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“Superman hates me,” Jason exhaled from the safety of the cave, and both Dick and Alfred stared at him. Everyone else had gone to rest, even Bruce, though Jason knew the man wasn't asleep at all.
It had been a tough night; it had taken everyone to save Robin from Black Mask and prevent Two-Face from blowing the dam. It had been a hellish night.
A night when even the damned Superman had shown up, and while he was all smiles and kindness with the others, he had been cold to Jason. Worse still, he had looked at him the way some rich people had looked at Jason when he first joined the family: as if he were a filthy, unworthy street rat, abusing the kindness of someone so important. He hadn't been rude, but Jason sensed the hostility, the way Superman stood between him and Batman, the way he spoke to him. He didn't like Jason, and he wanted to know why.
“What?”
“Superman, Big Blue, Kal El, the one who crawls into Bruce's bed every night…that guy hates me.”
Dick made a disgusted face, “Jason, what the hell. How did you even think that?”
“Come on, did you see the way he looked at me just now? If It isn't hate, he definitely doesn't like me…”
“Oh no, I didn't mean that,” the older man said nonchalantly, “It's true that Clark doesn't like you, but I really don't want to know what those two do when they're alone.”
“Wait, are you serious? Nothing, no, Jason, it's just you, don't be silly, Jason…”
Dick rolled his eyes, “What's the point? You'd know anyway. I might as well say it right now.”
Jason saw red. What a hypocrite.
“It's about the crime lord thing, isn't it? Like him and Lex Luthor weren't ex or…”
“Nah, it's not for that,” Dick said, stretching his shoulders and yawning. He'd been awake for hours, and unlike most, he was due to go to work in a few hours. Although Jason had no idea what Dick was doing now.
Gym teacher? Cop? Model? Circus freak? Who knows!
"Is it for the murders? God, he's worse than the old man..."
"It's not even the murders, even though they bother him," his brother said, then tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowed, searching. "You really can't figure it out yourself? It's pretty obvious.”
“No, Dickhead, I don't get it, enlighten me, you mighty firstborn and Golden boy,” he taunted, hating the condescension with which he was being treated.
But it wasn't Dick who answered. It was Alfred, “Master Clark hates you because you shot your father.”
He turned; the butler had his back to him, busy cleaning the cave, his manner carefully professional, a strategy he always used when he didn't want his true feelings about a sensitive matter to be known.
Alfred continued, “Master Clark is a kind person, but there are some things he can't forgive. Trying to kill Master Bruce is one of them.”
Jason bit the inside of his cheek. “I was angry.”
“We know,” Dick exhaled, leaning back in the chair in front of the Batcomputer.
“I wanted revenge.”
“We know, Jason.”
“Bruce didn’t kill the Joker…”
“Yeah, we know the story,” Dick cut in impatiently. “Back from the dead, trained as assassins, traumatized, blah blah blah…we know, Jason. But it wasn’t enough that you planted a bomb under the Batmobile. You shot him. You wanted to kill him like his parents died.”
“Bruce isn’t dead, though,” he croaked, a feeble excuse, pathetic even to himself.
“But you were close! And not just that one time! You tried for almost two years! You only recently got your act together, and you’re still bringing guns into Bruce’s damn home!”
“I need them,” he defended himself, but Dick glared at him. “Jason, let’s be honest. If you and Bruce were left alone in a room, I’d be worried about Bruce, not you. You’re not discreet with your anger issues.”
“My anger issues?” Jason repeated, gritting his teeth, “Are we going to ignore yours, Goldie? Why would Superman only be mad at me and you be the favorite? It's not like you're any better off with the old man…”
“I'm not his favorite.”
The confession left Jason speechless. Dick raised his head, exhaling a tired sigh, “Cass is Clark's favorite. Her, Duke, and Damian, for obvious reasons. I think Damian could ask him to bring him any endangered alien creature and Clark would bring it. He can't say no to him. It's the same for Bruce with Jon.”
“Wait a second. Let's go back. What do you mean you're not Superman's favorite? He practically raised you, along with Bruce!”
He didn't miss the older man's contrite expression as he replied, “Yeah, that was when I was ten, and I was an adorable gremlin. Then I grew up, and as you so kindly pointed out earlier, I was a complete asshole to Bruce. And Clark didn't like it.”
Dick ran his hands over his face, trying to fight the exhaustion, while Jason followed Alfred out of the corner of his eye, completely indifferent to the ongoing conversation. Finally, Dick spoke up. “The last time I had a fight with Bruce was six months ago. Clark watched. I said…well, you can imagine what I said. The usual shit. I turned around, hoping Clark would support me, and when I did, I saw the way he was looking at me. He was disgusted with me, and well, he wasn't wrong. I never held back what I said to Bruce. I've often said things that would have induced a traumatic reaction in anyone else, and I knew it. I didn't mind, because I thought I was right. But that day, seeing the way Clark looked at me, I finally understood that Bruce has his flaws, but I've always been the one who starts our fights. I didn't see it. I didn't want to see it. Clark kicked me out right after, telling me I could go to Titans Tower to cool off and think about what I'd said.”
“Bruce let him do it?”
Dick smiled wryly, despite himself. “I have no doubt they argued too, you know how Bruce is with us. He’s too lenient.”
“Bruce lenient? Are you serious? He gave me hell…”
“But you’re here,” the other pointed out. “Despite everything you did to him, you’re here. In his home. He even gives you money when you need it. He helps you. So yes, Bruce is lenient with us. Clark isn’t. He sees us for what we are.”
“And what are we?” Jason asked, crossing his arms, waiting.
“We're assholes, Jason. And we're not good sons, to put it mildly. Bruce can forgive us everything, he can put up with things no sane person would… but he shouldn't. Clark wants to make sure of that. And if Bruce doesn't set clear boundaries, then he'll do it."
"Boundaries? Really?"
“Yeah, you should try to respect them, once in a while. Maybe Clark would stop to give you crap, ” Dick wrinkled his nose. “Honestly, after that last time, I was lucky he didn't punch me, and that's because Bruce loves me. And I know he loves you, too, even if you doubt it.”
“Joker's still alive,” he reminded him.
Dick's gaze hardened. “Do you always reduce everything to that? Let Talia do it, or your dear Nocturna, if that woman is still around. But if Nocturna tries to get close to Bruce, not a single bone will be left intact.”
“What did Nocturna do to you?”
“She knows full well,” Dick replied coldly. “Bruce doesn't have to kill anyone for you…”
“I'm his son!”
Dick didn't change his expression. “Funny how you remember that when you want something, and not when you're about to kill him.”
“I'm not trying anymore!”
“But you could,” he pointed out. “We all know it. Clark knows it. That’s why he doesn’t trust you, and he doesn’t like you. And if you ever do something to Bruce…”
“Only if that old man provokes me…”
Dick ignored him. “...Superman won’t have mercy on you. He’ll do what he has to. And none of us will try to stop him.”
Jason narrowed his eyes. “So you’d abandon me? You’d choose Bruce?”
“He never chooses himself, Jason. Someone has to.”
The worst part? The part of Jason that wasn’t poisoned by his resentment understood. In Dick’s place, he would have done the same.
Nor that he would ever say it out loud.