Work Text:
Bruce felt his phone vibrate in his front pants pocket and quickly pulled it out to redirect the call to his assistant. Now he was on a long-planned board of directors and could not be distracted by extraneous calls. And since it was not one of his sons who called, Bruce decided that he would not interrupt the report of the financial director on a possible trifle.
Again carefully immersing himself in the numbers that the financier voiced, Bruce made a few notes in his diary to talk about them later. But when he opened his mouth to ask one of his questions, there was a sharp knock on the door, interrupting the emerging dialogue.
“Mr. Wayne,” Bruce's assistant muttered guiltily, poking her head into the meeting room. “I'm terribly sorry to interrupt you, but Commissioner Gordon is on the telephone line.”
Bruce frowned, not understanding why Gordon would call him during the daytime.
“He said something about Jason,” a little quieter added Janet.
Bruce's heart sped up like lightning at the mention of his son, because of whom the policeman called him. He ignored the disgruntled and gloomy faces of his colleagues, standing up abruptly to answer the call.
“Go and make coffee,” he barked, pushing open the door and rushing past the flustered assistant.
Bruce prayed that Jason would be okay.
“Tell me what happened!” he said as soon as the phone was in his hands.
“Oh, Mr. Wayne, you finally answered,” the man breathed, straining Bruce even more.
“What happened with Jason?” Dad immediately asked, afraid to imagine what kind of trouble his second son could get into.
“Yes, about your son,” the commissar cleared his throat. “Our officer tried to get through to you, but you did not pick up the phone. Therefore, he had to take the boys to our department and...” Gordon cleared his throat again, hesitating before continuing, “and put them in a cell.”
“In the cell?” Bruce snapped, clenching his fist in anger and annoyance. “Is Jason in the cell? What could he do?”
“He crashed into a patrol car,” the commissioner explained.
“Crashed? This cannot be. Jason doesn't have a car or driver's license.”
“That's the point, Mr. Wayne. Jason was driving an Audi that's registered to you. He was speeding, and our patrolman chased after him. When he tried to block traffic, Jason rushed forward and drove into his car.”
“Is anyone hurt?” Dad asked, feeling a surge of fear and adrenaline.
“No, no. Nobody is hurt. The distance was short. But there is some damage to both cars.”
“It's the least of my worries,” Bruce growled, gripping the phone tightly. “I'll come for Jason right away.”
“Yeah, that would be nice,” Gordon replied.
“Wait, you said ‘boys’,” Bruce remembered, replaying the beginning of the dialogue in his head. “Was Jason not alone?”
“Yes,” the commissioner confirmed. “They refuse to give his name, but I dare to assume that this is Roy Harper. If you please, could you contact his guardian?”
“Of course,” Bruce breathed, not being surprised. “I'll call Oliver.”
☆ ☆ ☆
Two hours later, Bruce brought Jason home and told him to take a shower and change into clean clothes. Bruce himself went into the kitchen to find a jar of sedatives.
Dad's eyes still flashed that terrible vision of his little son holding onto the bars of the cell with his hands and pressing his forehead against it. Bruce honestly believed that he would never have to go to the police to get one of his sons out of there. But that day turned his life 360 degrees.
Bruce didn't care that he had to pay a few fines. It didn't matter that his own car was now in need of repair. It didn't matter that Jason would have to attend community service for several days.
His only concern was the intrusive thought that Jason might have died or been badly hurt today.
After confirming that Alfred had taken Damian to the cave for training and Tim was still in class, Bruce went to his bedroom to change from his work suit to casual jeans and a T-shirt. He left the door open, listening for noises in the hallway that signaled Jason's movements. And, as soon as the boy left his room, dad called him, inviting him into the room for a conversation.
“So, you want to tell me what that was all about?” Bruce asked, remaining stern but not trying to be rude.
Jason tucked his hands into the pockets of his red sweatshirt and leaned lazily against the wall near the door. His expression was almost blank. But Bruce knew his son well. Behind Jason's empty mask was always an ocean of emotions.
“The commissioner told you everything,” Jason grumbled indifferently, his eyes wandering over the carpet.
Bruce sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Sometimes he really did not understand what Jason was guided by, choosing such paths of disobedience. It seemed to him that he had long ago made it clear to his boys what was good and what was bad. And if dad was ready to turn a blind eye to such violations as poor grades at school or being late from walks, then he was going to ask his son in full for stealing a car.
“The commissioner only told me about breaking the law,” Bruce said, crossing his arms and leaning his hips against the small chest of drawers beside the bed. “Now I would like to know what you were guided by, committing this most stupid act.”
Jason moved his lips, biting them lightly, but didn't say anything.
Bruce shifted his gaze to the window, watching the tree branches bend in the force of the wind. He didn't want to yell at Jason, knowing that the teenager was going through some kind of crisis right now. With his anger and irritation, he will not help him open up and tell the truth. But dad also could not afford to let this act go unpunished.
“Jason, I'm giving you one more chance to tell me what's going on.” Bruce turned back to his son and focused on the problem. “But if you don't talk to me, then my belt will talk to you.”
Jason's frightened eyes flickered to his dad for a second, and Bruce almost regretted voicing that threat out loud. Though that regret quickly vanished as the teen looked down at his legs again and tightened his hoodie tighter.
“Okay, have it your way,” Dad said grimly, pushing away from the chest of drawers and heading towards the closet with clothes. “Take off your jeans and underwear and lie down on the bed.”
Jason hesitated for a few seconds, but then obediently walked over to the bed and pulled his clothes down to his knees. Bruce, meanwhile, took out one of his old belts from the closet and clicked it several times, checking the integrity. He didn't like using hard leather to punish children, but stealing a car and endangering a life was a very serious offense. He did not even want to imagine a situation in which Jason would be arrested for longer than 30 minutes. And even more so, he did not want to think that one of his precious sons could die through his own stupidity. It was enough for him that two of them were already out on the dangerous streets of Gotham, dressing up as vigilantes.
With that thought, Bruce returned to the bed, watching Jason grab onto one of the pillows and press his face into it. He wanted to hug his little bird, but he knew that in that state, Jason would have rejected any contact. The boy barely allowed his dad to hug him as soon as the patrolman opened the cell and released both boys. And Bruce would be lying if he said he didn't consider locking Jason in the manor after that to keep the boy safe.
“I don’t know what’s on your mind, son,” Bruce began the lecture, folding the belt in half and bending down to lift Jason’s sweatshirt to the waist, “but whatever it was, I’m sure it wasn’t worth it to steal a car and put your life at risk.”
Bruce frowned, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. Silence was not part of Jason's character. Even if he didn't want to talk about what happened, that never stopped him from continuing to snap and grumble at his interlocutor. But such moments of isolation happened to him only at the very beginning of his life on the manor. For example, when the boy disobeyed an order on patrol for the first time and thought that after that Batman would forbid him to wear the Robin costume. Or when dad got a call from the Academy saying they found Jason's cigarettes. The boy was afraid that because of this news, Bruce would not want to have such a terrible son.
But it wasn't true. Bruce became attached to the boy from the very moment he first saw him with a tire in his hands. And he was never going to let him go, just as he never got tired of repeating this information to him.
“What do you think, you made a responsible act?” Dad asked, swinging the belt and leaving the first pink line on Jason's bottom.
He didn't wait for an answer. Not yet.
“Drove a car without a license,” Bruce scolded, biting Jason's butt with his belt a second time.
The boy cringed slightly, but remained silent.
“Ignored the patrolman.” The third ringing smack, and Jason allowed himself to hiss.
Bruce adjusted the belt and gave his son a few seconds to catch his breath.
“Exceeded the speed limit on a road full of other cars,” Dad continued soon after, flicking the heavy belt on the lower part of the buttocks.
Now almost the whole of the boy's backside has turned pink and is covered with even painful stripes.
“Crashed into a police car,” Bruce enumerated, directing the slaps to the upper part of the pale thighs.
Jason flinched and let out a harsh growl in his throat. Bruce knew that spanking with a belt caused great pain. But if now it was the only way to get his son to talk, then dad would do it for his own good.
“You put your life in danger,” Bruce scolded again as he landed another hard slap on his thighs.
Jason kicked his legs and pulled himself up slightly, trying to drown out the growl with his pillow.
“You put your friend,” the seventh swat lay a little higher than the first, making the junction of lines from the belt more red, “the patrolman and other people on the road in danger.” The eighth lick knocked the air out of Jason, causing his still small body to flinch and squirm.
Dad heard a wet, but very quiet sob, which the boy quickly masked with a cough. Bruce did not allow himself to doubt that Jason would soon give up and talk to him. In the meantime, he tightened his grip on the belt and raised his hand again to show his son the consequences of today's choice.
“Was rude to a policeman,” the ninth hard spank lay the center of Jason's buttocks, adding another bright red line.
The boy whimpered, kicking his feet against the edge of the bed and clutching at the pillow with all his might.
“And skipping school to do it all,” Bruce finished listing, placing his tenth spank on the pink seats.
Jason pushed off the bed for a moment, grumbling and sobbing a little louder.
“Are you going to talk to me?” Dad asked again, still clutching the belt and looking with some sympathy at his son's streaked bottom.
Jason lowered his head, shaking it slightly. Bruce felt that Jason was on the verge of starting to open up. He couldn't leave him in such a semi-unemotional state. Dad would not forgive himself if he left his son to deal alone with what gnaws at his brain.
“Okay,” the man sighed, tightening his grip on the belt again. “I'm going to finish your lesson with ten more licks. After that, I hope we can talk about what happened.”
Jason's body tensed again, ready to take on another wave of pain. Dad didn't hesitate and started slapping his son's already burning backside with a few more hard blows. The sound of the belt resonated unpleasantly in the quiet room. Usually, the boys acted more loudly and grouchily when dad took on a harsh punishment. But sometimes Jason broke this habit, causing Bruce to worry even more.
“O-oh!” Jason whimpered, whimpering slightly and writhing on the bed as his butt took fifteenth lick.
“I'm really worried about you, son,” Bruce said firmly, slowing down a little so Jason's breath wouldn't break. “And I can't help you if you ignore me.”
Jason started to cry. His body went limp, relaxing and not caring about the next spanking. Bruce gritted his teeth and lowered his hand once more, letting the belt stain Jason's thighs red.
“Ow! Sh… Dad!” the boy screamed through his tears and grabbed the spot he had just slapped, rubbing it furiously. “I don’t… It’s…”
Jay began to mutter something, mixing the words with sobs and sobs, not giving dad a chance to understand their meaning. Putting the strap on the floor, Bruce sat down next to his son and gently stroked his lower back, trying to relax and calm the tantrum.
“Come on, take a deep breath, buddy,” the man urged, listening to his son's heartbreaking cry. “Dad's here.”
“I thought you didn't care,” Jason whispered, trying to breathe deeper and speak without stuttering.
Bruce's hand froze as it stopped drawing soothing circles on the boy's back. He frowned, not quite understanding what Jason meant.
“What are you talking about?” Bruce asked, noticing how Jason tried to move and grimaced in pain.
Jason blinked back a few more tears and rubbed his cheek against the pillow.
“I thought… you stopped caring about me,” the boy said quietly, but at these words Bruce's hands were covered with unpleasant goosebumps.
“What kind of nonsense?” Dad asked in confusion, leaning on the bed with his elbow. “Why did you think so?”
The boy hugged the pillow tighter, trying not to look at dad with confused eyes. His cute button nose was flushed with tears, and his eyes were a little swollen. Bruce wanted to quickly find out the reason for this behavior in Jason and erase his sad tears.
“Jason?”
“I don't know,” the boy sobbed again, closing his eyes. “You've been babysitting Tim and Damian all the time lately. And you don't seem to care about me.”
Jason had difficulty getting the words out, but it was even harder for dad to take them seriously. Bruce always tried to distribute his attention to each boy separately, not forgetting to be interested in their affairs and successes. And even with the appearance of six-year-old Damian on the estate, Bruce continued to go on patrols and take Jason with him. He had no idea that Jason still felt left out.
“Jason, sweetheart,” Bruce tried to brush the boy's annoying curls off his forehead to see his frustrated look. “What makes you think this?”
Jay ran the sleeve of his sweatshirt under his nose and became even more embarrassed.
“A month ago, I skipped school and failed several tests,” the boy began to say bitterly. “But you didn't react to it.”
“And that's why you think I don't care about you?” Dad asked in bewilderment.
“Yes, because when the director of the Academy called you a week ago and said that Tim fell asleep in class and also did not do his homework, you ... spanked him and grounded him for a week.”
Jason sounded hurt and embarrassed, but Bruce fought back the urge to take the boy in his arms to comfort him. He didn't want Jason to close up again and get even more embarrassed that he still hadn't pulled up his pants.
“I didn't punish Tim because he fell asleep in class, Jay,” Bruce explained wistfully, squeezing his son's shoulder. “I punished him because he lied to me for several days in a row and ruined his routine sitting in his laptop all night.”
“Oh…” Jason breathed out, looking confused and out of place in the position he was in right now.
“So, by stealing the car, you were trying to get attention and test my reaction?” Bruce asked, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes with his fingertips.
“Maybe,” the boy nodded weakly, sobbing softly.
Bruce moved to the edge of the bed and rested his elbows on his knees, thinking over his son's words. He could not even think that one of his sons would be upset and offended by him because of the lack of punishment.
“I didn't punish you because you told me you were tired,” Bruce said as he watched the little motes swirl in the subdued sunlight. “I know that you love school and will not intentionally ignore your classes. And I didn't mind if you took a little break from the constant workload.”
“I know,” the boy whispered, slowly pulling his boxers over his red bottom and sitting down next to his dad. “It's just… I don't know… I thought Tim and Damian were more suited to be good sons now. Especially when Dick moved to the Blud.”
Bruce tilted his head to the side to give Jason a warning parental look.
“Jason, I love you. And nothing in this world will change the way I feel about you,” he firmly assured, trying not to raise his voice. “I'm sorry I didn't talk to you properly about your truancy. But I know how hard you need to try to match the level of training at the Academy. I just didn't want to push you any harder.”
Jason nodded slowly, again sobbing softly and trying to hold back his tears.
“You should have talked to me about what's bothering you, Jaylad,” Bruce added a little softer. “Attracting attention by stealing a car and breaking the law was very dangerous and wrong.”
“I know,” Jason muttered again, pulling the threads out of the jeans he didn't dare pull over his buttocks. “I'm sorry I had to do it.”
“I'm sorry too that I gave you reason to doubt my care, son,” Bruce said, feeling devastated. “If it makes you feel better when I react to your every action, then I promise that I will do it.”
“Well…” Jason fidgeted a little, licking his lips. “I didn't mean absolutely every...”
Bruce chuckled gently patting his son on the knee.
“I think we figured that out,” Dad said, forming his next steps in his head.
Bruce, of course, felt guilty for letting Jason get away scot-free for skipping school, but he also couldn't accept his son engaging in such self-destructive thoughts. Jay should never have thought that he was worse than Tim and Damian. And he shouldn't have doubted his dad's unconditional love.
“Now I would like to discuss the fact that you really doubted that I cared about you, son,” Bruce spoke again, getting out of bed and walking towards the chest of drawers.
He pulled a notepad and pen from the bottom drawer, then moved the coffee table closer to the bed. Sitting on the floor, Bruce opened a notebook on a blank sheet and wrote the line: ‘I am valuable and important. My family loves me and takes care of me.’
Jason frowned at his dad's actions and nervously wrinkled the sleeves of his favorite sweatshirt. His tears had dried, but his cheeks were still pink.
“Tim and Damian are a lot younger than you, buddy,” Bruce said, turning the pen between his fingers. “And if I give them a little more time than you or Dick, it doesn't mean that I love you less.”
“I understand,” Jay drawled, sighing and slouching. “It was stupid to be jealous.”
“That wasn't stupid,” Bruce said softly, looking at the letters he'd carefully scribbled on the white paper. “But you needed to talk to me about what's bothering you. And also you should always remember that we all love you very much and will take care of you no matter what.”
Jason nodded, staring at the white carpet and biting his lips.
“Let's fix this knowledge with lines,” Bruce ordered a little more firmly, pushing a notebook and a pen towards Jason. “Read and then rewrite these lines on five pages.”
“Da-a-ad,” the boy grumbled, returning to his usual tone of voice of an offended child.
“Don't argue, Jason. You know that I would never compare you to your brothers. And I don't want to hear those self-destructive thoughts about you being a bad son anymore. It was never true.”
“I already realized that I was mistaken,” the boy said, looking at the white sheet with pursed lips. “Sorry about the carjacking and everything else, too. Next time... I'll talk to you.”
“Thanks for the apology,” Bruce nodded, but didn't relent. “Now do what I said.”
Jason sighed in displeasure, but leaned closer to the table to start rewriting lines. Bruce, meanwhile, got up from the floor and grabbed the belt to put it back in the closet. He wasn't going to use it again, but Dad wanted to seal Jason's punishment and learning with another session with his palm.
Leaving Jason alone with his notepad, dad went down to the kitchen and poured some cool water to give to his son after the punishment. When he returned to the room, Jason was already writing on the third sheet, trying to take his time and write the letters legibly. By the fourth page, the boy's eyes began to moisten again. He whimpered softly and ran his forearm over his eyes to hold back the tears.
Bruce sat down next to his son and put his hand on his shoulder blades, gently massaging and rubbing his tense back. Jason relaxed a little, continuing to write lines and hold back tears. When the fifth page filled with blue ink, the boy threw away his pen and slammed the notebook shut, hiding the important words behind the cover.
“That's it, I'm done,” the teenager muttered, still looking a little ridiculous with his jeans pulled up to mid-thigh.
“Not so fast, Jay,” Bruce interrupted, opening one of the written pages again and placing the notepad on the bed. “We haven't finished yet.”
“What? But you put the belt away, didn't you?” Jason said with a slight fear in his eyes.
“I don’t need a belt to continue your punishment,” Dad explained, sitting more comfortably on the bed.
Bruce patted his knees, inviting Jason to lie down and end the conversation. The boy recoiled a little, clinging to the waistband of his pants.
“Dad, I really realized my mistake,” Jay pleaded, cooing like a child.
“I believe you, but I want these words to stick in your mind,” Bruce explained, tapping his temple with his index finger. “I don't want you to doubt my love for you next time, son. Now come here.”
Jason hesitated for a few seconds, trying to soften his dad with a guilty look. But Bruce patiently waited for his son to be ready.
Sighing in defeat, Jason finally bent over his dad's knees, resting his upper body on the edge of the bed. The man shifted the notebook with the lines so that Jason could easily look at them and read them, and then pulled the boy's boxers up to the middle of the thighs.
“Read what's written here,” Bruce ordered, examining the skin on Jason's bottom, which was covered with pink and red lines from the belt.
A few extra palm slaps won't hurt Jason too much, but they will help reinforce the lesson.
“I'm waiting, Jason,” Bruce prompted, lightly stroking the most inflamed place from the belt on the boy's sitting spots.
Jay growled, crossing his arms in annoyance under his chest and propping himself up on his elbows to look at his notebook.
“I am valuable and important. My family loves me and takes care of me,” the teenager read with a mixture of embarrassment and grumbling.
Bruce grunted and waved his hand to slap the boy on the inflamed bottom.
“Ah!” Jason yelped, leaning forward slightly.
“One more time,” Bruce said quickly so Jason wouldn't start arguing.
“Dad, this is so embarrassing,” Jason whined, now hiding his face in his hands.
“It's okay,” Bruce consoled, rubbing the bite where he'd just been slapped. “This will help you remember the truth.”
A few warning pats and Jason said the phrase again. Dad smacked the other buttock, mixing the sharp lines from the belt with the blurry ovals from the fingers.
“Again,” Bruce demanded, wanting to imprint his concern for the teenager, literally and figuratively.
“I am valuable and important. My family loves me and cares about me,” Jason whined, panting and wiggling his backside as Bruce spanked his seats.
“Remember once and for all that I will always take care of you, son. Even if I don't punish you for something, it doesn't mean that I don't love you.”
“I remember, dad,” Jason howled at several more painful spanks on his thighs. “I'm really sorry.”
“Read it again.”
“I am valuable and important. My family loves me and takes care of me,” the boy almost shouted, shrinking and fidgeting in his dad's lap.
Bruce didn't save the power of his smacks by painting the pink spots on his son's bum a bright red.
“What will you do if you feel left out again?”
Jason whimpered, letting sobs escape his lips.
“I’ll tell you about it,” the boy cried, in a trembling voice.
“That's right,” Dad nodded, raising one leg a little to straighten Jason's tense body. “And you will never again take a car without a permit to race with the police and endanger people's lives.”
Bruce began slapping the already hot skin on Jason's bottom and thighs sharply and quickly, causing the boy to writhe and kick.
“I won't, dad!” Jason screamed, squirming over his knees as if his life depended on it.
“And don't ever risk your own life so stupidly again,” Dad scolded, catching Jason's wandering hands to pin them to the small of his back.
Another flurry of hard spanks landed on Jason's bum in quick succession.
“No, no, no, no,” the boy squealed, whimpering from the bottom of his heart and kicking off the floor with his feet. “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!”
Bruce ended the spanking with a final, resounding slap on the buttocks and let go of Jason's hands for the boy to scratch and rub his bite to his heart's content. Now Jay's soft and pale skin was properly dyed a uniform cherry color, as it should be for a naughty kid.
“There-there, Jays. You did it,” Bruce ran his hand along Jason's back several times, calming his trembling. “You are forgiven. Now everything is all right.”
Jason cried into the covers for a few more seconds, and then slowly and with the help of his dad, he began to get to his feet. Grumbling and wailing, the boy put on his boxers, and took off his tight jeans and threw them on the other side of the bed.
Bruce's heart clenched painfully every time Jason's tear-stained eyes looked at him and expressed sadness. He handed the boy a glass of water, which he had left on the coffee table, and watched as Jason's convulsive sobs turned into slight hiccups.
“Come here,” dad calmly called, pulling his son into his arms and stroking his back and curls. “Stop crying, buddy. Now it's behind.”
“I was fine without punishment,” Jason whispered convulsively, clinging to his father's T-shirt.
Bruce chuckled softly, beginning to sway gently from side to side as if Jason was still a toddler.
“But do you feel more comfortable with punishments?” Bruce asked also quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his son's head.
Jason was silent for a moment before nodding into his father's chest and pressing even closer to him.
“I see,” Bruce grunted, hugging the boy tighter as well. “I promise I will take care of you and pay attention to every prank, okay?”
Another nod, less confident, and Bruce smiled again, ruffling the teenager's dark hair.
“Dad?” Jay called, shifting from foot to foot.
“Hm?”
“I'm sorry for pulling you off the board of directors. It was important to you.”
Bruce frowned slightly, already forgetting that he had abandoned people in his office without even explaining the reason. But he will have time to do it later. The board of directors could be assembled on any other day. But the news that one of Bruce's sons was caught by a police officer would like to be a one-off.
“Don't think about it,” dad said. “You are more important than all these directors put together.”
Jason relaxed visibly, rubbing his cheek against his dad's T-shirt.
“Do you want to talk about anything else?” Dad asked, noticing how Jason reached for his bottom to scratch the painful throb.
“I don't think so,” the boy grimaced, sobbing through his stuffy nose. “You answered all my questions intelligibly.”
“You'll be fine,” Bruce said confidently, letting Jason break the hug. “But I'm glad you understand.”
Jay lowered his embarrassed gaze to the floor, again playing with the sleeves of his sweatshirt.
“Can we…” he said uncertainly, shrugging his shoulders. “Can we spend the rest of the evening together?”
Bruce thought for a moment, remembering what was planned for the evening. In an hour, Alfred is supposed to pick up Tim from the Academy, and then the whole family will gather for lunch. Then Bruce and Tim have an individual training session in the cave, and then the man has to teach a math lesson for Damian. After that, Jason will come to the cave for training, and in an hour they will need to go on patrol.
But nothing terrible will happen if they change their schedule once.
“Of course, buddy,” Bruce smiled tenderly, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. “Do you want to watch a movie or play a game?”
Jason's eyes lit up as he looked happily at his dad. Bruce gently wiped the last tears from his cheeks and kissed the boy on the temple again.
“We can play a console, and then watch a movie,” the guy nodded, noticeably cheered up.
“Fine. Then go change, and I'll come to you in ten minutes,” Bruce answered, patting the boy on the shoulder.
“And Damian?” Jason asked cautiously, walking slowly towards the door.
“Alfred will look after him. Do not worry about it.”
Jason nodded, biting his lips again and pulling the bottom of his sweatshirt down to cover his bare legs. Bruce followed him with his eyes, and then began to tidy up the room, hiding the notebook and returning the table to its place. The sedative pill began to take effect, lessening the headache and the pounding heart that Papa had been feeling ever since he heard Commissioner Gordon's voice. His mind gradually calmed down, accepting the fact that Jason was alive and well. And if attention was really important to the boy even in small violations of the rules, dad was going to give it to the fullest.
And despite the sadness in the boy's eyes and the slightly tense gait after the punishment, Bruce will not stop caring for him. Never.