#this is a hodge podge with dialogue ripped straight from pr i hope you like it still

[setsailslash]

Good god your askbox is open for prompts??? Well then how about this gem that you definitely didn't see coming: Bat Boys in a Jaeger. Which batboys and how many of them (because in canon we've had three several times now and WHY NOT FOUR I GUESS if you wanted to) is up to you. Though I will definitely tentatively request Jason be at least present somewhere. Extra points for ghost drifting (whether it's cute or romantic or sexy or horrifying or none of those is also up to you)

in which Jason is a little bit of Raleigh and Yancy and Herc and Chuck all at the same time. way more bruce&jason content than anticipated but all the boys are here despite very obvious favouritism lmao (can totally be read as something more but it’s gen!! :OO)

Jason remembers how a ghost drift goes in distant memory. 

Bruce was always good in that he is a blank slate, never brought a thing into their driftspace and took everything that Jason offered as his own. 

Except.

The after effect was a buzzing sense of weightlessness that echoed inside of him. He’s not floating or flying, he’s at the cusp of a sharp long drop. And it’s nothing he can grasp especially on their worst days when the feedback from their drift goes rampant between them even without any of the machinery that should make it possible.

But it’s real and it’s true.

Jason’s hand moving before his head could truly register the motion, already following the way Bruce moved his. He was a shadow connected at every place, sewn to the man he calls his co-pilot.

-

When Jason dies ten miles off of the Gulf of Aden, Bruce pilots their Jaeger back to shore all on his own. Circuitry suit burning the entire way through skin to scorch flesh, co-pilot torn from his head while they were still connected. 

That was the last time Bruce ever steps foot inside of a Conn-Pod again.

-

Coming back to the Jaeger Program was never supposed to be like this.

Jason looks at Dick Grayson, the Program’s golden boy and tells him: “You don’t want me inside your head.”

They have both had Bruce Wayne as a co-pilot, the difference being Dick came out unscathed while Jason died. 

“Let me decide that for myself, Jay.” Dick answers with a smile despite the dark bruises under his eyes. He is in his drivesuit and they are standing in the Conn-Pod next to one another.

There’s something a lot like trepidation crawling up Jason’s spine. His heart kicks up a beat, each pulse a thundering boom to echo inside his helmet. 

“Don't say I didn't warn you.”

He felt like the sharpened rough edges of something ready to shatter on impact on a good day, he cannot imagine how Dick could navigate that.

"Lil' win—"

"Don't fucking call me that."

Their LOCCENT officer chooses that moment to come over the speakers, and Barbara’s voice leaves no room for anything otherwise when she asks them both. “Ready for the drop?” 

For Jaeger pilots like them, it's an ingrained response. They echo one another when they answer, “Ready.”

-

[Neural Handshake Initiating.]

Three. Two. One. 

They drop.

-

It’s biological, this drift of theirs. 

It’s a fit of their heads that fit tighter than the way their drivesuits can pull across their shoulders. Even with each piece settling over top, giving them the necessary weight, it’s a pull that has them feeling electricity spark across their skin.

It’s a singe.

-

It’s not enough though.

Because they need all the warm bodies encased in cold metal and put to the test. Jason is one more in a long line of sacrifices. The Kwoon looks and feels the exact same when he steps foot inside of it once again. There is an air of indifference, and it’s funny to learn nothing is sacred anymore. Not even this. 

What truly stings though is the sight of Bruce standing on the sidelines in a dark suit.

“Drift compatibility doesn’t mean shit anymore, does it?” Jason spits out because the man might be the Marshal now but he was once Jason’s co-pilot too. And something hits like a dull solid pang when it is a replacement candidate standing on the other end of the mats, bo-staff in hand. 

Jason doesn’t wait for an answer, he turns to Tim Drake to say: “I’m not going to dial down my moves.”

“Okay.” Tim’s lips quirk upwards at both corners, vicious and sharp, his grip shifts where it curls around the staff. “Then neither will I.”

-

They each make their first strike against the other. And then again and again and again.

There is a rush of blood, exhilaration in their veins. Sweat at their temples and it drips. Tim is good even if it physically pains Jason to admit to it.

Maybe drift compatibility is not the joke here, maybe it’s Jason. Because he is on his back, pinned and stunned when Tim draws the last point between them, bringing it to an even score. It’s unmistakable, he knows this feeling.

The end of his bo-staff is millimeters from grazing at Jason’s throat.

“Three-three.” Tim says to him.

-

The world is coming to an end. 

If this isn’t the time for desperation, then there probably isn’t one.  They are the last stand, a last ditch effort, one final score if Jason's ever seen one.

Bruce goes as far as to test his own son with Jason. 

“I imagined him differently.” Damian says to start.

And Jason fucking scowls at the brat.

-

He feels them in his head, their thoughts lingering like an afterthought.

Having access to every crevice of someone else’s mind is not something to be desired, let alone a thing he would do to himself again and again and again like it’s a special kind of punishment he thinks he deserves. 

But. Bruce asked.

It’s one thing to have nothing buzzing inside of his head, and another to have it full to bursting at the seams. To Jason Todd, drift compatibility is akin to having a conversation with a stranger in the pouring rain or shrouded in the dark of an alleyway, and finding a thing that he wants to hold on to for the rest of his life.

He is Dick watching his parents' death. He is Tim stepping foot inside of his first Shatterdome. He is Damian being kept out of the pilot placements despite his perfect simulation scores.

They fill his head with their thoughts, and they press into the core of him until they become him.

Jason didn't ever think he could experience this so many times. They are his last moment when that last thread of his connection to Bruce snaps, and he's dragged under the waters of the Gulf of Aden streaked in Kaiju Blue.

From beneath the waves, it glowed neon green when the bright lights of their Jaeger passes over him. Bruce burned during his last run, and Jason did too.

Jason inhales and they with him.

-

He is suited up.

And so is every remaining Jaeger pilot they’ve got left in the program: Dick standing with Damian next to Tim at the other end of the hallway leading to their Conn-Pods.

“When you drift with someone, you feel like there’s nothing to talk about. I don't want to regret all the things I never said, Jason.” 

It is a testament to how long he’s been waiting to hear this from Bruce when his eyes are prickling in what might actually be tears. It’s salty and it stings.

“B, you don't need to.” He lets the man tug him into his arms, and his voice gets muffled but that’s okay too. “I know them all.” Jason tells him. “I always have.”

It’s a lie, but it’s a very good one. Jason has always known Bruce in that painfully intimate way, understood the man for who he is and who he cannot be for Jason even if push comes to shove comes to out right blows. And there were plenty of that even during their best days. 

Jason has spent a long time resenting Bruce. 

Maybe it's about time he moved on from that.

The world has been coming to an end for a while now, it would be ending on a good note if they do not have to die inside of one another’s head once more.

When he makes the drop into driftspace this last time, he thinks of all their good times.