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batmanandguano · 5 years

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i could suffice for him, i knew

bruce wayne, jason todd, gen aka: bruce takes jason to a play. title taken from one of emily dickinson’s poems.

There’s something that’s bothering Jason. Bruce can sense it the moment the boy walked into the Manor.

Normally, the boy’s return from school is the highlight of Bruce’s day. While it is Alfred who picks him up, Jason has never failed to materialize before Bruce’s study to toss him a quick smile which already has the billionaire wrapped around the boy’s finger. Bruce loves having Jason around, loves his easygoing smiles and the way he dives into cakes — already the Manor is so much brighter. It’s a wonder that this child that he’s only known for a scant few weeks has this effect on him but truthfully, he thinks he’s never been happier —

And during Jason’s daily pilgrimage to see him, the boy’s shoulders are drooping although the smile that he gives is genuine.

Bruce’s always been perceptive and perhaps even more-so with Jason, if only because he feels no peace if Jason has none and when Jason’s happy, that happiness returns to him a thousandfold. Because the truth of the matter is that soft-hearted, sweet, generous Jason is his child and though Jason vehemently denies wanting a parent, his denials have grown a lot softer the longer he’s spent in the Manor and any mention of the boy’s name brings a smile to Bruce Wayne’s lips, his chest puffed prouder than any other parent.

“Is everything alright?” He turns to face him because sometimes Jason has trouble at school. While the boy is academically brilliant, Bruce also knows that in an environment where the only thing that matters is the size of your family’s bank account, Jason has a tendency to get into fights. There’s been more than one incident where both he and Alfred has been called into the principal’s office to witness Jason sitting there, smirking with a busted lip and an ice pack telling him that ‘B — you shoulda seen th’ other guy.’ And more often than not, it’s in defense of someone else because at least, and oh how he has worked to make it so, Jason bears the Wayne name now —

Jason doesn’t look any worse for wear this time. His tie’s askew and the upper button of his shirt’s unbuttoned. He nods his head and grins. “Yeah,” he says before dropping his backpack onto the ground and props his feet onto the coffee table. It’s a little ritual which used to be a little fight between them but Bruce’s absolutely lost the will to tell Jason to take his feet off the table. “You don’t have any meetings, do ya?” he asks and when Bruce shakes his head, Jason pulls out a book from his backpack and starts to read. Two days a week Jason comes over and reads until Bruce’s finished with work and they go out to dinner. There’s a slip of pink paper being used as a bookmark and Bruce turns his head to look at the piece of paper —

Right as it’s snatched back by Jason. “Sheesh, privacy B!” he says before quickly stuffing the page back into his backpack. There’s something uncharacteristic here because Jason’s always been careful with his things, especially papers from school. It draws his curiosity though for now, he’ll let the boy keep this secret. Bruce logs off his computer, tells his secretary to go home early for the day, and grabs his coat and Jason’s backpack.

They don’t call his alter ego the Greatest Detective In The World for nothing and after making a few discreet inquiries to the trophy moms who make up the PTA of Jason’s school, Bruce’s learned that auditions are being held for the school play. Auditions are held the week following the next and practice, in order to placate the academic rigor of the preparatory school (or to keep the kids busy while their parents are closing billion dollar deals or gallivanting off to the Maldives), is held from six to nine in the evenings.

Combine that with Jason’s tendency to sing show-tunes when he thinks nobody is listening and the mysterious piece of paper that’s set him on edge — it’s not hard to deduce that the boy wants to audition. And because Bruce Wayne has no subtly, he brings it up at breakfast. “I hear that they’re holding auditions for Les Miserables,” he says, casually.

Jason sets down the cereal in his hand. “Has anyone told you that your tendency to figure everything out is actually really creepy?” he asks, before picking up the milk.

“Creepier than going out at night dressed like a Bat?” Bruce teases back, before his tone turns pensive. “Do you want to audition?”

Jason waits for a moment before replying, hand twirling the bowl of cereal. “I think it’d be kinda cool,” he admits. “You know — the Jean val Jean’s a complicated character and requires a big vocal range. Though I’m pretty sure that Jeremy’s going to bribe the Drama Head since he’s applyin’ to Tisch this year and need it for his portfolio. I’d like to play Enjolras though,” He’s grinning, despite himself. ”I think he’s got some wonderful ideas B, like overthrowing the bougerois — and the fact that he looks out for everyone there. He’s also got the best song, “Do You Hear The People Sing” is an absolute masterpiece — though I dunno if you like the part about angry men, an’ ”

But then Jason shrugs again, “It conflicts with our other job, an’ it’d probably be awkward telling Miss Brown that I can’t come to practice because the Joker’s escaped Arkham again or that the Penguin’s planning on turnin’ Gotham Park into his personal ice rink. Plus I don’t need to play hero when I actually get to be one,” He offers Bruce a lopsided grin before digging into his breakfast with gusto.

But Bruce doesn’t miss the way Jason’s breath quickens when he speaks about Enjolras and the play. He doesn’t miss the fact that Robin’s prone to theatrics and that there’s a ten page, single-spaced essay that Jason’s wrote last year on classism in Les Miserables which had earned the highest grade in the year. The want in the boy’s eyes as he speaks about plays and musicals and books during the early mornings — the fact that at the very least, Jason deserves to be a child.

In a sense, Bruce knows that bringing a child into his battle against the darkest corners of the night is folly; he’s witnessed that after seeing Dick nearly get shot by one of the Joker’s henchmen. He should not have brought another child into this life and some nights Bruce could not help but worry, even though he knows that Jason loves being Robin. Knows that Jason’s no less capable than Dick Grayson despite the differences in their fighting styles, the way that Jason’s laughter and quips are always tinged with vengeance and pride, different from Dick Grayson’s youthful insouciance.

There’s always a part of Bruce who thinks that perhaps he should tell Jason (and Dick before him) to focus on his studies. That the boy’s seen enough of the rougher side of Gotham and that Batman doesn’t need a sidekick in his war — but he knows how Jason would take it. Jason, despite everything, still feels a need to prove himself — Bruce’s seen the gleam in his eyes, the words made in jest said too sharply, he knows Jason’s fears, of blood trumping nurture, the way he stares down criminals with eyes too old for his age. He knows that Jason wrestles with fears of inadequacy and perhaps it’s Bruce’s own fear after dealing with Dick’s anger, but he knows that he cannot lose Jason, that he cannot let Jason go —

What he wants for this boy is to give him the world.

What he can do is this.

It’s a small sacrifice that Batman’ll have to make but Bruce Wayne’s a father.

“Hey, Jay — have you ever been to a theater?”

They take a trip to Metropolis’ Broadway District where Les Miserables is playing. It’s a new showing, the lead’s quite a famous musical actor and while tickets have already been sold out, there are certain advantages in being Bruce Wayne. Namely the fact that he ends up with the best seats in the theater with complimentary champagne and a meeting with the cast during intermission, plus one.

Jason’s been growing so they take him for his suit fitting and it’s a testament to his excitement that he doesn’t complain even once during the entire process even though Bruce knows that he hates wearing suits. He says that they’re constricting and uncomfortable. Jason does get to pick the tie though and when Bruce sees his choice — a red, silk tie with diminutive little birds — he can’t help but smile. They’ve slicked back his hair and to anyone else in the world, this is Jason Wayne — the second and much loved son of the scion of Wayne Industries and he feels a rush of pride. Bruce wants nothing more to proclaim to the world that this is his son and isn’t his boy wonderful? He swallows down his pride instead because he knows that any mention of father and parent still sometimes sets the boy on edge and claps him on the back instead.

He expects Jason to immediately start chattering and is not disappointed when Jason turns towards him, eyes wide and smile huge as he starts telling Bruce about the various facts he’s learned from the internet and from reading the brochure. “Did you know that the musical requires over five thousand individual pieces of clothing, B? Imagine how hard it would take to wash everything,”

“I assume they send it out to a subcontractor,”

“Yeah but B — it’ll probably have a ton of chemicals. I hope the actors are okay. Oh, and this takes place in 19th centuryParis — you’ve read the book, right? A lot of people think that it takes place after the French Revolution, in English Lit, Conner wrote his report about how the revolution impacted the attitudes towards the French aristocracy during that time but he was wrong. This June Rebellion was before they started chopping off all the heads,”

“The heads of the aristocracy, hm?” That’s one way of putting it.

Jason tries to roll his eyes, but the effect was ruined by how widely he’s beaming. “Don’t worry B — I’ll protect ya,” he grins, magnanimous. “If we were around during that time, I’ll figure out plans to sneak us out even though I’m pretty sure you’d have been on the Marat’s Most Wanted List. Though,” he pats Bruce on the cheek. “I think they’ll take a bit more kindly to Batman, he seems more of a man of the people type — “

He’ll play along. “And how would you orchestrate your escape now that you’re also a part of the ‘One Percent’ as you so like to call it?”

Jason scrunches up his nose. “I have friends, B — plus, I wouldn’t be a useless aristocrat. And neither would you, I feel. You’d be like the Marquis de Lafayette or a Revolutionary version of a Musketeer except far less corrupt. And I could teach you argot probably, that’s the Paris dialect that Eponine speaks in the books. I think I’d like to learn — do you think Mademoiselle Dufarge knows?”

“Didn’t Victor Hugo call argot ‘the language of the dark night’?”

“Yeah and I’m pretty sure — “ Jason leans in close, his eyes shining clandestinely before wagging his eyebrows. “If anything our friend, the Dark Knight, should know how to speak it and should teach it to his brilliant, precocious, and clever ward with a affinity for languages,”

“You mean Dick Grayson?” he teases.

“Bruce! That’s it! I’m not saving you and your batty friend’s ass again — ”

There’s a few people that Bruce had to meet, business associates and the director of the theater who’s here to personally thank Bruce Wayne for his generous donation — it’s tedious work, smiling until his cheeks hurt but Bruce’s played the vapid, doting billionaire patron of the arts for long enough that it’s second nature. He laughs at all the right times and tells a few jokes which sends the gaggle of society matrons and academics into peals of laughter. But the thing with Brucie Wayne is that he never says anything of substance. Bruce’s always been intelligent but Brucie isn’t — a few superficial remarks and some razzle dazzle normally holds enough for him. They’ve been talking about adding him to their board and he’s already running out of things to say when he sees a flash of red tie and curls.

“Hey Bruce,” Jason strides towards them with a glass of — oh, is that champagne? The boy’s much too young to be drinking; they’ll be having this conversation later —

As if Jason could sense Bruce’s thoughts, he holds up the glass and thrusts it in front of Bruce’s nose. “Grape juice. Sparkling,” he says. “There were blueberries in there, but oh — “ His eyes widens comically. “Miss Simone,” he says, turning towards one of the women Bruce’s been speaking to. “I’ve loved your collection of essays on Euripides’ Orestes — and I think you totally deserved that Guggenheim Fellowship more than that bastard Lobdell, honestly — I think we could do with less works analyzing manpain,“

“Oh, I completely agree,” The lady smiles, indulgent. “And who are you, young man?”

Jason holds out his hand before flashing her a toothy grin. “I’m Jason. That guy’s basically my dad,” He says, poking Bruce on the shoulder. That mention of ‘dad’ brings a fierce wave of joy to his chest and he turns and ruffles Jason’s hair free from its gel. Jason, predictably, makes a face. “There’s a business guy looking for you, his name’s Judd or something and it’s regarding Wayne business,”

Bruce nods but not before shrugging helplessly, and dashes away like a — ha! — bat out of hell. “Sorry guys — business calls. I’ll give you the number of my secretary and maybe we can set something up,”

The last thing that he hears is Jason’s voice. “Miss Simone — I hear that you’re writing a criticism on curricular constraints in high school academia? If you need a case study, I’ve been taking this one Milton class but it’s honestly academic censorship at its worst — “

They’re finally seated.

This time Jason’s actually holding a glass of champagne. He’s allowed one glass, it’s high society tradition after all — any more and Bruce’ll actually have words with him but he seems to be enjoying himself, holding onto his pair of tiny opera glasses with the other. Bruce’s not sure what — or who he’s watching but it’s a traditional part of attending a theater production and so Bruce instead leans back and steals a green macaron from Jason’s package of sweets and waits for the curtains to rise. All the people below them look tiny, insignificant from their vantage point and instead he watches Jason, watches as his expression changes to one of awe as the lights dim and the curtains rise.

They launch into a song about the drudgery of the 19th century and he catches Jason mouthing the words, sitting up close in their box. The boy’s practically vibrating with excitement and Bruce knows that he’s made the right decision. He picks up his own glass of champagne and turns towards Jason, clinks their glasses together and goes to enjoy the show.

After Jean valJean ascends to heaven in Fantine’s arms and the final chorale sings of a world freed, Bruce finds himself clapping as loudly as the rest of them but perhaps still a bit quieter than Jason. There’s nearly tears in his eyes and Bruce feels a rush of fondness for this boy because Jason who’s never cried even after nearly getting shot, cries after musicals and after particularly moving books. Bruce, normally not one for musicals or plays or ballet, has enjoyed himself immensely and turns to see Jason watching him carefully.

“Hey B — you alright?” He asks softly, looking suddenly a little bit hesitant. “Hopefully that wasn’t too boring, since I know that’s usually — ” He’s fidgeting with one of his buttons. “What Brucie does and well, I just wanted to say that I’m grateful, I’ve never done this before but it’s well, always been one my dreams growing up. So thank you, B. ”

Bruce reaches over, runs a hand through his hair, easy and proprietary. “I had a great time with you” he says. “And I was thinking that if you wanted to try out for the school play, I think we can push back our hours a little bit. Just for this quarter,”

Jason pauses.

“B, didn’t you say that nothing’s more important than the mission, though?” Jason asks. “I mean that is why you brought me here right,” he adds; at this rate, the button’s going to come off. “With everything here, it’s just — everything’s a disguise for the mission. That’s what you’ve told me, before — ”

Oh, is that what Jason thinks, even now? There’s a sharp implication there that he’s feared. But he needs — Bruce needs to be honest.

There is a sharp awareness in Bruce’s voice. “Jason — I — I want you to be happy,” he murmurs. Words have never come easily to him, he’s always been more of a man of action. “I — “ He could not push the boy away, but he’s already committed to it. He would see this through and it’s a terrifying thought, how much Jason already means to him. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I — I think of you as my son. I want you to be happy Jason and I want to be the one to make you happy,” He’s tripping over his words now and Jason’s eyes are very wide. “I — you are happy here, right?“

But the thing about Jason is that he’s a quick study. He looks at Bruce and perhaps there’s something wet in the corner of his eyes but he reaches over and pulls Bruce into a hug because he’s always understood. There’s sticky hands wrapped around his neck and Jason smells like chocolate and fresh air and Bruce leans into the hug, pulls his arms around Jason and finds that his cheeks are hurting from smiling so much. Bruce doesn’t miss the quiver in Jason’s voice, doesn’t miss its open vulnerability.

He thinks -

“I love you too, B —” Jason’s voice shakes.

(He’s going to keep the boy for as long as he can.)

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