Chapter Text
Jason tugged distractedly at Bruce’s tie as Bruce carried him through the garage to the door. He was tense, but slumped in exhaustion against Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce rubbed Jason’s back to try to calm him, but Jason flinched, and Bruce remembered that the boy said he’d been beaten up by a group of larger boys on the street. Bruce could see several bruises on Jason’s neck and face, and there were undoubtedly more under the threadbare red hoodie that would not be enough protection against the snowstorm outside.
Instead, Bruce raised his hand a little higher and gently threaded his fingers into Jason’s hair. He couldn’t card his fingers from root to end with catching on snarls and mats, so he contented himself with scratching circles over Jason’s scalp. Jason winced, but he made a brief unhappy noise at Bruce when he tried to stop, so Bruce kept it up. Jason probably hadn't been touched kindly, especially by an adult, in the months since his mother died. Bruce couldn’t imagine how touch-starved Jason—who was his son now—must have been.
The tugging at his tie picked up in speed as Bruce stepped into the Manor and closed the door behind him. Jason’s tiny body went rigid in Bruce’s arms, and Bruce could feel his heart breaking. No child should be as terrified as Jason was. Bruce knew that his own presence was likely the root of the fear, but he couldn’t let Jason die on the street just to keep from scaring him.
“Did you need something, Jay?” Bruce asked.
Jason flinched and shook his head. The fingers on his tie stilled, but there was a growing wet patch on Bruce’s shoulder.
“N—no, sir,” Jason whispered.
Bruce hummed noncommittally. “Okay, Jay. If you do need anything, you can tell me.”
Jason sniffled, but he didn’t say anything. For a few minutes, there was complete silence as Bruce climbed the stairs to the bedrooms. In the silence, though, Jason grabbed Bruce’s tie in a tight fist and held on like it was a lifeline.
Bruce didn’t say anything or try to get Jason to release his tie. A wrinkled tie was a price well-worth it if it made his new son feel safer.
There was always a guest bedroom made up in case a friend decided to drop by or stay late. Once, several years ago, it had also served as a safe place for a little boy who had been orphaned hours before.
Now, Bruce opened the door of the bedroom and carried a frightened little seven-year-old inside.
Jason whimpered and pulled hard on Bruce’s tie, so Bruce stopped in the doorframe.
“Jay?” he prompted.
“I—I—” Jason gasped. His voice was thick with fear and tears. “I’m sorry I scratched your car!”
Bruce chuckled lightly. Jason had been trying to pry his car door open with a crowbar when Bruce had finally gotten out of the office. At first, Bruce had thought that Jason was a caffeine-induced hallucination, but then Jason had proven that wrong by yelping and slamming the crowbar into Bruce’s ribs.
“I’m not mad that you scratched my car, Jason.”
“A—and that I hit you,” Jason stammered.
Bruce nodded. “Or that you hit me.”
“O—or that I called you a big boob?”
Bruce did his best not to snort with amusement at what was clearly a horrible insult in Jason’s mind. “Or that you called me a big boob. I’m not mad at you, Jason.”
Jason tense once more, then shuddered. The tension drained out of him, and the tense grip on Bruce’s tie turned to absent twirling.
“Really?” Jason whispered so lowly that Bruce almost missed it.
“Really,” Bruce promised. “And even if I were mad, I would never hurt you or any other child. You’re safe here, Jason.”
Jason hesitated, then nodded. Bruce couldn’t be completely sure, but he swore that the shift of Jason’s cheek against Bruce’s chest was a smile.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Bruce suggested.
Jason nodded again, and this time, he stayed relaxed when Bruce carried him across the room to the bed. Jason yawned widely and laid down, and Bruce smiled and followed the movement to keep from being strangled by his own tie.
He needed to get Jason dressed, though. Jason was fading fast, and what he had on was wet from melted snow and utterly filthy.
Jason’s little fist clenched around his tie, though…Bruce had few weakness, but his son was definitely one of them. His sons. He had two now.
Bruce leaned forward to loosen the tie enough that he could slip it over his head and leave it with Jason. Then, he stood up and walked back to his own room.
He and Alfred had been talking for a while about potentially adopting another child, or at least fostering. They had so much room, and they could easily fit in a new child. And if having one child was so wonderful, having two would be even better.
Bruce hadn't been sure how Dick would react to the idea after ten years of being an only, child, but Dick had been ecstatic when Bruce had broached the subject. More than that, he had immediately volunteered his favorite circus pajamas for his new brother or sister. Bruce had pointed out that they could easily afford new pajamas for the child, and that the new child might be too small or too big for Dick’s outgrown pajamas, but Dick had been indignant and insisted that his sibling needed to have these pajamas. He had folded them as properly as he could—which was quite rough, but good enough—and had placed them in Bruce’s sock drawer so Bruce would remember where they were when CPP dropped off his new sibling.
Dick was winning by sheer virtue of the fact that Bruce had nothing else to put Jason in on such short notice. Jason at seven was even smaller than Dick had been at six, but the pajamas wouldn’t be too big on him.
Besides, they really were very cute pajamas.
Bruce fetched the pajamas and returned to the guestroom—to Jason’s room. Jason was yawning and pushing around the pile of decorative pillows on top of the bed, but he was at least awake enough to dress himself, which was good. Not that Bruce would mind, but he didn’t think that Jason would appreciate it.
Jason blinked at Bruce, and a faint trace of fear flickered into his expression. Bruce pretended he hadn't seen it and raised the pajamas.
“For you. They’re dry and warm,” he offered.
Jason watched him a few moment longer, then nodded and held out his hand.
Bruce approached the bed and extended the pajamas so Jason could take them without feeling crowded.
Jason snatched the pajama as soon as Bruce was in reach. He watched Bruce with a scrutinous eye, like he was waiting to see what horrible thing Bruce would do.
Bruce smiled. Jason might not feel safe yet, but he was safe, and the rest could be sorted out later.
“Goodnight, Jason.”
“G—g’night, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce never got that tie back, but he got to keep Jason. He definitely got the better side of that deal.