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The younger one—Tim, he’d said—stared back at Bruce with wide, terrified eyes even as he tried to plaster on a bold, businesslike façade. The older boy, Jason, was just glaring.
“So.” Bruce paused, staring back. So what indeed.
The boys were hard to get a read on. Tim should have been the more pressing issue, a young child in a desperate situation who knew who Bruce was, and by all means, Bruce should have been more worried about him, but he wasn’t. Tim was a liability, but Bruce would peg Jason as the threat.
Jason was, by their own account, a street kid with no where else to go. He was a tougher looking child than Tim, both physically—though Jason was quite small even for the fourteen they said he was—and in his behavior. Jason had barely said a word about the arrangement, but he clearly wasn’t pleased.
“We—we’re open to negotiations!” Tim yelped when the silence became too much.
Jason scowled. “No, we’re not. Take the deal or we’re leaving, and I’ll talk.”
Bruce tilted back his head, considering, and Jason consciously mimicked the behavior.
“You want to be Robin, but you’re threatening me?” Bruce pointed out.
Tim blushed in shame and looked down. There was a tiny sniffle, and Jason immediately wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders and glared even more fiercely at Bruce. A twinge of guilt made Bruce uncomfortable, but the point remained: they were attempting to blackmail him, even if they were offering their services if Bruce were to accept.
“We can be useful, too! Jason’s really strong! He’d make a really good Robin, and I’m not that strong, but I could be Robin too, if you want!” Tim had flushed with excitement, then embarrassment. “Or I could just wash the Batmobile and your knives and stuff, but—but please, it’s only till Jason’s eighteen, or else they’ll take us away and separate us, and—”
Tim had choked off into tears at the thought, and Jason had gathered his “brother” into his arms and held him just like he was doing.
Truthfully, Bruce wouldn’t mind taking in one or the other, but he was very unsure of taking in both. The events a week prior that had led to Janet Drake’s death and Jack Drake’s coma must have been absolutely devastating for an eleven year old boy, even more so an eleven year old boy who, from what the boys had been saying, had never gotten to have a real relationship with either of them. Jason’s story was just as tragic, if not worse. He’d lost both parents, lived on the streets, then nearly died before Tim had found him and taken him in according to their story.
The problem was that the relationship structure they had could very well be extremely unhealthy. A younger, abused child desperate to be loved essentially being the sugar sibling to an older child from the street? Bruce couldn’t blame Jason for taking what opportunity he could, but having that dynamic preserved by keeping them together could damage Tim’s ability to move forward and form healthy attachments and Jason’s ability to relax and realize that he didn’t have to earn his place anymore by being a playmate to a wealthy, naïve child.
Still, if they were truly bonded, and their relationship was built on mutual love and respect, then tearing them apart would be deeply traumatic at a time when Tim was already grieving the loss of his mother and potentially his father.
If Bruce sent them to CPP, they would be separated, there were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. They were not related, they were quite different ages, and they were quite different temperaments. Even if they did stay together, so many foster families were involved with drug or human trafficking, or they were just abusive. The boys also could end up in juvenile detention like Dick had when his parents had died.
That simply wouldn’t do.
He could keep them for a few weeks, at least through Christmas, and monitor their relationship. He could make sure that things between them weren’t stilted or one-sided, and he’d make sure they were able to go to good foster homes with good mental health assistance if they were truly unsuited for each other.
Bruce blinked and realized that he’d been completely silent and staring at the children for several minutes. Jason was still glaring, but he looked a bit green, and Tim looked seconds from throwing up.
Bruce sighed and softened his gaze. “I have a proposal for you instead.”
Jason jumped out of his seat, furiously shouting. “If you—”
Tim grabbed Jason’s hand and yanked hard. It wasn’t enough to make Jason fall back onto the couch, but it was enough to get Jason’s attention. Something passed between the two of them, and finally Jason sat down with a glum huff.
“As I was saying,” Bruce started again, “I have a proposal. Would you like to hear it?”
Tim nodded, even though Jason looked ready to punch something. “Yes, sir. We’re listening.”
Bruce nodded. “Good. Well, the problem is that I don’t want a Robin.”
Tim looked absolutely crestfallen, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Bruce kept going.
“I don’t want to place anymore kids in danger. By the same token, however, I don’t want you and Jason to be placed somewhere you would be in danger or be extremely unhappy.” Hm, that wouldn’t be enough. He could already see the disbelief, and not the good kind, on their faces. He wasn’t giving them any sort of condition, which made this a gift and not a deal. Gifts in Gotham were always wrapped with strings attached. “As such, for my own peace of mind, I would like to invite you two to stay with me as my guests—guests—for the next few weeks. This isn’t permanent, necessarily, but I would feel better if I could get you to into a safe place, maybe a school, where you could be safe and together.”
There, he’d established a sufficiently selfish yet altruistic reason for helping them. He could see Tim brightening, even though Jason didn’t look convinced.
“You could find us somewhere we can stay together?” Tim’s eyes sparkled with infectious hope.
Bruce found himself smiling. “Yes. I’m confident that there will be somewhere that will take both of you together.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wayne!” Tim cried without even stopping to ask Jason. “We accept!”
Jason looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Because he thought it was a good deal? Because he didn’t trust Bruce? Because he felt that if he contradicted Tim, he would be kicked out? Whatever the reason, he was not happy, and Bruce should address that. Getting honest answers out of the boy would likely be impossible as long as Tim was in the room, though.
“Good. Now, why don’t we get you something to eat?” Bruce suggested. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”
Tim nodded in obvious relief and slid off his chair immediately, then looked sheepish when Bruce and Jason stayed seated. Tim shuffled uncomfortably and started to sit again.
Bruce gave him a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you go find Alfred and tell him what you boys like and whether you have any allergies or sensitivities? I’d like to talk to your brother for a minute.”
Tim hesitated, glancing first from Jason then to Bruce then back. “Are you okay with that, Jay? I don’t want to leave you alone with…”
Jason didn’t like to be left alone? Was that anxiety about strangers, anxiety about adults, or anxiety about adult men specifically? He’d need to watch that.
Jason didn’t break eye contact with Bruce, but he nodded. “I’m fine. Go tell him about your allergies before he cooks something that kills you.”
Tim didn’t move for another few seconds, then he slowly, slowly peeled himself away from Jason and shuffled out of the room. He clearly didn’t want to go, but Bruce could tell that he and Jason very much needed a talk.
How to start, though? Being too firm and direct might make the boy more defensive or anxious if he was frightened around strange adults, but forcing Jason to be the one to initiate the conversation seemed cruel.
“I—” Bruce started.
“You can do whatever you want to me, but if you touch Tim, I’ll kill you,” Jason snapped.
Bruce blinked in surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”
Jason took a deep, shuddering breath, still glaring at Bruce, but his trembling fingers were in white-knuckled fists. Despite his obvious fear, his eyes glittered with righteous fury.
“You’re not allowed to touch Tim,” Jason snarled viciously. “I don’t care what happens, I don’t care what he does, you don’t touch him, and you don’t starve him either. I’ll take his punishments, you can beat me or starve me or fuck me, but he’s a kid, he’s a fucking baby, and if you hurt him, I’ll kill you. My dad worked for Two-Face, and I can find him, and I’ll tell him who you are!”
Oh…
Bruce had misjudged this boy. No boy who was only trying to keep his cash cow would be so desperate to protect the other boy.
Bruce softened and deliberately relaxed his body to be as nonthreatening as possible. “That won’t be necessary, son. I would never hurt a child. That isn’t why I wanted to speak to you.”
Jason snatched a coaster off the side table next to him and hurled it directly at Bruce’s head. Bruce swatted it away, but Jason had good aim. If Bruce were willing to take another Robin, Jason really would have been a wonderful selection.
“You’re lying!” Jason grabbed the tissue box this time and gestured angrily with it. “Everyone knows you were fucking Robin!”
Bruce’s eyes widened. “Everyone…what? No, Robin—Dick is my son, I would never—”
“If you loved him, you’d put him in pants you fucking pedo!” Jason screeched, throwing the tissue box at Bruce.
Bruce let the box hit him and bounce off his shoulder for the sake of Jason’s catharsis. “Dick is an acrobat. He designed his own costume for what works for his fighting style. I never touched him sexually in any way and I never took his food or hurt him. I never would. He’s a son to me.”
“I don’t believe you! All you rich people are the same! You get money, and then you—and then you—” Jason’s eyes filled suddenly, and he slumped back into the couch cushion like it would swallow him whole. His bony shoulders shook, and sniffled miserably. “J—just leave him alone. He’s little, he’s good, you can’t take that from him.”
“Jason…” Bruce trailed off, unsure of what could possibly make the boy feel safer. “I’m not going to hurt you or your brother. I could…I could call my son, have him come talk to you. He’ll tell you that I never hurt him, I promise. In the meantime, if you feel unsafe here, I will do my best to find a new place for you two to stay as soon as possible. Is that okay?”
Jason didn’t respond for a long time, long enough that Bruce was starting to worry. He clearly wasn’t much help to the boy like this, so he stood, slowly as to not scare the boy more than he already was.
Even still, Jason flinched like he expected to be hit. Which, apparently, he did. Hit and worse, all to protect the naïve little child who had taken him in and thought Batman could help them.
“I’m going to go get Tim, okay?” Bruce said gently. “I’m just going to send him back up here. I won’t even touch him.”
Jason was still for several moments, then shrugged one shoulder.
“Okay,” Bruce said. “Everything’s okay, Jason.”
Everything’s okay, Jason.
The words played through Jason’s head again and again as he lay in the huge bed in the huge room in the huge house of the huge stranger.
Tim’s house had always been too big, too sterile, but they spent most their time in the den or the kitchen or Tim’s bedroom, and at least those places felt lived in. The bedroom the old guy had led them to after feeding them, though he hated to admit, the best dinner he’d ever had, was not lived in at all. It was fit for a king or queen to come visit, not for two boys hiding from Social Services.
Jason closed his eyes and wriggled across the bed till he could reach Tim’s limp form. Of course Tim wouldn’t have any problem falling asleep in a stranger’s house. The stranger was Batman, after all, and none of the very legitimate worries Jason had brought up would sway Tim from the wholehearted belief that Batman was the knight in shining batsuit who would save them and keep them together until Jack Drake woke up again and left Tim to his own devices again.
Jason carefully slid one arm under Tim’s waist and wrapped the other around his ribs. He held tight, half for his own comfort, half so no one would be able to steal Tim away in the night without Jason noticing.
His sweet, naïve little brother was the best thing that ever happened to him, and without that naivety, Jason would definitely be dead, but still, Jason couldn’t help but worry for both of them.
Bruce had gotten Dick on the phone just before Alfred had ladled soup into their bowls, and Dick had vehemently argued that even though Bruce was “a paranoid stick in the mud” that he would “rather die than see a kid get hurt.” Jason still wasn’t sure he believed it, but Dick said that he would come by in a few days so they could talk in person.
Jason pressed his face into the top of Tim’s head, breathing in the safe scent of the shampoo he had picked out to stop Tim from using bar soap to clean his hair. It didn’t smell like much, just the second-to-cheapest soap he could find—because Tim said that he wouldn’t pay for anything that was the cheapest option because they had money and because Tim didn’t understand how spending money meant you didn’t have money later.
Like now.
Jason still had a lot of money saved up. As soon as shit started going down with Tim’s parents, Jason had used their ATM card to withdraw as much cash as he could in addition to cashing their monthly allowance. They had enough for at least a few months rent, longer if they didn’t want food and didn’t mind rats.
Tim was so small like this, though. He was tiny and cute, like a little baby, and he was warm and alive in the way no one else who’d ever loved him was, and he was the most innocent, kind person Jason had ever met. He didn’t want Tim to have to grow up like him, pinching pennies and stealing bleach from people at the laundromat so he could scrub black mold off the walls of his apartment. Tim had no street smarts, too. He’d be kidnapped and sold off immediately, and even if he wasn’t, Tim shouldn’t have to learn to be constantly afraid. Tim deserved to be safe, and even if Jason didn’t, if Jason wasn’t safe, then Tim wouldn’t be either.
If Bruce, Dick, and Alfred weren’t lying, then this place would be safe, and Tim would love having other people around to notice him. Jason loved his brother, but little kids needed lots of attention, and it was hard to find time to read or spend time alone when Tim was running around making loud noises and getting into trouble to get Jason’s attention. It would be nice having adults around who could take care of Tim when he was sick, too. Tim got sick a lot, but Jason couldn’t take him to the hospital, or they both would have been given to CPP, and that would be worse than dying. It would also be nice to…
Jason really loved Tim, but sometimes he wanted to be a kid instead of Tim’s mom and dad and brother all at the same time. If they were for real, that would be really nice. Even though he had Tim, sometimes Jason felt really, really alone.
Tim made a happy sleepy noise and tried to roll away, but Jason pulled him tightly. He doubted he’d get any sleep that night. Even though the food hadn't been drugged, there was no guarantee that Bruce wasn’t going to try to sneak into their room tonight and do whatever it was he’d do.
Just because he wanted Bruce to be telling the truth didn’t mean he was just giving in and believing. He’d be cautious and keep an eye on Tim and on Bruce to make sure, but maybe Batman really was that good. If he wasn’t, then Jason would take Tim, and they’d run away. They could steal some shit from around the mansion and pawn it off for some extra cash, then they’d disappear. They could run to Metropolis or Central City, where the superheroes were a bit nicer.
Jason spent several hours keeping watch before he finally fell asleep. He hadn't meant to, but he’d heard Bruce’s door shut a long time before, so it seemed like Bruce had turned in for the night, and he’d been so tired.
He woke up untouched, with Tim still sleeping in his arms. He blinked several times before he looked at the window where the soft morning light was streaming into their room. There was snow on the windowsill, but he was warm wrapped up in his blankets with his brother beside him.
Jason sighed and laid his head back down. He was still tired, and for the moment, safe. As he drifted back to sleep, the same feeling that had led him to accept Tim’s invitation of a forever sleepover swelled in his chest.
Hope. He’d been missing that for a while.