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David Rossi is an Italian enigma that carry's more secrets around like change in his pockets then Jason has in his whole life. Impressively so. To a former Robin and self-proclaimed lord of the underworld of Gotham who ran an entire crime syndicate under Batman’s nose for months?
It’s Impressive and It scares Jason.
“So what your related? Doesn’t mean he gets to waltz in and be your new Sugar Daddy.”
“Stephanie we’re related don’t call him that for fuck’s sake” Jason groans swiping at his face as he leaned into his pillows listening to blonde currently in call, his phone currently in the other hand.
It’s been a week. A week of work. A week of normal.
“Then what? You act like finding out you have family is the end of the world. Bruce didn’t die when Damian showed up.”
Record scratch, what??
“Stephanie brown that is not the same thing!” Jason hissed into the phone feeling half as annoyed as poor Tim Drake probably did sitting next to her.
the phone goes silent for a worryingly long moment and Jason begins to worry that there’s been a bat signal-
“Steph I’m not jumping in, I don’t qualify my only family died and I was adopted” Tim was suddenly heard hissing in the background right on cue and there’s a hissing and shuffling noises as Jason groans listening to them fight worry vanishing.
“Fine whatever Loser.” Stephanie snorts “Anyways, Look Jay You have a chance to ask about your family history. Actual family that wants you around and isn’t a piece of shit! You should be getting awards right now, the only Robin with sane family left!”
“You mean other then you.” Jason squints at the ceiling picturing the former Spoiler extraordinaire's face there and the smug face she’s probably making
“My mom was a former Drug addict who dated and married a clue obsessed maniac with a failed Fabio ponytail and a tacky outfit.”
“Your mom also divorced him, and got clean” Jason sighs. “Tell her I miss her cooking by the way”
“Better not let Alfred hear you say that.” Stephanie teases “You’ll never hear the end of it, you’ll be forbidden from the cookie jar for years.”
“Don’t threaten that shit, that’s the stuff of nightmares eggplant girl.” Jason snorts but he’s only halfway joking even as he can hear Tim shuddering through the background and making comments on it.
Then things go quiet.
“So?”
“So.” He deadpanned.
“Soooo what about a dinner? Ask if you can come over for one night. Either out or at his house.” Stephanie’s tone has not quite turned soft but not exactly firm either.
Jason sighs turning to stare at the alarm clock. A gift from none other than one Bruce Wayne. The face is a sleek hand-carved wood the exact leafing in the detailing style of Victorian era wallpapers or gates with elegant florets done in gold trapping the clock face itself behind glass like gilded doors. The main time beams at him in gentle white tones.
It was expensive.
It was a gift.
“ . . . I would like to give you something but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to give you anything that actually meant something. I want to get to know you first. Let me do that, okay Jason?”
The only thing Rossi has given him was a DNA test and a photo. Two boys. Jason’s age when he first lived with Bruce, about 10 with ruffled hair and buck wild grins, gap teeth matching the other as they beamed in the photo. It was old, like a polaroid but well taken care of for it’s age.
It lay against the nightstand, directly in front of the alarm and staring at both of them together and suddenly all Jason could think was Stephanie was right.
“ . . .Think I could profile what kind of shoes to wear?”
“Nah. Bring yourself boy-wonder” Stephanie laughs “And that dorky skunk stripe I’m sure he’ll love it!”
Jason blew the stray hair from his eyes, exasperated she was even pointing it out and it now had the audacity to make fun of him and rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, whatever loser.”
“Later lover-boy, kiss a genius for me!”
“You first.” Jason grinned as he heard the shrieking begin over the line but before it could reach it’s crescendo he was hitting end call and relishing in the sweet sound of silence, despite the warmth of the phone call still vibrating through him. He tossed the phone to the far end of the queen bed feeling it plop safely against the covers and laid back, mind buzzing.
Stephanie was always good at getting Jason out of his head, with loud opinions and a sort of middle of the fence Devil’s advocate sort of thing. It made Jason think, making order out of the chaos his mind has been since Rossi sat him in that office and offered him a drink and a test.
“Bring myself huh?” He murmured and hummed. There was several ways to go about that. Several. Some definitely Batman dis-approved and a genuine security risk.
Jason thinks of the first time he met Rossi then and the way none of them could reason what he was thinking. The way he had only been found out about the Indianapolis case through the sheer virtue of Rossi having to rely on Garcia for it and therefore leaving a loose-end that was worried about the old man.
He also thinks of the smug as hell, smarter then most charismatic smile and Jason’s staring at a younger happier version of himself in the mirror when he pictures that.
“Fuck.” He breathes pinching his nose and shutting his eyes against the current reality as much as he can. “Fuck.”
Aaron Hotchner is not an enigma of a man but what he is, is one hell of a unit chief built from the ground up on the foundation that David Rossi and Jason Gideon lay out all those years ago.
He is also not one to mince words, former lawyer that he was.
It’s a Friday afternoon, the paperwork has practically signed itself and Rossi’s only a week past finally telling Jason what the results of that DNA test was.
(Paternity test if he wasn’t lying to himself. That had almost been a very different conversation if that had come back positive but Rossi’s glad that for once it wasn’t his screw up.)
What results those were haven’t been told to the team.
“Were you going to tell me you ordered a paternity test on Agent Kerrigan?”
Aaron’s face hasn’t moved an inch outside of the stern expression he’s making. This isn’t a request or even a chat between friends, Aaron is asking in an official capacity. Which means that someone’s done something that Hotch is trying to get ahead of because it’s the only time he comes knocking down doors like this.
Not surprising considering that Rossi went to outside sources for this particular test. He had an old contact in Gotham that ran a clinic who owed him a favor.
“Sit.” Rossi points and while he shoots Hotch a look towards the door it’s clear that he doesn’t have to because the Unit Chief shuts the door regardless a click echoing through the office.
Hotchner sits down straight backed with his hands folded quietly in his lap. It doesn’t take long for the man to start letting his gaze wander, across the desk tracing each picture and item like they might tell him the answers he’s demanding.
The work they do as profilers so often is dropped out of courtesy when they’re around each other. It’s a respectful boundary to ask not to be profiled when it came to their personal lives but Rossi leans back steepling his fingers and let’s Hotch glance around the office without answering him just yet.
He’s curious if Hotch will reveal anything.
“Your missing a photo.” Hotch states and Rossi’s eyes widen just a bit in surprise. That wasn’t the obvious one of what had changed in the office. There was a framed picture of Jason sitting on the shelf behind him. Sure there was an empty frame on his desk but the picture was new.
“ . . . I am.” He says slowly cautious and wondering whether he should have answered but Hotch tilts his head the steady gaze never wavering.
“David I need you to be frank with me. Why did you order a blood paternity test and turn in Jason’s blood as well as yours?”
“. . . I still don’t see why this is the Bueraus business” Rossi replies this time making sure Aaron hears the hard edge. Aaron is here on an official inquiry not as his friend and he’s simply reminding him of that. He also doesn’t know how Aaron got the information so David is guarding whatever information he can without revealing anything.
“It’s not. I have an official request from the Justice League of America for a report.”
Rossi freezes. There’s a lot of information to sort out of that one. JLA. Report. The JLA somehow flagged his test. The JLA found out and told Hotch.
“. . . The test got flagged by the JLA?” He frowns “but he’s not a member why would they care?”
Aaron finally relaxes slightly and sighs. “. . .It’s not my place to say.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you told me sensitive information” Rossi hums innocently but Aaron’s glare says what he isn’t voicing and Rossi holds up his hands in a surrender.
“So you tell me. Why did you order the test?”
“. . . No reason other then pure curiosity. If you want to know then Jason can tell you. It’s his right not mine.” Rossi hums. He knows Aaron likely suspects.
Aaron is the one who brought up the missing photograph of Rossi and Willis when they were kids and it’s not hard to conenct the dots if Jason has it with him, either in a wallet or tucked into his desk somewhere.
“So my official answer is a personal manner unrelated to our jobs?” Aaron sighs, dropping the glare and mostly looking tired.
“In all honesty, I’m not sure why a bunch of capes would be interested in an FBI agents personal life.” Rossi snorts, and truthfully that’s the first straight answer he’s given this entire talk, if you could call it that.
Rossi may be a subordinate with years of experience in this field with the unique position of seeing a lot of the laws and policy changes regarding the emergence of Superheros and powdered individuals. He is not however going to just roll over when said Superheros start poking their noses into his private life.
Not to mention Jason’s is no longer of their concern.
Rossi will die on that hill if need be.
Aaron rises from the chair, wood creaking, and stares a second more before his feet carry him back to the door and a hand reaches for the handle. It pauses but there’s no any animosity or stern expression when Aaron turns quirking a questioning eyebrow.
“Between us . . . is it a boy or a girl?” Aaron asks and the small twitch at the corner of his lip means he’s trying to hide a smirk and his eyes are warm.
Rossi shoots him a warning look. Aaron sighs and nods before making a swift exit and Rossi, when the man finally leaves the room and the door clicks shut, leans back and pulls out the small finger of whiskey and a glass.
The door rings before, and yet somehow later then David expects. Probably just a side effect of being so nervous about something he really shouldn’t worry as much about.
in reality he knows it’s because he wants this.
𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙄 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚
𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤. 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬
𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙩 𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙣
Just like that dinner plans were made.
It took a while to decide on a menu. Rossi, aside from possibly snooping couldn’t possibly know whether or not to pair a wine, or a nice cider with their meal, and the meal itself had to be something Rossi knew Jason would at least eat.
It didn’t take much finagling to get Garcia to spill about what the team all ordered for lunch at the office. It may have costed him, considering Rossi’s reasoning was that he was buying lunch as a gift for everyone on the team, and Garcia didn’t take much effort after that tidbit was shared but it was worth it.
Jason was a meat lover, and a big fan of sauces. So for dinner it was his homemade Agnolotti del Plin paired with a soft sage butter sauce and some tossed asparagus. Granted most of the work would be the ravioli themselves but David liked a challenge and the work planning this talk would take his mind out of it.
The door rings and it’s already the first test of many, the timing of it. David was anticipating some sort of test, you didn’t come out of foster care without being wary.
He’s looked through his files as far as that went.
Jason Kerrigan. Former Runaway. Sealed Juvenile file Rossi couldn’t access and wouldn’t want to. Background with the JLA as a field agent who worked as a translator. Jason had been in Gotham as a search and rescue during the earthquakes in Gotham while it was declared a No Man’s Land.
His parents suspiciously clean and neither were his brother. So they could be fosters, or fake.
Rossi doesn’t banish the thoughts but lets them simmer on the back burner as he scrubs off the flour in order to go answer the door.
It was Jason’s choice to tell him.
There’s another chime of the doorbell by the time Rossi’s making a merry jog for the front door, more then aware he’s not formally dressed. Less expectations that way. Just low thread slacks and socks paired with his t shirt and apron.
He opens the door. The air wafts in and so does the sound of Jason snorting.
“What?” Rossi smirks the moment he registers what exactly the tell-tale echo of amusement on his newly discovered nephews face must be, and waves a hand at himself “I don’t dress for work at home.”
“Just surprised it’s not silk.” Jason quipped back, and the volley is an echo of the past.
“Silk gets dirty. Try pajamas.” Rossi snorts but lets him in, both of them taking it a step at a time. Rossi backs away from the door, Jason takes a slow step in, fiddling with something in his hands before awkwardly shoving a hand at Rossi’s like a begrudged gift.
It’s not the photo. At first Rossi’s afraid that’s what it is, that it’s being returned.
But No, no this is something else.
It’s a bottle?
“Don’t remember much about Pops but I remembered this.” Jason shrugs innocently, holding the Peach schnapps in his hand and Rossi has to steady his hands before he can reach for the bottle to take it.
He pulls it down to himself, already overwhelmed. There’s the rush of affection and longing, hurt and fierce grief overwhelming him suddenly. He thumbs the label lost for a moment to days past,thinking of the time they were drinking shots out of the back of the alley.
“Take care of yourself Davey, don’t get your self killed in the marines”
“Yeah yeah just hold the fort down for me Will”
“You uh- You didn’t have to bring me something.” Rossi clears his throat, sparing a quick glance up. Jason’s staring with a mix of emotions drawing his face. Curiosity. Surprise. Grief.
It’s not the same grief that Rossi feels but the shared pain is lingering in the air like a heavy blanket.
He clears his throat again, taking just a few seconds more to gather his composure and motioning to Jason finally realizing the outfit the man chose specifically.
It’s not like anything Rossi’s seen him wear for the office. It’s a stark difference. Too stark. Rossi decides not to notice the scuffing on the jeans. The dried patches of stain around the edges of the shirt, and the suspicious looking repairs to the leather jacket that he knows from experience match the edge of a switch blade.
“You look good”
Jason squints just so slightly you’d never catch it but all Rossi’s been able to do since he found out was look. He notices and smiles. Jason nods and motions towards the hallway.
“So. How’d you hound out a menu for tonight?” Jason asks and Rossi pauses thinking before he answers that one but in the end he does snort.
“Garcia was very helpful once she learned I was buying lunch for everyone.”
“Oh that was you?’ Jason asks with a spin and Rossi only smiles in response to leading his co- nephew- through the nice decorated large home, and into the massive kitchen.
At first he doesn’t notice, swooping past Jason, and into the kitchen, behind cream colored cabinets and where the sauce on the Agnolotti is just barely bubbling anymore, already cooled enough to eat likely. He’s already got the plates out and ready to serve and it takes him a second longer of checking his stove top is off before he notices.
“Is this really what you made?” Jason’s voice is soft, small and more worryingly, in disbelief.
Rossi takes in the way Jason is staring at the food, and then down to his hands where the fingers are twisting, playing with something in his hands, most likely a thread or something.
“Was it too much?” He asked and Jason blinks. Takes a step forward then around like he’s snapping from something and that mask Rossi sees all the time goes up, but then; Jason pauses and his shoulders lower, mask gone and in it’s place a still slightly stunned look of wonder.
It’s right at home with the scar on Jason’s lip, and the way his shoulders bunch a little and Rossi feels his chest grow warm as he smiles at Jason.
“No . . no it’s actually just right.” Jason says smiling back now, and it’s the first time Rossi’s seen Jason smile at him like this. Not much teeth, just simple and small and Rossi sees his brother here. Small and quiet affection was Willis Rossi, and Jason’s inherited that. That and the shoulders.
“Well sit, and I’ll uh- I’ll pour us a glass and get the food.” Rossi beams and motions to the dining table.
It doesn’t take long and Jason seems much more relaxed, less on guard, commenting on small things. The nature of a photograph, the way Rossi has kept at least one picture of all his wives on the nearby bookshelf and the lack of some classics in his living room bookshelf.
He learns the whole time, Jason is a lover of classic literature, and knew a photographer. Knew a dancer. No specific names, or even details. Jason recognizes some of the art and snorts a little to himself sometimes.
Rossi gets the food plated and drinks poured, and soon he’s sitting with Jason and for a moment they eat together in silence.
“So. Pops.”
It’s said like a statement rather then a question. Jason isn’t offering any sort of return investment in asking something. He’s stating the fact for what it is. They’re related.
“Yeah . . Pops.” Rossi has to chuckle at that, forking another piece of ravioli and pausing to add on. “Gotta admit out of the two of us I always thought he’d settle down first.”
Jason snorts back, swallowing the food in his mouth and reaching for the glass. The sip is extra long and the grip is different, more the way Rossi would have held a rocks glass back in his teenage years.
“Yeah . . well Cathy was pretty great.” Jason swallows blue eyes staring suddenly. “You read my file right?”
Rossi pauses. “Is there a certain way I should answer that?”
Jason hums taking a small sip again. “I wouldn’t be offended. I read through yours.”
Rossi has to pause at that. Then shrugs and takes the bite. Jason is watching from the peripherals but he’s blurry, too blurry to make out what expression he’s making.
“Look. We both know that the file’s not real don’t we?” Jason mumbles and Rossi snorts.
“Kid I knew the minute you walked in the door and I read that your parents had Irish names.”
Jason coughs, roughly and the scratchy chuckle makes Rossi grin at him taking another bite of the dinner, still pretty good even half as cooled as it is by now.
“so it doesn’t bother you?” Jason says, and Rossi sees him frown, eyebrows furrowing down like angry caterpillars. “That I’m an FBI agent with a fake background?”
“No.” Rossi shrugs. “Aaron doesn’t know. if he did he wouldn’t have run into my office demanding to know why the JLA sent an inquiry about my blood test.”
“The JLA?” Jason’s frowning more now and the way the light reflects makes his eyes seem, not quite darker, somehow brighter? The green is more vivid in them and Rossi shrugs.
“Look. Whether you tell me or not is your business kid. I told them to buzz off.”
“You told the JLA to buzz off?” Jason straightens, fork clattering “Old man do you know-”
“I know.” Rossi cuts him off sternly raising a defiant eyebrow “I know that you did field work for them. I know that your records are fake. I also know that Willis Todd moved to Gotham city 6 months after David Rossi left for the Marines. I know he had a son. I know he’s sitting in front of me.”
Jason goes still. Deathly still and Rossi freezes.
“So you know?” Jason swallows his words, his voice half strangled from emotion. “You know I died?”
Rossi’s thoughts are thrown violently out a window and he has to stare. All the thoughts he’d had about Willis Todd having a son are drowned and he’s left soggy and wet in the aftermath.
“What?” Rossi breathes.
“I-I died.” Jason swallows and he’s gripping the fork so tight his knuckles turn white. He looks frozen in place. Rossi’s gaze sweeps up to the white forelock, the way it suddenly clicks.
“You-” Rossi exhales “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“I want to.” Jason’s hand on Rossi’s arm wasn’t in the bingo card. Neither is the explanation.
They sit there. For an hour? A few? Rossi remembers counting the time, but forgetting. It was a reflex built from years of interrogation that snuck home.
It all screams at him, the way Jason’s voice shakes, and how well sealed his files were initially.
Joker. Bruce Wayne. Robin. Sheila.
Rossi wants to shake his brother, wants to know, wants to demand how come the man he’d favored as a sibling didn’t call, just to get help. It makes him want to know what happened to make Will leave even more.
He at least now knows he never will.
It’s a less felt loss than learning Jason’s death. Rossi’s spent all these years mourning a brother he didn’t think wanted to see him, only for the actual death not to sting as much. It’s a little comforting to know that maybe Rossi was right to mourn him all these years, even if he didn’t know.
“Now you know.” Jason says and Rossi looks. He sees the hurt, and the pain and the way Jason’s fingers are trembling until they start tapping at the table. It’s not a beat but Morse code.
“Can I hug you?”
Jason startles, going upright and eyes widening. “What?’
“Can I hug you?”
“You- You don’t hug people normally” Jason blurts and Rossi snorts but stands
“I don’t normally get told the nephew I'm quickly getting attached to has lived through hell either.”
Jason’s like a newborn deer the way he stands, but Rossi waits, hands out patiently and after a minute- The man nearly takes Dave off his feet.
Jason collides into him with a laugh that’s close to hysterical and Rossi finds himself laughing along and if anyone finds out that tears were mixed in, Rossi is going to ban his nephew from work for a month, somehow. Get him reassigned somewhere.
They sit there like that until the laughter dies and Jason’s fingers tighten into the shirt. Rossi’s own hands pull tighter in return, the two all but clinging to each other. Two people alone and lost finding a way home.
Rossi finally gives a final pat, and Jason reluctantly pulls back, limbs untangling from around Rossi like taffy. The man steps back and his eyes are red rimmed the same way Dave’s are.
They stand there, Jason sniffling and scrubbing at his nose non-nonchalantly while Dave tries not to let his own show and then he lets his gaze drift. He sees the bottle gleaming under the comfortable lighting of the living room, the finished plates of food and an idea strikes.
He swings a tired smile towards Jason who’s shuffled his hands into his Jacket pockets in an attempt to make him smaller and it doesn’t work, not that Rossi blames him.
“How about some more drinks and I tell you about the first time your Pops and I got busted for sneaking out?”
Jason’s eyes grow lighter, filling with curiosity and a smile sneaks it’s way back onto his face and Rossi, now, plans on keeping it there as long as he can.
“Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn’t people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them?”
- Rose Kennedy