Chapter Text
Leaving Gotham’s city limits always leaves Jason feeling conflicted. Relief and anxiety flood him in equal measure at the thought of leaving his history behind. Gotham, more specifically Crime Alley, has his heart and soul in a chokehold. He’s sacrificed so much of his life protecting the streets he used to roam as a child, back when he scoured for nooks to tuck himself into, hoping to be small enough for the city to forget.
After moving in with Bruce, he’d hoped for a reprieve from the tight grip the city had on him, only to find it intensified tenfold. You can take the kid out of the Alley, but not the Alley out of the kid. Gotham’s upper crust found that fact both endearing and disgusting depending on the situation. He was Brucie Wayne’s new charity project, his polished little pet in a glass cage they gawked at whenever they could stomach seeing the cigarette burns on his hands.
Now, watching the city in the rear view give way to wide, rolling fields, he isn’t sure if this whole escapade is for the better. His thoughts had steadily grown louder as the city sounds had begun to quiet. Roy had somehow convinced him to take part in this road trip, and Jason had said yes, he always says yes when it’s Roy who’s asking. Against his better judgement, probably for the worse. This trip is definitely for the worse, he decides as Roy’s truck rattling over a particularly brutal pothole yanks him back to the present.
Shifting his gaze to his reluctant passenger, Roy keeps one hand on the wheel and moves the other toward the gear shift, just shy of Jason’s thigh. Without a center console as a buffer, they’re packed in like sardines. Especially with all the extra shit Roy had insisted on packing, digging into the passenger side of the cabin. The proximity has them both on edge. Roy tries to calm his heart rate as he feels Jason’s body heat radiating out, knowing the second Robin has always been a little flighty when he feels cornered. As if to prove his point, Jason shifts his feet in the cramped footwell, unsettling a few loose arrows. The offending objects rattle around the floorboards, letting out a sharp metallic clatter as they break up the unspoken tension in the truck.
“Roy?” Jason turns from his position in the passenger seat, taking his eyes off of Gotham’s slowly fading, jagged skyline to steal a glance at his friend.
“Yes, Jaybird?” He’s got that smug smile he does when he knows he’s successfully pissed off Jason in a way usually reserved only for his siblings.
“Have I ever told you how much I hate that fucking nickname?” Jay grumbles, lips pressing into a thin line, as he rolls his eyes with practiced exasperation. Roy’s smile goes soft as he drags his eyes off Jason to look back at the road. He huffs a breath and opens his mouth before abruptly slamming on the brakes, throwing them both forward before the seatbelts lock up.
“Multiple times, yes. Do you have a point? This Volvo in front of us is pissing me the fuck off. Why are you actually doing fucking thirty-five? We are surrounded by empty fields, dipshit!” The archer lays on the horn and flips off the guy in front of them who clearly doesn’t realize you’re supposed to break the speed limit outside of big cities.
The corners of Jason’s mouth tilt up against his will as he shakes his head. “I was gonna say this was a dumbass idea, but I’m starting to think you’re just a dumbass in general. I’m also not sure if that hatchback can go any faster. It looks as old as you.”
“Yeah, genuinely fuck this guy.” In a move that is certainly illegal in New Jersey, they whip around the car ahead. “Come on man, this trip is gonna be epic! You brought the list, right?” The ginger grins when he remembers their list. In anticipation of their much needed getaway he’d had Jason make a list of typical ‘road trip bucket list’ items, only to fuck with all of Jason’s ideas.
“Yes, I have your stupid list. Also, you’re showing your age, nobody says epic anymore.” He whips out a notebook complete with a checklist and several handwritten addresses with vague descriptions, scowling when Roy laughs and drops his ratty trucker hat on the younger man’s head.
“Well I have to say it enough for everyone then. I won’t let the slang of my youth die.”
Jay groans and sinks deeper into his seat. Why did he agree to this again? “I wish you’d let me die.”
“HEY! None of that. We are going to have a fun time.” A bony elbow digs into Jason’s rib from the other side of the bench seat. He crosses his arms and lets out a huff, scooting out of firing range.
“I still don’t get why you want to go to the worst diners in America. Don’t people usually do that the other way around, like I suggested at your humble demand? I’m not doing #9 on this fuck ass list.”
Jason still doesn’t understand why they need to ‘see a world’s largest attraction and loudly bitch about how small it is until they get asked to leave.’ Roy steals another glance to his right, catching the sneer on the other man’s face. It pulls a rumbling laugh from his chest.
“Yes but that’s the point dude. We have to subvert expectations.” He gestures to the barren land around them like it’s a stage, “It’s gonna be great!” A snort is his initial reply, closely followed by a shake of the bat’s head.
“Whose expectations? The doctors, after we go to the hospital for food poisoning? I literally grew up eating out of trash cans, this shit won’t scare me.” This earns an eye roll from the driver's seat.
“We are also going to steal the worst one’s sign and put it in your apartment. You need a better ambiance, because your place is a nightmare. Seriously man. I honestly don’t get how you stay there.” Narrowing his eyes, Jason realizes what the archer is getting at.
“Yeah a tacky stolen diner sign will be a great ambiance. If I’m going for a 2000s frat house. It’s not an apartment, it’s a safe-house. It’s not meant to be nice or fun; it’s meant to be safe.” Jay’s shoulders tick up a millimeter and his eyes flick to the side mirrors, scanning for potentially threats out of habit. They’ve had this conversation many times before. It’s a familiar detour the other likes to sneak into when he thinks Jason is relaxed enough for the trip.
Trying hard to look preoccupied, Roy lets out a calm, measured reply. “I think it’s fair to say it can be both safe and pleasant to live in. I still don’t get why you stay there when you could just move into mine. You hate Gotham with all the bats breathing down your neck, I know you do.”
“Roy…” Jason shrinks in on himself and picks at a thread in the brim of his hat. The older man recognizes the sign to drop it for now. He clears his throat, deciding to shift gears, both literally and metaphorically.
“Okay, I get it. I’ll take the hint man, you think I’m too old for you.” That does the trick, and suddenly Jay is turning towards the window to hide the blush slowly inching up his cheeks.
“You are old.” It’s a mumbled out answer, flirting by omission at best, but all Roy hears is the lack of ‘for me’ at the end of that sentence. He pumps his fist in his head, a silent celebration before refocusing on the road ahead.
They lapse into comfortable silence until Jay reaches for the radio dial, grazing the top of Roy’s hand before switching through the stations and landing on a classical piece. The redhead opens his mouth to comment before feeling a side eye sharp enough to cut glass coming from his right side. He shuts up, briefly throwing up a hand in mock surrender. Last time he criticized his friend’s music, he’d ended up with six stitches. Jason hadn’t been gentle with the sutures.
As a peace offering, he reaches across the truck, pulling chili cheese chips out of the glove box and tossing them into the other Outlaw’s lap. Jason raises an eyebrow, in a scarily accurate imitation of Alfred, then shrugs and pulls them open. The foil crinkles, contrasting against the swell of the violins, and suddenly Roy’s doing that stupid little smile again.