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The media room had been Dick’s idea, years ago when he was the only person under 20 in the manor. Much as he liked hanging out and going to the movies with friends like a normal kid, who could resist having a private screening room in their own home? To Jason, of course, it was pure magic. Movie tickets in Gotham were pricy even in the worst theaters, and too many rental places knew him for a shoplifter to trust him with their videos.
Of course, Bruce would never approve of the kinds of movies Jason liked, and he’d made him get rid of his fake ID, leaving him unable to smuggle them into the manor himself. Lucky for him, Dick understood the dilemma facing a 17-year-old unable to get his hands on R-rated movies. Gotham had cracked down in an ineffectual publicity stunt to curb gun violence - fewer teens watching gory movies would mean fewer crimes, they said. Dick saw the move as just as big a pile of bullcrap as Jason did.
It was a slow Saturday night, and Bruce Wayne was out attending to his public image, leaving the boys in Alfred’s care. Dick had almost gone with him, but a bum wrist and healing facial lacerations would’ve raised too many questions. Jason had been planning on spending the evening sneaking around again, but really, he didn’t mind Dick’s company. The longer his predecessor hung around, the more Jason found he hoped Dick would stay.
Long legs propped up on the coffee table, a plateful of pizza in his good hand, Dick looked about as far from a crime-fighting vigilante as Bruce did a girl scout. He was still annoyingly clean-cut, even his t-shirt and track pants more well-kept than Jason’s whole wardrobe. Still, there was something reassuring – and disarming – in seeing his mentor like this, relaxed and brotherly with him. Jason figured he’d croak before he ever saw Bruce lighten up, but Dick seemed to want to be his friend, not just his fellow crime fighter.
“So what’re we watching?” Dick asked through a mouthful of pizza. “Please tell me it has subtitles. I couldn’t read the box.”
“It does. Though the story’s not the important part,” Jason grinned. He’d gotten Dick to rent him the latest movie from his favorite Japanese horror producer, and the internet had promised him gratuitous amounts of gore. “I hope you have a strong stomach.”
“I’ve seen some things, man,” Dick shrugged. “I think I’ll be ok.”
“Just don’t come crying to me when you have nightmares.”
“You know what, if you can find a movie that gives me nightmares, I’ll give you ten bucks.”
Jason grinned and got up to put the DVD in. “I’m not sure you want to make that wager, Dickie, but I’m not gonna turn down free money.”
Banter gave way to the steady and determined consumption of pizza as the movie worked its way through its introduction. It seemed innocuous enough, and Dick remarked teasingly that he loved movies like Totoro, too. Jason returned the jab with a knowing smirk, hoping to see boy wonder jump just a little.
Soon enough the ‘horror’ part of the equation kicked in, and Jason was not disappointed. Not only were there flying body parts and mutilations, but the whole thing carried a deeply disturbing undercurrent of psychological terror. Dick looked suitably horrified, and Jason was pleased to note that he’d pushed his pizza box away completely.
Jason had just settled in to enjoy the rest of the movie without checking Dick’s reaction every few minutes when the story took an abrupt and unexpected turn, focusing in on two minor characters who hadn’t died yet. They were both men, cop buddies who’d grown up on the force together, and right in the middle of all of the blood and gore, they had a sex scene.
The internet hadn’t told him about this.
Jason sat stock-still on the couch, not daring to look over at Dick, and unable to look away from the screen either. In keeping with the film’s rating, the scene was explicit, and if he hadn’t been panicking so hard Jason would’ve recognized the artful contrast of this scene with the horrific violence that surrounded it. But Jason wasn’t really seeing the movie, not anymore – he was seeing projections behind his eyes of all the sick desires he’d tried to crush, lustful thoughts that’d involved the man in the chair beside him. He felt a sudden paranoid fear that Dick would be able to read his mind, plucking fantasies from his head. Heart in his throat, heat churning in his gut, he tried in vain to sink through the back of the couch and out of sight forever.
The movie lost much of its appeal after that. Through the second half Jason was preoccupied with squashing his own hormones, and worse, he took Dick’s silence to mean that he, too, had been disturbed by the scene. Why the fuck had he picked this movie, this complete unknown? And why hadn’t anyone warned him?
At last, after what felt like hours in the close stillness of the theater, the movie ended and the credits rolled. Dick let out a low whistle, glancing sideways. “You’re into some sick stuff, Jay.”
Jason knew he was beet red and summoned up stark anger to shield himself. “Hey, it’s not my fault. No one told me this was some fag shit!”
Dick cocked his head, bemused by the outburst. “I was talking about the guy who had to eat his own lungs.”
“Yeah, well… whatever,” Jason snapped, thrown by Dick’s response. “You owe me ten bucks, then.”
He hated the way Dick was looking at him now, like he was trying to puzzle out his anger. He always did that – scrutinized him like some kind of shrink, like if he could just figure him out he could switch all of his negative emotions off. Jason wanted to punch him, but beneath that was an impulse that scared the shit out of him. The scared, pissed off kid wanted someone to help him.
“I’m gonna take these boxes up to the recycling bin,” Dick said lightly, getting to his feet and collecting the garbage despite his bum arm. “You want anything while I’m up there?”
“Yeah,” Jason grunted. “My money. And, uh. Maybe some popcorn.”
When Dick had gone, Jason collapsed in a boneless heap. If he jumped up now, he could run the hell away, and Dick would never backflip his way into finding him with only one good arm. He could find someplace to hide out the rest of the night until his chest stopped hurting and his stomach untied itself. Tomorrow no one would think anything of it – after all, they still thought of him as a half-feral street kid, prone to wandering off and getting into trouble.
Even as the notion crossed his mind, he knew he was kidding himself. Of course they’d think of it. Dick would mention something to Alfred, and even though no one would say a word to Bruce he’d pick up on the vibe. For a week or more he’d be under suspicion, everyone throwing him those searching glances, like he was a specimen on display.
What if he explained first? The thought of acknowledging his outburst brought a searing bolt of shame, but he knew he couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened. The way Dick had looked at him, like he’d figured out way too much from that one angry remark, made him want to die. If he could explain himself and keep his secret at the same time, he’d have to face momentary agony instead of drawn-out torment.
By the time he heard Dick’s footsteps in the hall, he’d made up his mind. He greeted him with a grin, feigning a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “You better not have forgotten the extra butter.”
Dick seemed startled by his change in demeanor, but covered for it well. “I had to sneak it by Alfred, but yes. You’re gonna have to wait for that cash, though. My wallet’s empty.”
“You’re Bruce-fuckin’-Wayne’s heir,” Jason scoffed. “Just take it out of the vault.”
Popcorn was a nice distraction from what he’d steeled himself to do, but eventually the awkward silence was going to overwhelm him – that, or Dick’s lame stabs at conversation. He sat up a little straighter, cleared his throat, and launched into his ill-prepared speech.
“Hey, man – I’m sorry about what I said before. About, you know, the movie.” He found he couldn’t quite meet Dick’s eye, so he looked down at the carpet instead, certain that he was making an ass of himself. “It’s just, where I came from, you can’t show any weakness. And that’s a weakness, out there. You’ll get beaten up for less. You imitate the people who’ve managed to survive out there, do whatever they do, and it… that kind of thing becomes a habit, you know? I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Dick waited until Jason had said all he needed to before jumping in, for which Jason was deeply grateful. “Hey, it’s ok. That’s a hard thing to get over. You had a lot more to worry about growing up than I did, I think. If it takes you time to get past that mentality, all that matters is you’re trying. And I know you are, Jaybird.”
He reached out to ruffle Jason’s hair, and Jason was surprised when he didn’t flinch from the touch. There was still a lot of confusion tangled up in his guts, but what Dick had said took a little of the weight off. He, at least, didn’t expect him to be a golden boy overnight.
Still, Jason pulled back after a second, afraid of letting himself think too hard about Dick’s easy acceptance. He wasn’t about to let everything hang out.
“Yeah, whatever,” he said, making light of the moment before it got too intense. “Hey, you can still play X-Box one-handed, right? Or are you gonna try and wuss your way out of our NFL Crunch Time rematch?”