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“Seriously Tim, I can totally do a kickflip,” Jason said as he barely kept his balance on Tim’s skateboard, pushing it in lazy circles in the driveway of Bruce’s auto shop.
“Then do one, Jason.” Tim put his hands on his hips, like some exasperated mom.
Ye of little faith. Jason had watched Tim do one a thousand times, he had this in the bag. Tim just jumped so Jason jumped with all his might and landed back onto the skateboard.
“See?”
“See what? You just jumped up and down. You didn’t even move the board.” Hands still on his hips, Tim retorted. What gave him the right to be such a little shit nine-year-old?
Jason was about to give him a piece of his mind, but someone turned into the driveway in the ugliest purple and green Dodge GT sedan, a mid 70’s model. Turning too, Tim looked on in the same mixture of disgust and curiosity as Jason.
A man got out, his hair dyed green and he stood in a colorful suit. Clown-ass man with a clown-ass car. There was something dangerous about this guy, Jason could feel it in his gut. Tim seemed to feel it too and took in a deep breath before stepping behind Jason.
The sooner he left the better. “We’re closed.” Jason wasn't in the mood, they had already finished up on all the cars for the day, and he had to show Tim he could do a kickflip. Plus this car was so ugly it didn't deserve to be fixed.
“Well little batling, you're not who I’m here to talk to.”
Jason puffed out his chest a bit. “We’re closed bitch, get lost.” This guy was probably wanting to talk to ‘Batman’ then. For all the wrong reasons, Jason betted. Bruce could be native like that sometimes, trying to help people that would hurt him, but Jason wouldn’t let him get hurt.
“Got a mouth on you I see,” his smile was all yellow teeth, and Jason stiffened. Tim fisted Jason’s hoodie in his small hands at that reaction. “Someone’s gonna correct that one day.”
Jason wasn't scared; couldn’t be with Tim needing him to be brave, but he had his hand on his favorite switchblade that sat at the ready in his pocket.
“You shouldn't be here,” Bruce said from behind them, anger barely hidden beneath his words. Relief settled Jason’s tense stance as he heard Bruce’s heavy steps come over from the shop, with Dicks light ones right behind.
Jason didn't dare take his eyes off the man as he held his own. “I already told him that we were closed and he won’t leave.”
“Dick, get the boys inside.”
Dick was already behind Jason, grabbing his hand and Tim’s.
“But-” Jason tried to reason as he yanked himself free, watching Bruce as he put himself as a barrier between them and the man.
“Jason.” Bruce wasn't looking at him, his eyes fixed ahead. Maybe it was the hard pitch of his name that made Jason freeze or the way it made him want to listen and obey anything said on instinct. “Go.”
Dick took him by the wrist this time, dragging him back to the duplex. Jason wordlessly let him but his eyes never leave Bruce.
The door closed behind them. As if snapped out of a daze, Jason wrenched himself free from Dick’s grasp again.
Jason shot to the window, pulling back the curtains to watch. Bruce still stood there, a giant towering over this weirdo. Jason was about to lift open the window, to listen or to run back out, he didn't know, but Dick latched the window lock before he could decide.
“It needs to stay shut.” Dick didn't look at him, his eyes never leaving Bruce as well. “You're staying in here.”
“Dick, who’s that?” Jason wasn't afraid, no sir.
“No one you need to know.” God, he sounded just like Bruce, Jason was tempted to tell Dick that to set him off.
“I’m gonna be in the Justice League too. So yes, I do need to know.”
“Jason, you’re twelve, this is something you don’t need to know anything about.” Dick still had one of his hands in Tim’s, but his other gripped the curtain in a balled fist. Good thing Alfred was at his cribbage club, or else Dick would get an earful for wrinkling them.
“Which means I’m gonna be out there fighting with you guys in three years. Clearly, this guy is a threat!”
“I’m not arguing with you on this. And you’ll never have to fight him if I have anything to do about it.” It sounded like a promise.
Jason kinda wanted to punch him. He wasn't some little, stupid kid, he could handle this. Just because Dick was older, and Bruce trained him more, didn't mean he could be such a dick .
Bruce and the man seemed to be finished talking, the man did a curtsy to Bruce, then stood back up straight. His grin stretched wider as he spotted them through the window, he met Jason’s eyes and waved.
Jason hadn't realized he had been breathing so hard till all the air left his lungs. Their gazes were locked, as much as Jason wanted to hide behind Dick he instead wrung his hand in Dick’s shirt to steady himself. He couldn't look away.
Jason wasn’t scared, he wasn't.
Taking a step forward, Bruce’s whole stance went from intimidation to fight mode. But the man looked away from the window and put his hands up in a dramatic mock surrender.
Bruce’s shoulders stayed tight as the guy got into his clown car and pointedly drove forward over the skateboard, breaking the wood in half.
Tim made a noise that sounded like he had been shot.
The car backed up into the street and sped off way over the speed limit. Bruce immediately pulled the gate across the driveway, the chain link clicked into place on the other side. As if a gate could stop the guy from plowing back through.
Tim had apparently gotten out of Dick’s grasp and whipped open the door, racing outside. Dick and Jason gave each other a glance and went after him.
They caught up with him as Tim sank to his knees at the remains of one of his most precious possessions. Tim had lined the backside with stickers with love, oiled the wheel bearings religiously, and probably tucked it into bed when Jason wasn't there.
Tim started to sob, breaking Jason’s heart.
“We’ll fix it!” Dick said with fake confidence, putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Dick had always been a shit mechanic, he definitely couldn't even fix something as simple as a skateboard.
Even so, Jason continued.“Yeah, Timmy, don’t worry, we have a whole garage filled with tools.” If Jason was being honest, no one could probably fix this. But they had to try, for Tim.
Tim only cried harder. He was always too smart for his own good, and the broken pieces of his skateboard were proof enough that it was practically broken without repair. His parents might be rich enough to buy him a new one; they all knew it wouldn't be the same.
Heavy steps walked over and Bruce’s tall frame blocked the setting sun as he stood over them with that purposefully blank face he got when he was trying to not freak out.
Bruce bent down and lifted Tim into his arms. It must have stunned him for a moment since the crying stopped before it started up again in full-on sobs as Tim wrapped his legs around Bruce and held onto him as hard as could. Bruce shifted Tim to his hip in one fluid motion and started to walk to the house without a word.
It was a strange sight to see another child where Jason had used to sit on Bruce’s side, legs barely able to circle his torso. But he was getting too old for that, he was almost thirteen and didn't need his dad to carry him around anymore. Tim did though.
Jason tried to not react to the pang of sadness and jealousy as he followed them back to the house.
Hours later, Tim sat in the corner of the couch, snuggled in the afghan that Alfred had made. Dick sat beside him, providing a running commentary on the show that was played on the TV. Usually, it would make Tim giggle, he’d add something too, and even if it wasn't funny Dick would laugh.
But tonight he just watched with a frown and didn't say a word, his eyes flickering to the front door where Bruce and Alfred were having a hushed conversation on the porch.
Jason also kept glancing at the door as he tried to put Tim's skateboard back together at the dining table. So far it was a bust, and at this point, the only thing that could save it was a miracle and magic duct tape. But still, Jason tried.
The doorknob twisted and only Bruce came in, Alfred lived in the upper unit of the duplex, he must have gone up to bed.
Bruce closed the door behind him softly before saying. “Tim, Jason. It's time for bed.” But between his words, it also meant as Jason and Tim went into their room, Dick and him would be going out. Maybe they would meet that man again, and this time he might do something worse than run over Tim’s skateboard.
Jason tried not to think about that as Bruce put on his leather Justice League cut. The patches are stark white against the black, and the Justice League emblem laid large on his back.
“It's a school night. I also heard that you two have a math test tomorrow.” He said as no one had moved. Jason and Tim exchanged a look, and they both rolled their eyes at the same time. And finally there was a ghost of a smile on Tim’s face.
Tim pretty much lived at the house since his parents were away for so long. Jason had many intense options about that, but at least it meant Tim, his best friend (pretty much his brother at this point), got to have a very extended sleepover with him.
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Boys.”
“Ugh fine,” Jason said as he got up from the chair, leaving the skateboard for the morning.
Dick gave Tim a nudge, and they both got up. “I’ll see you in the morning,” Dick said as he ruffled Tim’s hair before Tim walked into the bedroom and Dick went for the front door before Bruce stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
Bruce leaned down and whispered something to Dick, too low for Jason to hear but judging by the way Dick snapped his burning gaze to Bruce it wasn't good. Dick bit something back at him before bucking off Bruce’s hand and stalking outside to the garage.
Sighing, Bruce took a deep breath.
“Who was that man today?” Jason would not leave before he got an answer.
Bruce blinked as if he had forgotten that Jason would even ask a question like that.
“Tell me.”
Walking over, Bruce knelt to Jason’s level, his eyes kept flickering between Jason’s as if he were trying to find something in them. It unnerved Jason, but he kept his breathing even.
“Please.” Jason paused before he continued. “I used my manners so now you have to tell me.”
Bruce gave a huff of a laugh before his face got purposefully blank. Jason hated when he did that, he was already hard to read but when he had too many emotions Bruce just kinda stopped emoting.
With big, strong hands on Jason's shoulders, Bruce finally answered. “His name is the Joker.”
“The Joker, that’s a fucking stupid name.” A clown car, a clown man, and a clown name. At least he kept to a theme. Uncle Clark had always said that the people of Gotham had a certain ‘flair’. He was trying to be polite in saying that the people of Gotham were batshit (hah) insane. Which was fair.
Instead of chiding him for his language, something shifted in Bruce’s face too quickly for Jason to decipher. “He is a very dangerous man.” the hands tightened like armor on his shoulders. “If you ever see him, run. Don’t engage, don’t even talk to him. Call for me or Alfred or Dick. Take Tim and you run as fast as you can, don’t look back.”
Bruce searched his eyes again, slightly more frantic. “Do you understand?”
It was as if Bruce was scared. Bruce was never scared, he was always brave, always heading into a fight, and winning, nothing could stop him because he was Batman.
“But I can fight too, you trained me to. He’s not even as big as Dick and I can-”
Hands squeezed his shoulders, drawing him closer slightly. Bruce’s light blue eyes burned. “You need to promise me that you’ll run.”
Jason was fighting back the tears, it wasn't fear because Bruce wasn't afraid, so he couldn't be either.
“Promise me, Jason.” Emotion found its way back into Bruce’s voice. “Promise me.” The last part cracked slightly, desperately.
“O-Okay I promise.” Jason nodded slightly, wiping the wetness from his eyes.
Suddenly, Jason was enveloped in a crushing embrace and his head rested on Bruce’s chest, heartbeat loud in his ears. He always felt safest like this, in his dad’s arms away from everything that could hurt. Jason nuzzled into the leather, his fingers seized it, bringing it closer; he always loved the way it smelled, like Bruce, like justice and protection.
Bruce laid his face in Jason’s curls, a hand held his head against Bruce’s body. In a whisper, Bruce asked, “You run home, my son. Run as fast as you can.”