Jason kind of got it. Not really. What sort of parents would throw their kids like that? For fun?
Also… “how’d you come from the circus to living with Bruce?”
Dick’s face dimmed slightly, and Jason felt immediately guilty, and he had no idea why. “My parents died.”
“Oh,” he muttered, the guilt increasing tenfold. He was probably supposed to comfort him or something, right? That seemed to be the right thing to do, but nobody had ever tried to comfort him when his Mom died. He just had to get on with life, or die. “...sorry,” he finally muttered, even though it wasn’t like it was Jason's fault that they were dead.
Dick sighed, and waved his hands over his shoulder in a circular motion. Jason hadn’t learnt that sign yet, but he could get the gist of what it meant. It was over his shoulder, behind him.
There was a beat of silence, and Jason elected to focus on eating his ice cream before it dripped all over his hands. It was stupid that it was melting so much, it was already evening for fuck’s sake, nothing should melt this fast in near zero temperatures. Stupid heating.
Well, no not stupid heating. He was very, very, grateful for heating because it’s saved his life more than once, and he’s come across several people who didn’t have heating when they needed it the most. He sighed. Just a month at the manor and he was already getting spoiled.
A hand tapped the table in front of him and he looked up to see a Dick who was a little lighter. Good. The guy had a way of affecting everybody with his moods, and Jason didn’t like feeling bummed out. “How’s staying with B?”
“Uh. Okay, I guess. It’s a roof an’ all.” Truthfully, the constant feeling of dread still hadn’t lifted, even though Jason had literally begged Bruce to do the worst thing possible to him and Bruce hadn’t done it. There was a shoe that needed to drop, and the longer it stayed hung in the air, the harder it was going to come down.
“Just a roof? Wow, your standards must be high.”
He couldn’t help it, a sudden laugh burst out of him, and he could only hope that it wasn’t too loud in the semi empty ice cream store. Just the idea of someone thinking that his standards are high. To him, there was no difference between the manor and a cardboard box bent into a little shelter. Except that the manor was warmer. And way more comfortable. And had more food. Whatever. “No way,” he laughed, “the manor’s the biggest place I've seen.”
“So you just don’t like it?”
“No.” he switched his ice cream from one hand to another, “I've just lived in way worse places. Like, Bruce hasn’t even hit me yet,” He’d expected a nod, or maybe surprise, but what he got was a look of… slight anger? Concern? “what?”
“You’ve been hit before?”
Jason huffed out a laugh. “What, haven’t you?”
Dick raised an eyebrow, and Jason conceded that that was a dumb quesiton of ask. Of course he’d been hit before. Who hadn’t? Then Dick raised his hands and clarified, “I have, but not by B.”
“What?” he jerked himself forwards, his eyebrows climbing to his hairline, “no way. You must have pissed him off at some point, right?”
“I've pissed him off, yeah, but he just gets huffy,” he crossed his arms and scowled, like the way Jason assumed Bruce did. He’d somehow never actually seen the guy look mad yet. “Or he yells, or ignores me. But hurt me? No,” Dick’s face soured. “not on purpose.” he muttered, clearly hoping that Jason wouldn’t get that.
Jason scowled, and crossed his arms as best he could with the ice cream. “So he has hurt you?”
Dick blinked at him, surprised, and Jason resisted the urge to give Dick a little smug grin. He hated it when people took advantage of his deafness, so serves him right for doing it so blatantly.
“On purpose, no,” Dick continued. “You can’t live with someone for years and not hurt them accidentally. I've hurt him many times too.”
...ah. So Bruce is a hitter, and from the sounds of it, only when he gets pissed off. Jason can’t count the amount of times Mom fed him the ‘your Dad was mad, baby, he didn’t mean to hit me’ line to him. That was fine, he guessed. He hadn’t been hit yet, despite… everything, so it took a lot to piss him off.
That was fine. That was good, even. It just depends on how hard he hits.
He focuses on his ice cream, making sure it won’t melt on his hands, and looking absolutely disinterested as he asks, “so… how bad is it usually?”
Dick cocks his head. “What do you mean?”
“Like, when he hits you. And what do you have to do to piss him off? I know you don’t have to help me, but it’d save my life,” and he says that without a hint of exaggeration, “i can’t pick things up as fast as hearing kids, so if you could give me some pointers, that’d be great.”
He finally risks making eye contact with Dick, who looks incredulous and angry. Great.
“...I just said he doesn’t hit me.”
Jason rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, c’mon, I'll owe you one if you do. Whatever you ask, I'll do it, no questions asked,” now that is a dangerous offer. Jason hopes Dick appreciates how much he wants this. Even a Bristol brat would know the importance of an offer like that, right? “I just– I need to not get kicked out ‘till I can go to boarding school.”
Dick’s face hasn’t moved from its pissed off expression, not even when Jason gave him the offer, and he’s starting to worry that maybe Dick is too loyal to Bruce…
“J, seriously, he isn’t gonna hurt you or kick you out. Why would he even do that after he took you in?”
Anger flares within him, and he glares. Jesus, Bristol brats really didn’t know anything about the world, huh? “There has to be some sort of catch. Literally nothing comes for free, and he didn’t wanna fuck me, so he’s gotta wanna hit me, or starve me, or make me work or, fuck– anything!”
It’s lucky that it’s empty inside, and the only worker there is on her phone, listening to music, because Jason is 100% sure he ended up yelling at the last part of his sentence, and he doesn’t want random strangers knowing about his business.
Dick blinks, wide eyed now, instead of angry. He’s even looking a little white. “...remind me how you and B met?”
Jason glares at the table, gritting his teeth as his face heats up. “...I was trying to jack his tires.”
To his surprise, instead of getting pissed off, Dick bursts out laughing. Jason blinks as his face turns red and he actually slaps the table. Jesus, was he drunk? How was that even funny?
Dick finally pulls himself together enough to sign, “really??” and when Jason nods, he bursts into peals of laughter.
“That’s amazing!” Dick grins, “you,” he points right into Jason's face, “are my favourite hero,” Jason risks a smile, now that he knows that Dick isn’t mad. But why would he be so delighted by Jason jacking Bruce’s tires? Does he secretly hate him?
“And,” Dick waves his hand to get back Jason's attention, “if his response to you jacking his tires was to foster you, what makes you think he’ll do anything?”
Jason blinked. That was… a good point. Plus, with his whole… thing in the library, it’s a miracle Bruce hadn’t clocked him one. Or at least, throw him right back out into the streets. What could Jason do that was worse than that?
He shrugs, for lack of an answer, and mumbles, “I dunno.”
“See, I'm right. Hey, let’s talk about something else, like, uhh,” Jason is surprised to find that uhh actually has a sign. Dick’s fingers are wiggling in the air as he tries to think of a new conversation topic.
“Oh!” Dick finally thinks of one, “how do you like the B-cave?” Jason wonders for a second why he doesn’t just say bat, but then he remembers the whole, ‘secret identity’ thing. If anyone who knew sign was watching their conversation, they’d just assume that the B-cave was, like, a man cave or something. Shit, and judging by how seriously Dick took Jason knowing Bruce’s identity, there’d be big consequences for accidentally letting it slip. He’s not looking forward to it.
“It’s cool, I guess.”
“You guess?” Dick raises an eyebrow.
“I only got to go in it once, when he took me to the Manor. Now he says it’s ‘too dangerous, or something. What sort of bullshit is that?”
Dick looks genuinely surprised. “He doesn’t let you in?”
“Yeah,” Jason mutters, not pouting, “it’s not fair. There’s so much cool shit in there.”
Dick nods solemnly. “There is. Have you finished?”
Jason blinks down at his now-free hands. “Yeah?” Dick can see that he’s done.
“Let’s go, then. If B let me in the Cave when I was nine, then why shouldn’t you?”
Jason jumps up, eyes wide. “You’re letting me in the batcave?”
“Yup,” Dick grins, shoving his empty cup in a nearby bin.
Jason can’t help it, the giddiness in his chest must get out and he ends up making an embarrassingly loud laugh. Well, he thinks so, but Dick doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, he’s actually laughing too, so maybe Jason wasn’t so loud. Glad he wasn’t in trouble, he hopped a little as he waited for Dick to unlock his car before getting in. He's just decided, Dick is the coolest foster brother he’s ever had.
If Jason thought that the small section of the cave he got to see when Batman first brought him home was the coolest place he’s ever seen, then Dick had taken that and blew it out of the water. The whole damn cave was just– so big. Like, bigger than Jason thought caves could ever be. He didn’t feel claustrophobic once.
And on top of it all, there was so much cool shit.
Dick watched him gleefully investigate everything in his line of sight, with a big grin on his face, occasionally pulling him away from stuff that could, like, kill him. Jason didn’t care, because this place was so damn big that everywhere Jason looked there was something new and awesome to check out.
It took literal hours for the entire tour to be done, and at the end of it, Jason was pretty exhausted. He can’t remember the last time he’d been that excited about anything. Except for maybe food. Back at the batcomputer, the penny and the dinosaur were in clear view, and Jason wanted to ask why the hell Bruce had that in his super cool batcave because he seemed very dedicated to his theme, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t understand half the story Dick would tell him. He could ask later, when he knew more signs.
Dick’s showing him the cool stuff that they can do with the batcomputer now, and it’s impressive to Jason how much of Gotham they have eyes on. He thought that Batman just dealt with whatever crime he came across, but clearly not. He wondered if he’d ever been caught on camera before. Probably. He recognised a few places the cameras were showing.
“This place is awesome,” he murmured, watching a guy try to coax a puppy from a dumpster.
“Yes it is, thanks to me,” Dick grinned, and Jason had to squint a little to use the light from the batcomputer to know what he was saying. “It was way more boring when I was first robin. Half of the cool shit here is my doing.”
“Even the bat-names?”
Dick grinned, “especially that.”
Jason smiled back, which was weird because he didn’t usually do that. There was just something about Dick that made him want to smile. He’s always read about someone having ‘infectious grins’ but he never thought he’d meet someone like that in real life. Also, the idea of baby Dick bugging stony-faced Batman until he caved on naming his car the batmobile is hilarious.
Dick said something else, but Jason couldn’t see him, since a screen providing vital light went dark due to inactivity.
“What?” he asked, before realising how dumb that question was. It didn’t matter how much Dick repeated himself, Jason still wasn’t gonna see him, “sorry, it’s–” he stopped, and started again, “sorry, can’t see you.”
Dick’s silhouette moved like he was saying, “ah,” and then he moved to turn the computer screen back on. “Sorry, I didn’t realise it’s so dark here. I'm too used to it,” he set the screen so it wouldn’t go dark again, “maybe I can get B install some lights. His dedication to his theme has gone too far.”
Jason shrugged. “It’s fine,” the computer lights would always be there.
“No, he will. I'll tell Alfred, and he’ll make him. That’s the deal he made when he took you in. He has to accommodate you.”
Has to? Jason has never heard of that in his life. Sure, his parents helped him out, but they didn’t have to. His ease of navigating the world could be snatched away depending on Dad’s moods, on the amount of needles Mom sunk into her skin. And his foster parents sure as shit weren’t gonna help him. Jason is unbelievably grateful that Bruce decided to teach him ASL, but he was never once under the impression that he had to.
“I've dealt with worse,” he shrugged.
“You shouldn’t have to. How’s B been?”
“Okay? He’s teaching me, so”
Dick’s eyebrows rose, “really? I mean, I know you’re mostly oral, but that long? How’d you manage?”
Jason raised his eyebrow. “Lip reading, duh.”
Dick leaned against the desk. “Sounds tiring.”
Jason shrugged. “Not that bad. I don’t usually talk to people that much anyway.”
Dick blinked at him, and then frowned. What was his deal? “Any Friends?”
Jason shrugged again, feeling more and more like he did not want to talk about this. What is Dick anyway, his Mom? Literally only she cared if he had friends his age, and even then, she didn’t bug him about it. She was a loner too.
Somehow, Dick’s frown gets even deeper, and for a moment Jason contemplates if the beating was worth getting to punch that look from off his face, until his frown turns angry. Jason blinks, and it’s only when a shadow falls over him that he thinks to look up. He did not flinch. Not even when he realised that Bruce’s face was stony and hard.
He froze. He couldn’t wheel behind Dick without it being super obvious, and he might lose his goodwill with him if he showed how willing he was to throw him under the bus. It was all he could do to sit there like a deer watching a car rapidly approach, as Bruce looked him over, deemed him free of whatever he was looking for, and then turned his attention to Dick.
“You shouldn’t have ––––––him out, ––––––––” most of the sentence was lost to the dark, and Jason turned around in his seat and pushed himself back a little, under the pretense that he was just trying to get a better view of his lips.
There was a pause, and fuck, Dick is saying something back, obviously. Jason whipped his head around, and he looked angry, like he did this morning, and a familiar sense of creeping dread curled in his stomach.
Bruce said something back, and Dick suddenly stood up and Jason needed to get out of here now. And– shit, they were gesturing to him. They were arguing about him. Fuck, now there’s no hope of sneaking away. He has no hope of following their fight now, not with the speed they were talking, their lips heavily shadowed in the dark.
This scene was like the same scene that he’d lived so many times with his Mom and Dad in their old apartment. They’d fight over something stupid, usually him, he’d be forced to stay or hide, and he’d inevetably end up having to patch himself or Mom up after Dad finally went somewhere else to cool off. Only this time, he was stuck with two complete unknowns. Dangerous unknowns. Would both of them go after Jason? Would Bruce attack Dick who’d later hurt him, just to get back at somebody? Would Bruce attack Jason and would Dick help him? Would– would– would– there were too many unknowns, too many variables, and the only thing he could do was wait for it to be over.
He was being ignored for now, so all he could do was watch the fight and be ready to run if one of them came for him. Once the initial spike of fear passed, what was left was anger. He hated it when he was discarded and ignored the moment it became inconvenient, and no matter how many times it had happened, the shame never left. Dick was just spouting nonsense about how they were ‘obligated’ to accommodate Jason, and the moment they both got pissed off, he was thrown out of the loop. Great. It was good to know how things actually worked around here.
He bets he’s nothing more than an object to them now. He sure feels like one. Sure, the deaf kid can’t hear what they’re saying so obviously he has no opinions or feelings about being forced to watch a fight he knows is about him. Obviously. Because deaf kids were stupid.
Tears pricked his eyes, and he forced them back. They’ve walked away from the computers to have a proper argument without hitting the computers with their angry gestures, but he’s pretty sure that they were still close enough to hear if he got all whiny. The last thing he wants to do is bring their attention to him.
He wants to stop watching them fight, but he can’t turn his back to them, which he’d need to do if he wanted to entertain himself at all until they were done. He stares at the floor, instead, watching their feet, so he’d know if they were approaching him, but they wouldn’t think he was trying to snoop or something.
Finally, Bruce’s feet marched off, and Dick’s were advancing towards him alarmingly fast–
He flinched as he fell into the seat next to him.
“God,” Dick groaned, pulling his hands across his face now well illuminated by the light of the screens, “Why did I even come here?”
Jason stayed quiet. He knew this phase. It was the ‘let Mom–Dad– Dick rant at him for however long they wanted to while he nodded and pretended like he totally heard and understood until they went away and left him alone’.
“I mean–” Dick launched himself out of his seat and began pacing, still ranting, though Jason would have no idea since the fucker kept turning his stupid back to him. What a fucking hypocrite.
He wouldn’t have even been that mad that Dick keeps forgetting he’s deaf, if he hadn’t said all that shit he’d said earlier. Still, he stayed quiet and tried to look attentive and agreeing whenever he turned to face him.
“–––––– the one who benched me! He’s the one who–” Dick froze all of a sudden, and there was a little lurch of fear in his stomach until– “shit, sorry, I forgot you can’t hear,” Jason blinked. He wasn’t expecting an apology.
Dick flopped down in his seat, all of the energy suddenly leaving him. That was good. Maybe he’d fall asleep or something and not hit him.
“B is so frustrating,” Dick signed instead. “He’s so controlling, he fed me all that bullshit about ‘robin being his own hero, not a sidekick’ and then he fires me the first chance he gets! Like robin is his to take away! I'm an adult. If I want to go out and fight crime, then I will, and he can’t stop me,” Jason blinked. That was… not what he said this afternoon. Or, he just left a lot of details out. With Dick this emotional, maybe Jason can find out more about what it’s really like to live with Bruce Wayne.
He leaned forwards a little bit. “...sounds frustrating.”
“You have no idea. I'm so glad I moved away, living with him was exhausting,” well, that doesn’t bode well for him, at all. He was so feeding him shit when they had their little heart to heart in the ice cream parlor.
“Sucks to be me, huh?”
Dick threw his head back against his seat, “it’s not so bad if you’re not fighting with him,” Jason filed that little piece of information away for later, “he’s just. So feelings-stupid! He doesn’t know what a hug is! Don’t bother even talking to him if you have any problems, just go to Alfred,”
Jason nodded, “sure, got it,” living with Bruce is okay if he doesn’t piss him off, don’t try to go to him with his problems, that would probably piss him off, just keep his head low and bide his time until he can leave. Got it. Dick was really giving him a gold mind of info here. Bruce definitely asked Dick to lie about him and make out that living here was better than it actually was, maybe their fight made Dick want to go back on his promise? Hey, whatever helped Jason.
There was a beat in the conversation, and Jason tried not to fidget. He should probably go to his room now. It was late, he was pretty sure, and hiding away when tensions were high was always a good idea. But… he didn’t want to leave Dick here. Feeling solidarity towards foster siblings never worked out well, because everyone was out for themselves but he just looked so bummed out. It was bumming him out. He wanted Dick to go back to being the upbeat version of himself he was this afternoon.
Scrambling for something to say, anything, he accidentally said the worst thing possible.
“So… what was that all about?”
Fuck. Great job, Jason, how the hell is that gonna cheer him up? He really needed to just fuck off away to his room.
Surprisingly, Dick didn’t get pissed off or ignore him. He just sighed really heavily, “he was trying to bench me. Since apparently, his manor, his rules, and Gotham is dangerous, even though Bludhaven is not better, trust me. I wasn’t even going to patrol tonight. Besides, he can’t tell me what to do. I'm an adult now, and Robin doesn’t exist anymore to push around.”
“Huh,” he said, for lack of anything else to say. He didn’t know shit about superhero shit. Still, lots of valuable information. Bruce was controlling, and Jason would be free when he turned eighteen, so only five more years to go. Ha, ‘only.’ Who was he trying to fool?
Why the hell was he even trying to make Dick feel better anyway? The guy shunned him like he was an object. He huffed, holding back the urge to scowl at Dick. Being intentionally confrontational is the dumbest thing to do, here. He should just go to bed. Maybe Dick will have gone back to bludhaven by the time he’s woken up and Jason will go forward with the new information he learnt.
He looked up when Dick nudged his arm. “You okay?”
He shrugged, “I'm fine.”
There was a beat of silence, where Dick was obviously looking for something to say and Jason wished that he ran away the moment the fight broke out, if only to avoid all of the awkwardness. He never knew if it was his fault or the other person’s fault, or that he missed something.
Dick nudged him again, and Jason is about two seconds from exploding if he does that again. He whipped his head over to Dick, scowling.
Dick grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye, “wanna go patrolling with me?”
Jason blinked, “...but I'm not a superhero.”
Dick waved his hand, “it’s just patrol, nothing will happen. You can use my old robin costume,” he stood up, and Jason disbelievingly stood up as well, jogging to catch up with him.
“Wait, for real? I get to be robin?”
Dick’s face darkened a bit, and Jason instantly shied back in preparation for a hit. Nothing happened. Yet.
Instead of hitting him, Dick brought up his hands to sign, “you’re not robin, you’re just borrowing my costume. I'm robin, okay? It’s mine.”
“Yeah, sure,” he nodded. He was completely fine with that. He hadn’t meant to like, encroach on Dick’s property or whatever, he’s just fucking psyched at the idea that he gets to dress up and punch bad guys. That’s literally every kid’s dream, and he’s living it. The deaf street kid that no one would spare a second glance at.
He bounces on the balls of his feet as Dick pulls out his old costume, and he’s fucking delighted to find that it fits him like a glove. At least, until Dick told him that was the costume he wore when he was nine.
Whatever, his small size would be an advantage to fighting crime. Right? He’s pretty sure. He’s managed to get away from assholes by squeezing through things that he wouldn’t have if he were bigger, so probably. He couldn’t wait to be the one punching assholes in the face for a change.
Dick pulled on his costume, something blue and yellow with a deep V that revealed like, half his chest, but Jason didn’t care how stupid either of them looked. They were frickin vigilantees. They could look however they wanted.
Dick waved him over to his motorbike, which was probably how he got here from bludhaven in the first place. Jason couldn’t help but regard the bike with awe. He’d never been this close to a motorbike in his life, let alone ride one. This was gonna be so fucking rad.
He had to cling to Dick’s back in order not to fall off which made his skin prickle in a way that made him nauseous, but he didn’t care, because he was gonna fight crime.
“Okay?” Dick signed over his shoulder and Jason nodded, his chin digging into his shoulder, and the engine came to life with a delightful rumble, so strong he could feel his teeth vibrating in his skull.
As they took off, the engine roared so loud he actually heard it. Usually he hated it when things were loud enough for him to hear, he was so used to not hearing things, it felt all kinds of wrong, but this time, it made him let out a delighted laugh against the wind.
This was gonna be the best. Night. Ever.