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Bruce wanted to dive in headfirst, go to the damn barn, grab a saw, prune the tree, and get Jason off the branch. He didn't care if the kid whined, screamed, kicked, or bit. But he knew it wasn't right, that it wasn't the kind of parenting he wanted to provide.
If only Jason would make his life easier.
"GET DOWN FROM THERE NOW, JASON, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?" he yelled at the boy up in the tree, more than four meters high. How had he gotten up there without any tools? Bruce didn't know. Dick had done this before, though not so much in trees; he used to climb onto the ceiling lamp and from there try to negotiate terms because he knew Bruce wouldn't stoop to climbing up and risking the decoration.
What had Bruce done then?
Well, the solution had been very simple. He had left him there and walked away, with the boy getting bored within minutes and climbing down with the same cheerful demeanor, cracking jokes and trying to get his way.
"NO," Jason replied, full of resentment and vengeance, with a certain satisfied tone that only served to fuel the indignation burning in Bruce's chest.
He could see Alfred peeking out from the kitchen window.
He didn't want to admit it, but dealing with his children in front of Alfred was always a stressful factor because, in Bruce's eyes, his old tutor and father figure had done everything perfectly. Had Bruce ever thrown a tantrum? He didn't remember. The most he recalls is getting angry and giving Alfred the silent treatment, and if he's not mistaken, he ran away a few times as a child (though later, when he turned eighteen, he ran away for good).
Maybe he shouldn't go down that path.
"Fine, if you don't want to come down, you can stay there," he said confidently, applying the same technique he had used so many times with Dick, expecting to see the boy blink in confusion as Bruce walked away.
He knew it.
Soon Jason would get hungry, get bored, and come down apologizing and saying how much he loved him. He was sure of it, completely sure, until he reached Alfred and Alfred asked if he was sure about that.
Damn it.
He kept busy; that was the key. Jason didn't come down for lunch, no matter that Alfred also went out (to Bruce's annoyance) to try to convince Jason to come down from the tree. Alfred returned with a sigh, and Bruce wouldn't say it out loud, but he felt some relief that Jason extended his anger to the butler because Bruce would feel like a complete incompetent if the boy's anger was directed solely at him.
Eating alone, the sound of the cutlery only irritated him more, so he left part of his lunch, announcing that he would be in the study in case Jason decided to drop his usual dramatics.
He ignored Alfred's sigh behind him.
Trying to focus on the paperwork, without success, Bruce set the documents down on the desk for a moment, sighing to himself. He briefly wondered why he was so bothered, reviewing the sequence of events that had led him to this point.
Jason had been excited this morning, or at least when he woke up. Then, at breakfast, everything went downhill when the boy started telling him about an exam he had tomorrow at school and how he had been studying too hard to get a decent grade. Seeing his anxiety, Bruce had assured him that he didn't need to push himself so hard because not even Dick had managed to get the best grades, while thinking about how the teachers used to congratulate him on how advanced his current ward was considering his circumstances.
Then the disaster had struck.
Angry, Jason had asked him if he thought he was stupid, incapable of measuring up to Dick, and Bruce had scolded him for his tone and his words, affirming that wasn't what he meant.
Then the boy had stormed off, disappearing long enough for Alfred to come inform him that HIS "son" had decided to live in a tree from now on.
Bruce couldn't believe it.
Looking out the window, in the direction of "Jason's tree," he thought carefully about why this situation bothered him so much. It wasn't the first time he'd dealt with this kind of situation; he remembered some rather uncomfortable ones when raising Dick in public, where Bruce had given in merely to avoid embarrassment and seeming negligent. However, now he was at home.
And yet he felt… incompetent.
Yes, that was it.
He felt incompetent, not as Bruce Wayne the billionaire playboy, but as Bruce Wayne the father of a twelve-year-old son.
Bruce sighed, exhausted.
He looked back at the tree, determined to hold onto that shred of stubbornness in his chest. Jason would come down sooner or later; he was sure of it.
Two hours later, Alfred brought him his afternoon tea in the study and asked again if he was sure about all this.
"Yes."
No.
He looked at the clock. Well, if Jason continued in that tree until nightfall, it was clear that Robin wouldn't be going out on patrol.
He drank the tea just as Lucius called. They had brought in some new gadgets, and he wondered if Bruce could come take a look, perhaps take some for his nightly tasks. So, desperate, Bruce had taken his coat, announcing to Alfred that he would be back by nightfall and that when Jason came down from the tree, please let him know he was grounded and wouldn't have patrol tonight. Alfred didn't seem too pleased to be the bearer of bad news, but Bruce had things to do and couldn't be there for a rebellious child.
He reached Lucius in half an hour, reviewed the new gadgets, tested some rather fun things that made him smile and forget for a moment what was happening at home. That's how time flew by, and he left the building at midnight, with rain falling as if it were a downpour.
Bruce sighed in relief.
Well, at least Jason had an excuse to come down from the tree, he thought relieved. Parking the car in the garage, he hurried into the mansion, calling for Alfred and his son.
"Ah, Master Bruce, is everything alright with Mr. Fox?" Alfred asked, with Bruce nodding, handing him some briefcases he asked to be taken to the cave, and announcing he would go see Jason, walking toward the rooms.
"Well, you're heading the wrong way," Alfred said, stopping him short.
Bruce turned toward him, confused.
Alfred looked at him, unsurprised.
"Master Jason is still in the tree," he informed him simply.
Bruce looked back out the window; the rain was still pouring relentlessly.
In less than five minutes, he was in the yard, soaked, yelling at a damn tree.
"JASON TODD-WAYNE, GET DOWN FROM THAT TREE RIGHT NOW!" he yelled at the boy who, God, looked like a wet cat. Bruce thought his indignation would last forever, but he was wrong. As the minutes passed and the boy refused to come down, worry began to rise in his chest because he didn't doubt for a second that Jason would get sick. "Jason!" he yelled at the boy, and Alfred appeared with two umbrellas, offering him one.
Jason didn't answer him, just frowned.
He couldn't understand how a child could be so vengeful.
"Dick would have come down out of boredom within half an hour. I can't believe you insist on staying up there," he complained frustrated, frowning upward, wiping the water from his face with his hand.
Alfred cleared his throat.
"I believe it has been made quite clear that Master Jason and Master Dick are two completely different people," Alfred said, with Bruce turning toward him frowning.
Irritated, he snapped, "I know they're different, Alfred, you don't need to tell me that." But Alfred raised an eyebrow in his direction.
"Really, Master Bruce? Then why did you leave Master Jason alone in the tree?" he asked in response, and Bruce opened his mouth to answer, realizing that whatever he was going to say would be counterproductive.
The silence seemed enough for Alfred.
"You know Master Jason dislikes being left alone when he's at the mercy of his emotions."
"And what do you want me to do, Alfred? Put up with everything? Spoil him?" Bruce complained, getting even more annoyed when he realized he was now arguing with Alfred.
Contrary to what he would have expected, Alfred looked at him with some affection.
"Hold him, Master Bruce. You don't need to argue or fight to make your point. Just contain him until Master Jason can regulate himself," he said softly, leaving Bruce confused, while announcing he would prepare a change of clothes and light the fireplace since Jason would be cold.
Watching him leave, Bruce stood silent for a few seconds, then looked back at the tree, cursed under his breath, dropped the umbrella on the ground, and started climbing the tree. It was reckless; everything was wet, he wasn't dressed for it because he was in a suit, he thought he broke a couple of nails, but he managed. And probably Alfred didn't mean this with his whole speech, but it wasn't the first time Bruce misunderstood what he said and ended up doing the opposite.
Finally up top, he had to feel for the branch he was going to lean on because he didn't want to fall or, worse, drag Jason down with him.
"Jay, son," he called, and saw the boy look away.
Bruce sighed, exhausted.
"Son, I'm tired, and probably you are too. Let's go down? You can be mad at me inside, where we can both be dry and drinking hot chocolate."
"No," Jason said, with Bruce looking up at the sky.
He couldn't understand how this kid who barely reached his chin could be more stubborn than him.
Bruce sighed and then, finally, he let go. He gave in. He sat on the tree and stayed there with Jason curled up on the branch. Taking off his jacket, he placed it over the boy's shoulders. He wasn't sure when it had started raining, but Jason had surely been there since the first drops fell.
And as if from the thunder that sounded in the sky, Bruce felt the question escape his lips.
"What happened, son? Did I… say something that upset you?" he asked in a tired tone.
If Bruce was fed up, how the hell could Jason hold firm? Here, without food or water. His only answer was life.
Ironically, his son was too tough, prepared for situations he shouldn't have to face.
Accepting he wouldn't get an answer, he couldn't help but think how angry and indignant Alfred would be when he returned and found that now Bruce was also in the tree. He was surprised when Jason spoke.
"I…" the boy stopped, shrinking even more.
The tree branches protected them a little from the rain, but when the wind blew, the rain soaked them.
"I—" he cut off, embarrassed. "I'm not Dick," he spat, giving Bruce a sharp look.
And there it was again.
Bruce couldn't help but let his lips curve.
Because it was obvious, but he was having a hard time learning it.
"You're right," he said, and Jason looked at him distrustfully. His blue eyes analyzed Bruce's face, searching for some trace of something he didn't know.
"I—" he trembled. "I can do better."
"I never doubted it, Jaylad," he said with all the sincerity he could muster, which, given his conditions, Bruce thought was quite a lot.
Jason's jaw tightened hard; Bruce didn't know if it was out of stubbornness or an attempt to suppress the shivers from the cold. Still, Bruce took a risk, stretched his arm toward Jason, placing his hand on his shoulder, and the boy lunged into his chest, almost making him fall from the tree, though he managed to hold on while Jason began to cry in his lap.
"It's okay… it's okay, Jaylad. I'm sorry I compared you," he said, rubbing his back in circles, just as a grappling hook embedded itself in a nearby branch, almost startling him into falling.
Turning their heads, both saw Alfred standing under the tree, shouting that if everything was settled, they should hurry down because the hot chocolate was getting cold. Releasing the gun, which retracted until it was within Bruce's reach, he smiled at Jason, securing his grip on the boy to fire the grappling hook and descend from the tree, where Alfred covered them with the umbrella and accompanied them inside.
Inside, with dry clothes, sitting on the living room sofa with hot chocolate in their hands, Bruce allowed himself to skip patrol when he heard Jason sneeze twice in a row.
The boy gave him a shy smile.