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Jason was a cute toddler. He was also a sassy one.
“Replacement.”
Tim’s smile vanished off his face and he closed his eyes taking deep breaths. After a few seconds he opened them again and turned to Dick who was sitting across the room, looking at him expectantly. Damian just sat in the corner and smirked.
“Well,” Tim said his voice dry. “He remembers who I am. That’s a plus.”
“He remembers you as a worthless waste of space,” Damian said, scrolling through his music player. Bruce had gotten him one for his birthday, and while the thing was state of the art, the kid already tried to hack it five times. “Congratulations Drake.” Tim opened his mouth, looked at Jason who was poking his own nose, and thought better of it.
Dick’s smile was strained at best.
Jason, now three years old, looked at his two brothers and grinned, clapping his hands. They had gotten him a pair of jeans from a nearby store along with a small Batman t-shirt for the time being. Jason tapped at Tim’s chest making plane noises. Dick kept the smile plastered on. It reminded Tim of the kind people had when suffering from Joker gas.
It was going to be a long week.
***
Being a superhero meant you had to deal with what could be classified as “odd stuff” on a daily basis. It was a part of the lifestyle, an almost regular occurrence. Death didn’t always stick, sometimes people had clones and on occasion other universes visited; it happened.
People regressing to younger ages though? Yeah, that was a new one.
He called himself “The Nanny” which was disturbing to say the least (“What kind of creepy ass name is that” “Language Jason”). His gig was to turn the famous and powerful back into children, where he could mold them into his own personal army (“Did you get that from fucking “Sky High?” “Language Jason.”).
Jason thought it was a stupid evil plan. And voiced that opinion. Multiple times. Which was maybe why The Nanny shot the “baby ray” at him first.
***
“How long will it be until Todd will no longer need a highchair?” Damian asked, glaring at the small child sitting across from him. It had been a few minutes since Jason’s Replacement comment and now they were all seated at the dinner table as Jason ate his lunch.
“Three days,” Tim said, not looking up from his copy of the Gotham Gazette. He was using it as an emergency food shield in case Jason got cranky. “He’ll be back to normal in three days.”
“Days.” Damian looked at Tim and back at the toddler. “We must put up with his presence for that long?”
Jason’s lower lip started to tremble and he began to sniffle. Tim peered over his newspaper and then proceeded to hide behind it like it was bulletproof. Dick got out of his chair, hoisting his younger brother out of his highchair and into his arms, shushing him. He gave Damian a pointed look.
“Damian, you’re going to hurt his feelings.” Given Dick’s tone, he cared less about Jason’s feelings and more about the state of the kitchen.
“Pah,” Damian said, rolling his eyes. Tim began to lower the newspaper to a normal level again. Crisis averted. Or so he thought, until Damian spoke again. “Like upsetting Todd in this state is something worrisome.”
Jason sucked in a deep breath and Tim put his paper down on the table, making a run for it. Dick braced himself. Damian just looked perplexed. The child clearly hadn’t had any experience with small children.
The resulting wail was deafening.
One temper tantrum later, Damian and Jason were banned from being in the same room.
***
“Okay Jay, which one do you want?”
They’d gone to the carnival the second day, determined to make the most out of Jason not being a total grump while they could. Dick had gotten them discount tickets and after the main show, the gang, which consisted of Dick, Jason, Cassandra and Stephanie, had decided to roam the grounds.
Jason, who was currently sitting on Dick’s shoulders, pointed to a plush dog in the corner of the carnival booth. Stephanie grinned at him, cooing.
“That one!”
“He is way too cute,” Stephanie said, cooing. Cassandra held her back from trying to pinch Jason’s cheeks, smiling herself. She’d always seen her brother as two separate people: the lone wolf or the young martyr. It was nice to see him as something other than a tragedy.
“You sure kiddo?” Jason tugged at Dick’s hair, a clear yes. Dick reached into his pockets and handed the ticketer a five dollar bill. In return he gave him a handful of darts and cleared the way so Dick could shoot them at the balloons, placed so far back they should have been impossible to hit. Dick only shook his head, taking a step back and passed the darts to Cassandra.
Her smirk could be classified as frightening.
Five perfect shots, and an argument about cheating later, Jason was cuddling with the stuffed dog in his stroller, looking incredibly pleased. Cassandra was carrying a few extra prizes including a superman plushie and a plastic bat. Jason looked up at the circus tent, whimpered and turned towards Dick, tugging at his pant leg.
“Dick.” His older brother froze, looking down at him.
“What’s wrong?”
Jason looked rather serious if it wasn’t for the shaking of his lower lip. “No clowns. I don’t like clowns.”
Dick closed his eyes, rubbing them for a second. Cassandra was perfectly still,tense. The things she could read in Jason’s body language were those of nightmares. Stephanie, who managed to stay composed, crouched down, rubbing the little boy’s hair. Her eyes were far too sad.
“Okay sweetie, no clowns. We’ll keep them far away.”
Jason seemed content with the answer, nodding and nudging closer to his stuffed dog. After a few seconds, Dick began to push the stroller again, being careful to avoid the tent. Cassandra kept close behind, like she was on bodyguard duty. Like there was a threat in the air.
That night, Dick dreamt of clowns and the smell of fresh blood.
***
“Duck!” Jason pointed to the picture of the yellow creature in the book, beaming. Bruce smiled, flipping the page.
“Very good. What is that?” Jason peered forward before turning back.
“Swan!”
“Right.”
The boy was sitting next to Bruce, the cardboard book in his hands, looking a little tired. Jason had insisted on a bedtime story, and while there were plenty of volunteers, none of them dared to try to fight Bruce when he insisted (though Dick may have demanded pictures). It had taken him a while, but he had eventually found “The Ugly Duckling” after a bit of digging. It must have been his own when he was a kid. Jason had clearly read the story before, but he seemed happy enough to read it again.
“Hey Bruce,” Jason said, blinking. He was about to nod off.
“Yes?”
“Love-“ He yawned, stretching out his arms. “you Dad.”
Bruce paused for a long moment, staring off into space. After a second he got off the bed, lifted the blankets onto Jason and ruffled his hair.
“I love you too, Jason.” He paused, looking the little boy in the eye. “No matter what you think.”
The boy was fast asleep.
***
Jason would remember nothing the next morning except for a hand running through his hair and the feeling of being absolutely safe.