Chapter Text
Japan, 2:43 AM
The alley stank of rot and wet brick, the kind of place the felt precisely made for getting mugged. Jason decided that he hated it the moment Talia sent him here, and that was before he found the half-dead man collapsed against a wall.
Japan was supposed to make him “patient,” “subtle,” “silent.” All those words Talia loved to purr at him while twisting the knife of her disappointment. No, he couldn’t just storm through life with guns and rage, not if he wanted vengeance, not if he wanted to be more than Batman’s failed soldier.
So here he was, halfway across the world, babysat by one of the League’s crypt-keepers, and bored out of his goddamn mind. With a guy who looked one wrong move away from being a corpse.
The guy wasn’t bleeding, but he was pale, so much so that veins were visible beneath his skin, and his green eyes resembled Jason’s own glowing ones far too much for comfort.
“I didn’t realize Japan had its own brand of junkies that glowed in the dark.”
The man groaned. “Not...not a junkie.” He forced out, accent thick, British. “Dying. Rather rude, aren’t you?”
Jason knew predators. He was trained by them. He fought them. He died from them.
This man was one.
And yet.
Jason cursed under his breath. Normally, he’d just walk away. Gotham was a shit hole on a good day, and it chewed people up constantly, you couldn’t save everyone. But something caught him, even as his mind registered how dangerous this man truly was. Maybe it was the honest desperation in his eyes. Against his better judgement, Jason levered him upright.
The fangs flashed in his face, far too close for comfort.
“Oh, fuck no,” Jason said, whipping his gun out.
The Brit winced as he slumped back against the wall once more. “Ah. Yes. I know what it looks like.”
“... You’re a vampire.”
The man- vampire –gave a weak, dry laugh, barely more than a snort. “Well spotted. You win the prize for Most Observant Stranger. Now, if you’d be so kind, sod off before I go feral.”
Jason didn’t move. The shaking, the hunger, the feral edge to the man’s voice. They all painted one picture.
The man was dying, starving.
Jason, never one to carefully consider the consequences, made a rash decision. Tugging a knife from his belt, he slashed his palm and shoved it under the vampire's nose.
The man stared for a long moment, baffled. He turned to Jason.
“Don’t make it weird.” Jason demanded.
The man’s eyes widened, pupils doubling in size as he started to lose control. He hesitated a moment, then latched his fangs into Jason’s hand with a sharp sting of pain.
It hurt, no doubt, but he’d suffered far worse before. The bigger problem was the way heat suffused his body with every pull of blood into the man’s mouth. He felt something pulse in his chest, matching the vampire’s ragged breath.
After a short moment, the man tore himself away, panting heavily and clutching his own chest. “Bloody Hell. What have you done?”
Jason shook out his hand. Though it hurt, it didn’t bleed. The wound already looked half healed. “Pretty sure you’re the one who bit me, Count Chocula.”
“No, no, no. This-” He took a deep breath, clutching his head in brief pain, then looked up at Jason with no small amount of horror. “Magic. You’ve somehow triggered a debt bond with me. Presumably about saving my life. ‘Offering life-blood freely’, or something.”
“A what now?”
“It means,” the vampire started shakily, “that my life is now magically tied to yours until my debt is repaid. I owe you utterly, no wiggle room, I’m afraid. Congratulations, you daft tit- you've accidently acquired a vampire.”
“Fantastic.” He groaned. “A clingy British Parasite. Just what I’ve always wanted.”
“Names Harry. And you’re welcome, for not draining you dry.” He grinned toothily (fangily?).
Jason sighed, wondering how in the hell he’d managed to stumble into this mess. He hauled Harry up by the collar. “Come on Dracula Jr. Lets get you out of here before someone sees you. And you better be the rich kind of bloodsucker, ‘cause you owe me at least a coffee.”
“Oooh. Careful mate. Talk like that’s tantamount to a proposal!”
Jason muttered darkly as he dragged him into the shadows, “I swear, you’re trying to kill me all over again.”
~~~
Japan, 2:58 AM
Jason’s current “safehouse” (the League’s, really) was just a small apartment above a ramen shop, the walls thin enough that he knew when his neighbor’s cat had a shit. He shoved Harry through the door, kicked it shut, and dumped the vampire onto the couch that doubled as a bed.
Harry stretched out on it as though it were a California king and not one of the shittiest couches ever. His “color” was returning slowly, going from almost-blue pale to hasn’t-seen-sun-in-five-years pale.
Jason crossed his arms. “Alright, talk. You’re British, irritating, and an enemy of garlic. Why the hell did I suddenly ‘acquire’ you?”
Harry smirked, stretching like a cat. “Well, you did let me suck you off in an alley. Magic rather insists that makes me yours.”
Jason’s scowl deepened. “Don’t play games. You said ‘debt bond.’ Explain.”
Harry sighed, rolling his head against the lumpy armrest like a man weary of existence. “Fine. Short version: I was a wizard. Wand, robes, owl, the whole show. Killed a very noseless dark lord, saved the world, got paraded around for a bit. Then I was bitten, turned. My oh-so-enlightened people couldn’t stomach their golden boy growing fangs, so they exiled me. Basically, means I can’t really enter any magical city center anymore.”
Jason grunted. “Tragic backstory. How original.”
Harry shot back a look, faintly amused. “Says the man with issues that could fill a phone book.”
Jason bristled. “Don’t.”
Harry tilted his head. “Likewise, mate. Anyway—since then I’ve been… drifting. Feeding where I can, when I can. There’s usually a sex worker or two willing to overlook my nightly-persuasion and donate some blood in exchange for basic healing. Tonight I was just... out of luck. Ran out before I found anyone, and I’m not the type to take without permission.”
Jason leaned back against the counter, studying him. “And how does that get us to here?”
Harry propped himself up on one elbow, looking almost smug. “Because you freely offered your blood. Didn’t know what you were doing, but you did it willingly. That’s old magic—deeper than wand-waving. Freely given blood seals itself like a contract, especially when it saves a life. You must have some trace of magic in you—buried far back in your family tree—for the bond to actually spark. It wouldn’t have with a regular mortal.”
Jason muttered, “Perfect. My family tree was already a bloody disaster, now it’s magic, too.”
Harry’s grin sharpened, unsettling. “Essentially, yes. Because of that, I owe you. Entirely. Until the debt is paid.”
“And when the hell is that supposed to be?” Jason asked, voice tight. “Because I don’t want anyone tied to me. That always ends in explosions.”
Harry’s expression went unexpectedly serious. “You saved my life. And magic- old blood magic -decided that’s the measure. A life for a life. I’ll be around until the scales balance. Which, realistically? Means until you die.”
Jason grimaced. “So what you’re telling me is, I’ve got a sarcastic British parasite attached until the end of my natural life.”
Harry smirked, flashing a fanged grin. “Names Harry. Congratulations, you’ve made yourself dinner for eternity. Hope your pleased.”
Jason gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well. I’ve already been buried once. What’s a parasite added to that?”
A voice cut through the room, smooth and sharp. “You’re late again, Todd.”
Jason’s head snapped up. A shadow leaned against the doorframe, League garb merging with the gloom. Master Kaida, the assassin Talia had shoved him under for stealth training, regarded him with narrowed eyes.
Jason groaned. “What, do you people keep a punch card for how often you break into my room?”
Kaida ignored the complaint, gaze flicking to Harry sprawled on the couch. “And you’ve brought home… baggage.”
Harry lifted a lazy hand int greeting. “Baggage with excellent cheekbones, thank you.”
Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s not staying.”
Harry smirked without missing a beat. “Oh, I am.”
Kaida arched a brow, unimpressed. “Distractions are death, Todd. You’ll learn that, or you’ll fail.” Then, with a disdainful glance at Harry, he melted back into the shadows, silent as smoke.
Jason dropped into the nearest chair with a heavy sigh, sake bottle already in hand. “I hate Japan.”
Harry propped his chin on his hand, grin all teeth and mischief. “You’ll love me, though.”
Jason tipped the sake back. “God help me.”
Harry’s grin widened impishly. “He won’t. Trust me, I’ve already checked.”