Chapter Text
The following morning wasn't really anyone's fault, or maybe it was everyone's, depends on how you looked at it.
Jason had spent the night at the house, that wasn't always the case and when it was, it usually meant there was something that needed keeping a close eye on. You weren't exactly a threat (not in Jason's opinion) but you weren't something he could simply ignore, either, so he stayed. He slept for three hours on the living room couch, by exactly six in the morning, he was already standing in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in hand, when chaos erupted.
From your bedroom, chaos sounded something like this: more than five different pairs of feet racing around, four conversations happening at once, each at its own volume, something hitting the floor, marbles, probably, if the sound was anything to go by. Someone crying for reasons you couldn't make out from this far away, and above it all, the oldest boy's voice. He was clearly trying to sound authoritative, instead, he sounded like someone who'd spent far too long being the only person in the house who knew where everyone else's socks were.
"Sam's uniform is in the dryer."
"Theooo, I can't find my backpack!"
"It should be hanging up, Pip."
"It's not!"
"Then it's under your bed, because you never hang it up."
"Theo, I didn't get breakfast..."
"In a minute, Caro."
"I said I didn't get breakfast..."
"Theo! Ezra took my—"
"I didn't take anything."
"Yes, you did!"
"Prove it."
Slowly, you pushed yourself upright in bed, turning your head toward the half-open bedroom door, the noise drifted clearly down the hallway, bouncing off the walls of what you guessed wasn't a particularly large house, not for this many people, anyway. Every now and then, you heard footsteps pause outside your room before hurrying on again, morning didn't seem to allow for stopping, it was a machine that had already started running and only knew how to move forward, until, apparently, the machine broke down.
"Where's Sam's lunch?"
The oldest boy asked, and if you had to guess, his name was Theo, because veryone seemed to either ask him for something or complain to him. His voice had moved well past exhausted.
Silence.
"Did somebody make Sam's lunch?" This time, he sounded less tired and more worried.
More silence, the guilty kind.
"I thought you—" Pip started.
"I made his yesterday."
"Well, I made it on Monday!"
"Today's Wednesday, Ezra."
"I know what day it is!"
"Then—"
"So nobody made Sam's lunch." Pip finished for him.
And once again, silence.
"I can eadt sombe of Pip's." Said a new voice, the smallest one you'd heard yet, so soft, so sweet, so calm. Young enough that a few sounds still came out a little funny.
"You're not eating Pip's lunch," Theo said immediately. "She eats like it's her last day on Earth."
"Hey!"
"He's right, and you know it." For the first time since the commotion began, Red's distorted voice cut through the room, you were honestly surprised he hadn't stepped in sooner, but Pip didn't argue. That was when you moved. Your body made the decision before your mind had a chance to object, by the time you realized what you were doing, you were already on your feet. You ignored the sharp protest shooting through your feet with every step as best you could, steadying yourself against the wall and following it toward the doorway, and the moment you stepped into the hall the noise died away, gradually, almost comically. First the children who must've seen you, then the ones who noticed everyone else had suddenly gone quiet, until all that remained was silence and the unmistakable phantom sensation of eyes fixed on you, watching, sizing you up, some of them had never met you, others had probably forgotten you were even there in the middle of all the morning chaos. For some reason it reminded you of yourself as a child and you felt a small warmth settled quietly in your chest.
You turned your face toward where you thought Theo's voice had come from. "What's in the lunch?" you asked. You could've sworn you almost heard Theo blink in confusion, trying to reboot his brain. "...What?" he asked, slightly farther to the left than you'd originally guessed.
"The lunch. What's missing?"
Another pause.
"Everything," Ezra answered from somewhere to your right. "Nobody made it."
"Do you have bread?"
"Yeah."
"What else?"
No one answered immediately, but then came the sound of footsteps, followed by Pip's voice from what you guessed was the kitchen, judging by the steady stream of running water hitting what sounded like a metal sink. "We've got eggs. Cheese. And something Theo says is mayonnaise, but it smells weird."
"Throw it out," you replied almost instantly. "What else do you have?"
"Yogurdt," said the smallest, gentlest voice (the one whose name you still didn't know).
"Okay." You sighed, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to do. "Can someone lead me there?" You let go of the wall with your left hand and held it out in front of you, not addressing anyone in particular, for a brief moment, no one moved, then, surprisingly, without anyone arguing over it or trying to stop them, a small, warm hand slipped into yours with effortless familiarity and gently tugged you toward the sound of running water.
The kitchen.
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Jason, naturally, had watched the entire thing from his seat. He hadn't intervened when the kids started waking up or when the arguing began, surprisingly, he hadn't stepped in when you appeared either. Truthfully he wasn't sure he should. As far as he was concerned, there was no reason to interfere unless it became absolutely necessary, he wasn't home most mornings so the kids needed to be able to settle their own disagreements and solve everyday problems without depending on him. He just...hadn't expected you to get involved. He watched you move around the kitchen while the children instinctively rearranged themselves around you, the little one (who turned out to be Sam) held your hand and guided you to the utensil drawer. Pip stationed herself beside you, loudly announcing the contents of every cabinet you reached for as though she were your own personal inventory system, and Ezra's only contribution was shoving her out of the way whenever she tried to steal food without permission.
Theo remained in the kitchen doorway with someone else's backpack slung over one shoulder, silently watching the scene unfold, Jason couldn't quite read the expression on his face, and fifteen minutes later Sam had a lunch. Two generously stuffed egg salad sandwiches. When you held them out into the air (wrapped neatly in plastic wrap) Jason accepted them without a word. He carefully packed them inside Sam's Wonder Woman lunchbox alongside an apple juice box and a pear. Then the children poured out of the house like a tide; Backpack here, jacket there, Every single one decorated with Red Hood pins and patches, for protection. Everyone in his territory knew better than to mess with Red Hood's kids, or the schools around Crime Alley, not unless they hated living and wanted to discover exactly how painful dying could be, because of that, Jason had developed a habit of handing out Red Hood pins to every child he came across while on patrol. Sometimes he'd even give one to a pregnant woman, or to someone in particularly dangerous circumstances, but children always came first.
The kids left in pairs, hand in hand. No goodbyes, no unnecessary chatter. Theo was the last one out, just before closing the door, he stopped, and Jason waited, but Theo didn't say anything, he only glanced back once, toward the kitchen, toward you, still leaning against the counter. Then he quietly shut the door and hurried off to catch up with the others, only then, after a brief pause, did Jason walk into the kitchen. He made sure to make enough noise that you would hear him coming, by the time he reached you, you'd already found the coffee on your own. That didn't surprise him, you stood with your hip against the counter, both hands wrapped around a mug. You didn't say anything when you noticed he was there, Jason didn't speak immediately, either. Instead, he poured what remained in the coffee pot into the mug he'd already been drinking from, mixing it with the cold coffee still sitting inside, then he leaned against the opposite side of the counter. The two of you stood in the same kitchen, facing one another, even if you couldn't see him, neither of you had agreed to the silence, neither of you really had anything to say.
Several minutes passed.
"There are six of them," you finally said after taking a long drink of coffee that seemed to bring you back to life.
"Yeah."
"The youngest barely spoke."
"Sam. That's just how he is."
You gave a small nod.
"They all go to school?"
"All of them."
"Who picks them up?"
Jason didn't answer right away. "...Depends on the day."
You simply held your mug between your hands, you didn't ask anything else, but Jason had the uncomfortable feeling you didn't need to. Somehow, watching everything that morning had left something bittersweet sitting heavily in his chest.
"Look... Red." You spoke hesitantly, tightening your grip on the mug until the heat began to sting your palms. "I can't go back to my mother's, I...I don't have anywhere else to go." Yesterday's conversation drifted back into your mind.
"I know."
"I'm not asking you for anything." You rushed to say.
"I know," Jason repeated. Silence settled between you again.
"I'm just saying."
"Yeah."
Neither of you spoke after that, neither of you made any move to leave, either. The coffee slowly grew cold in your mugs. Outside, Gotham kept being Gotham, inside, the kitchen smelled like eggs, fresh bread and something neither of you had a name for yet, something that, without either of you admitting it, had quietly begun to exist.