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Anyone who's ever met Dick and assumed him to be a kindhearted angel who could do no wrong has been operating under the biggest misunderstanding of their life. Jason knows what Dick has been hiding under that pretty boy exterior, and it’s definitely not rainbows and fucking sunshine. The day they first met at Wayne Manor explained it all. It was a few weeks after Jason had started to settle into life as one of Bruce’s kids and he had been learning a new recipe with Alfred once he finally warmed up to his endless patience and relentlessly guiding hands. Dick had just stormed off after a screaming match with Bruce and was on his way to the kitchen for a snack that might restore some of the brain cells he lost in their argument when he barges in on Jason and Alfred baking together.
-
“Who the hell is this?” Dick demands immediately, stumbling on his path to the pantry once he catches sight of them. Jason freezes like he had been caught committing a crime, knuckle-deep in kneaded dough.
“This, Master Dick, is our new charge. Master Jason was found by Master Bruce a few weeks ago and has since been adopted into the family, which makes him your younger brother.” Alfred explains, sleeves rolled up and hands coated in flour, yet looking as unruffled as ever. Jason flushes at the mention of his adoption and doesn’t look up from his unfinished attempt at making bread. Dick snorts meanly, the noise prompting him to peer up at his new family member through his bangs.
“B picks up a new kid from the streets and doesn’t even have the decency to let me know? Should’ve fucking known…” He’s mumbling by the end of his sentence, eyebrows curled down in irritation. Jason flinches at the unwelcome reception and drops his head, sniffling with the sudden surge of negative emotions and rejection. Alfred lets out a quiet sigh next to him and raises a single eyebrow at Dick, glancing down at the emotional preteen who’s trying (and failing) to hide his reaction. Knowing there’s zero point in telling Alfred ‘no’, Dick rolls his eyes and steps closer to Jason.
“Sorry about that, kiddo. I was just surprised you were here since nobody decided to tell me,” is said pointedly, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not happy. I have always wanted a little brother.” Dick grins and crouches down to Jason’s level, ruffling the top of his hair. In the same swift motion, he leans down to whisper in the younger’s ear.
“You better keep to yourself or there’ll be hell to pay. I’m not entertaining B’s newest pet project or attempt at getting me to come back as Robin. I’m sure you’ll be gone in a couple of months, anyway. No skin off my back. And don't even think about telling B I told you this.” Dick leans back, still grinning with a devious glint in his eyes. Jason gapes at him as he pats his head once more and flounces out of the kitchen, snack forgotten and whistling all the way.
-
While Jason and Dick’s relationship had gotten better over time, it didn’t quell that underlying note of resentment and disapproval that lingered from their initial introduction to one another. It had just taken on a more lighthearted and brotherly tone over the years, heavily exacerbated after Jason’s death and ensuing revival. But that’s not even mentioning the multiple incidents over the years that have proven Dick’s inner tendencies to be a raging douchebag - like the time that Dick convinced Duke that Jason was an actual street rat that was granted a human form after getting dunked in the Lazarus Pit, or the time that he replaced every single book in the manor’s library with copies that were written in different random languages (which only prompted Jason into learning said languages, take that, Dickface), or the time that he somehow got Damian and Tim to team up against him and bully him - in the form of presenting a PowerPoint - into joining their weekly brotherly hangouts.
Anyways, the point is that Dick is an asshole who’s only gotten worse since gaining maturity and a positive grasp on his emotions. Although the mature part still stands to be seen. Which leads Jason to where he is now - looking back and lamenting even the thought of stealing the tires from the Batmobile, subsequently getting adopted by Batman, joining his army of child soldiers and thus causing him to question why he ever thought getting along with the rest of his so-called siblings would be a good idea.
-
“Tim, you know damn well I told you I’d never gamble with you fuckers again - not after what happened last time.” Jason spits, red helmet situated under his arm as he fumbles for the key to his safehouse.
“Need a hand there, Jason?” Tim questions, watching his struggle in quiet delight. Jason mutters derisively and pats down his whole body, searching every pocket on his Red Hood suit and coming up empty. Tim gleefully observes for another full minute before starting to take pity the louder the curses get, and proceeds to reach into his own pockets.
“The fuck? Did you really just pull out a master key to my goddamned safehouse? When did you even have time to make that shit, I haven’t revealed the location of this one- you know what, nevermind. And don’t ignore me, you little shit. I know you heard what I said.” They both make their way inside during Jason’s rant, Tim beelining for the energy drinks he knows are stored in the lowest fridge compartment.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. The last bet wasn’t even that bad. You just have terrible luck. Besides, I thought you looked great in that Wonder Woman suit!” Tim exclaims, proceeding to crack open a Monster and chug it in one fell swoop. Jason grimaces in disgust as he changes into comfier clothing.
“I hate it when you do that shit. Yes, I looked hot as fuck and I’m well aware. I’m just pissed that you guys bought an inaccurate, tiny-as-fuck version of Wonder Woman’s suit when there’s much better ones out there that don’t lend credence to misogyny and don’t fail to encompass the entirety of Aunt Diana’s badass hero attire. She’d kick my ass if she saw that stupid excuse of a costume. It wasn’t even the right color scheme! How the hell do you mess up something that easy?” By the time Jason is finished ranting, Tim has relaxed onto his ratty couch and Jason’s pulled out the ingredients for chicken tikka masala (more than enough for 2 people). He’s just started to dice the chicken when Tim grabs the remote and searches for a movie on his TV.
“I swear to God if you put on Sherlock Holmes one more damn time…” Jason lets the threat linger as he grabs his premade chicken marinade from the fridge. Tim shrugs it off as he clicks away from where he was hovering on his first choice and puts on Twilight, instead.
“Whatever, we get it, you love and respect women and look up to Wonder Woman like she’s Jesus Christ reincarnate. But, like I was saying, the bet will be way worth it this time. If you win, there’s gonna be a reward.” Tim waggles his eyebrows at Jason, who tries to stare back blankly and is betrayed by the redness creeping up his ears at Tim’s snarky comparison.
“Shut up! It’s a worthy admiration that a plebian like you would never understand. And what reward could possibly be worth any potential punishment you assholes come up with?” He questions while continuing with the tikka sauce, adding everything necessary into the frying pan and stirring it on medium heat. Tim sniffs the air and sighs blissfully, lounging even further into the beat up couch cushions.
“The reward is that you get to boss around the loser of the bet for the entire day, and the loser can’t say no. To anything. Pretty good, huh? Dick and I came up with it.” Tim gloats, watching as Bella moves into her new room on the small screen. Jason scoffs, covering the pan he’s cooking in and letting it simmer. He steps in front of the TV and crosses his arms.
“Dude, what the hell! Bella was about to meet Jacob. Get out of the way, you genetically-engineered giant,” Tim says, leaning to the side in an attempt to see past Jason’s 6 foot hulking build. Brow twitching in annoyance, Jason closes the distance between them and uses his height advantage to loom over Tim's agitated form.
“You enter my safehouse, with a key that I did not give you, you drink my energy drinks-”
“You don't even like Monster! Why is it even in your fridge!”
“- you relax on my couch, watching my favorite movie, all to harass me about gambling against the most insufferable people on the planet. And I’ve met and been killed by the fucking Joker!” Jason throws his hands up in the air, breathing heavily through his sudden rush of anger.
Suddenly, a body comes barreling through the nearest window, shattering glass onto the already dirtied carpet.
“Tim, did you get Jason to agree to the bet yet?!” Dick shouts, neatly rolling out of his vaulted somersault and onto his feet. “Oh shit, we are watching Twilight? Hell yeah,” is said after glancing at the TV.
“Richard, cede your foolish actions at once. I informed you prior to entering that they would be too dim-witted to lock the door. And I was proven correct.” Damian saunters through the front door, securing all 8 locks behind him. “Are you making tikka masala, Todd? I would like to partake, as it is one of my favorite meals.”
Jason groans at the appearance of two of his biggest headaches. He sinks into the couch next to Tim, letting his head fall into his hands.
“Why are all of you fuckers here? How do you all even know where we were? I switched to this safehouse yesterday!”
“Oh, Jason, you know Timmy would never let that stop him. Besides, Babs found out before any of us. She texted me to ask when you guys are hanging out again, by the way. She knows you left her on read.” Dick rambles as he brushes off his Nightwing suit, about to make his way to the kitchen. Jason sticks his foot out as he passes by. Dick yelps and faceplants into the ground.
“Dick, you are literally a circus-trained vigilante. How did you not see that coming,” Tim mutters, attention divided as he gets access back to the movie and watches as Bella spike a volleyball into a guy’s head.
“Do not be fooled, Drake. Richard is a bumbling buffoon and loses all common sense once he is not being fawned over by civilians. Turn it up, I quite enjoy this film.” Damian finds a seat as far from Tim as possible, gingerly perching on the edge of a suspiciously-stained armchair.
Jason glares down at Dick’s unmoving body and kicks him in the ribs.
“First of all, Barbie texted me yesterday! I could’ve been preoccupied. Second of all, Dickwad, you just broke my fucking window. Get your ass up and get rid of all that glass. It's a safety hazard.”
Tim snorts and waves his hand in the air like he’s swatting at a pest.
“Yeah, sure, ‘preoccupied.’ Just like the last couple of times we’ve texted you and you’ve left us on read.” Jason moves into the kitchen to finish dinner as Tim speaks, laying out the chicken on a tray and getting it into the oven.
“Demon brat, you want tofu in your shit? I’ve got leftovers.” Jason ignores Tim’s comments, already moving to grab the aforementioned tofu. Dick perks up from where he had been sweeping his mess and pouting down at the floor.
“I thought you just moved to this safehouse! How do you have leftovers already?” Dick questions, double bagging his gathered glass (like Jason insists ‘cause he's a fucking dork) and tossing it. Jason sees red and spins around to curse at Dick.
“Shut the hell up! You don’t know shit!” Jason yells, steam threatening to escape from his ears from how flushed they are. The trio of troublemakers all attempt to mask their laughter in the face of Jason’s anger, some more successful than others.
“It is alright, Todd. Richard has previously pulled me aside to let me know that you are what they call a ‘tsundere.’ Also, yes, I would like tofu in my tikka masala.” Damian maintains a straight-face even though everyone knew he was trying not to laugh just as much as the others. Jason splutters in shock and gestures at Damian helplessly. Dick and Tim finally burst out laughing at the combination of Damian’s words and Jason’s outrage. Dick falls to the floor once more and Tim clutches his sides, wheezing.
Jason flips them all off as the oven beeps, using the patterned oven mitts Alfred gifted him to take the chicken out. That makes all of them laugh that much harder. Damian smirks in satisfaction at the telling difference in Jason’s words versus his actions.
“Fuck all of you. Get out of my house. You're all dead to me.” Jason deadpans as he finally finishes up the tikka masala, laying out plates for all four of them.
“Aw, don't be like that, Littlewing. You can't help your natural instinct. I think it's sweet that you’re pretty much a real life anime character!” Dick clasps his hands under his chin, fluttering his eyelashes at Jason. All of them automatically look disgusted, staring in disbelief at what is supposed to be their oldest brother. A cloud of despair rains onto Dick’s head as he sulks at their ice cold reaction.
“Jason, we can't be dead to you. You were dead to us first. There's no tag backs in the game of life.”
“Go to hell, Tim. That's my fucking joke. And since I died first I can damn well tag whoever I want!”
“This is an imbecilic conversation and I will not entertain it any longer. I am hungry and wish to start eating before the food gets cold.”
Damian had already taken a seat at Jason's shabby dining table, fork fisted and held at the ready. Tim swipes his phone to take a picture of the funny image, immediately sending it to the family group chat. At the onslaught of notification sounds, Damian angles so Tim can see his glare. Tim sticks his tongue out and jumps into the chair across from him, escaping the butter knife aimed at his previous direction.
“Both of you cut that shit out! Dick, I don't have enough chairs for us all so you have to sit on the floor.” Jason takes the last seat as he says this, leaving Dick standing alone.
“Why me!” Dick whines in a high-pitched tone.
“Cause this is my fucking safehouse and I said,” Jason reasons as the rest of them start tearing into their tikka masala.
“Actually, didn't Father procure this safehouse for you after you blew the last one up? So, it would technically be his safehouse.” Damian inputs after swallowing his mouthful of food.
“Who's fucking side are you on, Demon Brat?!” An unamused stare is the only response given to Jason's outburst and he concedes to the stupidity of his question.
“All right, okay, I'll sit on the floor. We've become good friends in the last hour, why not get to know each other more? Of course, Dick has to sit on the floor and can't be affectionate to his family and is hated by all his little brothers…” They watch as Dick trails into jumbled mumbles, taking sullen bites of the meal placed precariously in his lap.
“Aaaanyways, back to what we were talking about. I thought this reward would be perfect for you, Jason! What else could possibly convince you to join us?” Tim questions, tikka sauce already staining the edges of his mouth. Jason rolls his eyes and flicks a wet napkin at his face. It splats against its target and Tim almost chokes at the action, napkin leaving a damp trail down his nose.
“Wipe your damn face, Timbers. You eat like a newborn. Like I said before, you guys are not worth fucking gambling with. And there's not a goddamned thing that could change my mind,” Jason states smugly.
“Think again, Todd. Mother, as of recent, has contacted me to discuss the prospect of a family vacation, and after explaining the rules of our ‘bet’ and convincing Grandfather to give her a day off, is now willing to make it a part of the reward as incentive.” Damian explains around his chewing.
“Wait, what does that have anything to do with Jason?” Dick clocks back into the conversation at the mention of Talia.
“Because we are both her sons and she desires to spend time with us outside of her assassination duties. Keep up, Richard. This is not a good look on you,” is said in contempt and accompanied by an eye roll. Dick starts whining again as Tim talks over his cries.
“Disregarding the fact that Talia regards Jason as her son (???) and neither of you ever felt the need to bring that up - would that really be enough to convince him?”
“I’m in.” Jason declares. “I haven't seen T in months. Explain the bet again, Tim. I'll just win and then never have to deal with this bullshit ever again.”
-
Jason has never regretted anything more in his two lives, with his death via crowbar coming in at a close second. If he could go back in time and punch his past self in the stupid fucking face, he would. But stewing in his bitterness won't change where he's at now - seated across an oddly pensive Bruce, both of them dressed in 3-piece suits in a private booth in the back of a fancy ass restaurant he didn't bother learning the name of. Would it be too late to ask the Joker for a rematch?
-
The bet was for fucking Just Dance, of all things. Jason knew it was rigged from the goddamned start and ignored every single warning sign the universe sent his way. The challenge was literally catered towards Dickhead! No one else stood a chance. But Jason knew his stubbornness wouldn't let him back down now. He was going to give it his all, no matter how unlikely his victory would be.
-
In hindsight, perseverance couldn't make up for an abysmal lack of rhythm and skill. But he still didn't think he'd be fucking last! Tim is literally the most unathletic Robin that's ever lived or died, and he still somehow beat Jason. How does that even happen?
And he should've fucking known that Dick was the mastermind behind it all. That evil bastard is always waiting for any opportunity to humiliate Jason. With how small his requests had started as, Jason began to relax, thinking that maybe Dick would have mercy for once. He really should've known.
-
“Jason, help me carry my bags.”
-
“Hey, Littlewing, can you grab me some Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”
-
“I said I wanted no ice, it hurts my teeth. And I actually want water instead of soda, can you switch it out?”
-
“Come here and massage my toes. They're starting to cramp up.”
“I am not going anywhere near your fucking feet, Dickface.”
“You have to, Jay, you lost the bet!” Dick wiggles his toes as if tempting him closer and Jason curls his lip at the nauseating sight.
“Jesus Christ, put those away. I'm gonna throw up.”
“Bitch, my feet are cute as fuck. Besides, you're not allowed to say no!” He sings the last line, inching his foot close enough to poke Jason's arm, who jerks back and gags. At Dick’s continuous prodding, he reluctantly starts to massage his toes with more force than strictly necessary.
-
“Jason, play board games with us!”
-
“Jason, Steph says she wants Batburger for dinner.”
-
“Jason, come here!”
-
“Jason-”
-
“Jayyyyy-”
-
“-son. Jason. Can you hear me, lad?” Bruce’s voice suddenly filters into Jason’s head, startling him into awareness.
“Shit, sorry, B. What were you saying?” Although Bruce still looks concerned, he doesn't ask Jason what caused him to zone out.
“You were not answering the waiter, so I decided to order for you. I also just… wanted to apologize to you.” He suddenly looks glum, and Jason blinks at the abrupt change in emotions.
“For what, old man?” He takes a sip of wine as he says this and then swallows more than intended at Bruce's next words.
“That you were forced to come out with me tonight…I know you wouldn't be here otherwise.” Bruce somehow looks small, sitting across Jason in a space that feels much farther away than it really is.
“The fuck? ‘S not your fault, B. That was all Dick. I just figured you didn't wanna see me, either!” A look of genuine confusion crosses Jason’s face and Bruce is also starting to look confused.
“What do you mean, Jaylad?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
A hand appears in front of them, interrupting their back-and-forth and juggling two full platters of food. “Sorry for the wait!” Their waiter smiles, with no idea about what kind of conversation was just taking place. Jason and Bruce are still staring at each other, baffled as their previous assumptions about one another begin to crumble.
-
When Jason was warming up to his family after almost an entire year of antagonizing them as the Red Hood (with many dramatic reunions interspersed in-between), he came to the realization that him and Bruce had never actually taken the time to sit down and talk about anything that happened. Jason avoided him and simply assumed that Bruce didn't want anything to do with him after all of the things that he did - all of the people he killed. Dick, after witnessing this pathetic act of mutual miscommunication go on for way too long, decided to end it once and for all. Which brought upon the great idea of ‘punishing’ Jason by way of bringing back the Batfam Bet: Round 2 (featuring Bruce). But not everyone thought it was a great idea...
-
“Even if we get both of them in the same place, how do we know they're actually going to talk? You know how they are. Especially B.” Furious typing makes Tim’s words sound muffled. Damian looks irritated at the increasing amount of noise and punches a dummy as if pretending it's Tim. A shiver runs down Tim’s back and he glances around in apprehension.
“Damn, Little D, what did that dummy do to you?” Dick pauses mid-stretch and whistles appreciatively. “And Timmy, I thought Alfred banned you from working for the rest of the day? The case can wait, I promise.”
“16 previous victims would say otherwise.” Tim doesn't pause in his ministrations as he responds to Dick.
“You’re running on a concoction of 3 consecutive Monsters, a 5-hour energy, and 2 hours of sleep. I don't care what those 16 victims think. Take a break, Tim.” Dick does not look amused at his response.
Tim opens his mouth as if to reply - right before an unexpected shadow blocks the view of his laptop. He squawks in fear, cutting off what he was about to say.
“Christ, Cass, you have got to stop doing that.” Tim says as he clutches his heart and urges it to stop racing.
“Bruce and Jason love each other.” Cass signs aggressively, completely certain of her own words and effectively bringing back their previous topic of conversation.
“Hello, Cassandra. As sneaky as always.” Damian wipes at his sweaty forehead, arms lowering from their assumed defensive position.
“Call me Cass,” she insists, not for the first time.
“Hi, Cass!” Dick chirps, excited at seeing his younger sister for the first time in days. “Of course we know that Jason and B love one another buuut…we also all know how much they struggle with actually saying it. Hence both of them thinking the other one hates him and continuing to mutually ignore each other. That just...that isn't right!”
“Drake, quit with the dramatics.” Tim flips Damian off, having just caught his breath. “Yes, we are all aware of their ineptness and inability to communicate. So, explain again why you think deceiving them into spending time together will help? Who says Todd won't just blow the restaurant up and run away? Again?”
“Jason's not that bad!” Dick argues.
“...”
Silence.
“Really, Cass? Even you?”
Cass shrugs and mimics zipping her lips.
“Ok, ok, maybe it's not my best plan ever…but you never know. They may just end up hugging, confessing their familial love and living happily ever after!” All of them swear they can see a pink backdrop of hearts behind Dick as he wipes away an imaginary tear at his own made-up scenario.
“...”
“Whatever!! You guys suck…we'll see who's right in the end.”
-
Bruce and Jason are both silently eating their respective meals after unanimously choosing to move on from what just happened when Jason suddenly realizes something.
“Wait. How do you know what my favorite food is? I didn't even like bacon mushroom cheeseburgers before I died,” he asks, pieces of bacon escaping as he speaks.
Bruce does not answer, although he flinches at the mention of Jason's death, and a sheepish look graces his features.
“B. Have you really been following me this entire time?” Jason accuses, already getting pissed at the thought.
“I’m- listen, lad, I just…I worry about you sometimes. I know that after your...encounter...with the Joker that you no longer want anything to do with me. And I can...respect that. Really. But at the end of that day, you're still my responsibility.” Bruce fumbles through his attempt at communicating his emotions, ending the last sentence with renewed vigor.
Jason takes immediate offense at his poor choice of words.
“Oh, I'm your responsibility? Is that it? Can't let the disappointment of the family run off with no surveillance, huh, Bruce.” The words are spit out with increasing anger and Jason gears himself up for whatever might be said next, but instead, Bruce just looks devastated.
Jason, faltering, is about to ask why he looks like that when Jason is the one who's supposed to be upset, right as their waiter makes a reappearance.
“Do we need anything else tonight, gentleman?” is said with a practiced smile and just as little context as to what he's interrupting as before.
“...”
His question is answered by a silence that feels entirely different from the one given earlier. Every emotion being left unsaid hangs heavy in the air and Bruce, prompted by Jason’s biting words, is coming to the realization that he's been wrong about this. Wrong about Jason, who's been furiously glaring at him (although when he looks closer the expression looks almost hurt) since his meager attempt at opening up.
Bruce internally sighs at what a terrible turn their night out has taken and thinks that he probably should have taken Alfred up on his offer to practice sharing his feelings.
-
It didn't start with Jason's resurrection. It didn't start with his debut as the Red Hood or later actions taken under the shield of the alias. In fact, Bruce would be inclined to say that it never even began in the first place. Although Alfred, at this point, would chime in to disagree and mention how Bruce cannot be trusted to come to his own conclusions and should stick to ‘fighting crime as Batman and ignoring his emotions - as he does best’. (“Master Bruce, please. I never said that.”)
No, it actually started the day Bruce adopted a young boy and knew, deep down, that he would do the best he could to give him the life he deserves. Partnering with him as Robin, teaching him how to read, throwing him his first birthday party, showing him what a parent could do for him in ways he's never been shown before? He truly thought all of that would be enough. Bruce thought he would be enough.
But it's obvious now that Bruce has never been enough. Wasn't enough - not when his parents died in front of him, not when he resorted to beating people in the name of ‘justice’, not when Dick left, not when he died and left his children alone, not when Dick and Jason and Cass and Tim and Damian and Duke have proven again and again how they're all better off without his influence.
Instead, his efforts got his son killed. Murdered by the psychopath he was never brave enough to get rid of before. And still isn't.
Can he even call himself a father after all that?
-
No, he doesn't blame Jason for not wanting to talk to him. But letting his boy assume Bruce is the one who hates Jason and has been avoiding him for such a foolish reason all along?
He might have failed his son in the past, but this - misunderstanding - between them? This, this he can try to fix.
-
“Jason. Allow me to start over. I am aware that I am not the best at expressing my emotions -”
Jason snorts softly at the understatement of the century. The corner of Bruce’s mouth quirks up at the sound of his son’s amusement.
“- but I should have tried. You deserved at least that much from me, if not more.”
Jason’s anger has mostly diminished by now. He furrows his brow in begrudging puzzlement at Bruce's admission.
“Old man, what are you talking about? Yeah, maybe you never said ‘I love you’ or told me that you were proud of me. But, I knew when I was younger that you did. You took me out for ice cream after stakeouts. You helped me edit my English essays. You gave me the younger siblings I never thought I'd get to have, no matter how annoying they are. You gave me a chance, B. No one else has given me that. But you did.”
Jason feels overwhelmingly embarrassed after his word vomit catches up to him, but he doesn't take any of it back.
Bruce has to blink back the wetness behind his eyes before responding.
“I am proud of you, Jay. Of the child who surpassed every expectation I had when you were younger. But also of the man sitting across from me right now. I am proud of the person who has lived through some of the worst the world has to offer and is better for it. And because I never told you before, let me tell you now.” Here, Bruce pauses in his heartfelt confession to look a teary Jason in the eyes.
“I love you, son. I'm sorry I never told you before.”
Jason sniffles and rubs at the eyes betraying his reaction.
“I thought- I thought you were mad at me. That I was dumb enough to die to your greatest enemy and then come back a villain. That's why I left you alone. I just…figured you wouldn’t want reminders of your greatest disappointment.” Jason can barely get the rest of his words out, whimpering at just how stupid he's been.
Bruce can't help but feel ashamed. Such a big misunderstanding between them came down to falsely made assumptions? He despairs at how easily they could have avoided this entire situation had they had just one conversation together.
“I have never been disappointed in you. Am I thrilled at the fact that you've killed people? No. Am I upset I wasn’t there when you felt like you had to make those decisions? Yes. Am I mad at you? Of course not! You're my son, Jason. That has not changed. Nothing you do could affect how much I love you.”
Jason lets out a muffled sob, shielding his face behind his arm and failing at hiding his reaction (just like a version of his younger self has in the past). Bruce feels a few tears escape his own eyes at the sight of his child crying harder than he’s seen in a long time at something that should have been said from the beginning.
“I- I'm sorry, Dad! I love you, too, and I'm sorry I never answered you and- and never visited you and I'm sorry you've had to deal with me being an idiot for so long and somehow still wanting me as your s-o-o-on.” The last word is blubbered through steady tears.
Their waiter, who’s carrying their check and meaning to ask if they’re ready to go, finally notices the intense conversation taking place for the first time that night and abruptly spins on his heel to hightail it back to the register.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I hope you forgive me for not making it clear before this. I love you so much. Come here, lad.” Bruce extends his arms out and Jason falls into them as if he's 12 years old all over again.
"Dad. Dad, I love you. Thank you for never giving up on me."
Both of them are crying at this point - Bruce petting Jason's head as Jason smears his tears and snot all over his dad's expensive dress shirt.
And yet, neither of them would choose to be anywhere else but in this moment.
(They just regret how long it took them to get here.)
-
“Does this mean this I can tell you guys 'I told you so'?”
“Shut up, Richard. I am trying to see what Father and Todd are doing.”
“Cool it, demon brat. They're still crying and hugging like they have been for the past 20 minutes.”
“Loves each other.”
“Why am I even here? I literally ended my patrol less than five minutes ago.”
“We're witnessing my genius in action, Duke! Just go with it.”
“Dick, I came up with it, too! Don't take all the credit.”
“Drake, I am still trying to see what is happening. Get out of the way.”
At the increase in activity outside the restaurant, Jason looks up from where he'd been uncontrollably sobbing into solid muscle and is greeted with the sight of all 5 of his terrible, terrible siblings.
“What- what the fuck! Have you guys been creeping on us from the start?”
“Language, Jaylad.”
“Fuck off! These assholes are gonna get what's coming to them once I get out there!”
Red-rimmed and green-tinted eyes glare them down, prompting most of the idiots into running away. Jason gives chase the second Bruce releases him with a woefully cheerful sigh.
“And they all lived happily ever after.”
“Ooh, good one, Cass.”
“Thanks!”