Chapter Text
John managed to get out of Arkham much faster than he had thought he would, considering he had killed three, four, five… At least six or seven people that he was aware of. Leland stuck up for him, vouching for him that he had been off his medications for too long and that he had been manipulated by Dr. Quinzel. Bruce had also vouched, saying that several of those kills had been in self defense.
He suspected there was a bribe involved too, since Bruce visited at least once every week without fail, even when John could tell he was injured and tired. Of course, Bruce had a very strong sense of justice, but John took pride in being a grey area in a world Bruce tended to see as wholly black or white. A bigger clue was that instead of being placed in a halfway house, John was sent directly to Wayne Manor with a cuff on his ankle that would keep track of where he was. If he left the premises before the cuff was taken off at the end of his probationary period, he would have to go back to Arkham for the rest of his life. John agreed that it was more than fair. Bummer he couldn’t go into the Batcave, though, for fear of setting off the cuff. Legally, the Batcave didn’t exist.
Bruce, of course, refused to admit to bribery but never directly said he hadn’t done it. John took it as an admission.
Alfred wasn’t unhappy to take on John as another ward, but he wasn’t thrilled either. They had an understanding though.
The first night John spent in the new room that was all his own, all alone, he couldn’t sleep. He had taken his medicine but it was making his mouth dry and the feeling wasn’t helped no matter how much water he drank. He had that problem in Arkham too, but then he could always just start up screaming and howling and eventually someone would sedate him. That wasn’t an option now, so John stayed as quiet as he could and decided to walk around his room aimlessly in the hopes that he would tire himself out.
Eventually he woke up in the connected bathroom, curled up on the plush mat in front of the bathtub. He didn’t remember laying down there to sleep, but knew he must have.
Alfred bid him an awkward “Good Morning.” as he set down a tray of eggs, toast, bacon, and coffee on the bathroom counter.
“No tea?” John asked with a high pitched giggle, pulling himself up to sit on the toilet seat.
Alfred sighed, catching on to the joke and choosing to brush past it. “I can start some tea if you would prefer it.”
“No, coffee’s good.” John quickly backtracked. “Sorry, I can’t always tell if I’m being offensive or not until someone calls me out on it.”
Alfred rolled his eyes, but said he understood. John decided he’d count it as an accomplishment so long as Alfred could tolerate him.
John spent his first day wandering the Manor and getting quite lost. Why anyone would need a house as wide as a supermarket and four times as tall, he couldn’t imagine. He was happy with just a shack. The Manor was just… Too much. He ended up getting lost and having a small panic attack in one of the broom closets on his second day there, before an exhausted looking Bruce found him and lead him back to his own room.
“Just breathe. You’re okay.” Bruce guided, though they both knew it wasn’t that easy.
John had a solid minute of sobbing his inhales and manic cackling through his exhales. When he was a bit more stable he couldn’t help but be hyperaware of how unsettling he must have looked to Bruce. Laughing and crying separately were fine but doing both at once made others uncomfortable, he’d come to notice. He couldn’t help it though. He laughed when he was uncomfortable just as hard as he laughed when he was happy. Leland said it was something called the pseudobulbar affect, but he didn't want to seem like he was using his disorders as excuses so he didn’t explain it.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“It happens.”
“Not to you.” John pointed out bitterly.
“No, I just used to dress up like a bat at night to beat up criminals.” Bruce deadpanned, drawing a tired laugh from John.
“Used to?” John asked, when he ran the sentence through his head again.
“I had to make a choice between the job and family.” Bruce sighed deeply. “I think it was the right choice though.”
“I bet that was a hell of a decision.” John sympathized.
“It was, but the Commissioner and Tiffany are working together and they’ve been doing an excellent job of picking up where Batman left off. I can still help from the sidelines too, just as Bruce. Gotham might always need a hero but it doesn’t have to be Batman.”
John nodded, understanding. “Alfred threatened to quit if you didn’t, huh?”
Bruce wished John would understand a little less. It always surprised him how perceptive the other man was.
Bruce’s sleep schedule never really recovered from being Batman, so he tended to be the most awake at night. He spent the time going through paperwork he had usually neglected before but now had far too much time for. This was the first real time he spent in the mansion at night, so he didn’t know if there had always been someone wandering the halls humming carnival music. Bruce briefly, though not seriously, entertained the thought that maybe he was being haunted by clowns.
But it was just John, also unable to sleep and having grown bored with his own room. Bruce followed his ears to find John, barefoot and shirtless with his hands in his pockets walking on top of the long table of the more public dining room, staring up at the high ceiling. Of course, standing on tables wasn’t model behavior but Alfred was asleep so Bruce took off his slippers and joined his friend. He looked up at the ceiling too, but couldn't figure out what John was so focused on.
“There's a camera in the chandelier.” John explained, having caught onto Bruce’s confusion.
“I know. I have to host social events here sometimes so it’s for the best if something happens police can look at the video logs.”
“Like a convenience store.” John nodded thoughtfully. “Why is it on now? I see the light.”
“That’s so nobody walks in and steals something while everyone’s asleep.”
“We aren’t asleep.” John pointed out, then his brow scrunched. “I could be asleep. Do you think we’re having the same dream? I must be having your dream, mine aren’t ever this calm.”
“No, we aren’t asleep. We should be, but if we’re up then we’re up.”
John grunted thoughtfully, then resumed the tune he’d been humming before, some sort of bouncier sounding waltz that would be more at home to hear in a circus than in a quiet manor. He surprised Bruce by grabbing his hands, leading him in a lazy but oddly graceful rendition of some sort of basic ballroom dance. Bruce just let it happen, even when John tried to twirl him and just ended up smacking Bruce in the forehead with his arm due to how much taller Bruce was. Bruce didn’t mind and twirled John instead, taking the lead while John just kept up his provision of music.
"If you absolutely must dance on tabletops," Alfred suggested when bringing Bruce the mail late in the morning after. "Please do wear socks. Polished mahogany is difficult to maintain." His tone was stern, but Bruce could tell the butler was hiding his amusement.
Later, Bruce found the video log of them dancing and saved it to his personal phone.