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Jason helps him take down a couple of smugglers on the east side. It's not that Bruce couldn't have found help elsewhere, it's just that he knew Jason was in town.
He didn't, if he's honest, expect Jason to say yes.
If he's honest, he expected to have to keep an eye on Jason the whole time. He remembers when Jason first came back, the sheer destruction he inflicted on the city, as if he was trying to jab a sharp knife into every one of Bruce's bones.
Gotham may not have deserved it, but Bruce still thinks sometimes that he did.
But Jason works with precision. Professionalism. Certainly, there is still the banter that Bruce has never found necessary; possibly, Jason still hits harder than he needs to, but his guns stay in his holsters, his knives tucked into sleeves and boots and the holster at his back.
"You did well," Bruce says afterward, when they're rooftops away and watching the police cart off the smugglers.
Jason snorts, and Bruce turns to elaborate, to explain –
But Jason's already gone.
*
It's just that only seeing Jason when Gotham's in peril isn't enough. It isn't enough, even, to ask Jason to accompany him on a mission and have him say yes.
It isn't enough for Jason to attend Wayne charity functions, breakfasts with the rest of the family, Sunday night dinners – not that he does any of those things, anyhow.
For years, Bruce has been dealing with the aftermath of Jason's resurrection. He's spent so much time trying to apologize, to explain, that it took him a long time – too long – to realize that Jason had stopped doing everything because of him.
Jason has other homes now, other family, other friends. He is not bent on some path of destruction, is not guided by rage alone, and in some ways Bruce has never been more proud –
But in other ways, he misses Jason terribly.
*
"Will Master Jason be attending your little get together, do you think?" Alfred asks.
Bruce makes a face at the computer. He hears Damian snort as he does another backflip on the mat. "Not if I have anything to say about it," he says.
"Fortunately," Bruce says, without turning around. "You don't."
"Then he's said yes?" Bruce tries to ignore the tone of hope in Alfred's voice, knows it too much reflects the hope he harbors – though not in the same way.
"No," Bruce says. He taps a few keys on the computer, pulls up Freeze's last known location. "But that doesn't mean he won't."
*
"Sorry I'm late," Jason says. The rest of the family is already in the kitchen, helping Alfred with the dishes – not that he's letting them, so mostly keeping him company – when Jason enters the dining room.
"That's all right," Bruce says. He tries not to smile too hard at the fact that Jason came at all. He gestures to the seat across from him, where there's still a full plate of food. "It might be cold," he warns, but Jason sits down and starts digging in anyhow.
"Still good," Jason says, between bites of his omelet. Bruce sips his coffee and watches Jason, listening to the sound of the others in the kitchen. He can hear Stephanie and Damian yelling at each other, and he supposes he should intervene at some point, but –
Jason looks up at him. There's a small bruise on his cheekbone that Bruce knows must be from fighting without his mask, and his hair is starting to curl a little at the ends. Bruce thinks about getting his hands in Jason's hair, about the way Jason used to fuss about that.
"What?" Jason asks. "You're staring."
"I was just thinking," Bruce says. He looks down at his empty coffee cup, then back at Jason. "How much I missed this."
"What, eating cold eggs and listening to Steph try to take out the Rugrat?"
"No." Bruce feels his lips quirk; Jason could always make him laugh, even when the others couldn't. "Being with you. Just…"
Jason's expression changes from one of ease to discomfort instantly. Bruce sees him straighten up, feels the muscles in his neck and shoulders tense like they're his own.
"How have –" Bruce tries, but then Jason clears his throat, stands up. "Jay," he says, and Jason flashes him a look that makes getting shot feel painless, then –
"I'm gonna go say hey to Alfred before I head out."
Jason practically runs to the kitchen. He doesn't come back; he must use one of the kitchen exits to leave. The others trickle back out of the kitchen, first Stephanie and Damian, then Tim and Dick and Cassandra. It's as though Jason were never here at all.
It's not the first time Bruce has felt that way.
*
He remembers how Jason used to kick in his sleep. How sometimes Bruce would have to catch him before he could tumble right off the bed. He remembers how in those moments, Jason would actually let himself be held, would curl up against Bruce's chest until he fell asleep.
Those nights, Bruce had fewer nightmares.
Now the bed is far too big. There is too much room for him to kick the sheets off, to wrestle with blankets, to dream of every terrible thing that could happen to those he loves.
And Jason is nowhere near him.
*
"You know," Jason says. "You have other people for this."
"Yes," Bruce says. He is supposed to be in a board meeting right now, but instead he is loitering in his office, talking to Jason on his cell phone, pulling at his tie like it might choke him.
"Let me guess," Jason says. "Everyone else is too busy, and otherwise you wouldn't ask."
"No," Bruce says. He leans against his desk, tries to discern where Jason might be from the background noise. He hears a train, a rumble of music, three different languages being spoken.
"No?" Jason asks.
"I'm asking you first," Bruce says.
"Jesus, Bruce," Jason breathes out, and Bruce tries not to want so badly, to need. "Okay, but –"
"Good," Bruce interrupts. "I'll see you at 9."
"Fucker," Jason says. "What makes you think I'm even in the country?"
Bruce chuckles, and he is exactly eight minutes late for his board meeting now. For Bruce Wayne, that's nothing, so he spends the next four minutes talking to Jason.
*
"Are we going to talk about this?" Jason asks. He's wearing the hood tonight, and he turns his head to look at Bruce even as he punches the nearest of Riddler's henchmen, knocking him to the ground with one move.
"About what?" Bruce asks. He knocks down two more guys, zip ties them while ducking a punch from another.
"Oh, I don't know," Jason says. He kicks the feet out from under the Riddler before he can make any sort of getaway.
"What has three eyes," Nygma starts to say –
"You, if you don't shut hell up," Jason tells him. He hauls Nygma up and zipties him, then turns to Bruce.
"About the fact that you didn't fucking need me for this job," Jason finishes.
"Almost everyone needs it," Nygma starts reciting. "Asks for it, gives it –"
Jason kicks him. "If you want my advice," Jason says, "you let the non-crazies talk and shut up until the cops get here."
"Ah, yes, the non-crazies," Nygma says. "When will they be arriving, do you think?"
Jason drops him to the floor. "Fuck it," Jason says. "You can wait for Gordon. I'm out of here."
"Red –" Bruce tries, but it's Batman's voice that comes out when he speaks, and Jason doesn't even look back.
"A cloud was my mother, the wind is my father –"
"Shut up, Nygma," Bruce says.
*
He catches up with Jason hours later, after stopping a robbery and checking in with the others. Jason is on the rooftop of one of his safe houses, mask tucked under his arm as he smokes a cigarette.
"You know," Jason says, "I really thought you wanted me for something important. Not stopping some fucking freak who Damian could've taken down when he was still in diapers."
"Jason," Bruce says.
"Come on," Jason says. He turns to face Bruce, and his eyes are wide and hurt, the same expression he used to get when Bruce would tell him something was too dangerous, when Bruce would tell him he'd gone too far.
What might have happened if Bruce had accepted him, hadn't tried to change so much of him –
"Tell me you didn't invite me to tag along on the easiest job. Tell me now how much you fucking trust me to behave myself."
"I do trust you, Jason," Bruce says.
"Yeah?" Jason asks. He stomps out his cigarette, flicks it off the roof. "As much as you trust Dick? Tim? Damian?"
Bruce doesn't answer, and Jason nods. "That's what I fuckin' thought. Get the hell off my rooftop, Bruce."
Normally, Bruce would let that be it. He would go, let them both stew in their anger and resentment until the next time, but –
But Bruce is so tired of letting things stay this way. So tired of missing Jason, of knowing Jason misses him.
"I trust them immensely," Bruce says. "Just as I trust you. The person you've become, Jason, it's –"
"What?" Jason asks. His expression is mean, and he gets right in Bruce's face, prodding him with one still-gloved finger. "Not what you ever wanted? A fucking disappointment? Just –"
Bruce covers Jason's mouth with two fingers of his gauntlet. Even after all this time, Jason's eyes dilate for it as if by instinct.
"You," Bruce says. "The person you've become, Jason, is better than I could ever have hoped for." He pulls his gauntlets off with his teeth, lets them drop to the ground so that he can touch Jason's cheek, feel the stubble growing there.
"Don't fuck with me, Bruce," Jason warns. His breath has quickened, and he's staring at Bruce the way he used to years ago –
The way Bruce knows he must be looking at him now, only Jason obviously can't tell –
Bruce lets go of him long enough to pull the cowl from his face, and then they both just stand there, breathing on each other.
"What is this?" Jason asks. He looks ready to run, ready to send Bruce flying backward, but Bruce reaches for him again, cups his face in both hands.
"I'm tired, Jason," Bruce says. "I've spent too long trying to move on –"
"Seems to me you did that quickly enough," Jason snorts. "Three times, even. Where is the toddler tonight, anyway?"
"You know that's not the same," Bruce says. He can't help the tug on his lips, can't help but stroke Jason's hair, the ends that curl out and up. "I never stopped thinking about you, Jason."
"Jesus," Jason says. "Fuck, Bruce –" he starts, but he doesn't finish, doesn't bother, because he wraps his arms around Bruce's neck and pulls him down so their foreheads touch, so their mouths are close enough to breath each other's air.
"If you're fucking with me, old man," Jason warns, "I'll never forgive you."
"I'd never forgive myself," Bruce says. "Jason –"
Jason kisses him. It's like before, and it's nothing like that at all. Jason is taller, and stronger, and when Bruce opens his mouth he tastes like cigarettes and alcohol. There is so much lost time between them, and Bruce needs to feel all of it, taste all of it, know -
He has spent so much time not wanting to know.
Jason leans back against the roof ledge, lifts one leg and wraps it around Bruce to drag him in closer. His hood falls to the ground, and his tongue is in Bruce's mouth, and Bruce thinks of a dozen other rooftops, a dozen other times, but –
"Not like this," Bruce says.
"What?" Jason's mouth is already red from where Bruce kissed him, his eyes wide. Bruce kisses his cheek, his neck, the dip between his collarbone.
"Take me inside," Bruce says, and he means inside Jason's apartment, truly, but Jason shivers under him and says, "God, yes."
Bruce starts to back away to let Jason walk, but Jason gets his arms around Bruce's neck, asks, "You still got the strength for it, old man?"
And Bruce laughs, but he reaches down to lift Jason up and Jason wraps his legs around Bruce as Bruce starts to carry him forward, toward the door and then down the stairs. "Fuck me," Jason says. "I was kidding, fuckin' – what are you benching these days, man?"
Bruce doesn't answer, just gets Jason down the stairs and to the cot Jason keeps in the middle of the floor. It's not his bed at Wayne Manor, not Bruce's expensive sheets, but it belongs to Jason.
"Would've given you the tour," Jason says, "But I suppose it pretty much speaks for itself." He rubs at his neck. In the light of the apartment, things are different, the way they've always been – here they aren't Batman and Robin, or Batman and Red Hood, but they're not quite Bruce and Jason yet, either.
"Well?" Jason asks, looking up at him from where he sits at the edge of the cot. "Having second thoughts? Wanna call Alfred and have him send down the Batplane? How about –"
Bruce kneels down in front of Jason and kisses him again, fucking his tongue into his mouth until Jason sucks at it, until Jason's hand scrabbles at the chest plate of his suit.
When Bruce pulls back to look at him, Jason's eyes are wide again, his mouth open, and he looks as desperate as Bruce feels. "Please, Jason," Bruce says. "Please let me –"
"God," Jason says, "Quit fuckin' asking, Bruce. Just - please."
He helps Jason with his shirt and armor, stopping to trace the scars on Jason's chest, the ones that run down his stomach, bullet holes and knife cuts and everything in between. Jason shivers when Bruce leans in to mouth at his nipples, licks a trail from his chest to his stomach, stopping at his jeans.
"Get this off," Jason says impatiently, grabbing Bruce's suit by this shoulders. "Need you, Bruce, I –"
Bruce shushes him with a kiss, stands up long enough to get the suit off, to throw his things somewhere in a way that would give Alfred a heart attack if he knew. When he finishes, Jason is stripped bare on the bed, leaning back with his legs spread and his hand around his cock, looking right at Bruce.
It's the most beautiful thing Bruce has possibly ever seen.
"Jason," Bruce says. Jason shivers, licks his lips, but says, "Call me what you used to. Missed it so much, never call me it anymore –"
Bruce moves down again, gets on the bed between Jason's legs. "Jay," he says. "Jay, Jay, Jay –" he says, and then he leans forward, devours Jason's cock, tasting the salty precome and the leather from Jason's gloves, tasting everything he's been wanting, needing –
Above him, Jason is already moaning, and when Bruce looks up his lip is between his teeth but his eyes are open, staring at Bruce like he can't believe this is happening, that they can have this again.
Bruce releases his cock with a soft sucking sound, says, "You are so beautiful, Jason." He strokes Jason's thighs, feeling the strength there. "Do you even know?" Bruce asks him, and Jason shakes his head.
"God, Bruce," he says. "Please, I – tell me –"
Bruce swallows him again, moaning when Jason puts his hands in his hair, cups his cheeks, squeezes Bruce with his thighs. Bruce reaches down, rubs at Jason's hole with his finger, and Jason bucks up into him so hard Bruce nearly chokes.
"Please," Jason says again. "Fuck me, fuck me."
He releases Jason's cock, sits up. Jason's scrambling under the mattress for lube, but when Bruce reaches for a condom Jason shakes his head. "No," he says. "I need to feel you, need you in me, Bruce. Will you –"
Bruce quiets him with another kiss. "Anything," he says. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, he thinks, and there was a time when that wasn't true, when Batman wouldn't allow it to be true, but –
He's not sure anymore.
He's not sure of anything but the fact of Jason beneath him, Jason begging to be fucked, to be touched. He slicks his fingers quickly, wraps his hand around Jason's cock as he gives him one finger and then another until Jason starts to beg again, as impatient as ever.
But Bruce is just as impatient, needs this more than Jason can possibly imagine, and so he nudges Jason's thighs apart and eases himself inside. Jason has been babbling non-stop, telling Bruce to do it, fuck me, come on, just give me it - but as soon as Bruce is inside, he quiets, lets out nothing but a soft, wide-eyed, "Oh."
It's impossible to breathe, impossible to do anything but watch Jason's face. "God," Jason says. "Bruce?"
"Yes," Bruce says. He strokes Jason's face, wipes the sweat from the top of his lip. He needs to move, they both do, but part of him never wants to move again because of the way this feels, just having Jason here.
"What you were saying before," Jason gasps out. "About being – proud of me. About…" he trails off, as though he's still too embarrassed to say it, too unsure.
Bruce leans in and kisses him, sucks on his bottom lip until it's sore, then says, "I meant every word, Jason. The man you've become – you're more than I ever could have dreamed. And it's not because of me, or anything I've taught you. It's you."
Jason stares at him for the longest time, chewing his lip and clenching around Bruce's cock, and then he nods and says, "Fuck me."
Bruce moves slow, sliding in and out of Jason gently. He doesn't want to hurt Jason –
"Bruce," Jason growls. "I said fuck me. Fuck me like you've missed me, come –"
He does. With a groan like he might die in this small apartment with Jason's legs around him, he fucks into Jason fast, hard, Jason pushing into him with each downward motion, digging his short nails into Bruce's shoulder, Jason's voice a constant litany of please and yes and come on, Bruce, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me until Bruce isn't sure he ever wants to hear anything else.
He drives himself into Jason as hard as he can, then lifts Jason up until he's sitting on Bruce's lap. "Oh, fuck," Jason says. He grabs Bruce's shoulders, uses them to lift himself up and ride Bruce's cock, driving himself down so hard.
"So good," Bruce says. Jason buries his face in Bruce's neck, moans against him as Bruce pets his hair, rubs his back. "I missed you so much, Jason, I –"
"Tell me," Jason says. He leans back enough to look at Bruce again, and he looks sweaty and flushed and so vulnerable that it's all Bruce can do not to just grab onto him and not let go, not this time.
"Tell me I'm good enough for you now," Jason says.
Bruce kisses Jason's cheeks, his eyelids, the edge of his jaw. "You always were, Jason. I'm so proud of you, I –"
Jason screams as Bruce starts to fuck up into him again, starts to pump his hips, and he uses his leverage to ride Bruce so hard Bruce can hardly see, can hardly breathe, can only feel Jason around him, the scent and taste of him blocking out everything else.
"Need you, Bruce," Jason says. "Need you so bad," he says, and then he's coming before Bruce can even touch him, covering Bruce's stomach. "Never want you to stop fucking me," Jason says. "Want to feel you for days, god, please -"
And Bruce can't hold back anymore, can't do anything but shout when Jason lifts his come-sticky hand to Bruce's mouth and lets him taste, and he comes with Jason's fingers fucking his mouth, Jason's voice telling him to go harder, faster, do anything he wants.
When Bruce opens his eyes again Jason is still watching him, like he's waiting for something to change. Bruce only realizes then that he's doing the same thing. He eases Jason off of him, both of them groaning at the loss, and Bruce sets Jason back against his pillow.
"Tell me that's not it," Jason says. He's a mess, come sticking to his belly, hair going in four different directions.
He's beautiful.
"Only if you want it to be," Bruce says, and Jason laughs, so loud and long and joyful that Bruce thinks of a dozen other times, of a boy who loved him more than anything.
"For the smartest guy I know, you're fuckin' stupid sometimes," Jason says.
"It's been said," Bruce agrees. "Let me clean you up," Bruce says, but Jason grabs his wrist before he can stand up. "There's better ways of doing that, and you know it," Jason says. Bruce hums in agreement as Jason starts to lick him clean.