Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The skies were cloudy, hanging low over the city, and Jason perched on a balcony above the city; the roofs were too high in New York City to scout from, unlike the roofs in Gotham, and Jason did miss the ability to huddle next to a steam vent for warmth. It also seemed a bit weird to settle on someone’s balcony and just hope they didn’t spot him… Even going 45 minutes away from the Tower didn’t bring any change; Queens was as tall and imposing as Manhattan.

Jason heaved a sigh in time with the thunder above, and he lifted the pair of binoculars to his masked eyes; he’d left his helmet behind, if only because he hoped the rain would come down and he could go for a walk in it, zip up his jacket and pull off his mask and just walk. (That, and rain pattering on the helmet was probably the most annoying sound Jason had ever heard; it normally ended up with him unnecessarily annoyed and on edge, his skin buzzing and his muscle tight. Sensory overload, Pepper had told him once, and asked if he wanted any help in understanding it and finding ways to cope.)

So far, the city was quiet; Jason knew that. The Avengers were always alerted if something major was going down, but Jason was used to looking for any and all crimes: for the small pick-pocketings, the occasional mugging, the abuse victims seeking shelter for the night. Jason peered into alleys, gazed through unshuddered windows, and at each head that passed by on the sidewalk.

But even looking for minor crime, Jason came up empty; the weather, it would seem, had chased most people back to their holes. There was nothing to keep him busy, and he wanted to stay busy; he was bored, restless, unsure. Jason sighed once more; his jacket was already zipped up high, to shield from the cold wind, and he tugged the collar up higher. His lungs expanded for another long sigh.

“What are you doing on my balcony?”

Jason whipped around, choking on his breath; how the hell did someone sneak up on him? Oh, Jason thought as he took in his surprise guest, it was Osborn. As much as Jason recognized Osborn, it was highly unlikely he recognized Jason; after all, Harry wasn’t expecting to see the once-dead Jason Todd in body armor and toting two guns around. Not to mention the few times they had met in person was years ago, and then Harry had such a stick up his butt he hardly paid Jason any attention...

“Scouting,” Phoenix answered the CEO; so many rich people… Jason planned on punching Tony when he got back home.

Harry raised a brow. “On my balcony?”

“Well,” he drawled. “The roofs are too high to view anything from.”

For a minute, they just blinked at each other; then, “This is a penthouse.”

Jason leaned back to view the roof’s edge, just a few feet high from where he was standing. “Is it?” he challenged; it had always been fun to push the young CEO’s buttons at boring galas. In general Harry had tried to be as polite as possible even with the stick up his butt, but he still had this aura of being better than everyone else.

Harry shook his head, exasperated, and blew out a breath; Jason could smell alcohol. “Fine, not like my house isn’t already a hero hangout…” he kept muttering to himself even as he turned back inside, shutting the sliding doors behind him.

Jason returned to the tower shortly after, and he made his way to the labs; punching in the security code, the doors hissed open and Jarvis announced his arrival. He was careful to keep his body posture casual, but the mischievous smirk was a little harder to hide.

Tony was monologuing, typical, and Bruce shot Jason a welcoming smile; Tony turned when he became aware of someone else in the room, setting down a few tools as he did so, and Jason pulled his fist back for a punch. Tony’s excited grin morphed into momentary surprise and then he had a hold of Jason’s arm, twisting, and they were both yelling; Tony’s ankle hooked around Jason’s and pulled and they both went tumbling and turning.

Bruce picked up a StarkPad and resolutely ignored them; typical children…

“What’s with the attitude?” Tony demanded, deflecting the boy’s somewhat sloppy attempts to grab his shirt, but Jason could hear the humor.

“Just wanted to let off some steam!” He answered with a laugh.

They brawled for just a while longer, flipping each other over and trying to gain the upper hand; what Tony had in muscle mass and height, Jason made up for with determination and Robin training.

When a particularly loud thunderclap sounded outside the Tower and the doors hissed open, both froze as if their hand were in the cookie jar; Tony had his arms hooked around Jason’s neck, a tight choke hold but not restricting, and Jason had his elbow pulled back for a blow to Tony’s ribs.

Footsteps drew near, pausing momentarily to pluck a discarded gun from the ground and Jason realized he was missing a weight on his left thigh; huh… Finally, a pair of sneakers came into view, and Jason craned his neck as much as possible to catch sight of Steve staring down at them with an amused brow raise.

“And what, exactly, are you doing?”

Tony let go and rolled away easily, but Jason stayed on the ground; his limbs felt too heavy to move just now. “Sparring,” he answered, a large grin on his face.

“Capsicle, I don’t pretend to be a better parent than you, but you’ve got to teach your boy how to say hello.”

Steve gave Jason a hand up. “Oh?”

“Throwing punches is not polite.”

Jason stuck his tongue out, and Tony did the same.

Steve shook his head and handed Jason back his gun. “You know better than to spar with your guns on; it could be dangerous.”

“I didn’t think to take them off before I came here.” Jason shrugged.

As much of a non-apology as it sounded, Steve knew enough to recognize it as Jason accepting his fault and promising to do better next time; Steve turned to go before remembering why he’d come looking for Jason in the first place. “Oh, Dick called you back while you were out; said he’d love to come see you in the play this weekend.”

Jason brightened considerably at that; his face lit up and he hurried out to call his brother back. Once Jason had disappeared around the corner outside the glass doors, Steve turned to Tony with a horrified look on his face.

“I need your help; I need help so much, please help me.”

Both Bruce and Tony stared him down, Tony wide eyed and scared and Bruce merrily watched with interest over the top of his glasses. Steve stepped closer, and lowered his voice.

“Dick is bringing Tim to the play.”

“Fuck,” Tony breathed and rubbed a hand over his face.

Bruce gave a low whistle. “And you aren’t telling Jason?”

“Dick doesn’t want to; he wants to…surprise Jason.”

“Jason doesn’t like surprises.”

“I’m aware!” Steve cried.

Bruce thought back to his birthday when everyone had gotten together to pull a surprise party and Jason had—reflexively, or so he had claimed—kicked Clint in the balls; Bruce still winced thinking about it. “So, we’re going to pull a surprise on him even when we know he doesn’t like them? And when they’re only and last interaction was when Bruce stopped by?” He shook his head. “This doesn’t sound good…”

“Where’s Bucky when you need him?” Steve lamented.

“When’s he due back?” Bucky had gone out to Bolivia with Natasha in response to a possible sighting of Doctor Doom.

Steve crossed his arms; he looked incredibly lost and unsure. “Maybe Sunday…” Opening day was on Friday.

“You know,” Tony began slowly. “Bucky isn’t his only guardian; you’re here for him too, and I’m sure you’ll make a good decision in how to handle this.”

The captain sighed. “I hope so…”

“I hope too,” Tony continued, “That you’ll be able to deal with the fallout that will probably happen.”

Steve groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Upstairs in their apartment, Jason had the phone pressed between his shoulder and ear as he chatted with Dick.

“So it starts at 7 right?”

“Yup, 7; and you have the school’s address?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it in my phone; where do I pick up the tickets?”

“Oh, I’ll have Steve wait outside for you; I was given a couple free tickets for anyone I wanted to come.”

“I’m really excited!”

Jason grinned; outside, rain started pouring down. “Me too! I can’t believe I got the lead.”

“I know you’ll do great, Jace.” Before Jason could reply, there was a bang in the background. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jason, but I’ve got to go; company just arrived.”

“Oh, ok then.”

“Alright, we’ll I’ll see you on Friday then; bye.”

“Bye—wait!”

“Jason?”

He bit his lip, second guessing himself. “You will be there, right?”

A pause, where static crackled and a voice asked something on Dick’s end. “Yes, Jason, I’ll definitely be there; I promise.”

Jason nodded, breathed. “Ok then. Ok, I’ll see you then; bye, Dick.”

“Bye, bro.”

At Dick’s place, he hung up and looked at the phone in his hands; Tim took a step forward.

“Dick?”

He smiled at his little brother. “Jason’s having a rough day, I think.”

Tim, ever compassionate and understanding, gave Dick an encouraging smile. “Is he worried about the play do you think?”

“He might be; it’s hard to tell. He just seemed…off, unsure almost.”

“We’ll be there to support him on Friday, and you said he’s got a great support system and good friends to help him right?”

Dick nodded, looking back at the phone in his hands; Tim took a seat by him on the couch.

“What’s bothering you?” Tim knew how bad a rough day could be, but he also knew Jason had a large number of people who would step in to help him if need be.

“I just wish I could be there for him more.”

“You’re doing a great job, considering everything that’s happened; don’t beat yourself up so much, Dick. You’re trying your hardest, Dick, and I’m sure Jason is appreciative for it; I’m appreciative for everything you do for me.”

Dick beamed, if only to encourage Tim being more open about his emotional state. “Thanks, Tim; oh, you want spaghetti for dinner?”

In Manhattan, Jason was chatting excitedly to Steve about the play, asking him to go over his lines with him again, and in Queens Harry was opening his balcony doors to gripe at Spiderman perched on his balcony.

Chapter Text

On Friday night, Steve stood in front of the class auditorium with a set of tickets in his hands; he’d been able to snag an extra ticket from Jason’s stash, claiming it would be good to have an extra in case Bucky showed. Really, he needed another ticket for Tim and didn’t want to wait in the long line in case he missed the first few minutes of the play.

At 6:40 Dick and Tim showed up in the parking lot, walking through the cars, and Steve waved to get their attention; he shifted when he also drew the attention of some kids nearby who were whispering and pointing at him. Yes, Captain America was here.

Dick hopped over the curb and shook Steve’s hand. “Hey.”

“Hey, how’s it going?” Steve smiled at Tim as he handed the tickets over. “Tim, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Steve led them inside and they continued to return pleasantries as they found their seats; Tony was there too, another interest for those in the auditorium, and somewhat reluctantly was drawn into a conversation with Tim on future advancements in the medical field. Dick leaned over to talk to Steve, quietly laughing.

“Tim’s idolized Stark technology since he got his hands on some last month.”

Steve chuckled. “But what about Wayne Tech?”

“I think what fascinates him,” Dick plucked some lint from his shirt. “Is that the tech is so different but designed to do the same thing.”

Steve shook his head; it was all technology to him. They continued to chat, occasionally interrupted by someone asking for an autograph by either New Yorkers or Gothamites; the house lights turned down fifteen minutes after 7, and the auditorium settled quietly as the curtains were whisked open and stage lights came on, softly and colored for morning, on Jack Kelly talking to his friend about running to Sante Fe.

As the play went on, songs coming and going, Jason—playing the lead of Jack Kelly—spoke his lines clearly, followed the script as best as his co-actors led him, and moved as if he was someone totally different; he was certainly a gifted actor, conveying emotions with his voice and expertly with his posture. Even so near the back of the auditorium, Dick could see and feel and experience exactly what Jason was meant to portray; he was shining on the stage.

Half way through “The World Will Know”, Dick was grinning like crazy; Jason’s voice was passionate and loud, carrying power and rebellion, and Dick couldn’t be more proud of his little brother. He glanced at the others next to him and they too looked to be amazed in the low light of the house seats.

At intermission, they stood to stretch their legs and Dick commented on Jason’s acting skills. “He’s really good.”

“He was so nervous last night.”

“Didn’t you say he skipped dinner?” Tony popped some peanuts in his mouth, munching on a snack he bought from the theatre kids.

Steve nodded. “Yeah; but he studied his lines as often as possible. It’s been a struggle to get him to do his homework.”

Tim smiled. “Sounds like he really likes theatre.”

“I think it’s more that he likes literature, and in a way theatre falls under literature with the scripts and studying of the writing that goes into it.” Dick smiled kindly at an ogling high schooler. “He horded books when he lived at the manor.”

“Bucky bought him a box set of Lord of the Rings.”

“Thank god! No more classics.”

Dick laughed. “As much as Jason likes all literature, you’ll never pry classics from him; sorry, Tony.”

The interlude finished, and everyone found their seats again for the next act to begin; it continued onwards, with Jason still always stealing the spotlight with his talent, not solely for being the lead.

At curtain call, the auditorium was giving a standing ovation and Dick might have been applauding as loud as possible. Besides him, Steve was doing the same and Tony was politely wiping boredom from his eyes; Tim returned Dick’s excited smile. Jason took a bow on stage with his other actors, grinning with adrenaline, and he whooped with his other classmates when the excitement of their opening night bubbled out.

The auditorium began to empty after the curtains closed, and Steve led them outside and around the building where family members and friends waited for their kids to come out. They chattered in the night air, talking about their favorite moments and what they thought about the musical; another fifteen minutes passed before the side doors were flung open and the cast came tumbling out, chattering themselves. Catching sight of their loved ones they broke off in their own talking and joined their family and friends; some were greeted with flowers, others with hugs.

Jason was near the back of the large group, not conversing with them but grinning all the same, and he immediately began looking over the crowd for Steve and Dick; catching sight of them, he waved and bound over. As he drew nearer, he spotted Tony, and behind Stark was Timothy Drake; he slowed his pace and the grin dropped, but he still inched close to Steve.

“Jason!” Dick stepped forward. “You were great up there!”

Jason gave him a somewhat distrustful glare. “Thanks,” he grit out.

Steve nudged the boy’s shoulder. “How about we go out for dinner? You didn’t eat anything before the play.”

Jason observed him; if Steve didn’t know better, he’d think Jason was glaring at him. But he’d learned the dip of his brows, combined with pursed lips, usually meant he was suspicious. Steve put on his best placating face, near begging for Jason to just give it a try; finally Jason looked away. “Sure; I’m pretty hungry.”

They stopped by a restaurant, one that stayed open late considering when the play ended, and they all crowded into a booth; Steve slid in on one side, with Jason beside him, and Tony surprisingly didn’t complain about being smooshed with the Wayne brothers on the other side. Unfortunately, though, Jason didn’t seem interested in having a conversation with anyone; he stuffed his face behind the menu and answered Dick’s questions with clipped answers. Not even Steve reminding him Bucky would be arriving on Sunday brought much of a reaction from him; finally, with a perturbed glance from Tony after receiving their drinks, Steve took a deep breath and turned to face Jason.

“I’m sorry we sprung this on you, Jason, but Dick said he really wants you and Tim to get to know each other.”

Jason shrugged stiffly; he ripped his napkin into little pieces and refused to look at anyone. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Jason,” Dick started. “You can at least give him a chance, can’t you?”

“Don’t see why I should.”

Tim shifted uncomfortably and Tony frowned down into his martini.

“Why do you hate him?”

Steve worried about how tight Jason was clenching his teeth, but waited patiently for him to respond.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Steve spoke slowly; as well as he had become at reading Jason, Bucky was always better at communicating with him. “Yes, it does.”

Again, Jason said nothing; he ground his jaw and Steve glanced at Tim. The poor boy looked uncomfortable, confused, embarrassed. Finally, Jason stood. “I don’t have to answer to any of you.”

“Jason,” Steve reprimanded; he’d have to have a talk with Bucky about teaching Jason how to respect people. Good thing the restaurant was practically empty, or else the whole scenario would be drawing even more attention.

“No, I’m not going to listen to you make up excuses or try and get me to befriend him! I won’t!” He was heaving shallow breaths that expanded his chest in panic, and Dick was caught between standing up to offer comfort and giving Jason his space. “You can’t make me, and there’s no reason why I’d want to like the replacement!” And then he was stomping away, down the restaurant and out the front doors.

“Jason!” Dick called, standing up, and Steve called after him too.

“Get back here, young man!”

Tony muttered something into his drink, and Steve glared at him.

“You’re the one who came because you wanted to see drama.”

Tony shrugged. “I thought I’d be drunk enough to find it funny; it’s just sad sober.”

Steve’s glare hardened.

“I think,” Tim spoke up quietly, grabbing hold of Dick’s wrist before he could go after Jason. “That maybe I should talk to him alone.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, pipsqueak.” Tony looked around for their waiter; he’d need something harder than a martini to get drunk on, but he didn’t think the restaurant would gladly hand him an entire bottle of vodka or gin. “He’s pretty steamy right now.”

“He needs to learn manners,” Steve muttered; he too was torn between going after Jason or letting him cool off.

“I think maybe it would be better if it was just us two, and not an…audience.”

Dick stepped out of the way and Tim slid out of the booth. “Fine, but if you aren’t back in ten minutes I’m coming after you.”

Tim patted his brother’s arm as he passed by. “We’ll be fine.” He followed Jason’s path out the restaurant; outside, he didn’t see the boy anywhere, and knew better than to go look inside the cars they’d driven here in. Dick and Steve had the keys and the doors were locked; Jason was smart enough to not go there. Finally, Tim decided to look around the back of the restaurant and sure enough there was Jason, squatted on the curb and smoking a cigarette.

“Should you really be smoking?”

Jason turned a glare on him. “Fewk off,” he muttered around the cig.

Tim coughed some around the smoke in the air. “Look, I’m sorry you don’t like me and I’m sorry this whole thing was sprung on you. I…I thought you knew.”

Jason grunted.

Tim worried his lip; he wasn’t sure what to do, what to say, but he felt like he should say something. “You—you were really good in the musical.”

Another grunt; finally, Jason took the cigarette between his fingers and away from his mouth, breathing out lung fulls of smoke. “Ya know, this was supposed to be my night.”

Tim scuffed his shoe against the loose chunks of asphalt; he’d thought about that, in the restaurant, when Jason had his outburst and stormed out. “And it was made into a bonding night instead; I’m sorry.”

Jason shook his head, puffed in smoke, coughed it out; finally, he snubbed the thing out against the ground. “So,” he breathed out the last remnants from his lungs. “What made good ol’ daddybats take interest in you, hm? Can’t be determination, that’s Dick; can’t be recklessness, that was me.” He grinned proudly, but it was tarnished. “So what was it?”

“Uhh,” Tim picked at his cuticle. “Actually, it’s sort of…complicated…”

“Hmph…”

“I guess the abridged version is this: I found out Batman’s identity, Batman found out, shortly after my parents were…killed, uh poisoned…”

“So Bruce took you in?”

Tim nodded.

Jason gave an unamused snort; he looked mournfully down at the cigarette butt. “I need another smoke.”

“You shouldn’t.” At Jason’s sardonic look, Tim went back to picking at his cuticle. “I mean, you could seriously hurt your vocal cords with that habit.”

Looking back at the butt, Jason hummed. “Guess so…” Finally, he stood; he gave Tim a once over. “How is it?”

“Hm?”

“Being the third Robin? What’s it like?”

Tim, for the first time that night, met Jason’s cold gaze evenly. “It’s knowing to be careful so I don’t end up dead, but no one tells me that; it’s said in be carefuls and practice mores, it’s hinted at but never actually spoken and I don’t think that’s right. But it’s also knowing that my predecessor did his best, and I couldn’t be prouder to wear the colors he did and continue his legacy. What was it like for you?”

With a breath the animosity left Jason’s face and he was left looking tired, worn. “Magical.”

When they returned to the table, both were quiet and nothing further was said but Tim couldn’t help but think something good had happened between them; as if a bridge was beginning to form, tentative and rickety, but there all the same.

Chapter Text

Bucky arrived back Monday afternoon, trailed by Natasha who retreated to her own apartment for a nice bubble bath and glass of wine; Bucky couldn’t blame her. He was happy to be back, if a bit disappointed he had missed Jason’s play over the weekend; hopefully, the event had been recorded and he could get a copy. Still, it wasn’t like being there.

He opened the door and was greeted by silence; not uncommon at this time. Jason was probably still at school, and Steve could be out getting a cup of coffee, working out, or whatever else he wanted to do. Bucky set his duffle to the side, toed off his sneakers, and settled on the couch with a tall glass of lemonade he found in the fridge. It was fresh, and if his tongue wasn’t deceiving him made from squeezed lemons—homemade. No doubt, Steve had enlisted Jason’s help for that; good, gave Jason an outlet for his pent up frustrations.

Bucky was just reaching for a coaster for his glass when feet shuffled down the hallway and he froze, glancing up curiously when Jason came into view.

“Kiddo?”

Jason’s yawn was cut short, and he stopped ruffling his hair to peer at the man on his couch; when his sleep fogged eyes cleared enough to make out who it was, he grinned. “Bucky! You’re back!” Jason hurried forward to flop on the couch too. “Want to hear how the play went?”

“I would like to know what you’re doing home from school…”

Jason yawned again; he glanced at the clock. When’d he fallen asleep again? Probably around 10, which meant he’d been asleep for only 4 hours. “Steve let me stay home; I was at school until one stripping the set with everyone else and I was exhausted this morning.”

Bucky nodded; that was reasonable. Jason had been a stage hand for other plays before and had been completely whipped by the end of the weekend showings. “Yes, I would like to know how the play went.” He offered Jason the rest of his lemonade and went to grab another glass; Jason followed with a bounce in his step.

With Bucky pouring his glass at the counter, Jason settled at the island. “Well, the first night we had issues with lighting and my mic cut a few times, but Saturday was the worst!”

“What happened?”

“The sound girls played the wrong soundtrack at one point and we only noticed when the rhythm of the lyrics didn’t match; and someone messed with the lighting board, so everything had to be done manually—no presets, that sucked! Ohh, a prop fell on me too.”

Bucky whipped around. “What? Where? Are you okay? How did it happen?”

Jason lifted his shirt to show a bruise across his right side. “I was climbing a ladder during a musical number and the whole piece just tipped; I don’t think it was weighted properly; it wasn’t one that’s flown, it was one of the ones on a base and wheels. Yeah, it tipped over and we had to call a super early intermission…”

Bucky frowned, and Jason rolled his eyes, smirking.

“I’m fine, honest; no busted bones.”

“Was it recorded?”

“The accident? What, you gonna sue?”

Bucky chuckled; he rested his back against the counter and rubbed at a knot in his shoulder, sipping the lemonade. “No, the play; I wanted to see it.”

Jason grinned; “Yeah, it was; copies are gonna be distributed to the cast and crew sometime on Thursday, and sold next Monday.”

Bucky nodded. “That’s good; so, did you have fun?”

“Hell yeah! It was awesome, my voice hurts though.”

“Sure it’s not the smoking that’s getting to you?” Bucky raised a brow, reprimanding, and Jason ducked his head.

"Uhh, Dick came," he deflected and Jason's face soured; Bucky stiffened. "Yeah, and he brought Tim too."

Steve chose that time to come in, swinging the keys around his finger, and Jason scrambled from the stool to greet him; "Steve! Bucky's back!"

Bruce watched the teenager leave with a confused look. “Who the hell is Tim?”