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The title had been with him his whole life or at least as long as he remember, of course it had, by the time he was old enough to read the words on his chest, Batman was the terror of Gotham, the Knight for justice and vengeance and for a better future for the city, despite his questionable methods. Jason knew that he couldn't show people. His mother knew, sure, but his mother was dead. There was no one now, no one that knew or would ever know as long as Jason was alive and kicking.
Batman, of course, would never find him, what did Jason have that would be stamped across his soulmate chest? 'Orphan?' or perhaps 'Street Rat?' What Title could Jason ever wish to hold that wouldn't repulse the man who was Gotham's dark Knight?
Then he actually met him. An event Jason had never truly expected and especially not while he was stealing the tires from the Batmobile. It had been a terrible idea, he knew it was, but he'd been so hungry and it was.. It had just been there, calling to him. Perhaps the fact was also that if he revealed his chest, Batman wouldn't lay a finger of harm on him.
Bruce was.. Nice outside of the cowl. He was almost like a father which was both weird and confusing because did he not know? Did Jason's title not link to him yet? Or did he pretend it didn't, that Jason couldn't possibly be his other half, when there was a gap of 15 years between them? Jason had found people with bigger gaps. What was the deal? Did he just not want to sully himself with the lower class….?
Jason knew, subconsciously though, Bruce had no idea. He'd never have taken Jason in if he knew, he'd never be this nice and accommodating, because Bruce would have been horrified. That was one nice thing, perhaps, for Jason to know Bruce was so wholeheartedly against completing soul bonding with children. He had morals and Jason liked that.
He'd never seen Bruce's mark, and naturally he was curious, he wanted to know what exactly the universe thought his was important title was, what he would be known for in the city that acted as a cesspool of crime and filth and terror.
And then he died.
He hadn't meant to, of course, but the Joker had taken the utmost glee in destroying every bone in his body and then blowing him up.
Which was shit.
And now he was back. Which.. Was something. He'd been picked up by the league, at roughly 17, a year of wandering aimlessly and he'd only come back to reality at 19, after being dunked in a pit of green doom. Talia had said she never wanted that for him, wanted him to recover on his own, but he'd shown no signs in the two years he was with the league. So that was that.
And now, three years later, training and training and training, he was back in Gotham, with plans upon plans to get his revenge, get Bruce to murder the Joker. Surely, surely Bruce knew by now?
He didn't.
He had no idea.
"Red Hood." The gravelly voice behind him didn't startle him, he still had his Bat training, he wasn't spatially unaware. Still, he feigned surprise, twisting his upper body to look at the Bat behind him.
"Oh hey Bats." Jason murmured, trying to keep a hold of the pit in his veins that demanded he punch the man before him.
"Hood," Batman repeated, nodding his head slightly in greeting before moving to perch up on the ledge beside him. Despite the exposed pose, Jason could tell how tight Bruce was holding himself, how quickly and fluidly he'd be able to move into a defence or offensive position. He wasn't here for a fight but he expected one.
"So. What can I do for you?" Jason asked, there was surely only one reason though. Perhaps his title had been Red Hood this entire time. It almost makes sense, considering he had Batman across his chest.
"You know what I'm here for." Bruce growled and Jason fought off the urge to click his tongue. Of course it was the marks, however much Jason wanted it to be because he was, well, Jason. Bruce didn't know it was him. Of course not, he was still dead.
"Can't say I do? Is it because I've been a bad little Crime Lord? You're going to spank me and send me to prison?" Jason taunted, earning a frown under the cowl.
"No… but you do need to stop what you're doing." Bruce returned. Jason, while he had made a small name for himself, hadn't gone as far as to kill anyone yet. He'd debated it, it was a surefire way to show he wasn't messing about in his schemes, but the black mark across his chest urged him not to, telling him he'd never be accepted if he crossed the line… And while he didn't want to be accepted anymore, not by Bruce, not by the man who hadn't avenged him, he knew deep down he was lying to himself. He wanted acceptance more than anything.
“You want to help Gotham. I do too…” Jason admitted, “but sometimes Fear isn’t enough.” He continued and Bruce shook his head.
“There’s better ways to help than to incite panic and violence…”
“Well. I guess we can’t all be flying rodents of vengeance.” Jason tutted behind his mask.
“Please. Let me help you, we can do this together.” Bruce spoke, soft and uncharacteristic of Batman. That was Bruce, completely Bruce Wayne who simply asked for the help of his soulmate, who, after years alone, had finally found his person.
“You can’t help me.” Jason replied, fast and sharp and turned to fall off the building. Batman let out a noise of surprise perhaps? Jason didn’t think too hard, using the moment and momentum to quickly grapple into the closest alley and blend into the shadows like Batman himself. He lost his tail quicker than expected, Bruce did pass overhead a couple of times but Jason wasn’t found.
Jason put two rapists in the hospital and permanently shattered a drug dealers collarbone that evening, working off the pit and the desire he’d felt to simply take off his hood and show Bruce, show him who he was, to just-
It was clearly the mark's influence, it had always been the mark's influence, always trying to pull him closer to the older man, his body almost craved the contact sometimes.
Jason clicked his tongue. Now wasn’t the time to think about how often he’d risk jacking off in Bruce’s bedroom when the man was at work or patrolling solo, as a teenager.
It was two days later Batman swooped in, dramatic son of a bitch, and slammed Hood into a wall.
“Kinky.” Jason scoffed as Bruce had him pinned against the brick. Batman only growled in response, holding Jason tight. He didn’t fight though, and Bruce hesitantly pulled back, but only after taking both of Jason’s holstered guns with him. Jason turned, leant back on the wall, staring at Bruce.
“Sup? I guess you’re not actually here to fuck me against the wall then, huh?” Jason asked and delighted in the flinch Bruce gave. Maybe he’d hit a nerve, maybe Bruce did want that and was angry at himself for stooping as low as to have interest in a criminal? Jason wasn’t sure.
“You didn’t listen.” Bruce hissed, almost disappointed perhaps? Jason rolled his eyes under the mask.
“Oh no, how sad, boo hoo.” Jason taunted, arms crossed against his chest where he leant.
“You shattered a man's collarbone.” Bruce snapped and Jason, in the heat of things, didn’t put that much thought into his words, he responded how he would respond, had responded, to such a phrase.
“Yeah, well, he was a fucking drug dealin’ pimp. You want me to prop up some pillows for him next time huh, B?” Jason retorted. He didn’t realise at first, because he was angry, he’d been sleeping the bare minimum, nightmares were rather frequent, and he just acted on impulse.
“J-Jason?”
“Fuck.” Jason bit out. “Fuck….” He repeated and was quick to try and dive off the roof. Bruce’s arms stopped him, wrapping around him instantly to hold him tight and against his chest while Jason struggled to escape.
“Jason.” He echoed again, voice raw and confused. Jason hated it.
“Get the fuck off me Bruce.”
“You’re alive.”
“Yeah, no thanks to you.” Jason snarled. He didn’t mean it. He didn’t blame Bruce. Bruce tensed and flinched and Jason felt awful.
“I’m so sorry- I- You-”
Huh. Batman was speechless, wasn't that an achievement.
“Jesus. Fuck. If we’re doing this, at least get us off the fucking roof, anyone could hear.” Jason gritted out and felt Bruce’s arms relaxed only slightly, holding him close while he grappled them down to the floor. Jason led them to one of his safehouses, only because he couldn’t face the manor. Not yet.
Once he was inside, door locked, he yanked his hood off. Bruce let out a hiss of air, his eyes wide under the cowl.
“Might as well shed yours, B, not like we’re strangers, after all.” Jason sighed, rubbing his face and peeling off the domino he had on underneath. Bruce stood, transfixed. Jason clicked his tongue again and shucked off the jacket, clipped off the body armour and was left in a shirt.
“Bruce?”
“You’re- It was you. All along.” Bruce whispered, and pulled back his cowl. Jason nodded, lifting his shift with one hand, to tuck it under his chin. There, stamped across an autopsy scar and his pecs, was Batman. Bruce could only stare, face unmasked and tumbling through emotions, shock and confusion and fear and appreciation and guilt- Jason felt the silence suffocate him.
“B?” Jason asked. Bruce flinched. That was all Jason needed to know, dropping the shirt. Bruce still didn't want him still. He turned to leave, to storm to the kitchen and neck the first bottle of beer he could find. A hand on his wrist stopped him before he was spun and pushed against a wall.
Bruce held him there, breath heavy, Jason pinned against the wall.
“Jaylad.” He whispered, one hand reaching out to Jason’s chest, gloved fingers splayed over the black font. It had always been Batman, not Bruce, that Jason was connected to.
“I ain’t your Jaylad, B. Not anymore.” Jason grit out, even as his body sung, full of glee and relief and pure elation, at the close contact of his soulmate and his soulmark-
“No. I suppose not.” Bruce mussed, his lips twitching. Jason wasn’t sure what the man was feeling.
“Have you changed your mind on fucking me against the wall yet, Bruce?”
“Jason.” Bruce warned.
“Bruce.” Jason snarkily replied.
What Jason didn’t expect and maybe Bruce didn’t either, was the Bat leaning forward, one hand still on Jason’s chest, on his mark, and his other gauntlet reaching to cradle Jason’s cheek as he pressed the lightest of kisses to the younger's lips.
“So is that a yes or…?” Jason cheekily asked, waves of relief pooling in his stomach. He wasn’t being rejected. He wasn’t.
“We’ll see.” Bruce rolled his eyes affectionately.
They’d need to talk plenty of shit out, but for now, Jason really didn’t want to move, didn’t really want to say anything… except Bruce’s name.