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The clock on his bedside unit showed 10:23PM. The bedroom window that led onto a fire escape was nudged open a tad, letting cold, polluted air push into the room. Jason felt his boots tightening around his feet as he pulled them on, securing them above his ankles. His jacket was strewn across his bed that he sat on the edge of. This was his nightly routine, it had been like this for months. He would eat, shower, suit up in his bedroom and get in the mind set that the Red Hood needed.
Jason realised quite early on that he thrived in a routine - in a schedule. He would organise his room with the very little he had as a child. As Robin, his training routine would always start and end on perfecting his flips, no matter what was learned in between. When he found himself in the League of Assassins, he adjusted scarily well to their regiment. Over the past year however, Jason’s routine had been thrown on its head.
“Jay..?”
Jason turned his head towards the door frame, posture straighting, fingers dragging away from his boots to place on his knees. “Hey kiddo. Is everything okay?”
Tyler’s hand gripped the doorframe, eyes darting around. Jason had let the boy stay with him about a year ago. Jason was just doing his job. There was a cry, and he went to help. Imagine his surprise, and the tightening of his throat, when he found the boy he had ‘saved’ just under a year ago crying over his mothers pale, unmoving body with a small plastic bag stuck between her fingers. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget Tyler’s scream, or how equally happy he had been when he saw Jason.
He unofficially took him in a few, undebated moments after that. Out of the kindness of his heart, out of the familiarity between them, out of the familiarity of him. A young boy from Park Row, criminal father, drug addict mother who died from overdose. A young boy who needed guidance, and who had met a vigilante at just the right time.
They paralleled each other in ways that scared Jason a little. Looking at how he turned out, that surely doesn't bode anything good for the bright, caring little boy that stood in his bedroom doorway. But then again, Catherine never recovered, they never moved into a nice house, that never happened before she died. She had just died, and that was that. Bruce never shot Jason's father. Bruce didn't look at Jason and could feel his skin crawl with guilt. Or maybe he did, but not for the same reasons Jason's did.
With all that in mind, Tyler was nothing but a positive in Jason's life. He was an anchor, a little light in his world of darkness, blood and solitude. Tyler gave Jason a purpose outside of beating thugs into the ground every night, a purpose he wouldn't have found anywhere else.
Jason doesn't really remember when “Kid” became “Son”, or when “Red Hood” became “Jay”. Not that he minds. The laminated and framed certificate of adoption in their lounge being hard evidence of that. It had been a week since it was all signed officially and it still didn't feel real to Jason, but he knew that to Tyler, it was nothing but real. It was all a kid like him needed for this to feel real - whatever ‘this’ was.
But that’s just it, isn't it? It's hardly as complicated as Jason makes it inside his own mind. Jason is a father now, a father to Tyler, who was his son. He was sure he would have to get to grips with that pretty soon. Even before papers were signed and certificates were printed, Jason viewed Tyler as his son, or something of the kind, so why was that so hard to do now? It was real now, surely that should make it easier, not harder.
He tried not to focus on how he saw it, rather, on how Tyler saw it. If he’s not in the right frame of mind then his son won't be either. Tyler, for the most part, hadn’t changed much. He still loved superheroes (Red Hood included, to Jason’s disbelief), he still loved anything mint flavoured, his favourite colour was still blue. However, since that day in the courthouse, since walking out of the doors, with Tyler's hand in his own, Tyler hadn't let him leave his sight. Well, not willingly of course. That evening, they went out for dinner to celebrate, they went to the cinema, Tyler got to stay up past his bedtime and they fell asleep on the sofa together. It was great, it was wonderful. Jason wouldn't change it for the world, but since then, Tyler has felt the need to be with Jason at all possible times.
When he's cooking dinner, Tyler will stand behind him and hold onto his shirt, following him to each cabinet and counter in silence. He will sit on the floor of the bathroom while Jason showers. He’ll pretend to fall asleep in his own bed, only for Jason to wake up with Tyler laying across the end of his mattress like a cat, or flopped across his chest.
It wasn't unbearable, if anything Jason thought it was downright adorable, but when Jason needed to leave for patrol, Tyler wouldn't take it very well. Last week, Tyler hid his boots under his bed. The day after, he pretended to have a fever, to which Jason proved him wrong by taking his temperature. The day after that, Jason found the thermometer to be suddenly and mysteriously broken. Jason looked at all of this with a hint of humor, because it was silly, it was childish, so he ignored it for the most part. However, tonight it was more somber, the shadow cast over Tyler's small face and his meek voice caused his muscles to tense.
“Ty? What’s wrong, buddy?”
The boy’s small form shuffled uncomfortably, like he was debating running away or running into the room. Stuck on that threshold, his voice wavered. He resorted to bringing his fingers to his mouth, biting at the skin around his nails. His eyes scanned the room, looking everywhere but Jason.
“Tyler?” Jason spoke firmer, slowly rising from his seat on the bed. Tyler didn’t move, which was always a good sign - Jason didn’t want to scare him away. Who knows if he would come back if he did? Selfishly, Jason doesn’t think he would be able to handle that.
There was a long stretch of silence while Tyler continued to shuffle, squeezing his eyes tight. His cheeks and ears were flushed red. It took another few beats for him to speak.
“Do-...do you have to go?”
It was the quietest Jason had ever heard him speak, but at least he was saying something, anything. Even if the words did rip Jason’s heart from his chest. He slowly lowered himself to kneel a few inches from Tyler, giving him the option of space. “Oh, kid…” He sure hoped that his words weren’t received as pitiful.
Tyler’s eyes closed tight again, fighting off tears. Jason felt his brows curl infinitely upwards and his mouth physically frown. He opened his arms wide, not moving forward. “Hey…Blue, can you look at me?”
As Jason coaxed him to open his eyes, he saw the tears piling up on Tyler's waterline. He tried to look over his face more, but before he could, the forceful slam against his chest caused him to gasp out instead. Tyler had his arms wrapped around his neck, breathing heavily against his chest, nose pressed up against the red bat symbol on his shirt. Jason instinctively brought his hand up to his ginger hair, his other hand wrapping around his torso. He shushed and cooed over the gentle sniffles, watching the reflection of car lights on his wall as they drove past on the street below his apartment.
He continued to press kisses into Tyler's hair, running circles into his shirt, keeping him close with the pressure from his arms. He ensured that they stayed like that until the small shakes from Tyler had calmed down.
Jason pulled back, keeping his hands on Tyler's shoulders. Looking over his face, Jason saw his wet, red eyes and his lips pushed up into a pout. His skin crinkled between his eyebrows and his tiny palms moved to rub at his face. “Feel a bit better?”
Tyler make a noise, somewhat akin to a hum, of subtle agreement. Jason could only assume that he didn’t want to seem too much better in fear that he might leave him be. Tyler grasped at the bottom of his own shirt, pulling and palming at the fabric. Jason placed his own hands over his and pulled them together in his own clasp. Slowly, he brought their hands up to his mouth, pressing a brief kiss to Tyler’s fingertips. He kept ahold of their intertwined palms, letting them rest together in the space between them. The mix of confusion and close-to-tears disbelief that sparkled in Tyler’s eyes squeezed in his chest.
“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Jason pressed his hands against the younger’s as if to reiterate his point. Or perhaps to ground him – the ground them both, possibly. “I’ll make you a deal. You let me go on patrols, and that will be the only time I leave, alright?”
“..Okay..”
“I’ll stay in tonight. I think we deserve a movie, and we should probably talk about a babysitter.”
“What!? No way! I can take care of myself!” Tyler burst out, bouncing on his heels to let his emotion out with his hands being held.
“Then what’s the problem with me going out to do my job?” Jason already knew the answer to his question, but maybe if Tyler says it out loud, he’ll come to terms with it more. That was his thinking, anyway.
Tyler bit his cheek and mumbled. “...I don’t wanna be alone.”
“You won’t be alone with a babysitter.” Jason responds, pointedly, and not at all helpfully. He cuts himself some slack for that answer, he’s still learning this whole parenting thing.
Still learning may be an understatement, because when Tyler - his son - replies, Jason is entirely sure that he almost passes out.
Tyler continues to rock on the balls of his feet. “But it won’t be you, so what’s the point?”
Jason is stunned for longer than he would admit, yet still, Tyler doesn’t say anything about it. He waits, frowning and blinking away the sticky, dried tears from his eyes. He clears his throat and fights the urge to cry, picking Tyler up by his middle and letting out a laugh at the boy’s brief protests.
“Daaad!”
“Yes, baby blue?” Jason responds in a murmur, voice blocked by the messy kisses he places across Tyler’s cheeks and forehead. Tyler squeals, yelping something along the lines of “Gross!”, but Jason feels far too elated to properly hear. He twirls them both as Tyler’s groans become laughs, and he stops pushing Jason away by the chin. When their spin comes to a stop, Tyler wraps his legs around his father’s chest and back, grip tight in the leather shoulders of the jacket Jason moves them into the living room, holding Tyler in one arm and pinching his cheek with the other, earning more and more squeals.
Eventually, Jason drops Tyler onto the sofa. The boy yelps, body drowning into a pile of blankets. When he pops his head up, he can see Jason toeing his boots off, and fumbling with his jacket before placing it on a hook. Tyler enjoyed watching the layer’s of his father’s suit get peeled away, it was a special part of the job that not many got to witness. Once all the armour was off, Jason was left in a turtleneck compression, his military styled pants and a pair of blue and red Wonder Woman socks that Tyler had bought for his birthday with his scrounged up pocket money.
He sat next to Tyler on the couch, copying his motion of bundling up into a blanket. He turns on the tv and ruffles the boy’s hair. Tyler pressed against him, leaning into his side despite the vast emptiness of the sofa’s other side. Jason chuckles and wraps his arm, and blanket, around him.
“It’s your night to pick a movie.” Jason says over a suppressed yawn. Who knew openly expressing your love for your child could be such tiring work?
“Hmm…Big Hero 6!” Tyler pointed at the tv repeatedly, finger circling the ‘Previously watched’ section.
“We always watch that one.” Jason rolled his eyes playfully, exaggerating his works with a flick of the remote.
“And we will watch it again. Play it!”
“You’re lucky I love you, little man.”
“I love you too, Dad.” Tyler replies, head falling against his side.
Jason bites his tongue and composes himself. He lets the movie’s opening sequence focus his mind away from his tight shakes in his chest. Maybe he should call his dad sometime soon.