The first time Bruce called Jason, it took him by surprise. He'd only gotten in from patrol a few hours before, and it was way too early for phone calls. Which meant it was probably important. Jason grumbled, head shoved under the pillow to help block out the Monday morning light, and blindly reached out for his phone. He knocked the alarm clock and a half full bottle of water off the bedside table before he managed to drag his phone under the pillow.
"What?" he grumbled sleepily.
There was a pause and then Bruce's surprised voice on the line. "Jason?" he asked, like he hadn't expected Jason to answer.
Jason jerked up in bed, startled. "The hell?" He looked at the phone screen and sure enough, it read Bruce. He scowled. That was the last time he would ever answer his phone without looking to see who it was first.
"Is someone dead or dying?" he demanded.
"No," Bruce replied.
"Then don't call me," Jason barked angrily. "And the hell, Bruce? It's eight in the morning! You don't call a nocturnal vigilante at eight in the morning! It's fucking rude." He hung up the phone and flopped back down in the bed, dragging the pillow back over his head with a long, drawn out groan. Next to him his phone gave a little buzz and he snatched it up to read the text.
Bruce: Sorry I woke you. Sleep well.
Jason growled and tossed the phone away. Bruce could sulk all he wanted, he still wasn't getting an answer from him.
It became a thing after that. Along with the daily text messages and the occasional random gifts left on his balcony, Bruce called him twice a week. Jason never answered and Bruce never left voicemails, but he at least called later in the day, even though it decreased the likelihood of Jason answering on accident. Weeks passed that way, with both Tim and Alfred amusing themselves with Bruce's antics at Jason's expense. He let them since it was Bruce they were laughing at and not him. Instead, he did his best to ignore it and focus on patrolling Crime Alley and the Bowery and getting the remaining kids to give the orphanage a shot.
By mid-March about two thirds of the kids had made the transition so far, and it was a good thing because they'd had a couple of late snows. Winter had yet to let go of Gotham and the nights were cold and wet. Jason caved early on and used the heat regulating material Bruce left him along with the nice pair of insulated gloves he left a week after. They were warm without being bulky and had tech friendly finger pads that made using touch screens easy and convenient. No need to lose his gloves to use his phone. They were expensive as all hell and custom made by WE so Jason debated for all of two seconds before giving in and slipping them on. He repeated Kori's words from Christmas in his head. Accepting the gift didn't mean he was accepting Bruce. And besides, he never had to know Jason used the special thermals or the gloves.
Which, yeah right. Bruce knew all, but Jason was capable of lying to himself with the best of them.
The man was hard to ignore though, partially because his attempts at contact were so persistent and partially because Jason was paranoid and half expected him to be around every corner or just out of sight. But if Bruce was stalking him around Gotham, he was doing a good job of keeping himself hidden. Jason didn't see Batman once, even when he was knee deep in scumbags who thought they'd try and pull a Max Kennedy and take over the working girl business in the Alley without a big name like Maroni to offer support. The entire time Jason was handling it, he expected Bruce to come tell him off for his more violent methods, or come take over or something, but instead it was just the regular text messages.
Bruce: I read a book I thought you'd like.
Bruce: Alfred noticed you were favoring your ankle when you had lunch earlier. Are you alright?
Bruce: Don't forget to sleep.
And then, once it was done and the appropriate assholes were being carted off to Blackgate, it was:
Bruce: Good job with the prostitution ring.
Jason stared at his phone for a full two minutes, unable to make sense of the man, before he gave up and headed back to his apartment for the night. He wasn't really surprised when he found Tim camped out at his kitchen island, sucking down a still steaming cup of coffee while typing furiously away on one of his laptops. He'd expected to see less of Tim once the orphanage was safely up and running, but so far that hadn't been the case. He dropped by both the loft and the warehouse regularly, showing up for food or to chat, or because he wanted Jason as backup for a case. After a while, he stopped being surprised and just accepted Tim as an inevitable presence in his space. It could be worse; the kid wasn't half-bad company.
"I don't have a coffee maker," he said at the strong coffee smell in his apartment and the incriminating mug in Tim's hand.
"Correction, you didn't have a coffee maker," Tim replied, not looking up from his laptop.
"Fine, I didn't have a coffee maker," Jason said, defeated. "You better find cabinet space for it though. I don't want that crap cluttering my counters."
Tim waved it off dismissively. Jason let it go and moved over to his fridge. He'd worked up a hell of an appetite and he was starving. Tim was probably due for a meal too. He doubted he'd see Steph or Cass for post patrol dinner though. His soul-sister was knee-deep in midterms and was taking the week off from the vigilante business. Cass was still patrolling but also checking in on Steph to make sure she was sleeping and eating.
"I have to get a new phone," he said, digging through his fridge to check for ingredients. His eyes immediately landed on the tomatillos he'd found at the market the day before. He grabbed them, some onions and some chicken and a jalapeño, deciding on enchiladas with salsa verde.
"It won't do you any good. He's going to keep contacting you no matter what you do now," Tim replied, still not looking up from his laptop.
Jason scowled. "This is getting ridiculous. He texts me all the time. And he calls, Tim! Maybe I should just go ahead and move out of Gotham now."
"Yeah, like you're going to do that when you still have ten kids living on the street," Tim scoffed.
"Eleven," Jason corrected automatically.
"Exactly. And even if you did leave Gotham, he's still going to text and call. As long as you have a phone he's going to try to contact you, and you have to keep a phone so that we can get in touch in case of emergency. Just ignore him if it's bothering you that much."
"Easier said than done," Jason grumbled, frowning at Tim. He was dressed in civvies and Jason wondered how long he'd been in his apartment. "What are you even doing here, baby bird?"
"It's supposed to be my night off. Dick wanted to make sure I didn't end up working."
"And what are you doing right now?" Jason challenged.
"I'm not working. I'm just checking what Maroni's been up to lately," Tim defended himself.
"Oh, yeah. Sure. Not working at all," he replied sarcastically as he stuck the tomatillos in the oven to roast a little. He turned his attention to cutting up the raw chicken. "Are you still worried about that asshole?"
Tim shot him a dirty look over the screen of his laptop. "Since he's got a thing for bloody revenge plots, yes I am."
"Please," Jason scoffed. "Maroni knows he's outclassed. He's not going to come after me himself. He'll outsource it."
"Yeah, that makes me feel better," Tim replied, tone drenched in sarcasm.
"It should. His operation's hanging on by a thread. He won't be able to afford anyone who stands a chance of pulling it off."
"Yeah, but he's smart," Tim reminded him.
Jason shrugged. "I'm not worried. If I'm not, you shouldn't be."
"Yeah, I don't think so. But no substantial amount of money has changed hands so if he's got a plan, I don't know what it is yet."
"Well it's not worth worrying about on your night off."
"It's my night off. You can't tell me what to do with it."
"Which is why you're here hiding away from Dick?"
Tim's reply was prim. "He can't tell me what to do with it either."
"And I thought I was the belligerent one," Jason retorted, grabbing a pan. He drizzled some oil in and let it heat as he tossed the chicken in spices. He then dumped it in the pan, letting it sizzle and cook. He turned his attention to cutting up onion, garlic and the jalapeño.
Tim ignored him. Both of their phones vibrated at the same time.
Dick: Is Tim there? I need to talk to you both. It's important.
Jason looked up at Tim. "Well? What do you want to do?"
Tim sighed as he texted Dick a reply. "He doesn't throw around the word important unless it really is important. Do you mind if he comes here?
"Nah, he might as well," Jason answered, glad he'd used all the chicken. He didn't know if Dick would be staying to eat, but he did know the big bird wasn't the type to pass up food if it was there. Which meant he'd need enough enchiladas for all of them. He moved the chicken off the heat, pulled the tomatillos out of the oven and dumped the onion and garlic in another pan to let them cook a little before he added the tomatillos and jalapeño to make the salsa verde.
"What do you think he wants?" he asked Tim.
"Dunno," Tim answered. "I wonder if the little demon did something."
Jason considered it. "Chances are decent, but Dick can handle the gremlin without us. The brat likes Dickie so it can't be something too bad if he's the one to blame."
They let it drop and chatted about other things while the salsa cooked. Tim was concerned about getting the eleven remaining kids into the orphanage, but Jason knew it wasn't something that could be forced. That said, it was probably time to remind them all that the orphanage was still an option and that he had the evidence to guarantee they wouldn't land back where they were if they wanted to give it a shot. The kids were smart. Jaded, but smart. They knew they wouldn't make it forever on the streets, Red Hood or no.
He had the enchiladas and salsa baking in the oven by the time Dick showed up on his balcony, still in Nightwing gear. "You weren't supposed to work tonight," he frowned immediately at Tim.
Tim was utterly unrepentant. "I didn't patrol. I've been in all night."
"Yeah, working on your laptop. You were supposed to sleep."
Tim remained unbothered and Jason stepped in, ready to get the show on the road. "Yeah, yeah. Tiny Tim is a real rebel. Was there actual business or were you just looking for Tim?" he asked, grabbing a beer out of the fridge.
Dick relented. "Something's going on with Bruce," he said, peeling off his domino. He looked deeply worried and Jason scowled in response.
"Oh no. This is a you and Timbo problem. Leave me out of it."
Dick looked frustrated and ready to argue, but abruptly thought better of it and turned to Tim. "Have you noticed anything off about him lately?"
"What do you mean?"
"He's been acting weird. Last week, he took me to lunch," Dick began like it was the strangest thing to ever happen to him when they fought costumed crazies on the regular. "It wasn't for business or anything like that. It was just lunch. Then, when he asked me how things were going, I started updating him on my current cases, but he stopped me. Said that wasn't what he meant. He spent the next hour talking to me about Babs, and what I've been up to in my free time."
Jason blinked, unsure whether or not this was some weird joke of Dick's. "Are you serious?"
Dick apparently didn't find the question worth answering. "I wouldn't freak out about it, but he called me three times last week and asked me to the Manor for dinner next week. Cass said they've been going out for ice cream once a week, and Steph said she found brand new copies of all her textbooks in her room last week. She'd been borrowing the school library copies all semester. Then, he watched a movie with Damian last night. Has he been weird with you?"
Jason watched, utterly bemused.
Tim replied. "Yeah, a bit. He's called and texted a couple of times. We went to lunch last week too. He gave me some earmuffs and he invited me for dinner on Wednesday. Is that when he invited you?"
Dick nodded, expression of deep concern turning to anxiety quickly. "You don't think he's dying or something, do you?"
Jason stared. "Okay, now that's just sad." Bruce starts doing his damn job for once and Dick's first thought was that the man was dying? Oh yeah, they were the poster kids for a happy, healthy family, weren't they?
Dick gave him a dirty look before turning back to Tim. "You'd know if he's dying, right? I tried to ask Alfred, but he just did that Alfred thing where he calls Bruce an idiot without actually calling him an idiot. You don't think he's dying and not telling us, right? Because that's exactly the kind of asshole move Bruce would pull."
"He's not dying," Tim replied. "If he were, I'd know. He's just trying to do the whole father thing, I think."
Dick frowned. "And you're sure that's not because he's dying?"
Jason shook his head and swore. "That's the conclusion you jump to? Bruce starts playing dad and you think he's dying? You're the golden child. You're supposed to be the one with the good relationship with him."
Dick abruptly lost his patience. "I don't know where you got the idea that Bruce and I became the perfect father and son while you were gone, but that's not what happened," he barked.
Jason was so close to snapping back at him, but he paused and considered the older man instead. Dick looked rough and Jason's mind flashed back to when he was holding him up, promising him that he was okay and no one was disappointed that he was alive. The anger drained out of him and Jason sighed. "Fair enough. Sit," he pointed at a bar stool.
"What?" Dick blinked.
"Sit," Jason said again, grabbing two more beers from the fridge. He set them before Tim and Dick then pulled the enchiladas out of the oven. They were silent as Jason dished them out onto three plates and passed them around.
They ate in silence until Tim finally spoke again. "It's not because he's dying. It's because of Jason."
"Whoa, hey!" Jason protested, mouth full of food. "Don't make this my fault!"
Tim ignored him. "He realized he screwed up. He wants Jason back and realized he'd have to do better. Somewhere down the line, he decided he needed to do better with all of us."
"Well he's clearly not wrong if your first response to Bruce acting like an involved father figure is to assume he's dying," Jason replied scornfully.
"He's been doing this with you too?" Dick asked, looking at Jason in interest.
Jason scowled. "Fucking won't leave me alone. Texts all the time. Calls. Leaves shit on my balcony."
"Oh, speaking of, this was on your balcony when I got here. Thought I'd bring it inside for you," Tim broke in, holding up a small, brown box.
"See?" Jason grumbled, almost snatching the box out of Tim's hand. He opened it with a little more force than necessary, grumbling at the note.
Alfred said you were fond of this blend.
He pulled out the tin and stared at the extremely fine kabusecha tea. It probably cost a small fortune.
"Bruce had a business trip in Tokyo earlier this week," Tim explained. "He brought me back some manga," he added, looking pleased. "Cass and Steph got silk robes. Steph was going to refuse hers, but it was purple and she couldn't resist."
"I got some junk food," Dick smiled, looking just as pleased by the junk food as Tim was with the manga. "Dami got art supplies. So he's really doing this, huh?"
"Looks like it," Tim said, noncommittal.
"Good," Dick said finally, a slow but genuine smile stretching across his face. "This is good."
"Is it?" Jason challenged with a frown. "This is Bruce we're talking about. You know he's going to royally screw it up."
"Of course he is," Dick agreed easily, not losing his smile even a little bit. "He's absolutely going to screw up. More than once. But if he's serious about it, and we know he is because Bruce doesn't do anything unless he's serious about it first, then we can pick up the slack for him whenever he does. So what do you say, little red? Dinner at the Manor Wednesday night?"
The look on Tim's face was both a little amused and a little skeptical and Jason thought back to their conversation in the warehouse weeks back, how Tim thought Bruce was incapable of being a father to anyone. Jason wasn't sure if Dick really believed this would work out, even a little bit, but he could read Tim's skepticism like an open book.
Yeah, me too, baby bird. I'll believe it when I see it.
Still, Tim shrugged. "Sure."
Dick nodded, looking determined. "Great. Bruce might not be able to make this work, but we can. He's taking the first step, we can make sure he doesn't backslide. We're just as stubborn as he is and there are more of us, so if we work together on this, we'll win. Plus we've got Alfred on our side. Jason, you in? Dinner at the Manor on Wednesday?"
"Fuck no," Jason replied with feeling. "You're not sucking me into this one big happy family crap, Dick."
"Of course, Little Wing. Wouldn't dream of it. You're keeping your tea though, right?" he asked with a teasing grin, making Jason scowl.
"Shut up," he snapped, even as he slid the tea tin into the cabinet that held the rest of his tea. It wasn't the tea's fault it'd been bought by Bruce. No reason to let it go to waste.
Dick grinned and stuffed the last bit of food in his mouth before he stood up. "This was really good, Jay. I should come over for dinner more often. Friday sound good to you? Perfect, I'll be over around seven." Then he was making a hasty retreat to the balcony, ignoring Jason's protests.
"Whoa, hey no! This isn't an open invitation, dickhead! Don't you dare show up and start eating all my food, I've got enough moochers!"
The only reply he got was Dick laughing as he swung off. Jason slumped back on his stool and cursed.
"You're never going to get rid of him now," Tim said, taking a swig of beer, and he looked far too smug doing it.
Jason swore and gave him a dirty look. "This is your fault. I'm not sure how, but I know it is."
"I'll never talk."
Jason swore some more.
Somehow Dick wasn't the slightest bit surprised by the bat shadow that appeared on the roof across from Jason's loft when he exited through the balcony. He changed his trajectory and landed smoothly next to Bruce, waiting for the man to speak, but again wasn't surprised when nothing came. Annoyance flared briefly within him before he tamped it back down. Bruce is trying, he reminded himself. That was more than they'd had for a while. It was a start, so Dick could throw him a bone.
"Jay liked his tea," he offered.
"I doubt he said as much," Bruce replied, tone just a little tight, indicating the frustration he was no doubt feeling about his lack of progress with Jason.
"Well, he didn't set it on fire," Dick said with a good-natured shrug. "And he put it in the cabinet with the rest of his tea, so he at least didn't hate it."
Bruce made no further comment and he waited for him to say anything at all, but again it was only silence. He sighed, figuring he was going to have to do all the work to have this conversation. And if that were the case, then he might as well get right to the point.
"Are you serious about this, Bruce?" Dick was fairly confident he was, for the reason he'd told his little brothers, but he still wanted to hear it from Bruce's mouth. Needed to hear it from his mouth, because Jason, Tim and Damian were his little brothers and he'd protect them. Even from their father if that's what it took.
"Regarding?"
Again, Dick tamped down the flare of annoyance. "Regarding this new-found effort to be involved in our lives. Because I'm telling you right now, if this is a temporary thing that you're going to drop the next time one of us has a close call because you suddenly remember why you never get close to people, then go ahead and cut it out. They've gone through too much crap to also have to deal with whatever emotional whiplash you pull on them. So tell me right now: are you serious?"
Bruce was silent for a moment and Dick could practically see him gathering himself. Finally he spoke. "I'm serious."
"Okay," Dick said with a nod, relaxing a little now that Bruce had spoken the words out loud. "You're serious. That means you stick with this no matter what happens. You can't be there for them, let them start to depend on you, then change your mind later. I won't let you," he warned.
"Good," Bruce replied, surprising Dick a little. "I'm not…" He paused and the very fact that Bruce needed a moment to work through his words, actually clenched his hands into fists at the frustration of not finding the right ones, settled Dick's concerns way more than the man admitting he was serious. Bruce could say he was serious, but this proved it. He only struggled with words when it was important to him. The smoother he was, the less he cared.
"I'm going to make mistakes," he finally managed. "I need you to be there when that happens."
"I can do that. But I'm going to remember you said that, Bruce. If you go back on this… I'll kick your ass."
"That's fair."
"Okay then," Dick nodded and then waited a third time for Bruce to speak. He had come for a reason after all, and now that they had all that out of the way, Dick was waiting for Bruce to get to it.
It took a few long moments, but he finally got there. "You and Jason are getting along."
Dick knew Bruce well enough to hear the question in the statement. "Yeah, but only recently. It's still a bit shaky. He's stubborn."
"How?"
Dick sighed. "I had to wait until Jay was willing to give me a shot. And even when he was tentatively giving me that, he was still suspicious of every little thing I did. We didn't make any real progress until the memorial case disaster" He gave Bruce a hard look.
Bruce's mouth moved into a thin line at the reminder of all the yelling Dick had done after that. "What do you suggest?"
He frowned and took a moment to think it through before he answered. "I think you need to really think about Jason. He's not the kid we knew. A lot has happened; you can't expect him to be that kid. Just like you can't expect me to be the kid I was when I was Robin, or Tim."
"He grew up," Bruce agreed. "We missed it. He grew up and he had to do it alone."
"With only Talia to help him, that pretty much counts as alone," Dick agreed coolly. His dislike for the woman had never been a secret. "The point is he grew up. He's not the kid he was and you can't see him that way. You've got to see him for who he is now."
"I do. The important parts are still the same," Bruce interjected. "He's grown up and he's made mistakes, but he's still Jason. He still cares about the helpless and still puts them above himself. He's still good. He's still my son."
"Have you told him that?" Dick challenged. "Because the Jason staring down his own memorial case a couple of weeks ago did not know that."
Bruce's silence was answer enough. Dick sighed. The relationship between Bruce and Jason had been far different than the relationship he had with the man. Dick hadn't thought of him as his dad growing up. He'd had a dad. Bruce was Bruce. It was part of what added to the tension between him and Jason back when Jason was Robin. Not only had Bruce given Robin away to some random stranger without even asking, he'd taken the kid in and actually adopted him when he hadn't even tried with Dick. He understood now, of course. He'd had a good, loving father and Bruce had never wanted to try and take his place. It wasn't until after he was grown that he thought of Bruce as something closer to a father, but even now it wasn't quite father and son. They were more equals; partners.
But for Jason, Bruce had been his dad, more than he had been with Tim, more than with him, and in a different way than with Damian. Easier even, because with Damian, Bruce was almost paralyzed by his failures with his second son, which made him a more guarded father to Damian. It made everything that happened with Jason's death and afterwards so much harder. Tim being there, the Joker living, the memorial case, all of it was so much worse. If there was any chance of fixing things then Bruce would have to step back up to that role and make Jason understand how he feels.
Dick looked at Bruce, even more determined now. "Start with what you just said. He definitely needs to hear it. A lot of mistakes have been made all around. We've all been through a lot, but no matter what's happened, he's still your son. There are things he needs to hear from his dad and there are things you need to say to your son. So just start there. It might not change things with you and him anytime soon, but that doesn't mean he doesn't need to hear it anyway."
Bruce didn't respond, only turned his attention back to the city and moved to depart. But his body language wasn't closed off. Dick could tell he was giving the suggestion serious consideration. It was a relief. It wouldn't magically fix things between the two of them, but it would be a start. And even if it wasn't, Jason still needed to hear what Bruce had just said, and he needed to hear it from him, not anyone else.
Bruce paused on the edge of the building, grapple raised. "Wednesday?"
Dick smiled. "Tim and I will be there."
"Good." And with that, Batman took off into the night. Dick took one last peak at Jason's apartment to make sure his brothers were still okay, then headed off in the direction of his motorcycle.