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It's sudden.
One minute, Jason is lazily making himself dinner, pre-patrol. He has time – a few hours before sundown – so he's taking it, using the quiet of the time between the chaos to prepare a perfectly layered lasagna.
Today is his slow day. The day of the week he's allocated to staying in his actual apartment instead of one of his safehouses. The one he spends on deep cleaning his living space, meal prep, and any maintenance of weapons or vehicles he isn't able to get to in the busy hours of the rest of his week.
He likes to make big and simple dishes like lasagna because people (Roy) tend to steal his leftovers without asking. Even with the extra, he'll sometimes still find the meals he prepped for the week gone, and he has to make do with the power bars he has stashed until he has the time to drop by a restaurant for a goddamn burger.
He's thought about poisoning a portion more than a few times. It would only be a little bit, not nearly enough to get past his own immunities, but enough to cause anyone unlucky enough to have a pretty severe upset stomach.
But then he remembers that Roy is a father and he decides the fantasy of making him second guess Jason's cooking will have to do.
The noodles are waiting to reach a boil while he preps the beef with fennel seeds and his own blend of Italian seasonings. He mixes it thoroughly, a generous layer of olive oil coating his hands to prevent the meat from sticking.
He likes the tactile aspect of cooking. Likes to feel the seeds and seasoning work its way into the beef with his fingertips – and yes, this is to avoid the mistake of undermixing and getting a mouthful of fennel, but he's not ashamed to admit he likes the way it feels in his hands.
Meal prep is the only time he really ever feels at peace.
Which is why he's not exactly sure what the fuck is currently happening.
"–so Nick Carraway is gay right? Or do you think he's bi? Imeanobviously he has feelings for Gatsby, that'sanobrainer. He kisses Myrtle's sister during the apartment party, but honestly I don'tthinkhereallywantedto, and he ends up next to Mr. McKee's bed where McKee is half naked and then it suddenly cuts to Nick being asleep at Pennsylvania station – Which, bytheway, nobody seems to talk about in their analysis. You'd think because Nick is an unreliable narrator, people would realize he left some details out of his diary orwhatever, but noone talksaboutit. And I really don't think he has feelings for Jordan, cause he never expresses much interest in her, only Gatsby and–"
The kid gets all of this out in the seconds it takes Jason to process what the fuck is happening and quickly turn to grab his pistol.
Which disappears from its spot on the shelf behind him.
"You know, it's kinda rude to reach for a weapon like that."
Jason frowns at the kid, who is now in his living room, the gun entirely disassembled on the surface of his coffee table.
"I did technically break in though, huh? Sorryaboutthat, Iwasjustexcitedtotalktoyouand–"
"Wait. Stop–” Jason interrupts and the kid stops mid-sentence by biting his lips together, “–What the fuck are you talking about?"
" The Great Gatsby! ” he exclaims, his hands slapping the kitchen island as he appears suddenly on the barstool directly across from him. “Duh! Were you not paying attention to a single word I said?"
And now that Jason’s brain has caught up, he realizes that the kid was just rambling about Fitzgerald–
"I was a little busy processing that you were even here in the first place."
The kid tilts his head at him and blinks his big golden eyes.
Jason gestures to the bowl with his oil soaked hands.
“Oh! You were busy! What are you making?” There’s a breeze as he seemingly surveys the contents on the island countertop and returns to his seat. “Nice! Ilovelasagna. Aunt Joan makes a really good one with lots of cheese, but Grandpa Barry has to eat a special version cause he has a sensitive stomach, whichissosad cause thecheeseissogood–”
“You’re one of Drake’s friends,” Jason interrupts, pointing at him and attempting to remember the kid's (teen’s? young adult’s?) name. “Beck or something.”
He stops rambling and, honest to god, pouts.
A pout that rivals Lian's, which is saying something because she's a fantastic pouter.
“It’s Bart.” He crosses his arms. “We’ve met before. More than once.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Though it’s less like they've met and more like they've been in the same vicinity a few times. “The speedster.”
“Mercury.”
“Sure, whatever,” Jason dismisses. “Listen, Brent. I’m fucking busy, so if you would kindly scram before I find a way to put a bullet through your foot–”
Jason isn’t sure, but he thinks he sees the kid flinch.
“NO! No, wait! I’ve read so many classics and noonewants to talk about them with me! Barry only reads science journals and Wally is being an idiot asshole right now plus I honestly think he’s never had an intelligent conversation about a book inhislife and Tim said he only read the sparknotes when he was assigned anything and half-assed his papers and that literature was more your thing so please– please talk with me about these books cause Iamgoingtolosemymind–”
Jason is startled out of the rant when the water for the lasagna noodles starts to boil over.
“Shit– do not move. ” He quickly wipes his hands with a towel, turns around to lift the pot from the burner, and turns the heat down. He waits a moment to place the pot back down and let it resume boiling, and grips the counter with a sigh.
He turns around and Bart is waiting as patiently as Jason thinks might be possible.
“Sorry.”
At least he has the decency to look a little ashamed.
Jason considers him for a moment – considers his rambling and his reason as to why the fuck he’s here in Jason’s apartment, which by the way–
“How did you find me?”
Bart blinks.
“Easy,” he says. “This apartment had the most complicated security system in The Bowery.”
“Huh.”
So there’s a speedster in his kitchen, who’s so desperate to talk literature that he checked individual apartments’ security systems until he found one that would be bat level.
Interesting.
“I think Carraway is gay." Jason oils up his hands again to finish mixing. “And you’re right about the apartment party scene. No one talks about how abruptly that scene changes, only about the party itself. Nick seems to only kiss Myrtle's sister because she initiates it, but he still ends up next to a bed with another half naked man? That’s homoerotic subtext if I’ve ever seen it.”
Bart's eyes sparkle.
“Yes! You understand! I mean, people seem to pick up on Nick being attracted to Gatsby easily enough, but it’s so weird how many people don’t see it at all, even with a scene like that.”
“Well, people can be pretty blind to blatant queer themes in literature.” Jason finishes mixing the meat and quickly washes his hands. He takes a second to sanitize anything he touched when he hastily pulled the pot off of the stove, and then turns on the burner for his large pan.
“That’s dumb,” Bart replies simply and Jason almost chuckles. “Nick is so obviously obsessed with Gatsby I almost get second-hand embarrassment for him.”
“His devotion to a man who will never love him or his awkward attempts to fit into Gatsby’s life despite absolutely not belonging there?”
Jason places the lid over the pan of beef, noting the time. He turns to look at the kid when he gets no response, expecting him to look a little embarrassed.
The unreal gold of his eyes are set on Jason, as if considering something.
“Both.”
The answer is sure. It settles something in Jason’s chest, though he isn't sure exactly what.
“What else have you read?”
Jason finishes layering his lasagna and places it in the oven while keeping a steady and extremely interesting conversation going about Dracula. Apparently, Bart picked up the book and read it in one sitting (which yeah, he’s a speedster, but that’s a pretty long book and Jason knows what ADHD looks like), and it sent him into the intense spiral that is classic literature. From there, he jumped around from Wuthering Heights to Fahrenheit 451 , to The Count of Monte Cristo , to The Great Gatsby (which he had just finished and suddenly found himself needing to discuss with someone.)
“I’ve never read The Count of Monte Cristo , actually,” Jason says as he wipes down the island. “I’ve been meaning to, but I want to read the unabridged version and that thing is massive.”
“There’s an abridged version? Cause the one I read was HUGE, but it was so good. I can’t imagine what someone would cut from it.”
Jason blinks at him.
“That book is over four hundred thousand words.”
“464,162 to be exact. How long is the abridged?”
Jason thinks for a moment. “I think it’s under two hundred–”
“ What!? Over half of the book!? That’s not even the same book anymore!”
That’s exactly what Jason thought when he first saw the abridged. It’s why he hasn’t read it yet.
The kitchen timer goes off and Jason pulls the lasagna out of the oven. He sets the novelty egg timer (Roy) for thirty-ish minutes while Bart is ranting about how someone could possibly want to read only half of Monte Cristo .
Jason notices that Bart is avoiding talking about anything that could be a spoiler, stopping mid-sentence to redirect himself to a more general statement about how the length of the novel is inherently important to its themes.
He appreciates that.
"Let's be honest, the abridged version was made for people like Drake." Jason leans against the counter. "Can you imagine him sitting down and reading the unabridged version?"
Bart scoffs and mumbles, "I can only imagine him reading the sparknotes."
Jason can't help but laugh, and Bart smiles like he accomplished something.
The timer goes off again and the lasagna seems to have set correctly.
“I have extra if you want any,” Jason says as he fixes up a generous portion for himself.
“Oh, uhm… If you’re sure?”
As if he hadn't already broken into his apartment.
“Yeah kid, I’m sure,” he says as he sits at his table. “Help yourself.”
Bart smiles and suddenly he’s sitting next to Jason with enough lasagna to rival him.
“Thanks.”
They eat and talk more about the books Bart has read already. He has some interesting interpretations of Wuthering Heights that keeps them talking until their food is done and the room begins to turn orange in the afternoon glow.
“Alright kid, let's wrap this up.” Jason stands and begins gathering his armor for patrol. “I’ve gotta be out on the streets by sundown.”
Bart’s eyes go a bit wide as he looks over to the window.
“Oh."
He seems shocked, like he didn't realize how long it had been since he first showed up.
Something about it makes Jason blurt–
“Have you read any Jane Austen?”
Bart looks back to him.
“Uh, no. Not yet.”
“Read some of her stuff next. Pride and Prejudice is my favorite, and honestly the best to start with, but you can’t go wrong with Emma or Sense and Sensibility. ”
Bart is just looking at him, and Jason’s about to snap at him (because he really does need to get ready for patrol) when he grins.
He beams actually, sunshine basically radiating off of him. Jason almost squints, as if that would do anything.
“Okay. And you should read Monte Cristo .”
Jason shouldn’t encourage this. Shouldn’t give the kid any reason to make this a regular thing–
“Sure thing.”
“Awesome! Okay then, I’ll get going! See you, Jason!”
He’s not sure if he blinks – and he’s not sure if it matters if he did – but one second Bart is there, and the next he finds himself alone.
He thinks about finding Tim and yelling at him for sending Bart his way, but he’s not really upset about it at all. It’s rare he gets to talk about anything unrelated to vigilantism, let alone literature.
He’s not even sure when the last conversation he had about a book was. Roy groans whenever Jason brings up Austen, Kori prefers movies, Artemis has no interest in fiction, and he'll read a story to Lian or Bizarro, but neither of them care much for literary analysis (though Jason's determined to make Lian a literature nerd, if only to annoy the hell out of her dad).
He finds himself excited to hear what Bart has to say about Austen, and to read Monte Cristo. Especially now that he's guaranteed to have an intelligent conversation about it.
Which, yeah, he’ll be honest, he did not expect that. Impulse always came across as loud and airheaded. Someone who would really test Jason’s patience, even compared to other speedsters.
He never would have thought he could sit and have a really good conversation for a few hours with him. He’s never seen a speedster sit still for that long.
He definitely wouldn’t have thought he’d want to do it again.
His phone is buzzing where he left it on the counter.
Unknown Number: hey!
Unknown Number: the library is closed right now but ill pick up austen tomorrow!
Unknown Number: do you have a copy of monte cristo? do you wanna borrow mine? i can drop it off right now if you need it?
Unknown Number: this is bart
Jason shakes his head.
Me: How did you get this number?
Unknown Number: i used your phone to call mine before i left
Jason laughs into the empty silence of his apartment.
Me: I have a copy.
Unknown Number: Okay!
Unknown Number: Good luck on patrol! :)
Jason glances at his coffee table.
The kid not only disassembled Jason's pistol, but he did it perfectly . Every piece is laid out methodically and almost similar to the way he organizes them for maintenance and cleaning.
He adds Bart’s number to his contacts–
Me: Thanks.
–and he puts his phone on silent.
It becomes quickly apparent that Bart never shuts up.
For an entire week. In texts or in person. Near constant .
This should be annoying– hell, Jason should be grinding his teeth and fighting off a migraine.
"–cause Darcy pissed me off so much in the beginning, like I'm honestly shocked my opinion of him changed at all, let alone Elizabeth's–"
But Jason is sitting quietly, nodding on occasion, listening to Bart talk a mile a minute and watching him gesture wildly, and Jason…
Jason's not uncomfortable at all.
He wonders if it's because of the subject. Maybe if Bart were talking about cartoons or sports, he'd find himself scowling.
"–but that's the interesting thing about them, isn't it? I mean who would want to read a romance where everything goes perfectly from the second it starts? Not me. Love is complicated in real life, so it should be complicated in fiction–"
Jason doesn't think he could scowl when it comes to Austen.
"–why is Pride and Prejudice your favorite?"
Jason blinks.
"Huh?"
"You said when you recommended Austen that Pride and Prejudice was your favorite of hers. Why is that?"
"Would you believe it's because I enjoy romance?"
Bart tilts his head at him, considering.
"I would have said no a week ago–" he says, and isn't that a sentence Jason relates to, "–but I believe it."
There's a silence that washes over Jason's living room. It doesn't last long, but it's noticeable enough.
"What's your favorite book?" Bart asks.
" Pride and Prejudice. "
Bart smiles.
"It's a good favorite! It's definitely up there for me too."
"What's yours then?"
"Of the classics so far? Or fiction in general? Or should I include non-fiction?"
"I thought you said you had only read so many?"
Bart shakes his head.
"Just of the classics." He smiles. "I've read a ton of books, but I used to only really read non-fiction."
Huh.
Sometimes, when faced with a good liar, it can take a minute for Jason to pick up on a lie, let alone identify what part of it is false.
Bart, Jason believes, is an excellent liar.
"Your favorite fiction, then."
"The Martian."
That's true.
"Favorite classic?"
" The Great Gatsby ."
Also true.
"Have you read any other Fitzgerald novels?"
"Not yet."
Lie.
" The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is pretty interesting," Jason says.
Bart makes a face at that. It's a micro expression really, but Jason is paying attention.
"I'm jealous," Jason admits.
The expression shifts.
"Why?"
"Being able to read so many novels in so little time," he shakes his head. "I make time to read, but it would be nice if I could make it through War and Peace while sitting on the John."
Bart giggles.
"The speed-force doesn't exactly work like that.”
"You're telling me you read three Jane Austen novels in a week in real time?"
"No, I read them in the speed-force, but it only works because I have an eidetic memory.”
“Woah, okay wait–” Jason holds a hand up and raises an eyebrow. “You’re the only speedster that can read at super speed?”
Bart nods. “The others forget everything they’ve read almost immediately.”
"Flash, eat your heart out.”
There’s a smile of Bart’s that’s brighter than the others, wider, and Jason finds himself fascinated with the way his golden eyes flicker.
"So Mercury, huh?"
"Yeah," Bart tucks his knees to his chest and leans his smiling face to rest on top. "It's a mythology reference, but I'm sure you knew that."
Jason nods. "Roman equivalent of Hermes."
"Yep."
"Didn't want to be Flash III?"
"Flash IV, actually." Something sad settles in his eyes. "Nah, I was Flash for a little while, but it's not really mine to inherit anyway."
There's really no reason for Jason to ask–
"Why's that?"
"Flash wasn't really ever my mentor," he answers. "Wally was a huge prick and didn't really like me very much when I first got here. I tried not to spend too much time around him."
"I don't know what you mean. West is definitely still a prick."
Bart laughs loudly (though Jason would more accurately refer to it as screaming or maybe howling). His eyes are watering, closed tightly in mirth, and his arms are wrapped around his torso. His legs kick in and out, as if he can't keep them still.
Jason thinks he himself is smirking, but if Bart was able to look up and see him, he'd see something much softer in that smile.
"I think you're lucky he didn't try to step up," Jason adds. "West would be a horrible teacher. Besides, you're obviously above his level."
Bart smiles at him a bit incredulously.
"He's faster than me."
"It doesn't matter how fast he is. If he can't even process a magazine, then his speed is useless."
"No one's ever said that to me." He tucks himself back up, hugging his knees. "Thanks, Jason."
There's another small moment of silence.
"So who did teach you?"
"Oh man," Bart unfolds again, only to cross his legs underneath him–
"Let me tell you about Max Mercury."
Jason's phone pings.
Again.
And then another two times.
"Someone's popular."
Roy leans over the center console to inspect and Jason quickly maneuvers his phone away before he can get a look at it.
"Who are you texting?"
"None of your fucking business–"
"Oohh!" Jason doesn't need to look up to know what face Roy is making. "Is it a boyyyyy?"
Jason gives him a scowl before returning his attention to his conversation.
Brat: every time they switched back to the familys story i felt like i was dying inside
Brat: seriously like I know its about the great depression but does it have to be so…
Me: Depressing?
Brat: well when you say it like that
"Holy shit."
Jason looks up and finds Roy staring at him.
"What?" He snaps.
"It is a boy," Roy says, a smile growing on his face.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
His phone pings again.
"You're smiling."
"I'm absolutely not."
It pings again.
"You were ! You were smiling at your phone like a lovesick school girl!"
"Shut the hell up, Roy. I saw something funny and I laughed–"
"–But you didn't see your face, Jay!"
And again.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You had the face ! The one that's like–" Ping . "Jesus, this guy is a serious serial texter–"
Jason debates putting his phone on silent for the rest of the evening, but he doesn't look at his phone that often, and when he sets it down on silent he's not likely to check it for at least a few hours.
Besides, it's not like this stakeout is going to be over anytime soon.
And he's having a good conversation.
Brat: but it really is depressing
Brat: like i know why they switch back and forth
Brat: and its interesting to see the pov from an individual family
Brat: and yeah the other chapters wouldn't be as good without the familys chapters
"The only people I know that text like that are speedsters."
Ping.
Brat: but i still hated reading them
"Oh god… is it–"
"It's not West." Jason growls.
"Well it's not a bat cause you wouldn't be answering, much less smiling," Roy says. "Unless you got over your brother complex–"
"Please stop talking–"
"–And it's not one of the Outlaws cause the only one of us who texts like that is Kori and the last time I checked you were–"
Roy does the limp wrist thing and Jason is tempted to break it.
"You're not seeing a civilian, are you?"
"What– no, Roy. I'm not seeing anyone –"
Ping.
Brat: but thats the point I guess
"Which means you're definitely into someone. Is he cute?"
Ping.
Brat: steinbeck doesnt want his readers to be comfortable or have a good time
"He's–"
Ping.
Brat: he wants them to feel uncomfortable cause thats how the family feels
"He's what, Jason?"
Ping. Ping.
Brat: huh
Brat: maybe i did like the grapes of wrath
It's just as sudden as the night he showed up demanding a conversation.
"Yeah," Jason relents. "Yeah, he's cute."
Roy smiles at him and playfully punches him in the shoulder. He's saying something (stupid and unhelpful, most likely), but Jason can't really hear him.
Ping.
Brat: where are you in monte cristo?
Jason is so fucked.
"Where's my baby girl?" Roy yells out into the apartment as they enter.
"Daddy!"
Itty bitty Lian rushes out from her own room and jumps up into her father's arms.
Jason normally doesn't come straight back to Roy's after working with him, but they were out all damn night and the stakeout was a complete dud. Getting back to Gotham would have taken an extra three hours from where they were, and it's already 11am.
Nothing sounds more heavenly than a hot shower and Roy's couch right about now.
"Hey, girlie!" Roy gives her a big hug and sets her back down. "You were good for Uncle Bart while I was gone right?"
Wait–
The next time Jason blinks, Bart is right there.
What?
"She was great! An angel like always."
"Yeah, maybe for you ," Roy rolls his eyes. "Thanks for watching her this long."
"It's no trouble. I'm happy to watch her." Bart and Lian share a conspiratorial grin before he turns his attention back to Roy. "How was the stakeout?"
"Completely useless. The guy didn't even show up–"
"Daddy, come look at the house we're building!"
"Okay, sugar," Roy lets his daughter drag him down the hallway. "Jay, feel free to take the first shower!"
"Thanks, Roy," Jason replies, voice maybe not loud enough to travel that far.
Bart finally turns his golden eyes on Jason–
–and fuck, last night's realization paired with no sleep makes it hard to process the full force of his attention.
"You look exhausted."
"Yeah."
Bart tilts his head at him the way he always does and Jason stops breathing.
"You good?"
Jason takes a breath and shakes his head, trying to be awake enough to actually respond instead of staring like a fucking creep.
"Yeah," he repeats. "Sorry, it's been a long night."
"Yeah, no shit." He feels Bart watching him as he sets down his helmet and starts stripping his gear. "You should get that shower before Roy decides he'll steal the first one anyway."
"How do you know him?"
Jason blames his lack of sleep for the way that question slips out.
"Roy?" Bart asks, and Jason turns to look at him. Bart blinks those big eyes at him a few times before answering, "We were on the Titans together."
Jason's confusion must be clearly visible because Bart clarifies–
"It was years ago. Before Young Justice."
Before Roy's addiction, remains unspoken. Bart was on the Titans in that brief moment when Roy was leading them.
"Huh."
And suddenly Jason is painfully aware that Bart is roughly only three years younger than him.
"You good Jay?" Roy peeks his head around the doorway, Lian popping out just like him, but from a few feet lower.
"Uh huh." He nods, and tosses his jacket on the counter over his gear. "I'm gonna take that shower now."
"Don't use all the hot water," Roy says, the hypocrite. "Hey Bart, you wanna stay for lunch?"
"I should really get going, thanks though!" Bart replies as Jason makes his way to the bathroom.
"Wait, let me grab your cash first."
"Okay. I'll see you later Jason!"
"Yeah. See ya."
Jason shuts the bathroom door.
Jason spent most of the stakeout last night trying to convince himself that he was not developing a crush on Bart Allen.
There are a lot of reasons he can't.
Bart is a hero. Jason hardly knows him all that well. He's one of Tim's best friends and the fact that they're hanging out regularly is already weird enough. He's too young–
–but he isn't.
Honestly, Bart is probably the most mature person Jason knows.
And he's smart, and funny, and kind, and his eyes are beautiful, and he likes Jane Austen, and his favorite classic is The Great Gatsby –
–and, oh my god, Bart is queer.
Jason had come to that conclusion the moment he barged into his apartment and started asking if he thought Carraway was a homosexual or not.
It just… didn't really matter until now.
So Bart is queer, around his age, likes literature, and–
No. No, this was supposed to be reasons Jason can't date Bart.
He's Tim's best friend.
Jason and Tim are on fine terms now, but that doesn't mean everything has been forgiven.
It doesn't mean the Titans forgot what happened in that tower.
Hell, Superboy still hates his fucking guts for it.
But Bart doesn't.
He should. But he doesn't.
Jason steps out of the shower and dries off the best he can, wrapping the towel around his waist and making his way into Roy's room for some clothes.
He's got a pair of sweats on before Roy makes his way in.
And he's got a bloody nose after.
"What the hell , Roy–"
"You stay the fuck away from him."
Jason looks up at his best friend, pressing the shirt he was going to borrow up to his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
"I mean it, you bastard. He's off limits."
"Don't you think I fucking know that?"
"I don't think you do," Roy hisses. "Cause you were texting him all fuckin' night with that stupid grin on your face. He's just a fuckin' kid–"
"–Okay now, hold the fuck on." Jason cuts him off. "Remember, I'm like three years younger than you. Also, if you think Bart is just a kid, you really need to sit and have a conversation with him sometime–"
"You know what I mean, asshole."
"Do I?" Jason pushes. "You know Drake just turned twenty-three?"
There's a moment of realization that flickers through Roy's face.
"He did?"
He sounds surprised.
"Do you know how old Bart is?"
"Jay, I don't think Bart knows how old he is." He presses his palms to his eyes. "He's always aged weird, and he's from the future–"
Roy turns to the side and punches a hole in his wall.
The room would be dead silent if it weren't for the sound of cartoons drifting in from the living room.
"It can't have been that long," Roy says softly. " Fuck, he was around twelve or thirteen when he joined the Titans, and Lian is already seven– how the fuck did I miss that?"
"Roy–"
"He just started coming around again. Maybe six months ago. He’s still so small. I didn’t think it had been–" His eyes are locked on the broken plaster. "I was all he had, Jason. He was just a fucking kid, and I abandoned him. I–”
Light reflects off of the unshed tears.
“I failed him.”
“I don’t think you did.”
Roy’s eyes meet Jason’s, watery and glistening.
“I mean, have you seen him? He grew up fine.”
“Yeah.” Roy sniffs and wipes his face with his sleeve. “Yeah, I noticed you felt that way.”
“Look, Roy–”
“Shut it,” he snaps. “This changes absolutely nothing. You need to back the hell off.”
“Bart is just a friend, okay!? We talk about books, that’s it!”
“Yeah, and that’s why you were making heart-eyes at your phone all night–”
“I had no idea I even felt that way until you pointed it out!” Jason throws his free hand into the air. “And I have no intention of doing anything about it! Does that make you happy!?”
Roy’s scowl drops.
“No. It doesn’t.”
“Well what the fuck do you want me to do–”
“I want you to be happy, Jay!” Roy yells. “God damn it, I want you both to be happy, but you gotta understand, he’s like a kid brother to me–”
“Then I’ll stay away–”
“No.” Roy charges over and presses a finger into Jason’s chest. “No, you’ll be good to him. You’ll keep talking about books and texting each other every day and making goo-goo eyes at each other and you will do your absolute best not to break his heart. Do you understand?”
Before Jason can reply, a little voice comes through a crack in the door.
“Why are you guys fighting?”
Roy sighs and crouches down. The door opens a little bit more.
“Jay and I are just tired, pumpkin. You know how you can get cranky without your nap? Adults get that way too. We’ll be okay after some sleep, right Jay?”
Lian turns her big brown eyes up to Jason.
“Right.”
They’re both asleep on the couch twenty minutes later, Blue’s Clues as their white noise.
Now that he’s aware, it’s hard to ignore things.
Like how Bart’s nose is scattered with freckles. Or how nice his legs look when he wears shorts. Or how long and brown his eyelashes are, framing his sunlight eyes and making them shine impossibly brighter.
So he tries to do the thing that bats do best: compartmentalize.
He's been doing it for the last few weeks since that stupid stakeout. He likes to think he's great at it actually, keeping his feelings for Bart locked up all nice and tight and not letting it affect how he behaves or thinks around him.
His half-finished copy of The Count of Monte Cristo begs to differ.
“You’re only halfway?”
It's a good thing he's an expert liar.
“I’ve been spending most of my free time sleeping recently.”
Bart smiles at him and Jason lies.
He has to lie so much. He lies when Bart laughs and when he talks about symbolism and when he stretches out on his couch like a fucking tabby cat–
“That’s good! I know that last case you and Roy were working on was really rough on both of you,” Bart says. “Poor Lian acted like you were getting a divorce or something–”
“–Roy and I aren’t together,” Jason blurts.
Bart blinks at him a few times before bursting into laughter.
“Roy said that almost the exact same way when I told him,” he snickers. “Are you sure you’re not soulmates?”
“Platonic, maybe,” Jason rolls his eyes. “I don’t really believe in any of that though.”
“Yeah, me neither.” Bart shakes his head and looks distantly at nothing. “Besides, I think time travel probably would have messed that up for me anyway.”
And fuck, wouldn’t it be romantic to tell him it didn’t–
“Lian was that upset?”
“Hmm?” Bart snaps out of his distraction. “Oh! No, I was just joking. She was definitely worried about both of you, but she said something like, ‘Daddy and Uncle Jay just need more naps so they don’t get cranky.’”
Jason chuckles. “She’s a cute kid.”
Bart nods.
“I love watching her. It makes me happy that Roy trusts me with her like that, even though I kinda just showed up a while ago.”
He looks down at his hands, where he’s fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt.
“I feel a little guilty,” he says after a while. “I could have checked in at any time in the last seven years, but I didn’t. When Roy… left the Titans, I wanted to go look for him, but Barry and Jay said I wasn’t allowed. They were worried he’d be a bad influence on me, which is honestly such bullshit ‘cause Roy was a million times nicer and a better role model than Wally ever was…”
He sighs.
“Now I’m ‘Uncle Bart’ and I didn’t even have to work for it.”
“If it helps, Roy doesn’t blame you for that.”
“Yeah? Maybe he should.”
Jason shakes his head.
“Nope.”
Bart looks up at him.
“Sounds more like your family’s issue than yours," Jason says. "If anyone can understand that situation, it’s Roy.”
“And you, apparently.”
It’s definitely a dig, but Jason’s used to assholes who aren’t happy when someone interrupts their self-flagellation.
“You try being The Bat's black sheep, then maybe you’ll rethink that attitude.”
Bart winces.
“Right. Sorry.”
Jason shrugs.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I definitely earned the title, and Roy earned his. You, on the other hand, haven’t done anything that could outcast you from your family–”
Jason admittedly doesn’t know very much about the speedster family. He hasn’t ever really gotten the chance to talk much with Barry, who he thinks could be tolerable, but he does find himself wanting to defenestrate Wally any time he ever finds himself in his vicinity. He knows Jay Garrick is a legend, and overall a pretty nice guy. The others he only really ever hears about in passing.
One thing he does know is that the speedsters are depicted as a sane and happy and perfect little family.
And that there is no such thing.
“–Seems pretty unfair to me.”
Bart is quiet for a second.
“How’d you know I was the outcast?”
Jason gestures around the room.
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
Bart’s brows furrow, and Jason actually thinks he likes this more than the smiles. It feels raw. It feels real.
“No one was happy when I said I was going to start going by ‘Mercury’.” He huffs. “Barry asked why I didn’t just go back to ‘Impulse’. It’s as if he forgot why I became ‘Kid Flash’ in the first place–”
Bart chokes a bit on that, and Jason thinks it’s a story for another time.
“You said Max Mercury was well respected.”
“Yeah, and apparently untouchable.” Bart clenches his jaw. “Jay and Barry looked like I killed a puppy when I suggested it. Wally fucking laughed! It’s like they forgot I knew Max– I knew him better than any of them! He taught me everything and when he joined the speed-force–”
Bart’s lies drop entirely, and all that’s left is pain.
“... It felt like the most important part of me was just gone … I don’t know how they can’t understand that–”
The kitchen timer goes off.
Bart jumps, and Jason watches his lies settle back into their place.
Jason stands to remove the pan from the oven.
“Would now be a bad time for a brownie?”
Bart laughs, loud and bright and it’s just fake enough that Jason fucking hates it.
“There’s never a bad time for brownies.”
Stupid fucking Arkham.
Jason is so extremely tempted to take the opportunity to take out some of the worst rogues, just like every time there’s a breakout. It happens far too often and there are way too many casualties to justify keeping some of these bastards alive.
Especially Crane.
He’s almost always assigned Crane. His helmet and its filters make him the least likely to end up gassed.
Which is a fucking lie because all of the bats have rebreathers that are just as effective, but Jason has never wanted to argue it before (mostly because there’s no reason to, but there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to hear the others say that he’s the one they wouldn’t really mind getting gassed).
Crane is always the type to go into hiding quickly after a breakout, using the chaos of the others to effectively disappear into some hole until he’s ready to attempt to poison the water supply (again), but Jason’s hot on the fucker’s trail and he has no intention of letting him get the opportunity.
His bike tears through the streets, following the escape vehicle as close as possible without being within a range that would make him an easy target. Crane’s not likely to attempt an attack unless he gets desperate, instead having his goons focus on evasion and escape, so he’s keeping himself far enough away until he finds the best way to cut him off. He’s hoping Crane makes his way toward the Sprang Bridge, knowing there’s a shortcut he can take that should land him right in front of–
“Hood.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Kinda busy here, Red.”
“Heads up.”
There’s a second of silence before Jason replies, “You know, a ‘heads up’ usually contains details on what the fuck is about to happe–”
A loud 'BANG' rings out as the car ahead of him suddenly begins to serve out of control. Jason grips his breaks, skidding to a stop about a half a foot before a discrete spike strip.
“I fucking hate you.”
“Chatter.”
Bastard.
Jason hops off of his bike and barely gets to cover before he’s under fire.
He pulls and readies his handgun, pointing it to the ground and preparing to aim.
He’ll make sure they live, but he’s not gonna be nice about it.
Jason takes a quick scan of the area, looking for his supposed backup. There are no hidden squad cars, which was his first guess. All of the other bats are busy, or should be, considering he hasn’t heard any noise about any of the other rogues getting caught.
“You’re SOL, Crane!” He hollers over the body of the truck he’s braced behind. “Just give it up and I won't have to waste a bullet!"
The answering silence is all he needs to pop up over the bed of the truck and–
"Sorry for stealing your catch, Hood."
"Mercury." Jason lowers his weapon, eyes locked on the speedster in front of him.
He looks more incredible than Jason ever pictured in his new uniform. All lean muscle, packed densely under the blue and white frictionless material.
He's especially stunning with the three goons plus Crane restrained at his feet.
"I see Red called in the cavalry."
Bart shrugs.
"Rob's been pissed at Batman recently, so he called for assistance." He gently kicks one of the goons in the leg, who doesn't flinch. "These guys are all out cold. Mind putting the gun away?"
His voice is just slightly off.
"You got gassed," Jason says as he holsters his pistol. There's a tightness in his gut that he's trying to shove away. His fears aren't important right now.
"Yeah, but not much." Bart shrugs again as Jason approaches. He can see his shoulders shaking. "It's fine, it should be out of my system in a few minutes."
"Doesn't mean you have to suffer through it." Jason pulls the antidote he has on him from its pouch. "Should be the same variant he had last time–"
"I don't need it."
His voice is impossibly quiet.
"What do you need then?"
Bart seems surprised by this question, eyes flickering back and forth as if he's confused or maybe trying to figure out if it's a joke.
"I need–" He takes a deep, shaky breath. "I need you to put your gun away."
Jason keeps his voice as steady as possible.
"My gun is put away."
"Okay." Bart nods the best he can, his eyes impossibly wide and his pupils the size of pins. "Okay. I believe you."
Jason wonders what it looks like.
He wonders if the Red Hood hallucination is holding his pistol between Mercury's eyes.
He wonders for the first time if Bart is actually afraid of him.
"Let me give you the antidote."
Bart shakes his head, eyes locked on Jason's hand.
"It will be over soon."
"For me," Jason says. "For you, it's an eternity. Let me help."
The golden eyes dart from Jason's hand to his face and back again.
And he nods, impossibly slow.
Jason doesn't approach slowly. Bart has already been suffering too long.
Caution is wasted on someone who lives in slow-motion.
He flinches as Jason deftly stabs the needle into his thigh.
And then he collapses into Jason's arms.
"You okay?"
"Tired," Bart says quietly.
Jason adjusts Bart into one arm and grabs the powerbar he has stashed on him, tearing into it with his teeth.
"Eat this," he offers. "It'll hold you over until you can get something more substantial."
Bart nods and takes a bite while Jason holds the bar steady for him.
After a moment, Bart steadies himself and takes the rest of the snack from Jason's hand.
"Thanks, Jason," he smiles.
Jason takes a relieved breath and taps on his comm.
"Mercury and I have Crane."
"Good work," Batman growls, obviously pissed but setting it aside for the sake of the breakout. "Anyone require backup?"
"Could use a little help with Croc under Robbinsvile!" Spoiler yells.
"On my way." Jason taps his comm again and looks over at Bart, who seems to have recovered quick enough if the exaggerated stretching is any indication. "You okay to go kick some mutant ass in a sewer?"
Bart is all smiles.
"Try and keep up."
Killer Croc is easy enough (though significantly harder since Jason refuses to pull his guns out). Spoiler and Black Bat keep him sufficiently distracted while Red Hood and Mercury place traps.
Enough sedatives to down an elephant, and the four of them split off to help the others take down the rest.
It goes extremely well, for once. Not many inmates actually escaped this time, and they have everyone down and accounted for in a matter of hours.
Red Hood and Mercury work together the whole time.
Bart is all quips and laughter, playing up his reputation of carefree and joyful and fun–
–but Jason is watching.
He sees the efficiency. The ruthlessness. He sees it in the aftermath of his actions, despite being unable to see his movements. He sees it in well placed traps and perfectly timed attacks and zip-ties that are just on the edge of too tight–
–just to make things a little uncomfortable.
He sees it in the way Bart disarms his opponents. The way he leaves more bruises on the goons who pull firearms. He sees it in the way those weapons are carefully disassembled and placed on the ground.
He sees it in the way the pieces are laid out haphazardly on purpose, as if to create the illusion of carelessness.
He sees it in the way he responds to his teammates, giggling at reprimands from Tim he doesn't really deserve. Reprimands that if Tim were paying attention, aren't necessary at all.
Jason sees Bart, and he's beginning to think he's the only one who does.
Red Hood, Mercury, Superboy, and Red Robin are outside the warehouse the Riddler tried to escape to when they get the all clear.
"B and Robin have the last of them," Tim relays to the others, though Jason has his own comm and he's sure Superboy can hear it just fine.
So really just to Bart then.
"We need to make our way back to the cave for debrief–"
"Man, really?" Superboy whines (and it is a whine). "I hate Bat debriefs."
"Seriously," Bart matches the energy. "Batman is going to take seven hours to debrief a five hour mission. I can barely handle your debriefs, Red."
Jason snorts.
"I'm already in hot water for just involving you both at all." Tim pinches the bridge of his nose, as if this little annoyance isn't his own fault for trying to be petty. "And debriefs are important. I'll ask Agent A to get something for you to munch on, KF."
"Who the fuck are you talking to, Red?"
Tim's head turns to Jason, almost as if he forgot he was there.
"Kid Fla–" Tim stops and redirects himself. "Impu– Mercury . Sorry."
"It's okay," Bart lies. "It's not that big of a deal–"
"–It is," Jason interrupts. "You're the one who's getting on everyone's ass about codenames, Red. Get your shit together."
Even behind the domino, Jason can see Tim raise his eyebrows at him. Bart is just staring.
"Right… Let’s get going.”
Tim starts making his way to the Redbird 3.0, Superboy hovering around him like a gnat. Tim looks like he’s about to smack him like he’s one.
"I feel like him sometimes."
Bart is speaking to Jason, but he's not looking at him.
"Who?"
Jason traces Bart's line of sight back to his teammates, the super laughing loudly at one of his own jokes. Tim has that constipated expression, which means he’s barely suppressing a smirk.
"Nick Carraway."
And Jason realizes a few things at once.
"Which one?" He asks casually.
Bart scoffs. It's a broken sound.
"Does it matter?"
It does. It matters.
Jason nudges him with an elbow.
“Wanna ditch debrief? I’ve got the ingredients to make a killer curry, and a lot of it.”
Bart doesn’t look away.
“Yeah,” he answers flatly. “Yeah, I think I do.”
Jason had just gone produce shopping before the breakout – scored some really spicy looking habanero peppers – and he restocked his spice cupboard recently.
So Jason is making a metric fuck-ton of yellow curry.
Bart so far has just been watching. Jason holds up a particularly beautiful habanero, raising an eyebrow in question. Bart gives him a little smile, and Jason begins to chop.
He’s only part-way when a blur of blue and white begins cutting the other ingredients next to him.
He leaves the peppers to the blur and begins preparing the meat.
They work in silence, Jason at the stove with a big-ass wok and Bart at the cutting board. The sound of chopping in super-speed is strange, but almost relaxing.
Jason can tell Bart is taking his time, otherwise he would have been done by now. Maybe he’s using the repetitive motions to meditate just like Jason does. He wonders what it’s like on the other side. What it’s like watching and listening to Jason cooking chicken in slow-motion.
When Bart places the last of the ingredients into the wok, he goes to sit on his stool at the island.
“You wanna talk about it?”
Jason isn’t sure what possesses him to ask. He doesn’t want to listen to Bart talk about it.
“Nothing to talk about,” Bart answers from behind him. Jason keeps his eyes on the curry. “He’s not interested in me and he never will be.”
Jason doesn’t want to be Nick, watching Gatsby stare out across the bay at the sickly green light.
“Everyone treats me like I’m still fourteen.” Bart’s voice is a bit muffled, and Jason can imagine how he’s laying his head on his arms. How his cheek is scrunching up to affect his voice the way it is. “It’s like they all grew up, but I didn’t. I’m not even an option, especially not to him, considering he literally never shuts up about–”
He cuts himself off and Jason still has no idea which one he’s referring to.
Who Bart’s Daisy is.
Maybe Bart is right. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
“Then he’s a fucking idiot.”
“What?”
“He’s an idiot,” Jason repeats. “They all are. Anyone who gives half a damn can see you’re not some dumb kid. Besides, I happen to know that Tim treats Damian, a seventeen year-old, with more respect than he gives you, and has for years. What it looks like to me is a bunch of shallow minded bullshit from shallow minded people who are too fucking scared to admit they know jack shit about someone they claim to care about. You’re one of the most competent heroes I’ve ever fucking worked with, and whether or not they see it is their own damn problem.”
He does not turn around to see Bart’s reaction.
“Thanks,” Bart says.
Jason stirs his curry.
The curry is fucking spicy. It’s the kind of curry Damian would kill for and Dick would politely decline. The kind of curry Tim says he can handle, before it makes him cry and sends him rushing to the bathroom within an hour.
It’s Jason’s favorite kind of curry because it’s full of flavor and makes him sweat. Because he can feel the burn of the peppers long after the meal is done. Because it’s fun to watch Roy avoid the leftovers like the plague, as if just touching the container holding it will set him on fire.
Because Bart fucking moans when he takes his first bite–
“Thish ish sho fuckin’ good, Jashon.”
It sends shivers down Jason’s spine, watching Bart enjoy his curry like that. Seeing Bart slow himself down and savor every bite. Watching his cheeks turn red because of the heat, highlighting the freckles across his face. Listening to him sniffle as the capsaicin does its work on his sinuses.
Seeing him so affected. Watching his body react.
Jason will watch, since he can’t touch.
But god… the drop of curry in the corner of his mouth.
He wonders how hot his curry would taste on Bart’s tongue–
There are no leftovers. Jason is okay with this.
“I needed that so bad.” Bart stretches out along Jason’s couch, placing a hand on his stomach. “That stupid toxin took a lot outta me.”
Jason’s blood runs cold despite the heat in his mouth and his gut. It freezes him for less than a second on his way down into his chair.
Bart’s eyes are on him. Of course he saw it.
“It wasn’t you.”
“What?”
“The fear gas,” Bart clarifies. “You weren’t the one holding the gun. It wasn’t you.”
Jason blinks a few times.
“Who was it?”
It’s as if the question is pulled out of him. He hates himself for it.
Bart is quiet, rolling his head to stare at Jason’s ceiling fan. Jason can almost see the movements of his eyes tracking the rotation.
“Deathstroke.”
Jason's jaw tightens.
“I thought you might not know.” Bart’s voice is soft. Quiet. “When you made that comment about shooting me in the foot, I thought it was weird. That if you were going to try and hurt me by bringing it up, you would have threatened my other knee.”
And yeah… he feels like a real fucking asshole for that one.
“Right before I became Kid Flash.” Bart bends his right leg up and taps on his knee. "It's a prosthetic now."
His voice is empty. Lifeless.
Wrong.
Jason's first instinct is to say 'sorry', as if that's ever been any fucking help to anyone who's ever experienced trauma in any capacity. It's empty and it's useless and he hates hearing it, so he refuses to say it.
His second is to ask Bart how the bastard even managed. He wants to interrogate; where it happened, what kind of weapon, who else was involved, why no one ever talks about it–
His third is to hunt Slade Wilson down. Grab a bag and a couple of his favorite toys and start tracking. Find him and follow him just long enough to make him paranoid. Corner him and do everything he can to make the fucker beg, knowing that he won't–
–and then destroy his knee before he goes.
It wouldn't do anything, but it would feel good.
Jason does none of these things.
Jason asks, “Does it still hurt?”
Bart looks over at him, surprised.
“All the time,” he whispers.
And then he chokes.
Jason watches silently as Bart cries on his couch. It’s something horrible and beautiful and he feels honored to be a witness to it.
He watches, and he desperately wishes he could touch.
Just to hold him. Just to comfort him.
When he looks back on it, he will not remember moving to the floor. He will not remember leaning his back against his couch, sitting with his knees up and his head tilted back.
He will remember the sound Bart makes when he realizes he's there.
Jason can hear the confusion in the cut off sob, Bart sniffling and hiccuping as he processes what Jason is doing.
He sits there and waits.
Bart shifts behind him, breathing slowly – in for four, out for four – with little hitches of sobs every few counts.
Jason feels his breath on the back of his head before he feels the hand on his shoulder.
He lifts his own and places it over the top, feeling the smooth, soft skin under his own rough calluses.
He imagines the freckles there.
Bart curls inward, pressing his forehead against the back of Jason's neck.
The stray hair brushing against his skin tickles, but Jason doesn't move. Bart's shuddering breaths are too harsh to give him the goosebumps that threaten to break along his skin.
Bart's breathing begins to even out. He sniffles and buries himself further into Jason.
They sit there and breathe together.
In for four. Out for four.
"What got you into reading?" Bart asks, almost in a whisper.
His breath is hot against Jason's skin.
And there's the goosebumps.
"Libraries are warm," Jason answers. "Good place to escape the rain or snow and stay dry when there's nowhere else to go. The books were an added bonus."
"Was there often nowhere else to go?"
"Not a lot of places appreciate loitering street rats."
Bart squeezes Jason's shoulder.
"I just realized I don't know a lot about you."
"Maybe you shouldn't."
There's a huff of a laugh.
"I'm not afraid of you," he says, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. "What's your favorite colour?"
Jason sighs and leans further back, letting his head rest on top of Bart's.
"Gold."
Jason gets out of town for a little bit after the breakout.
Considering all the rogues were rounded up before anything major happened, there really isn’t any damage control that needs to be done. In fact, the city is fairly quiet, as most sane people tend to stay inside after a major event like this.
Which means the bats are anxious and have a lot of time on their hands, and Jason would like to avoid them altogether.
He takes the opportunity to do some work outside of the city.
“The big boss’ office is somewhere around here.” Roy draws a big red circle on the building blueprints he managed to find. “The dude is old school. Keeps all his important junk in filing cabinets in his office.”
“Which is why you could hack their system for these blueprints, but not the shit we need.”
“Never said it was bad to be old school,” Roy teases. “I know you love your paper system, though I swear I can hear the ghosts of all those trees crying out ‘save us’ .”
And yeah, this is not the first time Jason has been hounded about his paper usage.
“Get to the point, asshole.”
“Right, well the stupid place is guarded pretty heavily, but after some stakeouts I’ve noticed the big boss man leaves a little after 2 am most nights.”
“His office’ll be empty?”
“Likely. No one else besides his wife and maybe his second in command have access.”
“Sounds like a quick and easy ‘get in, get out’ then.”
“Oh! That’s it!”
Jason is confused for only a moment when Roy pulls out his phone and starts typing.
“What makes you think he’s even available right now? We can handle this ourselves.”
“Pfft. Like you don’t wanna see him.”
That really has nothing to do with it.
“I’m just saying, he’s a Titan. Those fuckers are basically nonstop busy–”
“–Yeah, I can help out. What’s the job?”
Roy sends a shit eating grin Jasons way, and turns to address Bart.
“We need to get into this office and grab a few files from these human trafficking bastards.” Roy taps the spot on the blueprints he marked earlier. "Mainly info on buyers and other traffickers they’re working with. Jay and I could easily handle it alone, but if you want in–”
"No need to even ask, I'm down!"
"Fuck yes!" Roy claps him on the back. "Hell while we're at it, you should give him the recruitment speech, Jay!"
Jason raises an eyebrow and barely manages not to react when Bart looks right at him.
It's not like Jason hasn't thought about it. Bart would get along great with Kori and Bizarro, and Artemis would appreciate his quick thinking.
Plus, The Outlaws could use a speedster–
"Focus on the damn mission, Roy."
Roy blows a raspberry at him, making Bart laugh.
This is going to be a long night.
The mission goes off without a hitch.
Arsenal hacks the security system and the cameras. Mercury goes to get photos of the documents. Red Hood stands guard and stays ready to provide backup if needed.
Something that would have taken Roy and Jason around an hour and a half to two hours takes the three of them twenty minutes.
"Seriously, we should recruit him."
Jason agrees. Except–
"You know about his knee?"
"Hmm?" Roy knocks an arrow, aiming for the practice target in the tree of his backyard. There are arrows in the bullseye (or very close) of almost every target he has set up back here.
"The prosthetic."
The arrow ends up just to the left of center.
"Are we still talking about–"
"Yes."
Jason can almost see his blood pressure rising.
"How the fuck did he lose a knee?"
"Wilson," Jason says as calmly as he can. "Years ago. Apparently it's what led him to taking the Kid Flash mantle."
"God fucking–"
Roy quickly knocks another arrow and hits the bullseye.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and Jason can hear the rings when he places it on speaker.
"Go for Wally–"
"Hey, you ginger fuck. Mind telling me how you let the kid get his kneecap blown out by Deathstroke?"
There's audible silence on the other end.
"You know, you're a ginger too–"
"Cut the bullshit, West! How the fuck did you let that happen!?"
"I didn't let anything happen, Harper! He was on a Titans mission, I had nothing to do with it–"
"Oh, so you're telling me you're not responsible for the kid you were supposed to be watching over getting severely injured? Bet you want me to be yelling at Timmy instead, huh? Cause the sixteen year-old was responsible for your cousin's safety and not you?"
"Bart has never listened to me, you know that–"
"Oh yeah? Wonder whose fault that is you fuckin' prick."
There's silence again. Jason grits his teeth to keep himself from losing it too.
He'll have his own opportunity someday.
"What do you want me to do, Roy."
"I want you to take some fuckin' responsibility, asshole. Pull your head out of your ass and actually fuckin' look at him. The kid has been here for over ten years, and you're still insisting he's not your problem? You know how much he looks up to you? How much he wishes you gave a shit? How often do you gotta dismiss him to make him come runnin' to me? What does he hafta do to get you to realize he's beggin' for you to see him? I sure hope it's not too fuckin' late for you to offer a fuckin' pinch of the respect you owe him. He's the best of you mother fuckers, and the only one who deserves to inherit the name 'Mercury'. Tell Barry I told him to go fuck himself."
Roy hangs up.
"If I hear Bart ever try to downplay any more bullshit he puts up with, I'm gonna flood Wally's apartment with nerve gas."
"I'll supply the gas," Jason says.
Roy sighs.
"Have you tracked down Wilson yet?"
"Wasn't planning on it."
"And why the hell not?"
"If Bart wanted Wilson dead, he would have done it himself."
Roy squints at him, considering.
"Fuck, Jay." He kicks a rock by his foot across the yard. "How did you know about this anyway? Why the fuck did he tell you, and not me?"
"You've got a slightly different weapon of choice." Jason nods to Roy's bow.
Roy looks down at it.
"Right, okay. That probably puts a damper on the whole romance thing, huh?”
Jason shrugs. “Can’t really be a problem if there’s no romance to begin with.”
“Are you kidding?” Roy’s attention snaps back up and Jason realizes he probably should have waited until after Roy had put his bow away to have a conversation like this. “ ‘No romance’ are you hearing yourself?”
“I’m not trying to court him, Roy.”
“You’re just trying to get in his pants?” Roy’s hand grips his bow just a bit tighter than Jason is comfortable with.
“What? No! Roy, I told you nothing is happening between Bart and I.”
“You’re a fucking idiot if you think that’s true,” Roy snaps. "Damn it, Jay, do you even see the way he looks at you? Kid's head over heels, and if you're not serious about sweeping him off his feet, you need to nip that in the bud asap–"
"The way he looks at me?"
"Fuck, you must be blind." Roy chuckles a little. "Seriously, you might need to get your eyes checked. Bart makes bigger heart-eyes than you do. It's stupid obvious."
And this isn't Jason's place, but–
"He has it bad for one of his friends."
"Wait, really?"
Roy seems genuinely surprised by this, and seems to go through a few things in his head.
"Okay, yeah maybe," he says after a moment. "But to be really honest, Bart is extremely annoyed with him right now, and for good reason. He's got a permanent scowl on his face when he talks about anyone in the Titans, especially him. You, on the other hand–"
"Can we just… drop it, please?"
Roy makes a face.
"Fine." Roy sets his bow on a table and looks down at it. "What if we just… roughed Wilson up a little?"
Jason sighs and starts digging through his contacts for someone who might know where to find Deathstroke.
Jason is only home for a few minutes when–
"Atticus Finch is literature's number one dilf, and I stand by that statement wholeheartedly."
"Hi, Bart. I'm good, how are you?"
"Oh shut up–" Bart smacks Jason's arm lightly, "–you hate small talk as much as I do. Now tell me you don't have a crush on Atticus Finch."
"Is that the only takeaway you got from To Kill a Mockingbird?"
Bart blows a raspberry at him and plops down onto his stool.
"What are you making?"
"Feijoada."
"Smells good."
Jason laughs.
"I'm gonna start charging you."
"Like you charge Roy? Please–" Bart rolls his eyes. "How far are you in Monte Cristo now?"
"Almost three-fourths."
"Ughh, you're so slow! " he whines. "Seriously, I know you're busy and all, but you gotta get going so we can talk about it!"
"Yeah, I have been busy. Y'know… preventing human trafficking?"
Bart smiles apologetically. "Which is incredible of you, and of course you should take your time finishing the massive novel I asked you to read, don't even sweat it."
Roy swears Jason isn’t seeing it, but Jason is watching. He sometimes finds himself studying Bart like he would a case (or maybe a novel). Nothing Bart does is new – no blushing, or twirling his hair, or Roy’s insistence of ‘heart-eyes’–
Jason chuckles and shakes his head. "Talk to me about Atticus."
Jason revs his engine as he pulls into the garage, noting Dick's bike already parked. Tim's car is still missing, which means Stephanie and Duke aren't there yet either.
Good. The kitchen should be fairly quiet today, since Dick is likely off bothering Damian somewhere.
Jason pushes through the door and immediately removes his shoes, placing them neatly next to Dick's haphazardly kicked off grey sneakers (which definitely used to be white).
Jason doesn't necessarily enjoy the monthly family dinners at the manor he's been roped into, but he does like the excuse to spend time with Alfred in the kitchen.
"Hey, Alfie."
"Master Jason," Alfred smiles at him from where he's preparing vegetables. "I trust you properly cared for any injuries you may have received during our last emergency?"
Shit. Jason forgot to check in after skipping that debrief.
"Need any help?"
Alfred sighs and gestures to a bowl of potatoes. Jason sits and starts to peel.
There's a part of Jason's mind that can never be fully at ease unless he's exactly where he is now. Part of him that steadily goes silent as he makes his way through the unpeeled potatoes and chats with Alfred about little things–
"What do you think about The Count of Monte Cristo?"
Alfred glances over, a bit pointedly.
"A rather entertaining exploration of vengeance. Cathartic in many ways," he says. "Are you considering reading it?"
"I'm almost done with it."
"I remember quite vividly your protest of the novel," Alfred states simply. "Something like 'I could finish five other novels in the time it would take me to finish that monster.'"
Jason shrugs. "A friend convinced me to read it. He's been reading a lot of classics recently and he said he'd read Austen if I read Dumas."
Alfred hums a little. "If your friend is looking for classics, have you recommended The Odyssey?"
"That might be a little too classic."
"I disagree. Your friend is very intelligent," Alfred says, a bit too knowingly. "Besides, I believe he would enjoy the supportive role of Hermes in the epic."
Jason isn't surprised Alfred made that connection after he and Bart were both missing from debrief. Bringing it up now, however, is a warning.
It was noticed, and not just by Alfred.
"Then I will," Jason replies.
Jason makes a quick stop in the library before dinner.
He takes his time scouring the shelves for titles he thinks Bart might enjoy, keeping in mind he might like a little variety. The Invisible Man, Little Women, maybe The Left Hand of Darkness for a little sci-fi, Les Misérables –
–and that could be a genius way to introduce Bart to theater. Jason thinks he'd like Shakespeare, especially Midsummer's Nights Dream .
He'd be an incredible Puck.
"Jason."
Jason has been trained too well to be startled by the sudden voice behind him.
"Sup, Timmers."
Tim appears on his left, standing with a false air of indifference.
Jason knows this version of Tim is dangerous.
"Mercury disappeared from the tower a few nights ago," Tim begins. "Didn't get back until 4 am."
"And you're telling me this because–"
Tim shrugs.
"Figured you might know something about it," he says. "Y'know, after you two snuck away before ditching debrief, I thought you might be friends."
Jason closes the copy of The Complete Works of Shakespeare with a dull 'thud'. "And you're not?"
Tim makes a face.
"Look, maybe instead of interrogating me, you should be asking him yourself."
"He's not talking to me," Tim says quietly.
"Yeah? Wonder why."
"Listen, Jason. Bart is a Titan, not an Outlaw–"
"Oh, now I'm corrupting him? Ever consider Bart is a fucking adult who can make his own damn choices?" Jason turns sharply, pointing a finger in Tim's face. "Maybe that's why he's not talking to you. Ever think about that?"
"I respect Bart–"
"Really? Cause it sure as fuck doesn't seem like it–"
"What are you doing with him?
"Oh, for fuck’s sake– we're reading. Are you happy?"
Tim is visibly surprised by that answer.
"Reading?"
"Yeah, reading," Jason repeats. He's getting tired of doing that. "We talk about books. That's it."
"I guess… that makes sense." Tim seems to deflate, content with that answer. "He's tried to talk to us about all the stuff he read in the San Francisco library, but no one in the tower is all that interested. It makes sense he'd find someone to discuss it with. Still, why now and not back then?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean why did Bart suddenly seek you out? He read the library years ago–"
He read the library years ago.
That can't mean–
"Beats me," Jason lies. "I'm not his keeper, and neither are you."
Tim makes direct eye contact.
"If you hurt him–"
"Yeah, yeah, I already got the needless shovel talk from Roy." Jason waves him off. "Are you done trying to pry into the life of your best friend instead of just talking to him like a normal person, or should I sit here and let you keep asking me a bunch of invasive questions about him that I don't know the fucking answers to?"
Tim looks Jason up and down, scowls at him, then leaves.
Jason looks back over to the book in his hands.
"So much for recommendations."
Jason finishes The Count of Monte Cristo.
He closes the massive tome and sets it down on his lap.
The digital clock reads just after 4pm.
He sits in silence until it reads 4:15–
Me: Finished.
Bart is in his living room moments later.
"So? What did you think? Wasn'titsogood? And a happy ending too, though Iguessnot for everyone, but Edmond deserves his happy ending doesn't he? After everythinghewentthrough and all the workheputin and even finding lovealongtheway, like yeah maybe he's not the bestguyintheworld, but canyoureallyblamehimforwhathedid–"
"–How many of these books have you already read?"
Bart stops mid sentence, body frozen in place. He recovers quick, but not quick enough.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you had already read Austen. And Steinbeck. And Lee. And Bronte and Golding and Dickens and Twain; and I would bet money you've read Dostoevsky. And London. And Tolstoy and Joyce and Hardy and Levin; and I bet every author I can name and then probably hundreds of other authors I can't."
Jason stands and tosses the massive book onto his coffee table with an impressive thud.
"You've read them all."
Bart's eyes are wide, darting between Jason's. He's biting his lip, and Jason has to keep himself from losing focus.
"I have."
Jason nods and begins walking out of his living room and into his kitchen.
"Wait! Wait, I'm sorry for lying! I just needed an excuse to come and talk to you, I swear I've never lied about anything else–"
"Why?"
"Because there's no reason to lie to you–"
And it hits him hard to know that he's telling the truth.
"No, Bart. Why did you seek me out?"
Hesitation.
"I– I just thought we could be friends if I just came and–"
Jason slams his hand onto his countertop.
"Don't lie to me Bart, I'm fucking sick of it."
Bart, to his credit, doesn't flinch.
"I was angry."
Jason crosses his arms and leans back against his counter.
"I was angry," Bart repeats. "Angry with Wally and Barry and Jay for telling me I shouldn't be Mercury, and so I went to see Roy. Not as an act of rebellion, though I think they see it like that. I wanted to feel like I had the right to be angry, and Roy was always really good at helping me with that before."
He takes a breath.
"He talks about you a lot, y'know? Every time I make a literature reference he'll complain about you doing the same. He apologizes for not being as good of a cook. He'll mention something you did or said when it's relevant or funny or even just a good piece of advice. You sound like the greatest friend in the world when Roy talks about you."
Jason feels his shoulders tightening.
"You're deflecting."
Bart smiles apologetically.
"He's right though." He climbs up and sits on the back of Jason's couch. "You've been a better friend than the people who are supposed to be."
Jason frowns. "You wanted to piss off Tim? That's why you decided to bother me?"
Bart's brows furrow.
"Right, because I've been such a fucking nuisance . Bothering you–"
"Not what I meant–"
" No . No, you know what? I'm tired of bats! I'm tired of bats treating me like I'm some kind of annoying inconvenience whenever I just want to talk about books or movies or videogames or fucking anything, but then I'm expected to sit and listen to all of your bullshit–" it's around here that Jason realizes this isn't about him at all, "–that honestly no one actually cares about! Because your interests and problems and lives in general are so much more important than mine! You'd think the world's second greatest detective would figure out when his best friend is getting sick of him talking about his stupid crush all the time! Like I'm supposed to drop everything I'm doing to listen to hours of pining over a guy, who would probably be thrilled if he just made a damn move! I mean really , there's only so many times I can hear him sigh wistfully before I literally wanna barf –"
"–Tim is Daisy."
Jason says this with the flattest voice he can possibly manage.
Bart makes a face like he's sucking on a lemon.
" Was," he says and crosses his arms. "I'm over it now, honestly. It's just frustrating that he never noticed. I mean, it's not like I was that subtle about it–"
Bart pauses, and turns to look directly at Jason.
"–You… You said Tim is Daisy… But I'm Nick."
Fuck.
"I'm Nick, and Tim is Gatsby, and Kon is Daisy, but you called Tim Daisy. And if Tim is Daisy, that would mean that I'm Gatsby–"
Jason wishes he had just let Bart talk about Monte Cristo, but Bart's eyes are burning into him, and he knows there's no way out of this one.
"You’re not the only one who feels like Nick Carraway."
Bart tastes like cherry chapstick and lightning.
There’s the sharp clacking of teeth and an enthusiastic tongue and Jason is kissing back before he even fully processes what is happening.
It’s like he’s kissing the screen of a box TV; a warm, tingly sensation.
He’s holding Bart on reflex, he realizes; as if Bart jumped up into Jason's arms, wrapped his legs around his torso, and trusted he would catch him.
Fast and impatient and messy and, oh god –
Bart pulls away and Jason opens his eyes to see him so extremely close. His lips shimmer in the low light of the room, wet and pink and lovely, the mischievous tongue swiping quickly over them. Jason traces several of the freckles across Bart's face, wishing he could count them and memorize their pattern.
There are fields of sunflowers in Bart's eyes, and Jason wants to hide within the stalks.
Bart opens his lovely mouth and whispers very earnestly:
"Your eyes are like Baja Blast."
His face immediately turns bright red.
"I mean– I was going to say they reminded me of sea glass, or the sky after it rains, or something equally romantic and– fuck!"
Jason snorts.
And then the both of them are cackling, curling into each other and laughing into each other's skin.
The anxiety hits him a little suddenly, and he wraps himself more securely around, pressing his face into Bart's neck and breathing him in.
Citrus and honey.
Bart's hands are strong against his back, his legs are locked tightly around his waist. He giggles into Jason's collarbone, and Jason realizes he is just as determined to stay latched on as Jason is to never letting him go.
Which makes it easy to loosen his grip. Makes it easy to let Bart's feet drop gently back down to the ground, arms still loosely wrapped around Jason's neck.
Makes it easy to pull back. To look into those sunlight eyes.
"Kiss me again?"
Jason leans down, softly pressing their lips together.
Bart lets him lead – lets him take it nice and slow. The skin of his jaw and cheek is so warm under Jason's palm, like a heat lamp for a cold-blooded reptile. His waist fits in his other hand as if it was made to be held by him, the soft cotton of his t-shirt catching along his calluses as he rubs his thumb up and down his rib.
Soft fingertips play with the hair at the nape of Jason's neck before sinking into the thick curls just above. He feels Bart sigh against his mouth and drags him in further, sinking his tongue in to taste the roof of his mouth.
He wonders if it always tastes like a storm.
Time passes – minutes, or hours, or days; it doesn't matter to Jason at all – before they separate for breath once again.
"Tell me what you thought about The Count of Monte Cristo," Bart says.
Jason smiles.
"It might be my new favorite."