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“I mean, where does he get off?” Jason snarled into the air. “‘Gotham is my city,’” he mocked in a growly voice, “and if you can’t follow my rules, you’ve got no business being here.’ What the fuck? Gotham has never been his city! He doesn’t really even know her! Just because he’s geographically from here doesn’t mean he’s from here! Those fucking silver spoon brats don’t know the first thing about Gotham!”
You nodded idly. You agreed, after all. You had no claim to Gotham as a home like Jason did, and even you knew that Bruce’s experiences with the city would always be through the lens of her upper crust. He never really experienced the city like most of her inhabitants, the ones who suffered and struggled every day to keep what little they had. He’d never understand what a cruel mistress she could be to her own, what Jason had gone through. There was a loyalty between those like Jason Todd and the city they called home that just couldn’t be understood by outsiders like yourself or by Bruce Wayne.
Jason gave a wordless, agitated scream as he collapsed back onto the couch next to you. “The real fucked up part is I didn’t even do anything this time.”
“What is it that he’s accusing you of doing, then?”
“Someone axed some drug dealers that’d been trying to deal to kids …” He trailed off, groaning as he rubbed his hand down his face when he seemed to realize something. “Trying to deal to some kids at Damian’s school.”
Ah, there it was. Sometimes that boy was just too much like his adopted father, not that you were complaining. “We can’t tell Bruce,” you murmured, taking Jason’s hand in yours.
“No, we can’t,” he agreed automatically. “I’ll talk to Dami about it when I pick him up tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“That’s going to be really fucking awkward. ‘Hey, I know I sometimes kill people for exactly the same reason, but you’re not allowed to.”
You leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Just teach him to cover his tracks better, baby.”
Those teal eyes sparked with mischief. “Now that is an idea.”