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The first time, Jason saves his life. That's distressing enough - Batman is supposed to save everyone, not the other way around, and certainly he isn't supposed to be saved by his ex (and oh, he hates that word). But he gets hit with a new strain of fear toxin he hasn't inoculated himself to yet, and despite years of training and control he's still teetering on a rooftop, seconds from falling to his death when Jason grabs him.
Ties him up until the toxin wears off, chuckling all the while. "You look good like that," he says. He pats Bruce's shoulder, fondly. "Don't move until I get back."
Jason dispatches the Scarecrow himself, sends him back to Arkham with a broken jaw and a fractured wrist.
"You shouldn't have done that," Batman says. "Crane isn't a physical threat, there was no need -"
Unwisely, he says all this before Jason unties him.
*
"I don't know what the big deal is," Dick says, after Bruce assures him that although, yes, he is calling him to talk, no, he isn't dying.
It's just that Alfred's been no help at all.
"I mean," Dick says. "Just because he's your ex doesn’t mean you guys can't be… friendly."
"You do remember your last encounter with Jason, don't you?" Bruce asks.
"Well, yeah," Dick says. "He tried to 'beat out what was left of my addled brains.' But that's pretty normal for Jason. He always treated me like I was your ex."
"He can be… possessive," Bruce agrees.
"Yeah," Dick says. "And you were totally into it."
Bruce says nothing. "Anyway," Dick says after a minute. "I wouldn't worry so much about Jason sending you gifts, as long as they're not ticking. I mean, Kori –"
"He sent me flowers," Bruce interrupts, Batman voice in place.
"Ah," Dick says. "Right. Have you considered taking a vacation?"
Bruce sighs.
*
At some horrifyingly fancy party or other, Bruce Wayne sweats in his impeccably tailored suit.
As usual, there are beautiful women surrounding him, fawning over him. Normally, Bruce handles this all well. He puts on his mask of charming, ditzy rich boy and plays along, gathering up possibly useful information for Batman as he goes.
But tonight he is impatient. Twitching. Tonight –
"There you are. Pardon me, ladies." There's a hand on his shoulder, firm and male and all too familiar. There's quiet laughter, and then Jason standing in front of him, for once wearing something besides a leather jacket and beat up jeans. He's dressed for the occasion, suit and tie his own disguise, the curls of his hair left a little loose and playful.
Bruce's hands itch.
Jason turns from Bruce – smile on his face, smirk in his eyes – to the women and asks, all charm, "Could we have a minute?"
Bruce's admirers disperse, some with grace, some with frowning reluctance, and then Jason turns back to him and grins. "You're welcome," he says.
Bruce scowls. "What are you doing here, Jason?"
"What's it look like?" Jason asks. He waves hello to the photographer who snaps a photo of them. "Saving your life, as usual. Did you get my flowers?"
"Jason," Bruce starts.
"No, I know, I guess that was weird. I just…" Jason rubs at the back of his neck. His other hand is still touching Bruce, his arm around Bruce's shoulder like he's honestly just forgotten himself.
Bruce knows better, but –
He feels his face soften a little, feels that old urge to grab onto Jason, make him see what he is.
Jason's expression hardens and he says, "I'm still fucking mad at you, Bruce."
This isn't the place. This isn't the time. "Then," Bruce says, with a tranquility he hadn't felt when Jason sent him flowers, or saved his life, or somehow convinced Summer Gleeson to stop writing articles that went a little too far past speculation on who Batman really is. "Then what are you doing here, Jason?"
Jason looks behind them, at the crowd starting to make its way back over – vultures hungry for whatever it is Bruce Wayne gives them. Then he looks back at Bruce, and there's a fire in his eyes that Bruce has missed more than he'll be telling anyone.
Jason says, "Wanna escape to the nearest coat closet?"
And Bruce should say no - he knows that, once they're alone and Jason's mouth is on his, once their ties hang loose around their necks, buttons and zippers undone while they grope for each other in the dark. He should, maybe for a lot of reasons, but for once, he does himself a favor and says yes.
The next morning, Alfred hands him the morning paper, as well as the tabloids Jason slipped between the pages. He and Jason are in every single one of them. Wayne Enterprises stock just went up 10%, Jason writes in big black letters over the headline. You're welcome.