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It had been about six months since Jason Todd became Robin—things were going well, or as well as they could be in Gotham. Jason fought crime at night with Batman, went to school during the day, trained in evenings and weekends, now living at Wayne Manor with Bruce and Alfred. It was a new start, a good beginning, comfortable routines for a boy who never knew stability in his young life. Jason liked being Robin, liked his new life, his new identity—
But to tell the whole truth, Jason Todd was exhausted.
Normally Jason was a cheerful, energetic boy who gave all his effort without complaining once, but lately he found it almost impossible to be happy and unrelenting, feeling nothing but fatigue and dread. Jason was tired. The last several patrols had lasted from dusk until dawn, and they had been busy nights, even more busy than school, where Jason had previously attempted to make friends, but lately found himself too emotionally drained to try and cure his loneliness. That particular burden felt heavier than usual, adding onto the already very long list of problems Jason was juggling, and juggling poorly.
He was glad today was Saturday, because that meant he had a solid three hours in the afternoon to nap, until Bruce called him down to the cave for some pre-patrol training. Jason had so much reading to do if he wanted to stay ahead in his classes, and he also wanted to read a book for fun, and help Alfred with dishes and laundry, and he was still wondering about the fate of a little girl he saved last week…
There was a lot on his mind, so much to do, repetitive tasks that seemed endless, but above all, Jason needed rest. Even a brief rest would have been much appreciated by his body. Jason felt physically weak for the first time since becoming Robin, muscles achy, limbs heavy as concrete, movements sloppy and unsure…his head somehow felt even worse. Jason liked to compare his current feelings to a middle aged adult working two jobs with six mouths to feed at home—even if he liked his jobs, the pressure and accumulation of stress were overwhelming him.
Being a normal kid was hard enough, and now on top of that, Jason had become Robin. Batman depended on him. Batman needed Robin to have his back when bad guys were trying to hurt them.
Yeah. It was a lot.
So, on this cool Saturday in early spring, Jason was trying to find a quiet place in Wayne Manor for his planned nap; the couch downstairs was super comfy, but in the middle of everything, and Alfred was always dusting things in Jason’s room, and even though he moved quietly, cleaning still would have interrupted Jason’s napping. Luckily there were many empty rooms in the manor, and Jason searched all of them trying to find a suitable nap spot, much like a lazy, antisocial cat would.
A particular room on the floor above Jason’s room seemed like a top contender—it was a medium sized lounging room with a fireplace and two windows that let just enough natural sunlight in, but not enough where the room would be too bright for napping. Jason hummed in satisfaction, analyzing the vintage couch and testing out its comfortability, not bad for appearing very antique. When he looked back up to gather his final opinion on the room, a large painting framed above the fire place caught his attention.
“Who are they?” Jason mumbled to himself thoughtfully, standing up to get a closer look. A man and a woman were painted onto a large canvas, and although it was clear they were a couple, Jason knew they weren’t Bruce’s parents. He had seen the painting of them downstairs, the one with a much younger Bruce included. Martha wasn’t as dark haired as this woman, and her skin was much more fair; Thomas Wayne wasn’t as built, less manly and athletic looking. Jason stared at their bright, energetic eyes and warm, cheerful expressions, still not recognizing them from anywhere, feeling a bit saddened after looking at it for a while.
If I asked Bruce nicely, could he get me a painting of mom? Jason wondered. Well…I don’t know if she’d make a good painting like these people. They look healthy and happy—she wasn’t really either. I guess the tiny framed picture I have of her in my room is good enough. No one else needs to see her, anyway. Just me.
Although Jason liked this room for a napping spot, he began feeling uncomfortable, like he was somewhere he shouldn’t have been. The canvas picture made him feel sad and lost: someone had this painting created, then left it behind, and although Alfred kept the area clean, it seemed clear that the person who had it made didn’t visit regularly anymore. Jason would have stayed, but this room was obviously arranged for someone else, and he wasn’t that someone.
There were a lot of rooms in Wayne Manor that made Jason feel like that.
Jason left the room quietly, closing the door and leaving the painting in peace as he wandered back down to the main floor of the manor. Not wanting to impose on anymore special rooms, the boy figured he would just nap on the couch in the living room, but before he could round the hallway corner, there was a knock at the front door.
“I’ll get it, Alfred!” Bruce called, striding into the hall.
Jason ducked back behind his corner, always ready to test his stealthiness against Bruce’s paranoia. The handle clicked open, heavy wood door opening with a woosh—Jason waited to analyze Bruce’s voice to determine if he should show himself or not, but Bruce didn’t say a word. He didn’t even use his fake, capitalist asshole voice, the one he usually used when another rich person or woman visited him.
A few more seconds passed with no sounds, neither Bruce nor their unknown guest speaking, and Jason was just about to peek his face around the corner to spy when he heard Alfred enter the scene. His steps stopped, seemingly in surprise, then rushed forward again.
“Master Richard!” Alfred greeted warmly. “How good to see you!”
“Hey, Alfred,” A male voice Jason didn’t recognize answered just as warmly. He sounded young, but not as young as Jason, his voice already lower from puberty. “You’re looking good!”
Jason figured he was about to be called in to say hello anyway, so he took one step into the hallway to face the visitor.
A young man was hugging Alfred and smiling with traces of relief in its curve, the kind of handsome, genuine smile Jason only saw movie stars accomplish. He had shining black hair worn loose and getting a bit long at his neck and ears, bangs tickling over his eyebrows. Jason focused on the man’s face, because it really was a happy and kind looking face, the type that made you feel understood and seen.
He was tall, not as tall as Bruce yet, and may have looked much smaller standing near him if the young man hadn’t been so athletic and muscular himself; when Jason truly realized how much muscle was hiding beneath light colored jeans and a bulky black aviator jacket, it suddenly came to him, the identity of this mysterious young man paying Wayne Manor a surprise visit.
Oh. It’s…him. It’s Robin. Thee Robin.
Jason deeply regretted putting himself out in the open, grabbing at his shirt and twisting its hem uncomfortably, wondering if it was too late to make an escape. He wasn’t at all prepared to meet the first Robin—as much as he wanted to say hi and introduce himself, he suddenly felt as if his warm greeting wouldn’t be welcomed. Jason Todd was Robin’s replacement, after all, the second Robin, the boy who was still a boy, not a man like this Robin now was…
Even though Jason hadn’t been spotted yet, he found himself glued to the spot, locked onto the scene unfolding, keeping silent and brimming with anticipation for something as he watched from afar, feeling very distant from this meeting.
After releasing Alfred, the young man’s nice smile faded some as he turned back to Bruce, but it forcibly remained on his face. A second of awkwardness passed: Bruce was stupidly not saying a word and staring, looking like he was seeing a ghost. Robin ended the hesitance by reaching a hand out for Bruce to shake, which he did after another moment of contemplation. A handshake was a far cry from hugging like he had Alfred, and Jason had to wonder why.
“Bruce,” Robin nodded politely. “It’s good to see you in one piece.”
Their hands separated, Bruce forcing a smile of his own, but it came off as more of a grimace. Jason couldn’t decode his expression any more than he usually could, even though Bruce had actual emotion on his face, now. Why did seeing this Robin cause such an effect? Alfred seemed perfectly happy to see Robin, so why was his former mentor acting so distant?
“We weren’t expecting you,” Bruce said as an excuse for his odd behavior. He coughed once, using those seconds to conjure up something else to say. “Just passing through?”
“Nope. I’m here for a visit. Thought I’d stop by and see…”
Robin was the first one to notice Jason hovering at the end of the hall, sentence trailing off. When those bright blue eyes latched onto him for the first time, Jason’s heart began racing with unexpected anxiety—he never thought he would ever meet the first Robin, the perfect sidekick, the first sidekick, the first kid hero, the first of all. Robin was famous—this Robin was famous, rather. One could argue that he was a legend, and Jason never expected to meet any legends.
Jason certainly didn’t expect to see such a conflicted expression suddenly mar Robin’s kind eyes when he realized who the boy hovering down the hall was. Jason didn’t let himself squirm anymore, not wanting to immediately be backed into a corner—he tried to look approachable, but not weak (although his body was still screaming for a nap). He was a Robin, too.
The original Robin’s smile returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time.
“That’s him?”
“Yes,” Bruce said stiffly, back to his usual self. “This is Jason Todd. Jason, this is…the first Robin.”
The young man strode down the hall as Jason took two cautious steps forward. Despite the dark shadow in his otherwise pleasant blue eyes, Robin was perfectly polite as he greeted the younger boy, not standing over him in an intimidating way, keeping a solid foot between them.
“Hello, Jason. I’m Dick Grayson.”
“Hi.” Say something else, stupid! “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Grayson.”
Dick held out his hand, which Jason shook firmly, glad his bones didn’t get crushed like it usually did when adults shook his hand. Dick’s grip adjusted to Jason’s, shaking twice before letting go, returning to the aviator jacket pocket like the other. The two Robins looked at each other for a moment, appraising, Jason with awe (and just a sliver of fear), Dick with…a different emotion.
Jason just couldn’t quite understand his gaze as it focused on him—maybe it resembled Dick looking at himself in the mirror, imaging Jason wearing the Robin costume and picking out all their similarities. One thing Jason did see was Dick’s smile fading more and more until it was gone, leaving a vacant, chilled expression behind. That scared Jason a bit, unable to stop his fingers from fidgeting with his shirt again.
If Dick was looking in a mirror, what did he see in Jason that made him look like that?
Dick seemed to realize his expression had fallen, flashing another smile to make up for it, but his eyes were still locked onto Jason’s image, and the reflection of that image.
“So! What’s for lunch, Alfred?”
~~~*~~~
Instead of plopping down for an afternoon nap, Jason was preparing himself for an incredibly awkward lunch; he hid his fatigue as well as he could, but a few yawns still escaped his mouth, and his hand shook a little when he lifted his cup up to drink. In spite of his exhaustion, Jason thought of many questions to ask Dick, but he didn’t know if work talk was allowed at the table with a guest present—Bruce was picky about that ‘manners’ stuff.
Instead of asking his questions, Jason’s fatigue won out, hoping the others would supply conversation as he sat tiredly, embarrassed and anxious for reasons he didn’t understand.
Dick was useful in this way, starting up a plethora of topics, Alfred helping along by asking questions and nodding, while Bruce didn’t contribute a single word. He was acting even stranger than Jason, so the boy didn’t feel so bad about his poorly forced smiles.
I really didn’t need this today, Jason sighed internally, resisting the urge to lean his chin on his palm. Oh well…I guess I can nap tomorrow afternoon. But how will I get through today? Bruce won’t say anything, and I don’t know if I have a right to speak while the real Robin is here…ugh. This is making me even MORE tired.
“And then Kory and I teamed up to—”
“Who is Kory?”
“Oh, right, I almost forgot!” Dick smiled even more brightly, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Kory’s my girlfriend! She’s on the Titan team. She’s an alien.”
“Of course she is,” Alfred replied.
Dick talked about his girlfriend, Kory, his friends from the Teen Titans, his new apartment, a cute but noisy dog that lived down the hall, and pretty much everything else going on in his life. He and Kory were settled up in Bludhaven, a city even more shabby and gritty than Gotham; they built a Titan tower headquarters there, so help was always nearby if anything went down. Jason also learned that Dick no longer went by Robin, but Nightwing. That was way cooler than Robin or Batman.
“You really became your own hero? You have your own name and everything?” Jason asked abruptly. Dick smiled at him, a more genuine smile than before, though it still looked somewhat pained. Why did it pain him to look at Jason, and why did Bruce apparently feel the same way about the first Robin?
“Sure did. In between Titan missions I help clean Bludhaven up—it’s a pretty rough town, but as long as I’m able to help a few people here and there, I’m satisfied. Maybe one day I can change the system permanently—but that’ll be a lifetime gig, so I’m not in a rush. I’m pretty content with the way things are right now.”
Talking of the Titans and Dick’s new hero identity made Bruce shift in his chair. Dick sensed this without even looking over, taking a drink the same time as Jason did to fill the sudden gap in conversation. The awkward silence Jason had been dreading finally came, clinking of silverware echoing through the kitchen, topic dying out before it could really begin. Jason just didn’t understand why Bruce wasn’t saying more, or asking Dick any questions: didn’t he want to know where his first ward ended up, how he was doing? Or was it too difficult to ask?
“What kind of weapons do you use on patrol?” Jason inquired, desperate to end the silence, even if it meant coming off as an annoying kid. “Bruce won’t let me use anything but the batarangs.”
“That sounds like him,” Dick laughed, happy to follow this new topic. “I use Eskrima sticks, but I still use batarangs, too. They come in handy when you’re in a pinch.”
“I would master the batarangs before you beg for another weapon, Jason,” Bruce added.
Alfred seemed oddly content with this strange arrangement, smiling to himself behind bites of food and watching the other three interact. Well, for the rest of dinner, it was only two, Bruce going silent after his short comment, Jason losing his words to mental fatigue quickly after, which left only Alfred and Dick to keep the kitchen at a bearable atmosphere for the rest of lunch.
Only at the very end did Bruce randomly say to Dick during a pause in conversation, in a pained, but genuine voice,
“It’s nice to have you here.”
Dick seemed surprised by this sudden confession. He didn’t say anything in return, but the tightness of his shoulders loosened, and his blue eyes lost some of their hidden animosity.
Jason didn’t know how much longer he could keep up his polite ‘ward of Bruce Wayne’ façade, knowing his smile was looking less and less real with each passing minute. Hoping he could sneak out amongst the commotion at get at least an hour long nap in, Jason was quickly helping Alfred clear the table when someone lightly tugged on his hoodie sleeve. He was surprised to look down and see the tanned hand of their dinner guest holding onto the fabric lightly.
“Hey, Jason,” Dick said lowly. “Would you mind taking a walk with me around the grounds?”
More walking? Haven’t I already walked enough today? I went up and down the stairs twice!
“Uh—okay,” Jason nodded in confusion. Why would Dick want to take a walk with him? Jason wasn’t about to say no, though, because that was rude, even if the first Robin was harboring some unpleasant feelings towards Jason. Dick put his cool aviator jacket back on, Jason kept his hoodie on, and after a questionable glance from Bruce, they exited the manor together.
Jason pulled his sluggish self along, noticing that Dick was walking slower than he probably needed to, having noticed the younger boy’s dragging limbs. Jason wondered if he should start the conversation first, so Dick wouldn’t think he was stuck up—he begged himself to ask one of the million questions he had, but they kept walking, and nothing came out of Jason’s mouth.
Behind his own exhaustion-induced anxiety, Jason had a feeling Dick had some things to say to him; he could sense that the older man’s attitude had underwent a change since they went off alone, not as easygoing, definitely not as conversational. Dick was more closed off, more thoughtful than he had been not ten minutes before, and this change scared Jason. He knew when someone near him was irritated (he did live with Batman, after all), and although Dick wasn’t outright showing irritation, deep down it seemed he was restraining annoyance.
I guess I know why, Jason thought sadly, lowering his head. I’m the replacement. He’s mad at me.
Maybe Dick hated Jason in general. Maybe he wasn’t jealous at all, and actually came to wish Jason good luck, figuring he’d be dead by the end of his first year as Robin. Maybe he came to threaten Jason into quitting Robin. Maybe he came to off Jason himself, and make sure no other Robin even tried to replace him.
Jason didn’t want that. He didn’t want the original Robin to hate him. He admired Dick. He was Robin, just like he was now, and Dick had become an adult hero. He had his own city to protect. He was so good at being Robin he was able to smoothly transition to a full time hero. Jason wanted to do that, too—he wanted to be a hero like Dick, wanted to help kids like them, protect them from harm. He wanted to wear a cool jacket like Dick’s, too.
As Jason’s theories caused him more and more anxiety, he cursed his burdensome fatigue and chided himself for not getting enough rest, for not being able to take care of himself properly, thus being the own cause for his suffering now. Not only was his body not working, feeling more useless as they walked aimlessly through the Wayne gardens, but Jason’s thoughts were starting to get out of control, unable to be reined back in, running ramped and gaining in emotion, a dangerous game to play.
Unable to walk straight, or even focus on walking straight, Jason’s shoe suddenly caught on a decorative rock on the path’s edge; a quick snatch from Dick prevented Jason from falling on his face, holding him upright with his strong grip. Dick’s eyebrows were creased underneath his bangs, but not an angry crease like adults usually had—it was a concerned crease.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Jason nodded, making his dizziness worse. “M’okay…thanks.”
How humiliating…I’m meeting the original Robin for the first time, and I can’t even walk in a straight line.
“Let’s sit on that bench. My legs are tired from driving over here, anyway.”
Keeping his gentle hand on Jason’s arm, Dick led them towards a pretty bench tucked away in the corner of the lawn, apparently knowing where it was by heart, even though it wasn’t visible from where they were walking. Jason was happy to be sitting down, audibly sighing in relief as he let his limbs go lax; Dick laughed lowly at the boy’s expression, but then that concerned crease returned.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Jason? We can go inside if you’re not feeling well.”
“I’m…just tired,” The younger boy said, forcing his eyes to remain open.
Dick didn’t say anything for a few minutes, letting them bask in the warm spring sun quietly. Jason was actually happy when the young man spoke again, not wanting to start drooling from exhaustion, which was where the nice spring day was leading him.
“So—how do you like living at Wayne Manor? I’m sure it was a bit of a culture shock at first, right?”
“Yeah,” Jason huffed, remembering how huge his eyes got when he first saw the mansion. “I still get lost sometimes…it took some getting used to, but I like it. Better than living on the streets.”
“That’s true,” The young man frowned slightly, then shook it off. “Has school been going okay? I remember the days of trying to balance homework with hero work—it can get overwhelming. But you’re getting along alright?” Dick asked, sounding concerned again. This time, Jason let it work on him.
“Yeah. I like school,” He told Dick honestly, perking up a bit. “I read ahead a lot, just in case I get behind because of patrol. It lets me know what lessons we’re going to learn next—I get good grades in all my classes.”
Jason also wanted to add that it took a lot of effort for him to maintain those high grades. When it came to education (and life in general), Jason put a lot of pressure on himself to do better. He didn’t want to end up back on the streets for any reason, wanted to go to college one day and be able to support himself, to do what his parents couldn’t, no matter how hard they tried. Jason almost told Dick that, but couldn’t find the effort.
Plus, Jason didn’t know how Dick wanted him to answer—was he hoping for a negative answer, wanting Jason to be miserable so he would eventually quit being Robin? Jason had no clue. And he was already tired of guessing. Swallowing nervously, Jason turned his heavy head right to peek over at Dick, who was smiling at him. He wore an almost reminiscent expression, now, nicer than the reflective expression he made when they first met.
“I’ve been wondering for a while now, how you were handling all the responsibilities that come with being Robin. I never thought anyone else would be Robin, so I guess I’m curious as to how you’ve been adjusting.” Dick paused, then frowned. “Bruce hasn’t been comparing us too much, has he? Because that’s not healthy. He knows that’s not healthy.”
“Only sometimes,” Jason shrugged, rubbing at one of his eyes. It was hard to think clearly, but Dick was being nice to him, and he wanted to participate in their conversation before things went bad. “I bring you up first, mostly—um, not that we talk about you a lot, or anything…”
“Oh. Right...”
Shit. Jason didn’t mean to hurt Dick’s feelings, had meant to do the opposite, but a sad, wet puppy dog look took over Dick’s face, making Jason go mute again. He wished more than anything that Dick would go inside and be entertained by Alfred for at least two hours so Jason could get a proper nap in, and thus be able to speak to the first Robin more coherently.
Dick suddenly released a deep sigh, a big, preparing sigh, beginning the conversation Jason had subconsciously been expecting.
“I’m gonna admit something to you, Jason…a few months ago, when I opened the newspaper and saw a big headline stating that I had been replaced, I wasn’t happy,” Dick said. “I was pissed, actually…seeing that Bruce had not only went out and gotten a new sidekick after firing me, but let him use the Robin identity I created in honor of my dead parents? …At the time it was just—too much for me to process at once. I was too angry to talk to you sooner, and I’m sorry for that.”
Jason didn’t respond to that confession. It took him a long moment to process it fully, and when he did, it took him by surprise—Jason always thought Robin was just a silly name made up by a nine year old. He hadn’t known the costume he had been wearing so casually had been named in honor of Dick’s parents. His parents who fell to their deaths right in front of their beloved son.
The nice people in that painting Jason saw earlier appeared in his head, and he felt the heavy weight of guilt press down on his chest.
Jason had no right to be wearing that uniform. Why hadn’t Bruce told him that story? If he had, Jason sure as hell wouldn’t have worn it. He would have come up with a new sidekick name if he had known this entire time he had been running around disrespecting the memory of Dick’s parents. He could have come up with a new sidekick design, maybe with more red: he liked red.
Shaking that irrelevant thought away, Jason forced himself to look at Dick and try very hard to focus, because what he was saying was important.
“I felt like…Bruce betrayed me, you know?” Dick went on, looking up at the blue sky that couldn’t hold a candle to his blue eyes. “I felt that…it made me feel that if he could find a replacement for Robin so easily, that I had always been disposable not only to Batman, but to Bruce Wayne, too. I guess that idea hurt a lot more than I expected. I mean…why wouldn’t it? He more or less raised me from the time I was nine years old. Seeing yourself get replaced after spending that much time together would hurt anyone.”
“Yeah…”
Jason didn’t have anything profound to say, but felt like he had to say something instead of just sitting there like an emotionally void stump. Dick broke out of his thoughtfulness to send a sympathetic smile Jason’s way.
“Not that I blame you, Jason. I don’t have anything against you for replacing me as Robin—Bruce chose you for a reason, and I know you’ve been doing a great job as his sidekick. Better than I was when I started, that’s for sure.”
“That’s not true,” Jason murmured shyly, not used to being praised so directly. “I…I’m just copying all of your moves and stuff…I don’t really do anything special.”
“Bruce never would have picked you if he didn’t think you were special, Jason,” Dick insisted, confident in his reassurances. “He believes in you, just like he believes in me—or used to, at least. A lot has happened between us since I left Gotham…I guess I don’t know how he feels about me now.”
“So why did you come?” Jason asked the question that had been burning his mind since Dick’s arrival. “Why did you come back here?”
Dick turned his head up to gaze at the sky, thinking. Boy did he ever look like a hero: sun shining over his obsidian hair, creeping down his chin and neck and shoulders, creating a warm halo of beautiful light around his upper torso. He was a robin perching on a warm spring day. Jason wondered what Dick saw when he looked at him: a bloodsucking bat? A venomous snake?
Jason hoped not. That hope strengthened when Dick smiled a friendly, knowing smile at him, like they had been friends their entire lives.
“Has Alfred given you the advice about burying your burdens, yet?”
“No. I could use it right now, though,” Jason added, making Dick laugh.
“Yeah, I figured. Well, when I was in my first year as Robin, Alfred saw that I was struggling. I was struggling because I was carrying all of my burdens by myself, stacking more and more on even though I couldn’t carry the load I already had. One day, I fell into a dark place from letting the burdens weigh me down—Alfred found me, of course, and he told me that if I shared the weight of my burdens with someone else, I wouldn’t be buried along with them. If I let someone help me, we could bury the burdens together, without falling in ourselves.”
Jason had never heard that expression before, reviewing this information intently. Burdens were something he knew well, even if he didn’t realize it—he was burdened with taking care of his drug abusing mother, later burdened with the guilt of her death after he found her unresponsive on the bathroom floor. He was burdened with keeping himself alive, which was a true, heavy burden sometimes, lonely on the cold streets of Gotham as a mere child.
There were a lot more examples he could think of, too, startled by how many he had been shoving into the backpack weighing down his young body. What was it like, to have those burdens pulled off, to share them with another so the load was still tough, but equal? What was it like to have help in extinguishing them, burying them so deep you almost forget how much they made you suffer?
Dick put a hand on the boy’s weary shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, unknowingly squeezing some of the heaviness out in the process. For the first time since they went on their walk, Jason felt the warmth from the sun, and let it heal him as Dick went on.
“I came here today because…I know what burdens come with being Robin, and I thought—I thought you might need a brother around to help carry them.”
A brother—Jason never had a brother. He never had any siblings, which he used to be thankful for; there was only himself to worry about, only himself to find food for, only himself to protect. But Jason could think of several occasions when it would have been nice to have an older brother like Dick around to help him, to protect him, to make life feel less…heavy. Jason never imagined how much relief he would experience at letting someone else carry half of his burdens, feeling lighter already, before those burdens were even buried.
It was a lighter existence because there was one other person in the world who understood Jason completely—Dick understood all the exhaustion, the pressure, the anxiety. He understood everything. He knew the weight of those particular burdens because he had been through them himself, and knew how best to manage them by sharing with someone.
Jason had never met his brother until this very moment, but knew Dick would never be considered anything less from this point forward.
“I…yes,” Jason stammered, voice trembling only slightly. “If it’s okay, I’d…like that. Because I’m…I’m really tired, not of being Robin, but just—I’m tired,” He admitted. “If…if you want to help me…I’ll let you.”
“Great. That’s great,” Dick laughed breathily, looking quite giddy and relieved as he gained a little brother. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding. I was worried Bruce might have compared you too much to me and made you hate me before we even met, or that he was running you so ragged you didn’t realize that you’re working your childhood away—but I guess I underestimated Jason Todd. Believe me, it won’t happen again.”
“It better not. But, Mr. Grayson…”
“Just Dick is fine,” The older boy snorted, blue eyes warm with affection.
“Dick…I don’t have to be Robin. I don’t want to wear the Robin costume if it upsets you,” Jason said seriously. “Do you want me to change it?”
Dick considered this for a brief moment. When he first saw the image of Jason in the newspaper wearing the green and yellow and red, he almost blew a gasket, insulted beyond measure that Bruce had allowed anyone aside from the Flying Grayson’s only remaining son to wear it. But that fury hadn’t been directed at Jason, and meeting him now, seeing how kind and bright and brave the boy was even through their brief interactions, Dick couldn’t possibly be mad at him for wearing his old uniform. He probably couldn’t be mad at him for anything.
Then again, it was probably best to not underestimate little brothers.
“Nah,” Dick shook his head, glossy black hair bouncing. “It’s a good look for you. As long as you wear the colors with pride, I don’t mind.”
“Okay. If we’re friends now, Dick, can I borrow that jacket? It’s super cool looking!” Jason pointed excitedly, feeling a burst of energy after gaining an older brother. “Can I wear it, pretty please?”
Bruce suddenly came walking up to the boys, seeming surprised they weren’t fighting or wrestling, instead smiling brightly at each other like they had just won the lottery. He stopped a few feet away, looking on in hidden admiration before clearing his throat.
“Is…everything okay?” Bruce asked, almost suspiciously, but attempting to sound casual.
“We’re fine,” Jason said, then quickly rephrasing with a tiny smile. “We’re great, I mean.”
“Oh—well…good.” Batman was a much better talker than Bruce Wayne sometimes. For a guy who schmoozed for a living, he certainly had a lot of trouble talking to his adopted sons. “Well…anyone up for a movie? I think there’s a few new ones coming out today, if either of you are interested.”
Jason and Dick looked at each other, their first brother stare that acted as a silent form of communication. Bruce didn’t often offer to do something so personal with his sons, so the offer was beyond temping—but, Jason still looked exhausted, despite his brightened mood, bags under his eyes, muscles sagged, posture drooped, small legs dangling uselessly off the bench…not to mention that glaze hanging over his eyes, a dazed look Dick knew painfully well from years of pretending like he wasn’t completely run down by his unusual life.
A movie with his little brother and Bruce did sound fun, but…
“Actually, Bruce, Jason and I are in dire need of a good three hour nap. What do ya say, little wing?”
Dick took off his black aviator jacket and slid it around Jason’s shoulders, tucking it snugly around him; it was too big, of course, but seeing the smaller Robin wearing something that belonged to his brother made Dick and Bruce smile. The sunlight shone on Jason, now, moving in the sky to direct its golden glow over his hopeful form.
“Yeah,” Jason sighed with relief, pulling the jacket a little tighter around his shoulders. Even if it was too big, it didn’t feel heavy at all. “A nap sounds good.”