Chapter Text
Sometimes, being a parent brought you into strange situations. Like back in the day when Bruce had to pull Dick down from the chandelier at a gala or, more recently, when he tried to have The Talk with Damian only to find out that he already knew everything and made fun of Bruce for thinking otherwise before stabbing him in the leg. Measuring by that, he had experience with the strange parts of parenting. But however uncomfortable those situations were, they were at least bearable.
This, on the other hand, was unbearable.
Bruce sat in the meeting room of the batcave, trying his best to keep a neutral face. Clark sat next to him, equally as nervous and worse at hiding it.
What was the reason for their state? Bruce's son and Clark's... something standing next to the screen in front of them. Jason was shifting around on his feet, bored, while exchanging meaningful glances with goddamn Superboy Prime, who was grinning ear to ear.
"Thank you for coming to my presentation," Prime said to his dreading audience, before correcting, "Our presentation."
"Don't involve me," Jason commented and crossed his arms.
Prime ignored him and pressed a button on the remote in his hand. The screen lit up with a powerpoint presentation. In bold text it said 'Red Hood and Superboy Prime - the next Batman and Superman?'
Bruce and Clark stiffened.
"I'm here to explain to you why Jason and me teaming up is actually a good idea and should be encouraged!" Prime pressed another button, moving the slides along and reading from his notes. "Okay, let's go. Argument number one, we're the same age. You always say to make friends my own age, Clark, so that's what I'm doing."
Clark cleared his throat, visibly uncertain. "I meant more civilian friends."
"You should have specified, then," Prime said, shrugging. "Argument number two, Damian and Jon." No further elaboration.
"That's not an argument," Bruce asserted.
Prime laughed and pointed at the picture of Damian and Jon hugging taken last New Year's Eve on the screen. "It totally is! Look how well they get on! I think we deserve that too."
"It's not a question about deserving-" Bruce tried to argue, before being cut off by his own son.
"Shh!" Jason hushed, fake whispering. "There's a presentation going on, Bruce. It's rude to interrupt."
"But-"
"Questions can be asked later! But thanks for your interest," Prime said and changed the slide again, to a screenshot of a study on the effects of traffic on the climate crisis. "Number three, I can fly us everywhere, which means there'll be a lot less CO2 emissions from Jason's motorcycle."
Looking at Clark and Jason, Bruce could tell they were both heavily resonating with that point. He himself absolutely wasn't.
"Number four," Prime moved on, "we both know what it's like to be on the other side of the law, so we're not judgemental bitches when arresting people and can get the trust of criminals for intel."
This one was fair, Bruce supposed, though he would have preferred it to be phrased differently. "That's the first genuine argument I've heard today."
"Number five, we are a little violent, but trying to better ourselves, meaning that we can hold each other accountable. Think of it like sponsors for addicts. Just that... we're both the addicts." A pause. "And no one's the sponsor." Prime was silent for a second, before conceding, "It worked in my head."
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. And just like that any good will he could have towards this madness was gone.
Prime moved on to a chart of colour theory in marketing. "Number six, the colour scheme goes crazy. We both got the red and the black and the edgier designs. It's a cohesive theme and I think it'll do well with older teen audiences who are our target demographic," he said like he was genuinely in a business meeting and excited about it. "Which brings us also to number seven, the soundtrack, which would go really hard with some 90s rock like Nirvana, Radiohead, Metallica if we get the rights. Also Meatloaf later in his career. That's fun, right?" He looked up expectantly from his notes, being met with the unimpressed faces of two Justice League members. "It is fun," he decided for them. "The people yearn for the 90s."
Clark frowned and raised his hand. When Prime called on him, he pointed out, "I thought your favourite artist was Bonnie Tyler."
Prime considered it. "Okay, well, no one can resist 80s pop but if we do that they're gonna say we copied Stranger Things."
Not being able to take this any longer, Bruce stated firmly, "If all of your arguments are this unserious-"
"No, no, no, let me finish," Prime rushed out, his ever-present grin disappearing in favour of a more somber expression. "Number eight, Jason and I are both really lonely. Like, heartachingly alone. Everyone looks at us like we're inherently evil and ticking time bombs." He startled and turned to Jason, saying "Sorry for the trigger, Jace," before focusing back on Clark and Bruce when he was waved off. "So the only teammate we could have that we could possibly trust is someone who understands what that's like and isn't just waiting for us to fuck up."
Clark's face softened. "We're not waiting for you to mess up, either," he said and Bruce quietly agreed with him, even if he still thought this was a terrible idea. And okay, maybe he was waiting for them to mess up just a little bit. That was in his nature.
"Sure," Prime replied, not looking like he meant it. He changed the slide to a photo of him and Jason, which was obviously two separate photos of them alone edited together. "Anyway, number nine, we're both similar levels of hot, so there won't be the issue of one being the 'hot' one and the other the 'funny' one," he finished with a smile. Then, he passed his notes and the remote to Jason. "Jace, you do the rest."
The man in question raised an eyebrow but took the offered items. "You haven't prepped me on this."
"It's all on the slides, you'll figure it out." Prime stepped back to let a reluctant Jason take over.
"Number ten, Jason..." He paused reading to sigh. "Jason agreed to hold a presentation for me without any notice, so safe to say he likes me at least a little bit." Jason looked from the notes at Prime, every bit as unimpressed as Bruce felt. "Really? The only reason I haven't shot you yet is cause I know it wouldn't kill you."
"That's point eleven."
Jason turned the page to the point in question, reading aloud, "Number eleven, Jason can't physically harm me, so I'm low key the safest teammate he could have." He put the notes down and titled his head in consideration, before nodding. "That's a good point, actually. I have accidentally shot my friends before. And on purpose too. Honestly, I'm convinced."
Bruce couldn't help glaring at his son. "You're on board with this, Jason?"
"Kinda," he replied casually, before smirking with mirth. "The music really convinced me, I do like a good soundtrack."
Bruce couldn't believe it. His eyes jumped from his son to the former villain that had been a universe-level threat at one point back and forth as they stood next to each other like two children asking for a sleepover.
It just spelled trouble.
"No," he decided. "This is not a good idea." He looked to Clark for support.
"I don't-" His friend hesitated, uncertainty written across his face. "I'm a little on the fence. I think it is good for you two to find a bit more connection in your life. Just... Do you need to be a team to do that?"
"Yes," Prime said immediately at the same time as Jason replied, "Obviously. Why else would we talk?"
And they both looked like they meant it, too. Like talking to someone outside of doing work with them seemed like a foreign concept. It probably was a foreign concept, at least to Jason, and Bruce had to remind himself that that was partly his fault for being a bad example. Still.
"I'm against it," Bruce said finally.
Clark frowned, voicing his own verdict. "I'm not sure."
"Okay," Jason agreed too easily.
"We weren't asking for permission, we're adults," Prime explained.
Pointing towards the screen in accusation, Bruce demanded, "Then why did you go through the trouble of making a presentation?"
Prime answered, "My Microsoft office subscription was running out and I wanted to make the most of it."
"You don't pirate?" Jason asked, turning to his... friend? Coworker? Whatever the two wanted to be. Nothing, if Bruce could help it.
"I don't know how."
The corner of Jason's mouth titled up mischievously. "We'll fix that."
Bruce's stomach sank as he watched them pack up the notes and turn off the screen. If this interaction was setting a precedent for their future, it set a bad one. Even as the two left the cave looking more content than usual, Bruce couldn't help but feel like he had just failed as a parent again.
Somehow, that was it. No more discussion about it. Jason and Superboy Prime didn't wait for permission from their mentors, they simply decided by themselves. Which was fair, Bruce supposed, since they were technically adults, even if it stung having his opinion discarded so easily.
He didn't want Prime anywhere near his son, even if he had no right to demand it. He had just gotten Jason back, he was not willing to watch him be taken away again. Of course, he trusted his son, but Bruce was still afraid of losing him to his demons, in one way or another.
The only thing he could do was pray Jason came to his senses before it was too late. And in the meantime, he could stay close and hope the support of his family would be enough.
Jason had snuck into the batcave to escape from Tim. His little brother had been an annoyance ever since he found out about Jason being in contact with Prime. He didn't outright mention it, but the timing made it clear that, as soon as Tim had heard about it, he had made it his personal mission to see Jason as often as he could, spamming him with texts or showing up unannounced whenever he was at the manor. However, instead of coming out and saying whatever Tim wanted to say - which Jason would prefer - he made weird smalltalk, avoiding the red and blue elephant in the room. If Tim wanted to talk about it, he could just talk about it. Theoretically, Jason could mention it too. But that just wasn't how his family worked.
Which meant that Jason had holed himself up in the Cave as soon as he heard Tim enter the manor. He must have known Jason was visiting, the goddamn stalker.
To use his time wisely, Jason was browsing through a book, trying to absorb as much of the knowledge as possible. He was so focused that he barely registered the footsteps approaching him.
"What are you looking at?"
Jason flinched and snapped his head up, tension slightly easing when he realised it was Bruce watching him with that neutral expression of his and not Tim wanting to ask how his day was. "That spell book Ivy used. It's called the Compendium."
Bruce nodded. "Anything of interest?"
"Bunch of fun little rituals to do just about anything." He tilted the book towards Bruce, so he could see the page. "Look here, it's a spell to contact Death itself so you can bargain with it."
Squinting his eyes, Bruce read aloud, "If you pay a debt." He stopped, giving Jason a disturbed look. "That sounds like a trap to get you to sell your soul, Jason."
"Well, I know a thing or two about soul-powered magic. And death, too."
It didn't seem like Bruce was appreciative of his humor today, since he snatched the book right out of Jason's hands. "I'll take it to Zatanna for safekeeping."
"What? Why? It's my evidence!" Jason protested.
"No magic in Gotham."
Jason grit his teeth. This was so fucking typical. "The All-Caste in me resents that. Do you not even trust me with a book?"
No answer came, just like usual when he said something Bruce didn't want to engage with.
Not bothering to say goodbye, Jason stormed out the Cave, pausing when he reached upstairs. He needed to be calmer in the manor. If he only was quiet enough, he surely could sneak his way out the front door without running into Tim. Fuck past-Jason for parking his motorbike up front and not down in the Cave.
He passed by the kitchen on his way. The sound of Tim and Damian arguing carried through the gap of the door. Jason smiled a little. Trust Damian to pull all of Tim's ire on him. Good, it meant that Jason could pass without being noticed.
The closer he got to the door - the yellow light spilling out from it the only thing illuminating the hallway - the more words he could make out. Must be some fight. He had rarely heard either of them be this animated. Then, a sudden laugh ripped through the air, tearing straight into Jason's core. His smile fell, realising what the two were actually doing. It wasn't an argument. They were bickering with each other. How had Tim gotten a laugh from Damian? Jason had been trying that for years. And when did they become close? He hadn't even realised they didn't hate each other anymore.
Another, warmer laugh sounded as Jason stood in the dark hallway.
God, he felt so empty.
Rushing past the kitchen, he almost tripped over the carpet, barely able to catch himself on the cupboard next to him. Of course his weight hitting the piece of wooden furniture made a loud ass noise. Shit.
He turned around, expecting to come face to face with the brother he was avoiding, but the shadow that stepped out of the kitchen was too tall for him. Double shit.
The shadow figure practically flung himself at Jason, wrapping him with strong arms that squeezed just a little too tightly.
"Jay! I didn't know you were here!"
Jason extracted himself from the grasp of his older brother with effort. "Was just leaving, actually."
"Oh." Dick deflated a little, causing a sharp pang of self-disgust in Jason's chest. "Tim and I kinda wanted to talk to you."
Oh God, there it was. Jason didn't know if he should feel relieved that Tim decided to talk it out or betrayed that he didn't come directly to him but sent the big guns instead. Maybe he was just too busy being a good brother to Damian of all people.
"I don't-" want to? No, that's not true. "It's not-" important? That's rude. "Okay, what?
Dick grew nervous, shuffling around on his feet. "Is it true? That you're working with... Superboy Prime?"
"Working with is way too big a word," Jason said, acting more unbothered than he felt. "He's there sometimes when I need someone to be there."
"Oh." It didn't seem like Dick liked his answer, even though Jason thought it would be the least bad thing to say.
Jason couldn't help but scoff at his brother's antics. "What? Scared I'll fall into old habits?" What was it with his family and mistrust today?
"No! It's not that at all," Dick tried to reassure, not that Jason bought it. "It's just... I guess I just don't understand why you'd go to him for that?"
"I don't go to him, he comes to me."
"Sure. But a lot of people come to you." When Jason showed no reaction to that - because he didn't believe it - Dick insisted, "I come to you."
Jason didn't understand where Dick's anguish came from. His crestfallen expression spoke of some intense feeling Jason couldn't place. "Dude, don't get me wrong, you're annoying and persistent, but trust me when I say that Prime is a whole other level. I couldn't get rid of that parasite if I tried."
The frown on Dick's face didn't lift, but he nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact. "Right. Okay. That's... what I wanted to know, I guess."
It was a strange reaction to an even stranger conversation that Jason couldn't figure out the meaning of. He supposed his brothers were worried in a similar way Bruce was. Which wasn't really wrong of them, just unnecessary. After all, Jason always messed things up in general, always did the wrong thing, so it didn't matter who he was doing it with. If anything, they should be more grateful to him for sparing them from having to deal with his bullshit as much.
"You can tell Tim that he doesn't need to worry. I'll keep Prime away from him. From all of you. He's just helping me out. So you don't need to be concerned 'bout my cases anymore either."
Dick looked at him for a long time with an unreadable expression, making him start to feel uneasy. "Working on cases are most of the times I see you."
"Yeah, it'll take a lot off your plate."
It was the wrong thing to say. It was always the wrong thing to say when it came out of Jason's mouth. Dick looked genuinely heartbroken, even if Jason couldn't identify the slight he had supposedly committed. He wanted to apologise anyway, but he didn't. He just grabbed his jacket and left. If he stayed, if he did try to make it up to Dick - whatever it may be - he would just make it worse, like he always did.
Space was what helped them cool down, was what kept them in each other's lives, no matter how sparingly. Jason refused to feel bad about it. His brothers had each other. They didn't need him there too.
Jason was more than a little uncomfortable with it all. His brothers had been either avoiding him - in Dick's case - or drowning him in unimportant text messages - like Tim. Damian wasn't acting any different and Jason had the impression that he generally didn't care about anything that was going on in regards to Jason, unless it concerned the league, Bruce or Dick.
Technically, this did concern both Bruce and Dick in the way that they were concerned about Jason's bad, bad idea of letting Superboy Prime work with him. Bruce had been exceptionally lecture-y lately and Dick, again, hadn't spoken to him since that last time. Jason hoped it wasn't because he was afraid of his safety around him because finding out his older brother was scared of him and the company he kept would be enough to make him crawl back into his early grave.
The sound of an engine snapped Jason out of his thoughts. A red P.T. Cruiser parked on the sidewalk in front of him, motor stuttering. When the driver's door opened, an ocean of empty energy drinks, beer cans and fast food wrappers spilled onto the street. Between them emerged Prime, wearing jeans and a stained duffel coat that might be the first piece of clothing Jason had seen on him that didn't look like he stole it from either Clark or Conner. It looked like he had picked it out of a trash can instead.
"Better clean that up, littering's a crime," Jason said instead of a greeting. His tone was enough to classify the request as undebatable. Not that he terribly wanted to delay things any further. It was winter in Gotham now, and the cold was slowly killing him, a little too reminiscent of a time in his life where snowfall meant death. But he couldn't help the satisfaction that curled in him when Prime picked up his garbage and put it back in his car. It was a little fun ordering him around.
When the task was done, Prime walked over to him, turned to the side and said, "You've already been missing me, haven't you, dear reader? But don't worry, I'll get a POV one of these days."
"If you keep talking to that fucking wall, I swear, I'm gonna leave," Jason snarked, pulling his leather jacket tighter around himself.
Prime focused back on him. "Sorry, I'm just trying to stay in character."
"Can you do that in a way that doesn't warrant a trip to the shrink?"
He seemed to give it serious thought, before deciding, "Probably not."
Jason bristled. He hated when Prime spoke like this, like he was above everything and his surroundings weren't real. "You're such a fucking bastard."
"And you need to get a little bit more PG, my friend," he said, holding an accusatory finger toward Jason.
"You say 'fuck' all the time."
"They'll censor me in post." And there it was again. "Anyway, can you explain to the reader what we're looking for?" And again.
Honestly, Jason didn't have to deal with this. He turned and walked along the sidewalk towards the park.
"What?" Prime called out, rushing after him. Jason ignored the annoying pest in the corner of his eye. "Hey, what?" Seriously, he was like a headache. "Why do you look like that?"
Firmly keeping his focus ahead, Jason decided, "I'm not talking to you when you say weird shit."
"According to that, you'd never talk to me."
Jason stopped abruptly and gave Prime his most pointed stare. Silence stretched. Prime shifted from one foot to the other. More silence. Prime chewed on his lip. Silence-
"Okay, fine! Jesus Christ, you're difficult," Prime huffed. "Can you explain to me what we're looking for?"
Jason smirked, always pleased when he outstubborned someone. "With pleasure. We're looking for geese."
"Hm." They started walking again and Prime quietly asked, "Did you say that cause you're still mad at me?"
"Don't ask stupid questions."
"That didn't help me at all."
They reached the park. It was the one in the Upper West Side. Very few people came out here with the biting cold, but there were a few couples around, going on a winter walk. Jason didn't understand why they'd choose to be out here if they had a home with functional heating. If he wasn't working, he'd be in a safe house, drinking tea and trying to forget the days where a stolen matchbox was the only thing keeping the frostbite away. But he was working. So, instead of enjoying warmth, he was out here, searching behind trees and bushes.
"Why'd you come with a car?" Jason asked instead of answering Prime's very valid question.
The man shrugged as he looked around, probably still unsure if Jason was joking or not. "Civilian visit again. Also, it's cold."
Jason was curious if Prime even felt the cold in the same way normal people did. Seemed unlikely, since he could go out into space and all that. But he didn't want to ask in case that made him look interested in Prime as a person. "You look hungover by the way," he said instead, another thought that had been buzzing around his head and distracted from his search. "Thought you couldn't get drunk."
"I don't get drunk, I get jolly."
He regretted asking. "Never say that again unless you want me to die of second hand embarrassment."
Prime opened his mouth, probably to kill him for good, but stopped in his tracks when his eyes fell somewhere behind Jason. "Oh my god, I found the geese."
Jason followed his line of sight and sure enough. A flock of geese had made themselves at home near a frozen-over pond.
"Good job," Jason said as if speaking to a dog. "Do they look weird to you?"
"They look like geese."
They slowly approached the flock, careful of the sound of their muffled footsteps in the snow. It was probably time to fill Prime in. Jason reasonably couldn't get away with keeping info from him for much longer. "One of the Alley girls was here yesterday, visiting a client," he said, breath visible in the cold. "On her way home, she was attacked by a goose. She had to go to the clinic to get stitches."
"You're taking revenge on geese now? Seems extreme, even for you," Prime quipped.
"The goose in question was unusually aggressive-," Jason started elaborating. He was interrupted, of course.
"That sounds normal. I've heard that these things are territorial."
Rolling his eyes hard, Jason shoved his phone under Prime's nose. The screen displayed a photo of the girl's wrist. A large gash where teeth had separated the skin left pieces of unnaturally darkened flesh visible. The black color spread from the wound into the veins under her skin, like her blood had been dyed. "Still normal?"
"Oh, we totally need to censor that," Prime mused, face paling at the gruesome sight. Without Jason having to ask, he scanned the white birds with his eyes, now glowing from the use of x-ray vision. "They look fine from the inside. I think. I don't super know what geese are supposed to look like on the inside."
"Really? You strike me like the typa guy that would."
Prime gasped theatrically. "If anyone has 'killed small animals as a child' energy, it's you."
"You're projecting there," Jason commented, thoroughly distracted by observing his suspects. "You could star in American Psycho."
"Cool."
Jason stopped in his tracks, heart filled with hatred for every film bro he ever had the displeasure of debating on the subject "No! That's not cool-"
"That one has something in its throat," Prime interrupted, pointing accusingly towards a lounging goose that hadn't looked particularly unique. Until now.
As soon as Prime had said those words, the goose's head snapped towards them, as if it had understood him. In the blink of an eye the bird had gone from peacefully sitting to violently charging towards Prime, beak open to reveal sharp, glistening teeth.
Prime yelped and took a hasty step back, but the thing was determined, still running straight for him, baring its bloodstained fangs. When it was right in front, it lunged out to strike.
The sharp end of an All-Blade sliced through its neck like butter and it fell to the floor in two pieces.
Jason watched the head and body land separately in the snow, blood spraying everywhere. He lowered his sword, ignoring how bad he felt about proving Prime's point about looking like an animal killer. This seemed justified, though.
The feathered body gave one last twitch as a little worm crawling out of its cut-open trachea. It was the size of a hand and slid desperately towards Prime's feet, dragging a slime path of the same black color as the wound of the Alley girl. A beam of heat vision ended its miserable life before it could reach them.
"That... Okay." Prime kicked at the fried worm. No movement. "That wasn't normal."
"Fucking disgusting is what that was," Jason said, dismissing the All-Blades.
Prime gestured towards where the swords had disappeared from. "I forget you can do that. To be fair, so do the writers." He bent down and picked up the worm thing by its tail. Black slime dripped onto the ground with a disgusting squelch. "You wanna take it for studying?"
Jason sighed. Spending any more time near the creature wasn't appealing. Not after the violent goose murder he'd just committed. "Not really."
"But we have to?" Prime sounded equally as uncertain while he held the worm as far away from his body as possible.
"But we have to," Jason confirmed.
No one moved.
"It is our job," Prime eventually said.
"Totally."
They stayed standing.
"We really should investigate."
Jason nodded. "Absolutely."
Nothing.
"Would be bad if we didn't."
"Super bad."
They looked at each other. Jason had front-row seats of Prime's face morphing from hesitance to his signature grin. "Wanna get drinks first?"
"Oh, a hundred percent." Jason's shoulders practically slumped in relief. "I don't wanna have to look at that thing for the next two hours at least."
They finally moved. Prime pocketed the worm God-knows-where. Jason was too afraid to ask, so he just silently led them towards his favourite bar.
The dead slimy maggot was so distracting, Jason didn't even realise he'd just agreed to do something with someone other than work.
"Where did you get this from?" Zatanna asked breathlessly, a hand carefully gliding over the cover of the Compendium Bruce had just handed her.
They were alone in the meeting room of the Watchtower. Bruce had thought it best to bring it here directly. He had doubted the book to be anything too special, but he still wanted to have it as far away from his impulsive son as possible. Now that he watched Zatanna's reaction to it, he had a feeling he'd made the right decision.
"Poison Ivy was using it to bring about a green apocalypse," he explained, keeping Jason's involvement quiet.
Zatanna inspected the leatherbound book from all sides, but made a point not to open it. "Do you know where she got it from?"
"No."
"This is..." She trailed off, forcefully tearing her eyes away to look at Bruce severely. "I'm so glad you brought it to me. It needs to be locked up in the Watchtower."
His curiosity was piqued. As was his concern. "It's that dangerous?"
"In the wrong hands, absolutely. The Compendium should never be used by anyone. Its spells either corrupt or lure you into self-destruction."
Bruce had never felt more vindicated in his paranoia. Just the thought of what could have happened to Jason had he truly started experimenting with it had the hairs on his neck stand up. It wasn't that he thought Jason would be careless with something like this. He knew that he'd be careful for the sake of others, always prioritising his idea of safety for Gotham over anything else. But Bruce had airtight evidence that Jason didn't think about risks to himself enough. And that usually risked everything and everyone around him too, even if that wasn't his intention.
Jason with an evil spellbook was as bad of an idea as Jason with a Superboy Prime. If he had both? Bruce wasn't sure if there was enough therapy in the world that could keep him from dragging his wayward son home and locking him in his room in the manor to make sure he was away from all that danger.
As it stood, Bruce couldn't do that. No one would be happy with it. So he was glad he managed to get the book out of reach at least, despite Jason's protests. It wouldn't make him win any father of the year awards, but it would help him sleep at night.
"Thank you for your help," he told Zatanna, truly meaning it.
A little while later, Bruce and Clark were standing in front of the window, looking down at the planet they swore to protect.
"I don't like it," Bruce stated.
There was no need to clarify what 'it' was. There was only one topic on both of their minds.
Clark hummed in acknowledgement. "It's definitely unexpected, I'll give you that."
"Worse than unexpected."
Sighing, the kryptonian turned to him. "I know how unpredictable the situation is-"
"No, it's not," Bruce interrupted. "I can predict it just fine. It won't turn out well for anyone."
"They're just kids," Clark argued.
"They're both twenty-one."
"Basically still teenagers."
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture that only came out when it was Jason-related. "Teenagers that have been through too much and took it out on the world," he said, trying to make Clark understand the precariousness of the situation. "Jason needs a stable support system which we have been trying to provide for him. I'm not sure what Superboy Prime needs, but it's definitely not this. Don't tell me you're not worried too, Clark."
The man in question crossed his arms, frowning at the floor. He cared for Prime, Bruce was aware of that, even if he wasn't quite family to him. Or maybe he was. With Clark it was hard to tell. He'd fight for a stranger just as hard as for his own family.
"I am," Clark replied, making eye contact again. "Jason's your son. Prime is... mine, in a way. They're our sons. But look how it turned out for Jon and Damian."
Bruce shook his head. Clark's neverending hope was clouding his judgement. "That was a different story. They're not like their brothers." He looked back through the window towards Earth. Somewhere on there was his son - his son that had been through hell and had just gotten back from it - running around with someone even more troubled. He loved Jason and he was well aware of the fact that he couldn't handle losing him again, especially if he lost him due to Jason's own decisions. "They'll make each other worse."