Chapter Text
Jason Todd wouldn’t have been the first to admit he had problems. Jason Todd would have probably been one of the last, hadn’t it been for the twelve year-old sitting on the other side of the table and staring at him over his strawberry milkshake. Right now, all of Jason’s problems condensed into the very important task not to laugh. Again.
“Oh, c’mon,” he managed. “It happens to the best of us.”
Damian opened his mouth but opted for silence at the last moment. The way he was glaring made it obvious that he wasn’t pouting, Todd. No way. But he totally was.
“Look, before your daddy swallowed like a buttload of marbles and sandpaper to get that whole growl-thing going, he was singing soprano, too. You know when you can’t decide on a channel and just zap through the programs? Pretty sure he sounded like that when he was your age.” And he would so ask Alfie later for a video. Alfred had all the videos and childhood memories of every kid growing up at Wayne manor and they were all screwed if he ever chose to use them for blackmail.
Damian exhaled softly, raising both hands from under the table to gesture quickly.
“Oh, sign language it is now,” Jason laughed. “Yeah, I can do that, but you’ll still have to start speaking again some day, ya know.” Leaning back in his seat, Jason let his eyes wander. Damian was still gesticulating but he wasn’t going to encourage the use of ASL when he could listen to the kids’ voice break every other sentence.
It was easy finding something interesting to look at. The diner’s patrons were mostly families and Damian had yet to protest when they got him crayons and paper each time they came for lunch. Jason loved it. He loved picking the kid up from school, loved helping with Damian’s homework although the kid seldom needed it.
Sandra, the waitress, looked up and smiled when he raised a hand. The turquoise uniform they made her wear clashed with the tone of red she’d dyed her hair and she’d had to prick a new hole in her belt to make her purse hang as loose as those of the other girls. She was also Damian’s favourite because she never looked at his drawings.
“What can I do for you,” Sandra asked, standing at their table.
“I think the kid wants to tell you something.” Damian glared, shaking his head harshly but that didn’t stop Jason. “Yeah, something about cake.”
“Not about cake then.” The waitress smiled at Damian when he kept shaking his head. After a bit of staring she tilted her head. “It’s okay, dear. No need to be shy.”
“Yeah, no need to be shy, Dami,” Jason gloated. When he was going to pay for this - and he was going to pay for it - he would still think Damian’s face was the most hilarious thing he’d seen this year. He desperately didn’t want to open his mouth, but he didn’t want to be rude to the nice lady that actually let him draw in peace and thus had been promoted from normal ‘waitress’ to ‘the lady from the diner’.
There was a moment, a teeny, tiny moment where he gave in to hope and finally opened his mouth. This was of course the moment Jason had been waiting for, too.
“I think he had a complaint.”
“A complaint?” Sandra straightened up, one hand at her cheek and a sudden properness in her posture that came with being ready to fight tooth and nails for her job. It sure wasn’t a good job, but she had a family and this would never be one of Gotham’s richer parts of town.
Damian finally broke. “Stop. He’s being ridiculous. There’s nothing to complain about.”
Jason watched the waitress blink, resting his arms on the table. She was looking from one to the other, not quite sure what to make of this.
“It’s cute, isn’t it,” he finally commented. “He’s trying so hard not to talk, yet the moment he does he sounds like Chainsaw tripped on catnip. - That’s my cat by the way.”
“I don’t –”
Sandra’s chuckle stopped Damian. She held her notepad in front of her face, not to openly laugh at him. With a huff, he crossed his arms, turning to face away from both of them. Damian’s ears were bright pink and if it were any other kid, he would’ve thrown a tantrum. As it was, Jason only prepared for being strangled in his sleep.
“I’m sorry, darling.” Sandra leaned over the table to put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not right to laugh at you. Do you want some cake? It’s on me, okay?”
His eyes darted to her, a small pout on his lips. “Coffee?”
“Well, since you’re an adult now, I’ll see what I can do for you.”
The kid’s hand instinctively went to the crayons spread in front of him, and Jason got that. Those were given to children. Children were allowed to draw at diners and Jason had never even been asked if he wanted paper or a pencil or anything like that because he was an adult. Damian was treated like an adult almost everywhere he went, too, but here he got shitty crayons and thin paper and they let him draw while stuffing his face with fast food. Like a child.
“Yeah, how about you get me the coffee. I’m pretty sure he wants that chocolate cake you had last time? The one with sprinkles and candy and stuff.”
The waitress smiled softly. “That’s our birthday cake.”
“What a coincidence, it’s my birthday. Get us the cake, Sandra,” Jason grinned. He might not have been the first to admit he had problems, but he would always be the first to call Damian his brother. He wouldn’t make him choose. So, when Sandra had left and Damian glanced at him warily, he only smiled. “Don’t worry, you can have both.”