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He should have known it was a terrible idea.
No one could possibly be stupid enough to park their car - intact, expensive, not even so much as scratched - in Crime Ally. Not unless they knew they either had enough power to keep people away for good - like Falcone or Maroni - or enough power to make anyone who so much as thought about coming close to their property sorry to even be alive.
The car in question was black, sleek and even though Jason probably couldn't even count high enough to name the damned price of the thing, he did know a Porsche when he saw one. A Porsche Cayman from the Black edition, to be exact. Though Jason admittedly only knew the last part by chance.
No one could drive a car like that around, not unless they could bribe everyone involved to make Jason disappear with nothing but their loose change.
Jason had known that. He had. And yet, the promise of a bed after over a year of sleeping on the ground, the hope of a full meal and possibly new clothes was too good to pass up. Had been too good to pass up.
It was getting colder lately. There was a blizzard coming, he'd heard it on the radio when he passed by Mr. Smith's corner store. And Jason hadn't eaten any thing, let alone anything warm, for two days. The meal before that had been when he'd gotten lucky dumpster diving, but in this part of town you needed a lot of luck for there to be something left.
And, look, Jason didn't like stealing. But he had to, alright? Otherwise he'd die out here and he wouldn't. He wouldn't. Alright? So he didn't really have a choice.
And… And people like this? Who could buy cars like that? They could've done something about all of this. Could've put their money somewhere worthwhile, instead of living in too big buildings with too much figures on the electrical bill. But the Gotham elite didn't care about people like Jason, and Jason refused to care about them in turn.
He'd known that it was stupid, okay? He had. But he'd also known that there would be no actual harm done if he left with the tires. Hell, that car was probably insured so the douche would even get more money than those had been worth in the first place. Some sort of mental repercussions from the shock or some bull like that.
So in the end, Jason had gone for it. He'd loosened the bolts, jacked the tires, put the car up on loose bricks, all the while trying to not think about what would happen to him if he were caught.
There wouldn't be much imagining needed for that soon.
The car, it turned out, belonged to none other than Bruce fucking Wayne himself. The richest man not only in Gotham but probably in the entire States. Even worse, there was only one day in the year when the most powerful man in Gotham would come visit Crime Alley.
If Wayne was here, that meant that today was that day of the year. The anniversary of the night that had gotten Park Row renamed to Crime Alley in the first place. The date that marked one more year since the one fateful crime that had turned this entire neighbourhood from a respectable part of town to the worst slum anyone could find.
So basically, Jason hadn't done anything of note in his life. Except the extraordinarily stupid decision to steal three of Bruce Wayne's tires on the anniversary of his parents' murder, of course.
"I'm going to need those back," Wayne said, being the first one to get over his shock, "Driving back without tires on would be terrible for the Axes, I think."
The smile was probably meant to look nice, but really? Jason was a bit distracted trying to figure out what was hidden behind it and the warm, soft tone of voice.
"Who says I took 'em?" Yes, Jason, great idea. Mouth off to Wayne after trying to rob him, sure. Shovel your own grave next, why don't cha? He might make it quick as thanks for not having to deal with that part of murdering you.
Wayne gave a startled laugh. "Chum… I saw you taking them."
Jason bit down the instinctual 'Your word against mine' since they both knew full well that even if Jason had been telling the truth his word would've never been worth anything close to Bruce Wayne's. Instead, he tried for a new angle.
Wayne was somewhat obsessive about self defence and martial arts training after what had happened to his parents. Everyone knew. So running or fighting was pointless. Especially since Wayne's last meal had probably been lunch, not some trash from the dumpster a couple of days ago. But… But Bruce Wayne apparently also was a bleeding heart for children.
He donated to orphanages regularly - had one built in his mother's name even - and the children's hospital - one of which was now named after his father - and even gave the police commissioner money to look into some of the foster homes a little more closely. Not that any of that did much, but, you know, it was something. And a lot more generosity than any other wealthy ass would ever think to show. 'Specially after media attention had moved on.
He'd even taken in some orphan a while ago. Though apparently that was 'cause he saw the brat's parents die.
Anyways, Wayne liked kids. Jason might not be the cutest one out there - he was smelly, dirty, dishevelled, clothed in what was essentially rags, somewhat boney and he knew he was sporting a bruised eye - but he could still play the poor, pathetic homeless kid in need of some generosity. If he played this right, maybe - although that was a big fucking maybe - Wayne would let him walk.
So Jason lowered his head, let the fight drown out of his shoulders by force and tried his best to look disheartened. The last part was the easiest, it was close enough to the bone deep exhaustion he was actually feeling.
"I'm… I'm sorry," he sniffled, "I know I shouldn't've. I just… I was hungry, so…" A glance up showed that it was working, Wayne's eyes had softened and his mouth was drawn in pity. It made Jason's skin crawl to be pitied and he honestly wanted to yell at Wayne that he didn't want that pity, that pity wouldn't help him eat or stay warm. Instead, he took a shaking breath and tried his luck: "I promise I won't do it again."
An empty promise of course, but Wayne didn't need to know that.
"Hrm," Wayne grunted softly, eyebrows drawn together. Was that a good sign or a real bad one? The rest of his face was so empty it was hard to tell. 'Most emotional man of Gotham's elite' Jason's ass! The tabloids should really check their sources…
Jason took a deep breath, trying - but probably failing - not to shiver under Wayne's intense gaze. Jason was just opening his mouth to say something else - not sure what, he was kinda thinking on the fly here and Wayne wasn't really giving him much to work with - when Wayne pinched his lips. It wasn't in distaste, not like most of the other adults that looked at Jason trying to play the cute child card. But Jason still wasn't sure what it was that Wayne had seen.
Suddenly, the man took a step toward Jason. Instinctively, he flinched back. Only then he remembered that he wanted, needed Wayne to actually kinda like Jason. Shit. Well, hopefully he wouldn't think that'd been rude. Though Jason knew it wasn't fucking likely.
Wayne did stop approaching, though.
"Hm?" He made again, blue eyes looking at Jason carefully.
Jason cleared his throat. Right. He still had to convince Wayne not to rat him out. And it, well, the man wasn't screaming. Not yet at least. So he should probably keep trying. Not much else to do anyways, Wayne was just being silent now.
"I, ehm… Like I said, I'm sorry for tryin' to take from ya." Take, not steal. That was important. That sounded less like a crime. "I didn't even know it was y'r car, I swear!" Still would've done the same if he had, though.
"Hrm." Seriously? Could Wayne not say anything?! Where was the over-chatty Brucie people showed on TV all the time, huh? Shit. Hopefully he was just too tired to say much, not too angry. Fuck!
Jason could barely even hear the cold wind beyond the ringing in his ear and the too loud beating of his heart. He couldn't go to Juvie. He couldn't! No way he'd get out of foster care if they had him in the system, and he knew they wouldn't give a kid from Juvie to some rookies he could just run away from. If he was in Juvie, he was a goner.
And even then, he'd have a record. Jason was supposed to get out some day. Get a real job, get back on his feet, prove to his Pa, to everyone that he was more than this. More than what they said. More than what Crime Alley tried to make him. Just more, just like his Ma used to say back when.
Jason wouldn't end up like his Pa. He wouldn't! He couldn't.
Gulping, Jason tried again. He didn't even need to fake the tremble in his voice, the slight pleading, the fear. "Please don't… You've still got the tires, 'n' I'll even put 'em back on for ya, so can you… You don't need to call the cops. I… I'll help ya and be outta y'r hair and ya ain't never gonna see me again, promise. S' ya don't need 'em." He took another deep breath, hand tightening around his tire iron nervously. "Please?"
Wayne looked at him for a moment longer, then he finally - finally! - broke from it by nodding. "Hm, I think I'd appreciate the help with putting them back on, chum. Starting with fastening the loose one here back on… You were really quick, huh?"
His voice was still soft, friendly. If Jason didn't know better he would've even missed the accusation in the words. Fortunately but sadly, Jason did know better.
He nodded, hurrying over to where Wayne was inspecting the tire Jason had gotten halfway through liberating. To his shock, though, Wayne suddenly kneeled down. Right there. In the muddy, wet, dirty street. With his ridiculously expensive suit.
Jason felt himself pale even further. Would Wayne get angry at him for asking about the ruined suit, too? "Oh, no," Jason whispered suddenly even more distressed, "Your suit…" Was probably worth more than the rent for two months anywhere around these parts, Jason didn't finish.
Wayne only smiled at Jason and waved him off, however. "It's just clothes. I can wash them later."
Yeah, Jason doubted that Wayne would be the one doing the washing later. Still, if he wouldn't blame the teen for the ruined suit and ask for money for it… Shrugging mentally at it and pushing down his frown - Wayne was such as snob, both for just dismissing ruined clothes and for being inconsiderate of giving someone else more laundry like that - he sat next to Wayne.
To his shock, Jason noticed that when Wayne had said he'd appreciate the help he'd actually meant help. Not Jason doing it. Instead, the man gently took the tire iron from Jason's cold fingers and refastened the blots on the hubcaps himself. He did ask for Jason to get the tires and stuff, though. Still, Wayne ended up doing most of the work.
So no deal, then. No way Wayne would let him go with just a bit of help undoing the damage. Was this the rich people version of letting Jason down gently? Because that's what it felt like, even though that didn't make it better. Shit. Shit, shit, shit… Jason could cry.
At least he wouldn't freeze or starve in Juvie. Not sure that alternative would be much better, honestly.
"What's your name, son?" Wayne asked, inspecting the tires he'd put back on.
For a moment, Jason considered giving a fake name. Then he considered running past, now that Wayne was sitting down and not in his direct path. But he dismissed both in the end, knowing Wayne would catch him and the police would probably give him his name anyways.
"Jason," he mumbled in the end, upset he couldn't even find the energy to fight for his freedom a bit more. It's just that it was hard to get any energy for anything when there were spots dancing in his vision when he moved too quick.
"Jason, huh? That's a nice name, chum. I'm Bruce." As if Jason hadn't known that already! Though he was a bit surprised he was supposed to call Wayne by his given name.
When the silence stretched between them, Wayne turned around to look at Jason again. His smile was gently, could've even been called nervous. Nervous about what, Jason wasn't sure. "You said you were hungry, right?"
He had but… Why was Wayne asking about that? That was weird. Was it a trick?
While Jason did nothing but blink at Wayne in confusion, his stomach decided right now would be the perfect moment to growl loudly. Blushing, Jason looked down. Well, nothing for it now, Wayne already had his answer. Not like Jason could just deny it now anyways. So he nodded hesitantly, still not sure where this was going.
"Hm," Wayne said, "Bet you'd like to get out of the cold, too. I know I would… How about a burger, chum? You can choose where. It's on me."
Ah. Definitely a trap, then. Jason glanced behind Wayne again. Would he get up before Wayne could reach out and grab him? He was still within arm's reach of the older man, though…
"…My mum's said not to get in strangers cars," he finally replied after a moment. Probably not the smartest thing to do, but he didn't have to stop playing the pathetic child for that - more chances of finally getting outa here.
"We can walk, then," Wayne immediately responded, as though he'd expected that.
Shit. Honestly, if Wayne wanted Jason there was nothing he could do about it. No one would dare say no to the prince of Gotham, after all. If he wanted Jason served on a silver plater, they would give him that. So, really, there wasn't much of a choice. And frankly Jason didn't see why he'd be playing… whatever this game was.
If he was gonna be thrown to the sharks soon, he could at least accept the offer of a meal. Everything was easier when there was no hunger pains or black spots in his vision.
So he sighed and nodded. "There's a place over there. It's pretty good."
Honestly, Jason wasn't sure what that smile meant. Unfortunately, he would find out sooner rather than later…
As he started to walk, Wayne on his heels, Jason let out another quiet sigh. The flaw in his plan only occurred to him now: Rich people are weird and they can't control their intuitive actions like the rest of the world can. Looks like maybe his plan of appealing to Wayne's bleeding heart worked a little too well for Jason's needs.
Fuck.