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Jason wishes he was a kid again, bright-eyed and hopeful and tiny.
He’s too big now.
Bruce prefers his partners lithe and small. Not hulking masses of muscle and bitterness.
It’s a terrible thing to wish for. Disgusting, even. Wanting a younger body just to appeal to a pedophile… What kind of person even has thoughts like that? Still, he can’t help but desire to go back in time.
He sees the way Bruce treats Tim and Damian. The lingering touches. The public gifts of fatherly affection. The private whispers of fatherly lust.
Tim is only a few years younger than Jason, but he’s so much smaller. Thin and short and so willing to obey no matter what. It makes sense Bruce is still attracted to Tim.
And Damian is… literally a child. The main thing Bruce is looking for.
If Jason was better, he would put a stop to it. Take matters into his own hands. A single, well aimed bullet would do the job. Batman is still just a man.
Or he could submit evidence anonymously and let the police do the dirty work. Just sit back and watch as all of Bruce’s public goodwill turns to ash.
Then again, when have rich assholes ever been held accountable?
It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not a better person.
Instead he watches with jealousy and rage settling in his stomach as the replacement and bio kid get the love and affection that used to be his. The hair ruffles and pats on the back and smiles that meant everything because how many people can say they’ve made Batman smile?
They get to lay in Bruce’s bed, tangled in silk sheets with proof of his love leaking out their holes. They don’t even know how good they have it. That one day, when they start growing stubble and chest hair and aren’t as cute, everything will be ripped away from them.
Jason feels almost giddy at the idea that for Tim, it could happen any day now. His replacement will be forced to feel everything he feels. The abandonment. The loneliness. The unrequited love.
Because despite it all, Jason does really love Bruce. Even after everything he did. After everything he didn’t do.
Sometimes he fantasizes about going back to the manor. Back home. Even though he’s massive and angry and an adult, he’s allowed in. He’s welcomed. Earning his place by helping Alfred cook dinner and keeping Bruce’s bed warm. And Bruce can send Tim and Damian away; they aren’t needed anymore. It’s just the two of them. The way it was before. The way it’s supposed to be.
One glance at any reflective surface shuts it all down. Bruce could never be interested in Jason as he is now. Built like a goddamn fridge and covered in scars. Hostile. Tainted.
Adult.
That’s the final nail in the coffin, really. He’s legal. Bruce simply isn’t interested in anyone older than 17. Or at least, anyone who passes for older than 17.
He’s toyed with the idea of trying to go back to a child’s body, either through magic or a de-aging ray or some other bullshit. Jason’s not even sure if any of that is possible. If it was, he’d still have to explain why he isn’t doing anything to reverse it. And who knows how long it would last before he goes back to the body of a linebacker? Rejection after finally getting Bruce back would kill Jason. Again.
So he just watches, attempting to live vicariously through Tim and Damian. Imagining it’s him Bruce is caressing so lovingly. All it does is make him more depressed. Bruce would never touch Jason like that again.
He takes one final look through Bruce’s window. Bruce and Tim tangled together in bed, laughing. Acting like a cutesy couple in a stock photo or something. Jason cant stand to witness another moment and heads home.
A childish part of him wants to see a shooting star and make a wish, but the rest of him knows it’s not worth looking.