Work Text:
Jason put his finger to his lips, gesturing for the cops to stay back. They did though they were clearly reluctant, guns out and pointed to the ground. Jason turned away and pulled down his mask around his neck. He lit a cigarette, puffed on it for a moment, then stalked forward. The wardrobe was pushed against the wall, both doors pulled shut from the inside. Jason grinned and blew smoke through the cracks.
He held a hand up, counting down on his fingers. When he reached zero, he grabbed the edges of the wardrobe and turned it over onto its back, the contents groaning as it hit the ground. Jason planted one boot on the door and pried the other open.
“There you are.” Jason smiled at the man inside, then reached down and yanked him out by the collar with his free hand. “Heard you’ve been pushin’ to pups,” Jason said. He waited, then shook the man. “Well?”
“N-nah, nah, I ain’t pushin’—”
“Do ya know whose territory you’re pushin’ in?”
The man trembled, hands scrambling at Jason’s for release. “Red Hood,” he gasped, fear coloring his scent, “Red Hood.”
“That’s right.” Jason jerked him closer, smile dropping into a snarl. “If I ever hear you’re dealin’ drugs in the East End again, I’m turnin’ your fucking brains into wall art.” Jason put the cigarette out between his eyes and tossed him behind him. The man rolled to a stop at the feet of the cops, who all turned their guns on him.
Jason nodded at the cops and turned to leave, but as he walked passed, Officer Patel grabbed his arm. Jason jerked out of her grip and growled. “Sorry,” she said, “but someone wants to meet you.”
“‘Someone’?” Jason tugged his hood lower over his eyes, impatient. He wanted to get back to his nearest safe house, get the horrible acrid taste of smoke out of his mouth and the scent of it out of his nose. “Gonna need something better than ‘someone’.”
Her lips thinned, frustrated. “Bruce Wayne,” she said after some obvious hesitation.
Jason reeled back. “Uh-huh,” he said. “Try that again.”
Patel cast a glance back at her colleagues, of whom both were occupied with the drug dealer Jason handed them. “I’m serious,” she said. “He wants to speak to you.”
“Why?”
Patel shrugged. “What do rich men want with anyone?”
“I’m not a mercenary, I can’t be bought.”
“That,” Patel said, “isn’t what I meant. Listen, I’ve known Bruce since he was a kid. He’s not that kind of guy. If I had to guess, I’d say he probably wants to thank you.”
“What—” Jason thought about what he knew about Bruce Wayne. Multibillionaire CEO of a multinational corporation. Alpha. Single father of three. Orphan—and that’s it. Bruce Wayne’s parents were gunned down in a random act of violence in Crime Alley. Since Jason had taken up the Red Hood, the crime rate in the Alley has fallen to record lows. Jason guessed it was a plausible explanation, but it was even more improbable.
But what could Bruce Wayne do to him that better men than him haven’t tried and failed to do before?
Offer to fund his operation, apparently.
“Fuckin’ seriously, man? Am I supposed to believe you wanna help me out of the goodness of your goddamn heart?”
Bruce was smiling at him, smug and arrogant. “Not the goodness of my heart, no. I want involvement. I want you to report back to me weekly and consult me before you make significant moves against other organizations.”
Cold curled low in his gut. “You want to control me. What, ‘cause I’m an omega? You think I’m easy?”
“I would never presume,” said Bruce. It was just pretentious enough to be amusing rather than infuriating. “I like the work you’re doing. I don’t necessarily care for your methods, but your results are undeniable.”
“That doesn’t explain anything.”
“You’re making more progress in the East End than the GCPD has ever made. I want to be a part of that.”
“What do you have to gain?”
“Nothing.”
Jason snapped his teeth. “That’s not nearly as comforting as you think it is. Everything comes for a price.”
Bruce tilted his head, looking at him consideringly. “Then let me rephrase. You’ll be giving me an active hand in fixing my city. You’ll give me information and you’ll give me power.”
There was nothing rich men liked more than power. “I’m a free agent,” Jason said. “I’ll deal with your advice, but I won’t be your soldier.”
“And,” Bruce paused, “I reserve the right to ask a favor of you at any point in our partnership.”
“Don’t overstep,” Jason cautioned, “being Brucie Wayne won’t save you from a bullet.”
“Understood.” Bruce Wayne smiled. “Do we have a deal?”
They had a deal.
And what a deal it was. Bruce paid him once a week, a direct deposit to his bank account. It was an immense amount of money, of which only a fraction went to funding Jason’s arsenal; he distributed the rest to the neighborhoods of the East End. In return, Jason showed up at the Wayne Manor once a week and appraised Bruce on his missions.
Bruce was dedicated, that much was true. He built a base under his Manor where he kept files on all the criminals Jason brought him, as well as a locker room and an armory. There was a computer that had access to every CCTV and traffic camera in the city and a backdoor into the GCPD’s database. It was all shockingly useful.
And as much as Jason hated to admit it, Bruce wasn’t so bad either. When he was focused on the information Jason brought him, he was strictly professional and fastidious. He was thorough in his data collection is a way Jason never had the ability to be and it truthfully made his job easier.
When he was off the job, Bruce was gratingly pleasant. He dropped the arrogant Prince of Gotham act once they were in the Cave; he was a real person when they were alone. He wasn’t overly sweet like people tended to be with omegas, didn’t condescend to Jason like he knew better because he was an alpha. He respected that Jason knew the streets better than him and relented when Jason told him his plans were dogshit. It was weird.
The worst part was that Jason actually liked him. Maybe he was just too unused to kindness, but the more Jason started to care about Bruce the more he distrusted him. Nothing ever came without a price and Bruce wasn’t collecting nearly enough. His motives didn’t align with the way he treated Jason and it made Jason’s instincts go haywire every time they were in the same room.
It was four months into their partnership when Jason lost his patience. He spent half the night beating human traffickers into the ground and the other half tracking a munitions smuggler back to the Black Mask. His operation led outside of the East End, so Jason dropped the evidence he collected off with the GCPD and made his way to the cave.
He swept in through the back entrance and found Bruce at the computer. Snarling, he fists his hands in Bruce’s shirt and swings him around against the wall, getting in his face with bared, snapping teeth under the mask.
“Hood,” Bruce said, sounding not nearly surprised enough. “What is it?”
“Cut the shit, Wayne,” Jason growled. “What’s your fucking deal?”
“You know what my deal is,” Bruce said. “I haven't lied to you.”
“No,” Jason said, “you haven’t, but you haven’t told me everything either. You’re leaving something out.”
Bruce was silent for several long moments, looking into him through the white-outs of Jason’s domino. This close his scent was heady but inscrutable. “You’re right,” Bruce said, “I haven’t told you everything. Can you pull down the mask? I want to see you when I say this.”
“Why should I?”
“Please.”
Jason’s steady burn of fury stuttered and weakened. He’d never heard Bruce plead with him before. He untwisted one hand from Bruce’s shirt and pulled the mask from over his mouth and nose.
Bruce smiled softly. “Thank you.” Jason curled his lip and shook Bruce a little. “That night, when we met, I hadn’t planned on asking to join you. I was going to ask you to stop.”
That was the last thing Jason expected to hear. “What?”
“I saw what you were doing and all I could think was that you were going to die or you were going to kill an innocent, and I couldn’t stand it. But—” he cut himself off and stared fondly at Jason, which made something low on his spine tingle, “but you walked in and I couldn’t.”
“Why?” Jason rasped.
“You were confident and competent and doing real good for the city, you were—are—good. I couldn’t take that away from you, so I decided to join you.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Bruce brought his hands up to Jason’s wrists, not pulling but instead holding. He slid them slowly up his arms, to his shoulders, then around his neck, giving Jason all the time in the world to pull away. Jason stayed where he was, so Bruce gently lowered his hood.
“Hood—”
“Jason.”
Bruce brought his hands around to Jason’s jaw, up to his cheeks, and began to carefully work the domino off. He tossed it aside and rubbed his thumbs under Jason’s eyes. “Jason,” he murmured.
Jason tried to control the way his breath trembled but just made it worse, so instead, he pushed onto his toes and kissed Bruce.
He’d spent his entire life effectively alone, neglected then orphaned then isolated. He was more or less resigned to spending what was sure to be a very short life alone, but Bruce Wayne was here telling him that he wanted to help Jason based on Jason’s merit, that he wanted to be with Jason because he believed in Jason.
The feeling that rocked through him was not one that could be bought, could only be freely given, so Jason pressed closer and held onto it.