Chapter Text
Duke and Jason bond over being Hood Kids. No, not Red Hood. They're from the hood.
Quarter waters and snow cones on the hottest summer days. Knowing the cat in the bodega isn't a health hazard - they're pest control. The owner of the corner store? That's Papi, you uncultured swine. He makes sure the neighborhood kids all have snacks after school. Be fucking polite and greet him properly.
Duke is wary of Jason at first - of course he is, the dude came back from the dead and went on a murder spree. Duke's heard about the bag full of heads, thank you very fucking much. He avoided meeting the guy in person for weeks, but then Bruce had to go and want his son back or whatever. Blah blah media and press, blah blah legally alive, blah blah gala. That's how Duke ends up in an uncomfortable suit at a boring ass rich people party, watching Jason Todd grimace his way through handshakes and look like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Mierda, I hate these things," Jason mutters to himself. "Never any good food."
Duke snorts and immediately curses when Jason looks at him. Shit.
"Something funny, Thomas?" Duke can tell he's trying to be intimidating, but it's really not working. Not when Jason's practically pouting and smoothing dow the white patch in his hair nervously.
"Nah," he says, hands up in faux surrender. "You're right, though. The food here sucks. Rich assholes got no taste."
That's how he and Jason end up talking. Not boring ass small talk - actually talking. Duke learns that Jason grew up in Crime Alley, not far from where the Thomas family lives...lived in the Narrows. Jason learns that Mr. Chen still runs the best Chinese spot in Gotham, but his daughter's working the register now while she takes night classes at the local community college instead of doing homework behind the counter like she did when they were kids. The egg rolls? Still fire. Duke likes going there after his trips to the beauty supply store on Fifth. Can't get good shea butter anywhere close to Wayne Manor.
They both remember block parties ad snowball fights on closed city streets. Falling asleep to the sound of fireworks and gunshots on the 4th of July. Always knowing warm weather's coming when the speakers on corner stores turn up and Big Pun's playing.
"I'm not a player, I just crush a lot," they sing in unison, cackling madly. Duke hasn't had this much fun in ages.
They decide to ditch the gala to get some real food and no, Dick, we're not bringing you anything. You want to ditch for some decedent food, go with the Baby Bat. Yes, Tim, you can come with. You're Bristol, but you're still Gotham. You can sit in the back. Of what? Bruce's Maserati, duh. Jason took the keys out of his pocket an hour ago. You coming or what?