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Dick had a beat-up old truck that he bought with his own money, and he let Jason sit in the truck bed and look at the stars while he ran into the gas station for cigarettes and occasionally scratch-offs. Dick didn’t smoke much, having always preferred Zyns, but Jason did, and normally he didn’t want to buy Zyns when he was already buying cigarettes. The first time Jason had asked him for a smoke, he’d pulled out a pack of Kools and Jason had laughed in his face and called him an old man. Dick’s father had smoked Kools. He’d said that, and Jason had gotten real quiet. “My dad liked Marlboros,” he said. “He gave me my first one when I was ten.” Dick usually kept a pack of Marlboros in his pocket from then on, and it made a rectangular imprint in his suit that Donna teased him for.
He felt guilty sometimes. Most of the time. For leaving the kid with Bruce. It’s not that Bruce was a bad father, but he could be… hard to live with. And Jason didn’t have many friends, unlike Dick. There were no other superheroes his age like Dick had had with the Titans, and Dick got the sense he wasn’t very popular at school, either. He’d said he had a girlfriend, but hadn’t mentioned anyone besides that. He spent a lot of time listening to music, reading, doing homework, training. Not much of a social life to speak of.
Once Dick finished stocking up on armfuls of energy drinks and snacks, he clumsily set them all down on the counter in front of the cashier. “Could I get two packs of Marlboro Reds?”
“I.D.?” The cashier raised an eyebrow. Dick knew he didn’t look twenty-one. Hell, he hardly looked nineteen.
“Forgot it at home, sir.” He put a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. “Two packs of Marlboros, please.” He hesitated for a second. “And some Zyns. Mint.”
“All this’ll come out to a hundred and three dollars and fourteen cents,” the cashier said, and slipped the twenty into his shirt pocket. Yikes. He was an old man, late sixties if Dick had to guess, and his hands were stained with grease. Probably worked at the auto shop attached to the gas station. His voice betrayed his own smoking habits. Man, Dick really should quit sometime soon before he ends up sounding like that.
He probably wouldn’t, though.
When he got back to the car, Jason was where he left him, sprawled out in the truck bed looking at constellations. He was so small for a kid his age, it made the truck look huge. Fourteen years old and only four feet six inches. Malnutrition, almost certainly, although he should be growing more now that he’s better-fed. A sign of a possible medical problem? Note to self: Google it later.
He tossed Jason one of the packs of cigarettes, startling him out of his focus on the sky. He scrambled to sit up and smiled, gap-toothed and freckled. “See anything interesting up there?” Dick asked.
“Yeah!” Jason pointed at a sort of v-shaped cluster of stars directly above them. “See that? That’s Taurus. And over there—” he pointed to his left, “—is Ursa Major, the Big Dipper.”
“You’re really into astronomy, huh?”
Jason chewed on his lip. “Not really. I mean, not as much as other stuff. I just don’t really ever see the stars like this. I can see them better in Bristol than I ever could in Gotham proper, but it’s nothing like this. Too much light pollution. I can see so much out here.”
It was true, the sky looked so much better out in the middle of nowhere. They were hours from the nearest city, only occasionally passing by little towns like the one they were in right now. It had taken some convincing to get Bruce to agree to this little road trip, and he only eventually gave in when Dick told him he’d figure out a way to make it educational. Less “camping” and more “wilderness survival training.” As far as Bruce knew, anyhow. There weren’t any good campgrounds within a thirty-mile radius of this town, and it was already pretty late, so they’d decided to stay in a motel for the night. Dick let Jason stay sitting in the back of the truck while he drove the ten minutes into town, which he told himself was another type of training, making sure he won’t fall out of an open moving vehicle in a more treacherous situation.
Once they pulled into the parking lot, Jason hopped out of the truck, still buzzing with energy. Dick remembered feeling like that. So young, so many mistakes yet to be made. Funny how time changes so much. Eight years as Robin had turned him from bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to… well. Jason could be… better. He had heart. Dick had been hurt, at first, to learn he was replaced so soon after quitting. Who wouldn’t be? Robin was his. His mother’s nickname for him. His own costume. But Jason needed this. He was a little rough around the edges in ways Dick hadn’t been. Robin gave him purpose, Dick supposed. Robin meant he’d make something of himself. He had a whole life in front of him to do it.
The motel was sixty dollars for a night, and Dick winced to pay for it. When you grow up with a father who’s so rich he could provide anything you could possibly want, it makes it that much harder to try and strike out on your own.
The room looked right out of the eighties. Floral bedsheets, wood paneled walls, the whole shebang. Jason called the bed nearest to the door, and eagerly set down his duffel bag at the foot of it. He dug the book he’d been reading out of one of the side pockets and settled down to read it, careful not to disturb the made bed. It made Dick feel kind of bad for looking at his phone instead of reading.
The air outside was thick and humid and coming inside had provided only the slightest relief. Dick could still hear the cicadas buzzing over the music playing in his headphones. When he looked over at Jason, he realized he’d stopped reading and was just sitting on his bed, staring at the wall. Dick took his headphones off, letting them hang around his neck. “You alright, kid?”
“Yeah,” Jason replied, still looking at the wall. “Just thinking.”
Dick chuckled. “Don’t think too hard, you might get a headache!”
That earned a little laugh from Jason. “I always wanted a big brother, y’know. I get we’re not really close, but like, I guess you sorta are mine. That’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”
They did have the same father now, after all. Man. A little brother. Dick liked the sound of that. “Very cool.”
Maybe he’d try to show up for the kid more often from here on out.