Chapter Text
Jason was having a shitty day.
And he had taken the fucking day off—WHY THE FLYING FUCK DID HE TAKE A DAY OFF FOR IT TO BE THIS SHITTY.
And now he was at a police station.
Just great.
"So let me get this straight—you attacked a grandma at the supermarket over tomato sauce?" Detective Diavolo asked, not even looking up from his report.
"I didn’t attack anybody. That crazy—lady attacked me," Jason shot back.
Diavolo finally looked up, giving him a long, unimpressed glance. "Kid, I don’t think Mrs. Fletcher, in her four-foot-five glory, could attack anyone. Let alone you."
"I AM telling you I’m the victim here," Jason snapped.
"Sure. Then let’s start from the beginning. What happened?"Jason leaned back in his chair, already annoyed. "Well, as you so kindly pointed out, Detective, I woke up today with my back killing me, so I decided—fuck it—I’m taking the day off."
"On a Monday? Doesn’t your boss care?"
"Do you want the story or my Linkedin profile?" Jason rolled his eyes.
"...The story."
"Great. So I sleep in, right? Which, by the way, terrible idea when your back is already messed up. I had to sleep on my stomach, which I hate, and at some point I turned in my sleep—and when I woke up? Felt like I’d been hit by a truck in a bad marriage."
Diavolo paused. "...A bad marriage?"
"You heard me."
"Right. Continue."
"So I get up, decide I need painkillers, and—this is important—I decide to make lasagna."
Diavolo blinked. "…Lasagna."
"YES. Lasagna. Pasta, meat, cheese, sauce. A normal human meal. Try to keep up."
"Kid—"
"Anyway," Jason cut him off, "I go to Tony’s store—closed. Of course. So now I have to go to the main street, which I hate, and I’m minding my own business when suddenly I hear this agitated voice yelling at me."
He leaned forward, pointing at Diavolo. "Guess who."
"...Mrs. Fletcher."
"Mrs. Fletcher," Jason repeated darkly. "Who wanted the tomato sauce I was holding. Now, there were other jars, but no—she wanted mine. Specifically mine."
"And that led to… assault?"
"No, that led to her saying, ‘You can grab another.’"
"That sounds reasonable."
"SHE could grab another," Jason shot back. "But no, apparently my jar had a personal connection to her soul or something."
A couple of officers nearby were already trying not to laugh.
"So what happened next?" Diavolo asked, pen hovering.
"She slapped my back."
Diavolo paused. "She… what?"
"My back. The already injured one," Jason said flatly. "I flinched—because, you know, pain—and then she just… collapsed. Full performance. No tears, by the way. Zero commitment to the role."
"And you didn’t push her?"
"If I had pushed her, she’d be meeting God right now," Jason said calmly.
"...Right."
"I might have called her a fucking bitch," Jason added. "But that was half pain, half honesty."
Diavolo sighed, rubbing his temple. "Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You call someone to pick you up, you sign this, and you’re free to go. No fine. Just a warning."
Jason groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "That’s worse."
"Why? You don’t have anyone to call?"
Jason went quiet for a second… then straightened.
"Okay, context," he said, suddenly serious. "Can someone get us coffee?"
A rookie, very confused but entertained, brought two.
Jason took a sip, made a face. "This tastes like regret. Do you people drink this willingly?"
Diavolo didn’t answer.
Jason sighed. "Anyway. My family’s… complicated."
"Most are."
"No, like—really complicated. They act like I’m the black sheep." He pointed at himself. "Me. Can you believe that?"
Diavolo didn’t answer.
"Exactly. My reaction too. Because clearly I’m a delight," Jason went on. "But no—apparently not. My dad disappeared, my mom died from addiction, then this rich asshole adopts me, gives me a brother, a butler—"
"A butler."
"Focus."
Someone in the back snorted.
Jason ignored it. "Then I find out my ‘biological parents’ aren’t even my biological parents, the guy who raised me probably got killed by Two-Face, and the asshole who adopted me decides I’m too much and says—"
Jason’s voice shifted, mocking but sharp—
"‘I am NOT your father, Jason. I don’t need teenage rebellion.’"
Silence settled for a beat.
"...He said that?" one of the officers muttered.
"Yeah," Jason said simply. "Same week I found everything else out."
Diavolo’s expression softened slightly. "Kid—"
"It’s fine," Jason cut him off. "You weren’t the one calling me ‘son’ and ‘I love you’ just to take it back the second I wasn’t perfect."
No one laughed anymore.
Jason stared into his coffee.
"I fixed his dad’s watch once," he said after a moment. "Took me years. Black market parts, everything. I didn’t just want to fix it—I wanted it to work again."
He shrugged.
"Still not his son, though."
"...Yeah," someone muttered. "That’s—yeah."
"So let’s call someone else," Diavolo said carefully. "A brother?"
Jason huffed. "You want older or younger?"
"You have options?"
"Unfortunately."
"Older."
Jason let out a short laugh. "Golden boy. Perfect son. The one who gets invited to dinner after yelling at the old man."
"Sounds like you like him."
"I do," Jason admitted. "Still an asshole, though."
A couple of the officers smirked.
"He once told me to call if things got bad," Jason went on, quieter now. "Said he’d be there."
"...And?"
"I called."
A pause.
"He never picked up. Not once."
That one landed.
"You know what’s funny?" Jason added, almost to himself. "They thought I was dead once. Didn’t even check. Just… moved on. Got a replacement kid."
No one had anything to say to that.
Jason leaned back again, staring at the ceiling.
"But whatever," he muttered. "The new kid’s good. He’s what they wanted."
Diavolo hesitated. "...Anyone else?"
Jason nodded slightly. "There’s… Ummi."
"Ummi?"
"Yeah. She took care of me for a while. Fed me, got me out of a bad place… first person who ever asked me what I actually wanted to do with my life."
"Then call her."
Jason shook his head.
"She’s busy," he said. Then, softer, "And I’m not her kid."
Diavolo frowned. "Has she ever said that?"
Jason didn’t hesitate.
"They don’t have to," he said.
"Kid…" Darrel sighed, his voice softer now. "I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m sorry. That—it must be difficult."
Jason shrugged like it was nothing.
"Whatever."
Then, after a beat, a flicker of something younger slipped through—
"So… can we skip the signing part?" he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.
God, he sounded younger than nineteen when he did that.
"We can’t, it’s—" Darrel started, already preparing to explain policy—
"Cap, I’ll sign. Just let the kid go," Toby cut in from across the room. He’d been listening the whole time.
Darrel exhaled, waving it off. "Fine. Wouldn’t be the worst call we’ve made."