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Jason’s day started with news of three dead kids.
It didn’t get better from there.
Around lunchtime, he took a break from the drudgery of management work to do some good old-fashioned enforcing. His people were looking into what happened to the kids and who he could hurt for it; in the meantime, he needed to hurt someone, and word was one of the working girls on 23rd had wound up in the hospital overnight.
Jason was happy to give the entire Alley a demonstration of just why it was so important to follow his rules.
Six broken bones for one very remorseful john later, he was getting into the backseat of his car, idly thinking about going to Sally’s Diner for lunch.
Then he spotted the kid.
“Gimme a sec,” he said to Mateo, and slid right back out of the car.
(Mateo, naturally, followed. For the sake of his own sanity, Jason pretended not to notice his self-appointed bodyguard trailing him across the street.)
The kid was on the ground in the alley between the bodega and the pharmacy, slumped back against the former’s wall like a dropped ragdoll. Jason’s first, sickened thought was dead—that they were gonna have to up the body count from three to four. He swore his heart didn’t start beating again until he got closer and saw the rise and fall of the kid’s chest.
His second thought was passed out, but the kid’s eyes slit open as soon as Jason stopped in front of him. Thank fuck.
“You good, kid?” Jason asked.
The kid straightened a little, pushing himself up until he was more lounging than slumping against the wall.
“I’m good,” he said. “Just enjoying the shade.”
Jason raised his eyebrows. “Really.”
“Uh, yeah, really,” the kid said incredulously. “It’s kinda hot out, if you hadn’t noticed.”
Kinda hot was an understatement—daytime temps hadn’t made it under ninety-five all week. Add that to one hundred percent humidity, and everyone in Gotham was suffering. Even Jason’d been forced to leave his leather jacket at home and just go around in his shirtsleeves.
It was perfectly reasonable for anyone to wanna pull up some shade for a bit. Still…
“You must be new here.”
The kid blinked.
“If you mean this alley, you’re correct,” he said. “I’ve only been here for like five minutes. But if you mean the Alley—” he gestured vaguely, as if to encompass the entire neighborhood—“then you’re dead wrong. I’ve lived here an entire forty-three hours.”
Jason snorted. “Sorry, my mistake.”
“Apology accepted,” the kid said with a gracious nod. Then he frowned. “How’d you know?”
“The bodega gives out free bottles of water during the summer,” Jason told him. “One bottle a person a day, but they’ll let you hang out in the AC for however long it takes to finish. Anyone who knows anything about the Alley woulda been inside.”
The kid stared up at him. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Huh.” He twisted to stare over his shoulder as if he could see through the brick at his back and into the store. “I thought it looked weirdly busy in there.” He cast a wry glance up at Jason. “What’s the catch?”
Smart kid, and a promising sign for his potential long-term survival. Everyone in the Alley knew better than to not look a gift horse in the mouth. Fortunately—
“No catch,” Jason said. “It ain’t altruism. They get very well compensated for their kindness. With a lot more than a couple of bottles of water are worth, I can tell you that.”
“Ah,” the kid said, relaxing. His eyes slipped closed again. “Let me guess, the generosity of Mr. Todd strikes again?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Ha,” the kid said. “That guy just thinks of everything, doesn’t he?”
“Well,” Jason said, “I do my best.”
The kid’s (very blue) eyes popped wide open. “No. What?”
“Jason Todd,” Jason said, grinning down at him. It wasn’t often he met someone who didn’t know him on sight, but the kid’s frankly hysterical expression of shocked horror made him wish it happened more. “Nice to meet you.”
The kid scrambled to his feet. Upright, he was bigger than he looked on the ground—still a good head shorter than Jason, but plenty of people were. The kid might not be a kid after all; he could pass for eighteen, at least.
“I am so sorry,” the kid said, pairing the words with an endearingly awkward half-nod, half-bow. “Uh, your majesty?”
The ease of long practice kept Jason’s grimace strictly internal.
He’d called himself the King of Crime Alley once, the night he killed Black Mask and took over what was left of the asshole’s operations. Giddy with adrenaline and success, euphoric with relief that his insane plan had actually worked, he’d boasted to his people that he was the new king of the Alley.
Unfortunately, the witnesses to his boasting included not only his ragtag group of followers, but also a load of new recruits—some of Black Mask’s goons, who’d wisely chosen to surrender and join up with Jason rather than die with their friends. Those goons had spread the word, and by morning the entire Alley was calling Jason ‘the king.’
Backpedaling would have meant losing face, and losing face would have been deadly, so Jason’d had no choice but to accept the moniker. After a few days of whining to Mateo, he’d even leaned into it, designing a little red crown to be his symbol. People wore it on t-shirts and drew it in their store-front windows. In the Alley, the crown meant Jason meant safety. It was moving, really.
But even three years on, it had yet to stop making him feel like a tool.
“Jason’s fine,” he assured the kid, earning an incredibly wary look. “…Or Mr. Todd, if you’re more comfortable with that.”
“Uh, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll stick with Mr. Todd,” the kid said. “Sir.”
“That’s fine.”
Smart, even. Jason wouldn’t want to be on familiar terms with a guy like him, either. And if Black Mask had ever invited Jason to call him Roman, Jason probably would’ve run screaming for Batman to arrest him.
“Sorry,” the kid said. “It’s just…”
“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Jason said. “Nobody ever takes me up on that offer, for some reason.”
“Guess the people around here are just that polite,” the kid said, and Jason had to laugh. It made the kid grin, softening a wary edge that’d been there for the whole conversation. Smiling looked better on him.
All too soon, though, the smile faded. The kid cleared his throat.
“Um, I’m glad I got the chance to meet you though, Mr. Todd. I…wanted to say thank you.”
In the Alley for two days and he already had something to thank Jason for?
Not a great sign.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” The kid scrubbed his hands against his shorts, drawing Jason’s eyes to his legs. He had a nasty looking scar on the left one, curving around his calf and up to his knee. “I’m, uh. I just moved in. Obviously. And…I couldn’t have afforded it if you hadn’t covered the security deposit. So. Thanks.”
Jason relaxed. The unofficial loan program—covering the ninety-nine dollar security deposit most apartments in his territory required and giving borrowers a year to pay it back, no interest—was one of the many minor offerings his organization ran without his direct supervision. It was his idea, his money, and his name on the check, but he wasn’t approving every single handout. He had people for that.
More importantly, it was one of the most benevolent things the kid could’ve had to thank him for. Ninety-nine dollars was a lot in this part of town, especially added on top of all the other costs of moving and the first month’s rent. Especially for a kid maybe just striking out on his own.
It made sense the kid would need it. It was a lot better than the potential alternatives.
“Glad I could help,” he said. “Your move-in go okay? Anyone give you any trouble?”
The kid hesitated. Jason tensed.
“Why do you ask?” the kid—stalled? Was he stalling?
“It’s what I do,” he said, careful to keep his tone easy. If there was something for the kid to report, he didn’t wanna spook him first. “I laid down the law years ago, but some people still break it. If someone gave you trouble, I need to know.”
“…And then?” the kid asked.
“And then I’ll handle it.”
He couldn’t read the kid’s expression, so he gave him a minute to ponder things before prompting, “Did anyone give you trouble?”
“Oh!” the kid said, like he was startled. “No, it was—it was fine. I mean, the super was weirdly grumpy for someone getting additional monthly income, but that was it.”
He sounded honest. Jason relaxed.
“Yeah, I’ll bet he was grumpy,” he said. “A kid like you? Young, probably low on options? Time was, he’d probably have added a blowjob to your monthly rent.”
The kid’s expression twisted. “I wish I could say that was hard to believe.”
Yeah, so did Jason. Still, better the kid knew better—naivety didn’t serve anyone in Gotham.
He wondered just where the kid had moved from, and why. For people who’d grown up in the area, Crime Alley was just home, but people who moved in later in life usually did so because they didn’t have a choice. Jason’d made a lot of improvements since he took over, but Crime Alley was still Crime Alley.
The kid ending up here probably wasn’t a very happy story, or one he wanted to revisit…but if Jason asked, he might feel compelled to tell it.
So Jason kept his curiosity to himself.
“Don’t worry, I taught ’em better,” he said instead. “Just never hurts to spot-check, is all.”
“Fair enough.”
“And speaking of my rules, I’m guessing you got the welcome packet?” He’d known who Jason was, after all.
“‘Rules to live by to avoid getting shot,’” the kid quoted in answer. “Snappy title.”
“Yeah, we’re workshopping it,” Jason admitted.
“At least they’re easy enough to follow.”
“You’d think,” he muttered, fighting the urge to crack his knuckles. It was one thing to vaguely reference that he handled infractions, but he didn’t wanna give off any indication of actual violence—chances were, it’d only scare the kid.
…Why did he care about scaring the kid? He always did his best to avoid frightening the actual children of the Alley, yeah, but this guy was old enough that a little wary respect for Jason would be healthy.
Jason was suddenly aware of Mateo, lingering at the curb and shifting uncertainly. He was probably wondering why Jason was still talking to the kid, and that—that was a damn good question.
He’d worried when he first saw him basically sprawled in the alley. After waking up to three dead kids, it was natural his first thought was that this was another one, dead or dying. But since he wasn’t…why was Jason still here, exactly?
Narrowing in on his own motives left him more than a little alarmed.
“Kid,” he said abruptly, “exactly how old are you?”
The kid eyed him warily. “Eighteen. Why?”
Something in Jason relaxed…which was not good. Just because he said he was eighteen—and had an ID that was at least a convincing enough fake to fool the half-hearted look his landlord would’ve given it—didn’t mean he actually was.
And, more importantly, Jason didn’t fuck around in the Alley. He couldn’t. Too many people in his territory depended on him and too many of them were afraid of him. This kid had even already gotten a loan from him, and he’d just moved in.
Jason was quite literally the king here. He had too much power for anyone to be able to actually, meaningfully consent to anything with him.
And he definitely shouldn’t even be thinking about any of that, especially not in regards to a kid so new to the Alley that he didn’t know to go inside for some water.
It was time to walk away, before he got any more tempted by the kid’s pretty eyes and quick mouth.
Before he did, though—
“Just curious,” he said. “And your name?”
The kid blushed. It was unfortunately cute.
“Sorry,” he said, and stuck out a hand. “I’m Alvin.”
“Alvin,” Jason repeated, and gave himself exactly three seconds to enjoy the way his hand enveloped Alvin’s smaller one. “Nice to meet you.”
The smile Alvin gave him was surprisingly, dangerously sweet. “Pleasure’s mine, your majesty.”
*
Four days later, Jason met Alvin again, this time waiting tables at Sally’s Diner.
The kid greeted him with a formal bow, like a waiter at a much fancier restaurant, and called him ‘your majesty’ with laughing eyes.
He looked good. Happier than he had in the alley. Maybe optimistic, now that he had a shiny new job to go with his new apartment. His eyes were bright, his smile wide, and Jason—
Jason realized he might, actually, have some trouble staying away from Alvin. And not because the guy was working at his favorite lunch spot.
Shit.