Chapter Text
Batman lurked closer to the Batmobile, sticking to the shadows. He couldn’t see anyone over the top of the car, but the sound of tools and two tires that had already been removed meant someone was here. There were any number of criminals and henchmen who might take the opportunistic chance to get their hands on his equipment, but it was a strange choice to target the tires.
Unless they were trying to ‘strand’ the car while they stripped it perhaps. It would not be unreasonable to assume Batman would be too busy to come back to check on his car if he were in the middle of a case, after all.
Batman wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting as he moved through the darkness at the end of the alley, but a child swiftly removing another tire was not even on the list of possibilities he was compiling in his head.
None of his carefully calculated plans prepared him for this eventuality. Though the idea of a third party messing with his equipment was rather likely, none of the contingencies he had covered a situation like this. After a moment, he simply came further out of the shadow, intentionally sending an old beer can rattling down the pavement as he did.
The Batman was not intended to scare children after all.
The boy’s head shot up, and he stared back at him, expression closing off any hint of fear at being caught. He had a streak of grease on his cheek, and it had definitely been a while since the boy had washed his hair. “Hey man, what’s up?”
There was an air of confidence to his words, but Batman recognized this child. Bruce Wayne worked soup kitchens often enough, and this boy was there. Bruce always thought the child was there with an adult who cared for him, but Batman was starting to doubt that. The boy had never been at an adult’s side, instead spending his time eating and talking with the other children his age, but Bruce had always assumed that the adult was nearby.
Yes, he was certain that his assumption must've been wrong.
When Batman didn’t respond, the boy gave him an arch expression. “You gonna say somethin’ or are ya gonna stare at me like pedo Michael Myers?”
“I’m going to need you to put those back,” Batman said finally, voice softer than what he’d use in the cowl normally. “Put every bolt back.”
“Or what? You gonna tell my Mommy on me? She’s dead. She don’t give a shit. Besides, I need the money more than you do, clearly. Just get some more, man.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared up at Batman as ferociously as a child his size could.
The bravado and the attitude– this was a child who lived on the streets, and the ache in Batman’s heart made him pause. He considered the child for a long moment. “Put the tires back on. I’ll make sure you have a place to sleep tonight and a nice breakfast in the morning.”
“Gonna bring me to CPS? Put me in a foster home? Or just molest me? I know better than to get in cars with strangers.” He gripped the tire iron in his hand tighter as though he were willing to fight over it, and despite the slight tremble in his shoulders, Batman knew the child would fight hard if he felt threatened.
So, Batman relaxed his posture, took another step forward. He let the boy see his eyes, and his voice softened down into Bruce Wayne. “I’m not a stranger, and I’ll give you a room with full access to an emergency exit if you decide I’m not trustworthy. Your name is Jason, if I remember correctly. I only want to help.”
Jason’s eyes went wide, and he stared at Bruce with mute confusion that gave way to some kind of decision Bruce isn’t privy to. Then he said, “Sure thing, man. We’re getting a pizza or something though. Since I wasted all this time without even scoring some cash.”
Batman straightened up, watched the boy put the tires back on one at a time. He clicked his private comlink to Superman– he couldn’t exactly bring home a child without at least notifying his boyfriend.
“Hey there,” Superman said with a warmth in his voice that brought some heat to Batman’s cheeks. “You need me?”
“No, but I have something important to disclose.”
“Ahhhh yes, I love it when you talk detective to me. So attractive, so hot. Go ahead- Robin is already settled for the night. I’m all yours.”
Batman snorted into the comm, and he forced the smile threatening to get through into an angry frown. “Your professionalism leaves something to be desired, but I knew you’d need proper warning. I’m bringing a child back with me.”
There was a long beat of silence from the other side of the line, and when his voice came again, it was softer and more serious. “What do you need from me, Batman? I’ll help however I can.” Superman was well aware of how Batman had adopted his first son, and no doubt the what-ifs were bouncing around in his head.
Batman couldn’t assuage his fears or concerns though, because he truly did not know what this child’s situation really was. Stealing from Batman was a cry for help from the Dark Knight if ever he’d heard one, so he could not ignore it. “Prepare one of the first floor rooms, please, one with a wide window. Leave something of value that could be easily stolen in the room somewhere. If the child chooses to flee in the night, I’d rather he have access to something of value to pawn. When we arrive, please send Alfred alone to receive him. The child is certainly a flight risk so we’ll need to tread lightly.”
“Of course, B. I’ll get it ready for him. We’ll be waiting for you,” Superman replied without even one crack about how bossy he was being.
___
Bruce took his cowl off once they were far enough from the well lit part of the city. Bruce couldn’t really explain why he decided to bring Jason home with him. His instinct told him Jason had no family to care for him, no adult he relied on. Of course, if there was a custodial guardian to be found, Bruce would take the necessary steps to either return him to his family or find him an appropriate home.
But Bruce thought of the way Jason was stripping the Batmobile, the way he glared up at him, the way he gripped the tire iron. Bruce was sure the child would struggle in a foster home with a stranger even if they could get him to stay in one.
Until he had more information, Bruce could not make long term plans, but he would not be leaving the boy on the street alone in Gotham City. If sharing his identity was a mistake, Bruce was willing to deal with whatever fall out happened. A child’s wellbeing was not something Bruce would take a chance on, and revealing their shared past was the only reason Jason chose to trust him enough to get in his car.
The ride back to the cave was mostly quiet. Bruce attempted to get more information from Jason, but he received few meaningful responses. Attempts at finding out more about his living situation were met with frosty silence, and questions about his family were answered only with the line, "Can't give up all my secrets on the first date. Every smart kid knows that."
Ultimately Bruce stopped pressing for more, and Jason seemed to relax. The boy had only a single backpack with him, mostly filled with clothes that he had obviously been trying to take care of despite the clear lack of frequent washing. The tire iron was also there with a small tool kit that Bruce was sure the child used to nick things around the city to sell. Bruce caught only a glimpse of his things, though, as Jason fished a book out of his backpack. It had a Gotham City Municipal Library sticker on the side.
"Shirley Jackson, huh? Do you like scary stories?" Bruce tried, wanting to find some kind of way to engage the child in conversation even if he logically realized it wasn’t likely to happen so soon. Jason had every right to be cagey.
"They're fine,” the boy mumbled, not looking up at Bruce but lifting the book up higher, more meaningfully.
Bruce recognized the gesture– the boy wanted him to stop trying… and so he fell silent for another few miles. The quiet was uncertain and tense, but when Bruce realized there was no sound of turning pages, he tried again. "So you like to read?"
"Yeah I guess so,” Jason replied, those bright blue eyes cutting over to glance at him so very briefly before returning to the page.
Bruce wasn’t fooled anymore though. Jason wasn’t even turning the pages– the book was something to hide behind. The child was nervous, and Bruce was worried that the silence might be making it worse.
Bruce cocked his head and lowered his voice just slightly, eyes on the road. "You guess?"
Jason’s voice was sharp and angry when he responded– defensive. The boy was being defensive. "I mean yeah man, it's the original Netflix, and I don't exactly have access to streaming, so my library card is all the entertainment I got. ”
"I see… What books do you like then?"
Jason sighed heavily and put the Shirley Jackson book down. Bruce could see the title now- We Have Always Lived in the Castle. "Look, this whole ‘get to know’ the little street urchin has been a fun game for both of us, I'm sure, but I just wanna read."
“Of course. My apologies.”
Bruce retreated back, allowing Jason his space. This wasn’t like it was with Dick, and he had no reference point on how to interact with this boy. Dick had been tired and traumatized, but he wanted to connect with Bruce– curious even from that first uncertain night where none of them knew what would happen next.
If Jason was curious, he surely didn’t show it at all.
He didn’t even show any curiosity when they arrived in the Batcave after their long silence, and instead he climbed out of the car, gripping the small handle on the top of his backpack on and bag slightly unzipped. The tire iron was easily accessible if Jason carried his things like this, Bruce was sure. They were greeted only by Alfred, because Bruce worried that too many people would scare Jason away. Alfred was gentle and quiet, and despite the fact that he was not hired help in the traditional sense anymore, Bruce knew Jason would assume that he was simply a regularly employed butler. Bruce thought ‘hired help’ would be far less intimidating to Jason than Bruce or his upper class family.
“I have prepared you a room, young sir. This way if you please,” Alfred said quietly to Jason.
Jason glanced between them as though he was considering if this truly was a safe environment for him. He took a breath and stood up straighter, eyes darting around the cave. Still no curiosity in these looks– assessing. Jason was assessing every moment of this interaction, and Bruce knew he’d bolt the moment he thought there was any danger.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Bruce said with a small smile.
Jason gave him a long and serious look before he turned without replying and walked up the stairs after Alfred. The last thing Bruce heard was Jason very firmly telling Alfred, “I can carry my own shit, thanks.”
Bruce didn't hear whatever response Alfred made, and he wondered if his father figure had scolded the boy for his language. He sat heavily down in his chair by the Batcomputer, and he mechanically started to open up his nightly reports. Bruce could practically feel the impatience coming from the stairs, and he knew that Clark was somewhere nearby desperately trying to give Bruce his customary alone time after patrol.
After a deep meditative breath, Bruce turned his attention to his post patrol routine.
____
Bruce was showered and back settled into his chair by the time Clark finally came down to him.
“Knock, knock,” Clark said quietly as he poked his head through the doorway.
Of course Bruce heard his footsteps on the stairs and had known immediately it was him. Still, the man was polite to a fault, and he was giving Bruce the chance to ask him to turn around if he was in need of more time.
Bruce simply gave Clark his most arch expression and replied in an absolute deadpan, “Who’s there?”
Clark paused as he processed the joke, and Bruce had to frown to keep himself from smiling when Clark laughed wholeheartedly. Damn him anyway for having such an infectious laugh.
“So you’re not … too upset…?” Clark asked as he crossed the Cave.
Clark always seemed so delighted to see him safe and sound after patrol, and Bruce stared him down as the man approached. When Clark leaned in for a kiss, Bruce met him halfway. A long slow kiss later, Clark was pulling back, and Bruce snatched at the back of his neck to keep him close for a moment longer. He was enjoying the kiss, and he wasn’t ready yet to talk. When Clark finally pulled back, he placed one firm chaste kiss on his mouth as if to tell Bruce that the kiss was over. Time to talk was what that firm little kiss meant, and Bruce glared at him briefly before turning his eyes to the screen.
Clark just smiled at the glare, and Bruce sometimes missed the days where Clark pouted in response to the grumpy detective routine.
“Why would I be upset?” Bruce asked, eyes scanning the files pulled up on the screen. He was trying to find any record of a ‘Jason’ matching the description of the boy up stairs.
“Because you brought home a homeless child.” Clark slid into the seat next to him, and he reached over to hold his hand. Bruce grunted at him, but he curled their fingers together as he continued to work one handed.
“I’m trying to find his family, but I don’t have a last name.”
“How many Jasons do you think there are in Gotham City? Are you even sure he’s from Gotham or is there a chance he’s a runaway.” Clark stroked his thumb over Bruce’s knuckles, and God, having this man around was an exercise in honing his focus.
How dare he go around distracting people while they work?
“He’s definitely from Gotham. I have no doubt.” And Bruce didn’t. He had lived in Gotham all his life, and he recognized the one of his own. Jason had seen the dark sides of these streets, and if he was a runaway from somewhere else, he would've turned tail and ran literally anywhere else.
“Well then, perhaps you’d like to know. His last name is Todd, if that helps.”
Bruce sat up straighter and turned a sharp look on him. He didn’t even have to say anything back because Clark instantly understood what his annoyance meant.
“I didn’t talk to him,” Clark added quickly. “I know we’re trying to be gentle on him. But I…” And here he turned pink and looked positively guilty. “Well perhaps I shouldn’t have… I knew we’d need to investigate him to make a plan to help him and I… I took a peek? Through the wall and his bag..."
The shame in his eyes and the tenseness in his shoulders softened Bruce up to what he was saying. “You checking his bag for information is hardly more intrusive than me running a search for him like this. We need more information to help him, and I am still not sure he’ll be staying through the night.”
Clark relaxed a fraction and blew out a breath. “I just hate using my powers to violate someone’s privacy, but I figured that this was an extenuating circumstance,” he said, guilt still clear in his tone. “The adult who cosigned his library card was a man named Willis Todd.”
Jason Todd was not a name that Bruce recognized but Willis Todd? He felt ice water in his veins, and he had to take his hand back from Clark to rub at his face.
“What…? What is it, B?”
Bruce mutely pulled up his dossier on Two-Face, a long list of files underneath organized meticulously by type. He clicked the folder called “List of known associates and colleagues” and sure enough under the T section was a file named “Todd, Willis.”
He gestured at Clark to open the folder, and he stood up, pacing to his car and back. Feelings were rushing through him, and he always hated when the volume of his feelings were turned this loud. Clark, expression serious, reached forward and clicked it open. Clark scrolled through at a speed that made Bruce squirm with jealousy– the man could process information so quickly that it was practically obscene.
When Clark turned his eyes back toward him, pity and sadness were bright in his face. “Oh. This boy has not had an easy life, has he? If his father has a … work history like this… and his mother died from an overdose? There’s a lot of trauma in this file, Bruce.”
Bruce took a long slow deep breath, heart tearing itself apart in his chest. “And it’s not the end of it. I’d pull up the incident report for you, but I doubt you’d like to see the photos. Willis Todd was fished out of the East River two days ago, and the M.E. thinks he’d been down there for a while.”
____
"What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Jay?" Jason said aloud to himself while he checked the windows. The window was locked from the inside and easy to unlock and climb out of. That was good. He never pegged Bruce Wayne as a pervert or a killer when he saw him at the soup kitchens, but then again, he also didn't peg him for the Batman. Extra caution was required-- but it was Batman right? Batman didn't fuck with kids, and all the street kids knew that if they were in some shit, Batman would have their backs. Jason checked the cabinets and drawers and only found some extra sheets and pillows.
He supposed that these were normal things to find in a guest bedroom, but he had no experience with something like that.
He moved around the room, quiet as a mouse, checking everything– Sure, there were no obvious cameras, but he wanted to make sure that anything that looked like it could hide some kind of perv peephole was covered up.
He double checked the lock on the door, and while sure it was locked, they probably had a key for it. So he grabbed a chair and wedged it under the handle just to be on the safe side. He made his way to the attached bathroom, and he did the same process again. There didn’t seem to be anything untoward, and in fact, he’d found an old shoe box that had some expensive watches and a fancy old camera that he was sure he could get a good amount of money for. He shoved it all in his run bag.
Only after he had fully checked the room and the attached bathroom did he sit down with the food the butler guy had left for him. Sure, there was no way to be sure the pizza wasn’t spiked, but he only took two big bites of it. He then turned to the individual wrapped snacks that were on his tray and inhaled a few of them at top speed. The butler had left several bottled tea, and Jason downed one of them before stuffing the rest of them into his run bag. Some food, some drink, something to pawn-- the bag would be a little heavier, but all of it was worth the extra weight.
He sat back, his stomach full for the first time in a while, and then he considered the bathroom thoughtfully. If these people were some kind of perverts, that would be the place to put the cameras…
After a long thoughtful moment, he decided to at least wash his hair and sponge off his pits. He hated smelling and being dirty, but catching a place to shower had been hard ever since the water in the apartment had been shut off.
His bitch boy of a dad had been gone for nearly two and a half weeks now, and if he was coming back, Jason knew it was too late to reverse the eviction procedures. Jason had watched from across the street as they threw out everything that had been left in the shithole apartment he and his father had shared. He’d salvaged what little mattered to him out of the pile later that night. Speaking of, he’d need to go back to the city and dig his sleeping bag out of its hiding spot before someone found it and stole it or threw it out.
Tonight though… maybe he could get clean and sleep in a nice bed if only for a few hours. That sounded nice. Jason found his little knife and put it meaningfully next to him on the tub before pulling his shirt off. He didn’t think it wise to completely remove his clothes, and so he set his shirt aside while he bent his head under the running water to wash all the grime and oil from his hair.
Then he sponged his chest and body clean before putting a fresh shirt on and took his knife back to the bedroom with him. He grabbed his book and started to read… but he couldn’t stop himself from nervously checking his knife every few minutes, just to be sure it was still within easy reach.