Work Text:
The vase fell to the ground with a splintering crash and broke into a million tiny pieces.
Jason slapped a hand over his mouth to hold back a panicked scream. He- He hadn’t meant to, he’d just turned around too fast and his arm had bumped into the table and the ugly and probably ridiculously expensive vase had gone straight over the edge!
Jason couldn’t stop the tears that welled in his eyes and spilled over, the first tears he’d cried since his mom died, and they were all for some stupid vase. Shit, Bruce was going to kill him for this, and if he didn’t do it himself, he was just going to toss Jason back onto the streets and let Gotham do it for him. It had only been a few weeks since Bruce had kidnapped him, but Bruce and Alfred had been so nice, and it was so weird, but that was all over.
Bruce was going to see the broken glass and flip his shit, and then he was going to deal with Jason the way Jason had been expecting him to for weeks over backtalk and being caught stealing food. Bruce had never hit Jason, and for a blissful day and a half, Jason had thought that maybe if he stayed out of big trouble, then Bruce wouldn’t hit him at all. As soon as his guard had come down, though, he’d gone and screwed it all up.
He was going to get a beating from Batman, and then he was going to be kicked back to Crime Alley, marked by the media as Wayne’s foster kid. If he didn’t die from internal bleeding or a cracked skull from the beating, he’d never last the night.
Unless Bruce never found out.
Jason inhaled sharply and quickly scrubbed the tears away. He had to work fast, and he couldn’t let Bruce or Alfred catch him being upset, because then they’d ask and there was no way they wouldn’t notice.
Jason pulled off his hoodie and spread it on the floor, then started snatching up the largest pieces of glass and throwing them onto his makeshift body bag. In his haste, he cut himself on a sharp edge, but he hardly noticed except to think that he’d better not get blood on the carpets too.
“Jason?”
Jason yelped and jumped up, throwing himself between Bruce and the broken shards of their relationship. He hadn’t even heard the man approach, but he was only twenty feet away.
That was such a stupid move. He could have played nonchalant, slid his hoodie over the glass, and just pretended that he was really interested in the carpet or something. Bruce would have bought that! He was a total clueless idiot! But no, Jason had just gone and panicked worse than he had when he’d been caught stealing Batman’s tires, and even Bruce would be able to read the guilt in that yelp.
It didn’t even make sense to be more scared now. Bruce wasn’t even wearing his reinforced gauntlets that would have let him cause more damage and longer like he had when he was Batman, but somehow the thought of Bruce – not Batman, not the Dark Knight, Bruce who bought him clothes, and books, and always asked Alfred how much Jason weighed and if he was gaining enough weight fast enough when he thought that Jason wasn’t around, and smiled at him like a creep whenever he walked in on Jason reading in the library – beating him made him feel sick in a way the threat of his father and Batman never had.
Bruce frowned and stepped closer. Jason did his best not to flinch and further show his guilt, but when Bruce reached for him, Jason stumbled back, directly onto his hoodie and the glass beneath it. None of the glass cut through the thick material, but it cracked damningly under his weight.
Bruce didn’t look down at Jason’s feet, just reached forward again, eyes zeroed in on Jason’s hand. Jason backed up again, but only made it half a step before crashing into the small table behind him.
“I’m sorry!” Jason cried and dropped to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and covering the back of his head with his hands, his eyes clenched tight shut so he wouldn’t have to see the blows coming.
“Jason!” Bruce exclaimed, and Jason felt an ugly sob building in his chest. Bruce was so mad, he was so mad….
There was a second crack of glass as Bruce must have stepped in it, meaning he knew not just that Jason was hiding something for sure, he knew that it was the probably priceless vase that had been in the Manor longer than Jason, and he might have hurt himself and gotten even more mad at Jason, and he was right there.
Jason sniffled pathetically, but he couldn’t stop crying, which was stupid, because crying always pissed his dad off more, but he just couldn’t stop.
There was another slight crunch of glass as Bruce shifted his weight, and Jason could literally feel the heat emanating from Bruce’s body.
“Please, I’m sorry! It was an accident, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Jason cried, pressing back as far as he could.
Huge hands wrapped around his thin wrists and effortlessly pulled them away from Jason’s head. Oh god, Bruce was going for a kill shot. Jason was going to die and even though he’d always expected to die young, he wasn’t ready. He had dreams, kind of, and plans, and half of Sense and Sensibility left to live for.
Bruce pressed both of his wrists into one hand and held them above his head, and Jason could feel the shift of air as the other hand reached for his face.
Warm, calloused fingers lightly touched his jaw and tilted his head. Jason flinched down, but Bruce made a soft, gentle noise that was so out of place that it shocked Jason long enough for Bruce to tilt his face up. So I can see how mad he is before he let’s me have it, Jason thought in dread.
“Jaylad, you’re hurt,” Bruce said, but that wasn’t true and it didn’t make any sense because Bruce hadn’t hit him yet.
“I’m sorry,” Jason sobbed, pleading with his eyes for some mercy.
Bruce frowned severely and let go of Jason’s wrists and chin. Jason ducked back down and threw his hands back over his neck and head as he heard Bruce stand slowly.
Jason felt the air shift again and braced for the contact, but it came as one hand braced carefully against either side of his rib cage. Jason had just a moment for confusion before he was lifted into the air and tucked against Bruce’s solid, warm, relaxed chest.
“Sh, sh, Jaylad. Everything’s okay,” Bruce hummed and turned around to face back the way he’d come. “Let’s go take a look at that finger.”
“What?” Jason whimpered thickly, keeping his arms tense between his chest and Bruce’s.
Was Bruce just going to carry Jason to the front door and chuck him out? That would be better than being beaten and thrown out, but his heart twinged in what felt like physical pain at the idea.
“Jason, I’m not mad at you.” Bruce rubbed a firm circle in Jason’s trembling back, but it didn’t hurt at all. It felt nice, way too nice for someone who was about to kick him back to the streets. It wasn’t fair for Bruce to be so nice. It wasn’t fair. “And if I were mad at you, I still wouldn’t hurt you. You’re my son now. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
That- That didn’t make any sense, and Jason felt like his head was spinning. If Bruce hadn’t been holding him, then he might have fainted.
“B-but-” Jason choked out around his tears.
“But nothing,” Bruce said, a hint of Batman’s steel in his tone. “If anyone hurts you, I will beat them up. You are mine, and I would never abuse you like that.”
“But the vase-” Jason’s voice hitched, but he had to say it. “I b-broke that vase, and it probably cost more than I do, and, and-”
Jason was jostled as Bruce’s chest jolted with a burst of laughter.
“Jason, I should be thanking you for breaking that,” Bruce told him, stopping his back rub to playfully ruffle Jason’s hair. “I’ve always hated that vase. It was an ugly eye sore that my Great-Aunt Edna bought at a yard sale for two dollars. Alfred would never let me throw it out.”
Hope sprung in Jason’s chest, and he sat up as best he could in Bruce’s arms. He had to see Bruce’s eyes, he had to be sure.
“You’re really not mad?” Jason whispered.
Bruce smiled softly and shook his head.
Jason’s breath caught on another sob, this one of utter relief instead of complete despair. “You- I can stay? You won’t kick me out?”
Bruce’s smile turned into a serious frown. They reached the empty kitchen, and Bruce opened the door without answering. Jason’s heart pounded wildly in his chest every moment that Bruce didn’t answer, but he didn’t dare press.
Bruce set him on the island, putting them nearly eye to eye. Bruce was still taller and so much broader, but it was the closest thing to equality they would get, and it settled Jason’s nerves just a bit.
Bruce took Jason’s chin between his fingers again and forced him to look into his dead serious eyes. Jason was transfixed by the intensity of Bruce’s gaze, even though he had no clue what going to happen to him next.
“Jason Peter Todd, I will never kick you out, do you understand me?” Bruce said, with more power and conviction in his tone than Batman. “I will never throw you out. When you leave this house, it will be because you are an adult and you want to, and even then, you will always be welcome to come back. I am never going to hit you or kick you, or abuse you in any other way. You are my son, and this is your home. You are safe here.”
Jason sat there in complete shock. He completely and totally believed that Bruce meant it – for the moment at least, because his dad had said that he’d quick drinking sometimes so seriously that Jason had really believed him, and he’d heard his mom say that she was going to quit for real this time so many times, but he was sure that for the moment they were in, Bruce really, really meant it.
The fire in Bruce’s eyes toned down and he placed a small kiss on Jason’s forehead before letting go. “Now, let’s get that cut cleaned and bandaged, then I’ll go clean up that vase. Do you want the Batman and Robin bandaids, or the Justice League baindaids?”
Jason had wandered off in almost a trance after their talk, his fingers freshly tended to with a Robin and a Wonder Woman themed bandaid over the cuts on his fingers. Luckily, the cuts hadn’t been deep. Still, it bothered Bruce that Jason had been so panicked that he’d so desperately tried to hide his mistake. Bruce would definitely have to keep an eye on Jason to make sure that he didn’t try to hide injuries after patrol – if he ever actually came on patrol.
Bruce would much rather have Jason stay home and safe at the Manor instead of joining Bruce on patrol. Batman didn’t need a Robin so much as Bruce needed his son to be safe.
Jason had thrown himself so fully into being Robin that Bruce couldn’t stand to take it away. Not after agreeing to train Jason had finally settled some of that roiling anxiety in Jason’s eyes that Bruce had been sure would send him running back to the open mouthed grave that was Crime Alley.
The events of that past half hour, though, shed a bit of light as to why that anxiety was there in the first place. Jason didn’t trust Bruce to mean it when he said that he wanted Jason to stay permanently. He had months before Jason would be even a little bit ready to hit the streets. Maybe Bruce could convince him by then that he didn’t have to be Robin and risk his life to earn his place in the Manor.
Failing that, he could convince Jason that he and Batgirl were in desperate need of technical support. He could give him enough training on running comms and hacking cameras that he would know enough to feel useful, and then Alfred could get “sick” and need Jason to fill in for him. Jason responded well to praise, even though he tried to hide his blushing and smiles behind his hands and blustering attitude. While that as a less preferable option, it would keep Jason out of harm’s way long enough for Bruce to hammer into his thick little skull that he mattered to Bruce beyond just what he could do for him.
He was still musing on that and sipping his coffee at the kitchen table after having dumped the dustpan full of blue and white shards – because he did know how to use a broom - into the trashcan, never to be spoken of again, when Alfred came into the room.
Dammit, he’d forgotten to throw out-
Alfred picked up the bandaid wrappers from the counter and wordlessly stepped over to the trashcan to throw them away. When he saw inside, he stopped.
“Why are the shattered remains of a Kangxi vase in the trash can, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked, giving him a pointed accusatory glare.
Trust Alfred to be able to know what dynasty or era, or whatever the hell Kangxi meant, a pile of broken glass had come from at a glance.
Bruce took a long sip of his coffee. “That is some worthless knock-off my Great-Aunt Edna bought at a yard sale and Jason is never to think otherwise.”
Alfred’s irritation softened, and he sighed with mild, but fond, exasperation. “I suppose I acted too soon in bringing out the more breakable antiques. With Master Dick’s departure, I had assumed that they would be safe.”
Bruce felt a mild twinge of sadness at the mention of Dick’s sudden absence, but he pushed it down. He’d already made those mistakes, and he would not make them with Jason.
“With our boys?” Bruce scoffed. “I doubt they’ll ever be safe.”
Alfred sighed and threw the wrappers into the trashcan. “I was afraid of that.”