Chapter Text
By the time Jason was twelve years old, he had experienced enough to wonder if his middle name shouldn’t have been Murphy instead of Peter. Because, man, did he have shit luck. (still does)
A year before, his mom’s sickness had taken a turn for the worst, and he had been missing half of his school days, he’d honestly been considering just dropping out at that point, and he’d been taking care of her. That meant he was out on the streets a lot, especially at night. He started working at the hospital as a fright-comfort-omega. The hospitals in Gotham all have a wing specifically for patients suffering from lasting fear toxin effects.
Now, his rotten luck started really showing through about a month into having the job. Being who he was, living where he did, and working the hours he did, made him the perfect candidate for kidnapping.
The first time, he had been walking past an alleyway, mentally compiling his to-do list for his mom’s needs (rookie-mistake; situational awareness is crucial) when suddenly there was a hand over his mouth and an arm around his waist. It was a group of three guys. Alphas. By the smell of them, horny alphas.
Well, shit.
Before Jason could try for his tazer – of course he had a tazer, this was Gotham and he was tiny (still is) – a shadow dropped down on top of the alpha who looked to be the leader. The other two startled and let go of Jason but were swiftly knocked out with a single punch each (wimps).
The shadow turned to Jason and, oh, of course, it’s The Batman.
“Are you alright?” the massive man growled out.
And look, Jason had heard quaking goons on the street pissing their pants about the Bat’s ‘terrifying growl’ but Jason didn’t think all that much of it. It might have just been that the guy doesn’t intend to scare Jason, like the others. No matter, though, any fear Jason had had while in the grip of an alpha with unsavoury intentions, had disappeared in the presence of the Bat.
“Yeah,” Jason is amazed at the stability of his own voice. “I’ll, uh, I’m okay now.” He looks at the three alphas, now restrained. “Thanks Batman,” he whispers shyly, before turning out of the alley to go home. If he felt like he was being followed by a certain shadow, well, that was fine.
He’d be safe.
Only, it didn’t stop there. A month passed, and he’d been saved by the Big Bat no less than five more times.
The problem that arose, is this: the criminals and rogues and goons figured that if there was one way to ensure the Bat’s arrival, it was through putting this kid (Jason) in any kind of peril.
After lifting Jason out of the cage (seriously, a cage???) he was kept in, Batman held him in the crook of his elbow with one hand while checking him for injuries with the other. Perched on Batman’s forearm – he has never felt so tiny – Jason felt like a toddler, but he felt nothing less than safe. Batman’s free hand moved to Jason’s face to move his hair out of his eyes with gentle, gloveless, fingers.
“I think,” he rumbled, “it is high time that I learned your name. I can’t keep calling you my little troublemaker in my head, now, can I?”
And Jason just snorted. He was slowly becoming less worried for his life with each incident, his trust in this man growing with every rescue.
“Nah, I s’pose not,” he giggled, before wriggling in the man’s arm to get more comfortable, “name’s Jason.”
It’s been years now. Jason is turning seventeen in a month and has been almost-killed and almost-assaulted and almost-whatever you can think of.
Presently, he is waking up from a nasty knock to the head (writing his exam is gonna suck in the morning) taking in his surroundings.
Right above him – below him? – ohhhh, he’s upside down! – is a big tank with two sharks swimming around in it. Seriously?
Around the tank, is a couple of other containers of what looks like acid. Fun. Further from that, is a table with a large array of tools that are obviously meant for torture.
Jason is idly listing off in his mind the name and purpose of each item on the table, when the warehouse wall is giving way for an actual crane driven by none other than Robin. Jason must have gotten a harder blow than he thought.
Movement from the corner of Jason’s eye draws his attention and, shit, he did not realise that he got kidnapped by the actual Joker whatthefuck???
Well, that explains the sharks and the acid…
Everything that happens next is all at once and in proper slow-motion.
Robin’s moving the vats of acid away with the crane. The Joker is on the floor and Batman is running straight at Jason. It seems that Robin has been clearing a path for him to reach the tank. Jason feels himself start falling as whatever was keeping him suspended is released via a remote in the clown’s head. In that same moment, Batman leaps at Jason, snatches him out of the air and lands in a crouch on the other side of the tank, with a tiny ball of Jason tucked safely under his cape and against his armoured chest.
Batman stands upright and Jason’s head pops out from between the folds of his cape, “Hi!”
The Bat flashes a soft private smile – which Jason doesn’t know is only ever directed at him – and replies, “good evening, Jay-lad. How’s the GED coming along.”
Leaning his head on the man’s shoulder, Jason dives into his explanation of his studies and tests while letting his dad – ahem, Batman – check him over.
Things are changed up sometime during Jason’s first year of college. He doesn’t know how it happened, but the full ride Wayne Foundation scholarship makes him glad he followed Batman’s advice of applying. During the first mid-term break, Jason finds himself waking up in a basement and he just sighs.
There is movement from his right and the familiar click next to his head.
“Well,” he starts, “I rate this attempt a solid six outta ten.”
His kidnapper gapes for a moment, then presses the gun to Jason’s temple.
“How d’you reckon that, runt?”
And, yeah, okay, that’s fair. Jason might be nineteen, but he is still small enough to pass for thirteen.
“Well, you won points for rememberin’ to turn off the safety of your gun, but lost some for not restrainin’ me. Anyway, I’m guessin’ about a halfa minute estimate.”
The guy falters, “before what?” he asks and is immediately answered by Batman walking in through the door-
Wait.
That’s not his Batman.
Jason watches the quick fight silently with narrowed eyes, only speaking up once ‘Batman’ crouches by him, his facial expression quickly dropping to unimpressed, “who the fuck’re you?”
‘Batman’ seems taken aback. What do you mean, Jason? I’m Batman.”
Ew, that attempt at his dad’s – uh his Bat’s – growl is horrendous.
“The fuck you are,” Jason is getting a bit anxious, “You are definitely not my Bat-dad.”