Chapter Text
If Jason had to guess, it was probably Alfred’s idea. It was exactly the sort of thing Alfred would come up with.
Tim told Jason about it before Bruce – or anyone else – did.
Tim wasn’t so bad, Jason had recently decided. He was a bit of a goody two-shoes for Jason’s taste, but so were all of Jason’s siblings, apart from Damian. And he always warned Jason when Bruce was in one of his “family bonding” moods (or worse, his rare-but-lethal “emotional conversation” moods) so Jason knew to skip town for a while until shit went back to normal.
Jason wasn’t interested in family bonding. As far as he was concerned, it was too little, too late.
So when Tim shot him a text informing him that Bruce had gotten it into his head to take each of his kids on a one-on-one father-son (or father-daughter, for Cass) trip, Jason started packing his things for a trip of his own, far away from Gotham and Bruce’s lame ideas.
And then Tim shared one key detail with Jason that made him reconsider: Each of the kids was allowed to choose where Bruce took them.
Now that was intriguing.
Jason took to the Wayne kids’ group chat, something Dick had coerced him into joining when he’d been in a “family bonding” mood of his own. Jason kept the conversation muted on his phone most of the time.
JASON TODD: tim told me about bruce’s latest scheme
DICK GRAYSON: It’s not a “scheme.” I’m looking forward to it. B never takes time off. Last time I went on a vacation with just him, I was an only child.
JASON TODD: the good old days huh
DICK GRAYSON: Yeah before you lol
JASON TODD: where you all taking him
TIM DRAKE: I wanted to go skiing
JASON TODD: boring
TIM DRAKE: Thanks
CASSANDRA WAYNE: maybe moscow
DICK GRAYSON: Why Moscow?
CASSANDRA WAYNE: see the russian ballet
TIM DRAKE: The Bolshoi?
CASSANDRA WAYNE: yeah
JASON TODD: the what
TIM DRAKE: Russia’s famous ballet company
DICK GRAYSON: I was thinking Vegas
JASON TODD: now we’re talking
JASON TODD: dami?
DAMIAN WAYNE: Do not call me that.
JASON TODD: little d
DAMIAN WAYNE: 🖕🏽
DAMIAN WAYNE: I haven’t decided. Perhaps China. The country has a fascinating military history.
JASON TODD: damn you and tim are both boring
DAMIAN WAYNE: Where will you take him that’s so exciting?
JASON TODD: not sure yet. i’m weighing my options
DICK GRAYSON: He did say he’d take us anywhere we wanted
JASON TODD: oh, i’m counting on it
Jason hadn’t decided where he would force Bruce to take him. All he knew was that it would be somewhere Bruce would hate.
Dick got his vacation first, not just because he was the oldest but because he’d been the only one so far to choose a domestic trip. Supposedly he and Bruce spent most of their time seeing various shows on the Strip – Cirque du Soleil and the Blue Man Group and iLuminate – but on his and Bruce’s final night, Dick sent his siblings a shaky video of him and Bruce going shot-for-shot at a casino bar and then Dick belting karaoke at the top of his lungs while Bruce, presumably, filmed.
Tim was next, because it was winter and he’d picked skiing in the Swiss Alps. Apparently his parents used to take him there, when they were both alive. Jason almost felt bad for making fun of him, except he couldn’t find it within himself to feel bad for someone whose memories of his parents included skiing trips in the Swiss Alps instead of getting beat to death in Ethiopia. Still, he “liked” the aesthetic photos of chalets and mountains that Tim posted to Instagram.
Cass’ trip to Moscow would have to wait until the weather was warmer, and Damian was trying to talk Bruce into a trip around the world training with various martial arts masters, like the one Bruce had gone on as a teenager. “But Father said that would take too long, and I have to pick one location. And that my idea ‘doesn’t count as a vacation,’” Damian explained to Jason one day when everyone else was busy and Jason got roped into picking the kid up from school.
“What happened to your China idea?” Jason asked him.
“That’s still my backup plan. But I decided I like this one better, if Father would just agree to it. I don’t understand why he won’t. He said he would take us anywhere.”
With Cass’ trip planned for summer and Damian’s in a holding pattern, Bruce approached Jason. Although first he gave Jason twenty-four hours’ notice that he was going to approach him, because Bruce knew better than to show up at his second son’s door unannounced.
BRUCE WAYNE: Is it okay if I stop by on my way home from work tomorrow?
JASON TODD: why
BRUCE WAYNE: You know I’ve been taking your siblings on trips, right? It’s your turn. Anywhere you want to go.
JASON TODD: just you and me huh
BRUCE WAYNE: Yes.
JASON TODD: sounds like hell
BRUCE WAYNE: Is that your way of saying you’d prefer not to?
JASON TODD: wouldn’t you
BRUCE WAYNE: I very much want to spend time with you, Jason. But I won’t force you.
“I very much want to spend time with you, Jason,” Jason said into his empty apartment, doing a poor imitation of Bruce’s voice. That Bruce thought he could just waltz back into Jason’s life and win him over with an expensive vacation… It was insulting. And for a man as cynical and world-weary as Bruce, it was embarrassingly naive.
But Jason would still do it. Not because Bruce would – or could – force him to go. But because he could force Bruce to go. He could drag Bruce on the most miserable trip he’d ever been on, and when it was over, Bruce would never try to bond with Jason again, and they could both stop pretending like there was anything either of them could do to heal their relationship.
Jason shot off one final text: come by tomorrow. i’ll be here.
Bruce sent him a thumbs-up.
Jason sat in his lonely armchair – thrifted from Goodwill for under a hundred dollars because it was stuck in a reclining position – and waited for the knock on his apartment door. He was nervous, and he hated himself for it. He hated that Bruce still had the power to make him feel nervous, because it meant that there was still a part of Jason that longed for his acceptance and approval.
The knock came promptly at seven. Exactly when Bruce had said he’d be there. Jason took his time getting out of his chair and walking to the front door, opening it just enough for Bruce to see his face but not enough that he would feel like Jason was inviting him in.
Bruce was still dressed in his suit and tie, hair combed back. He stuck out in Jason’s building like a sore thumb. If Jason’s neighbors saw Bruce Wayne standing at his front door, Jason was gonna have to move.
Jason rolled his eyes and opened his door the rest of the way, pulling Bruce inside.
Bruce looked around the apartment. Jason watched him closely, ready to start a fight if Bruce showed so much as a hint of wealthy condescension – or worse, concern – over Jason’s living situation.
He lived in a studio apartment, with his broken armchair facing a stolen TV. A kitchen table with a wobbly leg propped up by a college textbook one of his neighbors had left behind when she’d moved, and a single kitchen chair, because Jason never had company. Cupboards stuffed with mostly prepackaged, non-perishable foods because, even though they were less nutritious, they traveled easily, and Jason had always liked knowing he could pick up and move at a moment’s notice.
He could have had nicer stuff. If he didn’t spend all his money on weapons and gear for his nighttime activities; turns out Bruce was right about vigilantism being fucking expensive. If he focused his energy on more profitable crimes instead of going after people who deserved it. If he gave less to the homeless kids on the street a few blocks from his building.
Or if he sucked it up and let Bruce pay his rent, like the man had offered. Fat chance of that happening.
Bruce kept his expression carefully neutral as he turned to Jason. He didn’t say a word about the apartment. He’d passed the first test.
“I won’t take up too much of your time. You know what I’m here to discuss,” Bruce said, more formally than he’d ever spoken to Jason when he was young. Jason was about to take offense – he’d been looking for a reason to take offense – but then the detective in him noticed the way Bruce had his hands in his pockets, his mouth drawn in a thin line, his gaze avoiding Jason and instead fixating on a vague point somewhere behind Jason’s head. He looked just like Damian had, the time he’d ruined Jason’s favorite leather jacket.
Bruce was nervous too.
What the hell did that mean? He had no reason to long for Jason’s acceptance or approval. Jason was the black sheep of the family, and that was saying something, considering he was one of three of Bruce’s kids who had committed actual murder.
“Yeah,” Jason said, even more nervous now that he knew Bruce was nervous. “We’re going on a stupid father-son bonding trip.”
Bruce got a look on his face that Jason couldn’t parse. Stupid Bruce and his stupid weird microexpressions. This would be so much easier if he showed emotion like a normal person.
“I already told you, you don’t have to go,” Bruce said. “But if you want to, and if it’s anywhere that might be nice to visit in the spring, we can start planning it now.”
Jason had given a lot of thought to where they could go that Bruce would enjoy the least. He’d thought about camping, but Jason would hate that too; they were both city kids at heart. Anything outdoorsy was off the menu.
But Bruce also hated large crowds. He hated long lines. He hated bright colors and loud noises and sensory overload. He hated the heat and humidity. He hated forced merriment. Small children mystified him; he didn’t have any experience with kids under ten.
There was one place Jason could think of that combined all of that into one perfect package.
“I want to go to Disney World,” he said, staring directly at Bruce, daring him to say shit.
“Disney World,” Bruce echoed, looking overwhelmed. Jason suppressed a smirk. He’d made the right choice. “Okay. Sure. We can go to Disney World.”
Wow. Not even an argument. Bruce was seriously committed to this family bonding exercise.
His loss.
Dick called him the very next day. “Disney World?” he exclaimed in lieu of a greeting. He sounded like he couldn’t decide whether he found Jason’s choice hilarious or infuriating.
“What about it?” Jason asked, sitting in his broken armchair with a bag of burnt popcorn and the TV on.
“Why?”
Jason grinned. “Oh, you know,” he said. “I always wanted to go, and Bruce never took me.”
“You wanted to go when you were a kid,” Dick corrected him, “And Bruce never took you because you would never admit it.”
That was true. When he was twelve, Jason’s classmates at the fancy private school Bruce sent him to had all been to Disney World multiple times, and thought it strange that he hadn’t. They’d made it sound magical. Bruce probably would have taken Jason, if he’d known Jason wanted to go – he’d at least have made Alfred take him – but Jason hadn’t wanted Bruce to think he was childish. Even though he was a child. He’d never felt like he was allowed to be one.
“But you’re nineteen now, Jay,” Dick continued. He was the only one who was still allowed to call him “Jay.” Bruce hadn’t even tried it. “We both know you don’t actually want to go to Disney World anymore. And so does Bruce.” He paused, and Jason thought he heard a sigh. “Did you just pick it because you knew Bruce would hate it there?”
“Of course I did,” Jason freely admitted. “Serves him right.”
“For what? For making time for his kids? I’ll be the first to admit Bruce isn’t a perfect father, but he’s been trying lately, especially with you.”
“I don’t want him to try,” Jason said. “I want him to leave me alone.”
Jason could feel the look Dick gave him, even through the phone. Dick could see through Jason’s bullshit better than anyone. (Well, not better than Alfred.) “Whatever you say, Jay.”
Dick didn’t believe him. That was fair. Jason didn’t really believe himself.