My apologies for the slight delay in the next chapter- lots of travel and busy-ness going on in my life. Before I press forward, I just wanted to share a quick but heartfelt THANK YOU to Silentknight91 and Stryper for your reviews! It means so much that the stories and words I put out into the universe are being read and enjoyed. Keep letting me know what you think, it really does motivate me to keep returning to the page even in the midst of busy times!
Dick's eyes scanned around the clocktower, the only sounds those of the meditative clockwork around us. His silence was starting to give me anxiety.
He stepped around the bookcase and looked into the corner, his eyes dropping low on my murphy bed. I cringed quietly to myself; he'd come over before I had been able to make the bed and fold it back into the wall. It looked like a sloppy mess, blankets thrown loosely over it and bags of clothes pouring their contents on the floor.
He turned and his eyes scanned across the bookshelf to where my half-eaten breakfast of a bagel sat on a paper towel on a shelf with my quickly cooling cup of coffee. The books on the shelf had been stacked in half-organized piles, sorted alphabetically by genre, waiting to be slotted into place.
"I've… still got some tidying up to do," I felt the need to defend myself. Dick's eyes came back to me, almost like he had forgotten I was still in the room. His eyebrows were raised in assessment, but he started to nod slowly as he glanced up once more at the iron clockwork ticking away above us.
"It's, uh…" he started, his eyes slowly drifting back down to me, "remind me why you aren't using the apartment downstairs?" I chuckled out a breath, dropping my eyes and rubbing the back of my neck.
"It's just… too much. I'm not used to having all that… space," I explained uncomfortably. Dick stepped forward, an encouraging and slightly condescending smile on his face as he reached for my hands.
"This place is just a… drop in the bucket for Bruce. Hell, he probably didn't even clock it on his bank statements," Dick shrugged.
"Well it's not a drop in the bucket for me," I shrugged. "Even this level is larger than anything I've ever had with dad."
"But you're a part of the team now. People expect a lot of you. You can expect more in return," he smiled, his tone even flirtatious.
"I just," I explained, taking a step back though I kept my hands clasped in his, "I'm not ready for all of this yet. You've had all this luxury for so long…"
"Barb, I grew up in circus tents," he reminded me with a giggle.
"Yeah, but you've been living in Wayne Manor for years. You've had a butler, a king-sized bed… a private bathroom," I let out a breathy laugh. "It's different for you. Up until last week, I had been living in a shoebox with my dad my whole life. I'm not used to all this. And besides, I like it up here."
"You do?" he asked a bit incredulously. "With the green carpet and the old wood and the clock just ticking and tocking and…" Dick stopped when he saw I had raised my eyebrows, wondering how long this list was going to be. "Yeah. It's… nice up here. Very… 1970s, steampunk, library chic."
"Yeah?" I asked with a giggle as his cheeks grew red and he laughed back himself. I stepped closer to him. "Sounds like my kinda style." I stepped in close to him and kissed him sweetly on the cheek, laying my hands on the top of his chest.
"Can I just ask one favor?" he asked, pulling his head back just enough to look shyly up at me through the tops of his eyes.
"Shoot."
He glanced back behind him towards the corner of the room, then back at me with a guilty grimace. "Can we please go downstairs for sex? Or my place? I am not going back to hooking up on a twin sized bed, and no way can we both sleep on that thing." I laughed and nodded with a smile as I pulled him close again.
"Sure," I kissed him softly just below his ear and pulled back again. The soft grin on his face asked a flirtatious question, but I pulled out of his arms and reached for my bagel. "Let's go," I said, passing him to grab for my purse. "We need to pick up presents before the party."
Killinger's mall was fairly empty; it was, after all, a Thursday morning. Jason would be in augmented reality all morning, training with Bruce, while Alfred was assuredly busily getting his other surprises ready upstairs. Meanwhile, Dick and I were embarrassingly under-prepared and still needed to pick up gifts.
"What could I possibly give him?" I asked myself, my hands brushing over a shelf absentmindedly.
"Bruce didn't adopt Jason until he was fifteen. He didn't always grow up in the lap of luxury, he's not the kind of person that has everything, you know?" Dick said, pulling a candle down from a shelf and closely examining the label.
"Well, that doesn't mean he doesn't have access to everything," I shrugged in defeat. "But that's not really what I meant. I'm talking about… you know," I said, my voice lowering. Dick looked over at me and he seemed to catch my drift. What could I possibly give a kid who was getting everything he wanted tonight: getting to become Robin?
"Well… yeah, there's no topping that," Dick admitted, placing the candle back on the shelf. I smiled as I turned aside, both appreciative of the honesty but also hopeless over finding a gift. "But that doesn't mean you can't get him something to make his day a little brighter anyway. What would you give your dad for his birthday?" I stopped and speculated on that.
"A nice dinner or something sentimental… I've wanted to replace his old tobacco pipe for a while," I shrugged.
"So, get something sentimental," Dick shrugged. As if that were helpful. At all.
"Yeah, but most of our friendship is built around me keeping one big secret of his," I reminded him. "One that we can't really joke about in front of Bruce, you know?"
"Sure, but soon you're going to have more inside jokes, right? I mean… he's joining the team. It was always just me and Bruce before, but now there'll be three of you. And he'll be the new guy. That's something, you could tease him for that?" he suggested loosely.
"You mean like hazing?" I asked with raised eyebrows.
"No, just like… razzing him a little," Dick shrugged as he returned my glance. My eyes narrowed at him.
"I'm pretty sure that's still hazing, even if you call it 'razzing,'" I sniped at him. He rolled his eyes back at me but dropped the subject as he looked up at higher shelves.
"You could get him something you've gotten for yourself since… you know. Starting," Dick suggested. I knew he meant since I had started being Batgirl. "Like anything you do to sleep better or train harder or… whatever."
I scoffed a little. "As if I've figured any of that out," I smiled back at him. "Have you?" He shrugged.
"Maybe one of those little pomodoro timers, for micro-naps," he suggested, more as a joke than a genuine suggestion. But I raised my eyebrows with a nod of appreciation.
"Not a bad idea, strangely enough," I acknowledged, though I really didn't want to do that.
"Here," Dick said, picking up a box from a central display table. "Oh, buy one get one free…"
"Is that a snuggie?" I asked with a grimace.
"Yeah."
"You're getting him a snuggie for his eighteenth birthday?" I asked again. His eyes darted side to side, as if he didn't get the joke.
"Yeah. And a matching one for me."
"Seriously?"
"What? He'll love it. We'll use them on movie nights when we're not working," he explained. I rolled my eyes, thinking Jason couldn't possibly want a snuggie. Yet, Dick was probably right. He knew Jason far better than I did. They'd practically been brothers for the last 3 years, after all.
"Glad you figured it out," I said as I turned away, browsing the shelves for something I could get him, hoping some stroke of brilliance would occur to me.
"Don't be jealous, we'll find you something," he said, quickening his pace to catch up to me.
"I'm not jealous, I just," I felt myself getting frustrated. "I don't like to give gifts that don't mean anything. Especially to anyone in that house. Like, you guys can get anything you want, whenever you want it. I need something like that, something that means something," I said, pointing at the boxes he carried.
"Snuggies mean something?" he asked obtusely.
"Yes! They mean movie nights and downtime and relaxation and vulnerability and brother-time. And I can't think of anything like that," I explained as I scanned the shelves, feeling increasingly frustrated as I found nothing.
"Geez… here I was just thinking they'd be handy for eating popcorn while watching Netflix," he said, and I knew it was intended to lighten my mood. "Why does it matter? It doesn't need to be perfect…"
"I know," I said, stopping and turning to him. "And I know I've only known him a couple of months, but… it's just, I care about him. You know? And it means a lot to me, the time we've had training together and the trust we've put in each other and that he'll be joining us and… I just wish there was something that could say all that."
"All that?" Dick asked with squinted eyes. "That's a lot of pressure to put on one gift," he said, and I laughed. He was right. "I think he'll care a lot more that you are there today and that you've been there for him the last few months. Whatever present you give him today will pale in comparison to that. His love language is more quality time than gift giving." I squinted with a smile over at him.
"His love language?" I repeated.
"Yeah," he shrugged, knowing I was about to tease him.
"I didn't know you knew those," I said.
"I know things," he smiled back. I nodded with pursed lips.
"So what is your love language?" I asked. He laughed and shook a disapproving finger at me as we continued down the store aisles.
After we'd picked up our gifts, we hurried back to the manor for the party. 'Party' was, of course, a loose term for what was planned. It would just be the five of us: Bruce, Alfred, Dick, myself, and Jason. Dinner and dessert were planned, and of course Alfred had decorated the dining room to reflect the importance of the occasion. When we arrived at the manor, Alfred stepped away from the stove and insisted on wrapping our presents for Jason. I thanked him for the favor and grabbed his sleeve before he could leave the room.
"Could you just… make sure he doesn't open it in front of Bruce?" I asked. Alfred looked down into the small bag out of curiosity, and smiled back at me courteously.
"Right you are, Miss Gordon," he said, and I smiled gratefully back as he left. I scanned the kitchen for what we could expect for dinner.
"Cheeseburgers?" I asked, finding myself surprised that it wouldn't be steaks or some other finery. Cheeseburgers looked like they rarely graced the fine plates at the Wayne dining table.
"Jason's favorite is Big Belly Burger," Dick shrugged at me. "Alfred can't stand the fast-food stuff, so he'll occasionally make an approximation himself. They taste pretty similar, when all's said and done. Doesn't surprise me that this is what Jason asked for his birthday dinner."
"Yup, that's an eighteen-year-old," I acknowledged, "asking for cheeseburgers for his birthday dinner. Reminds me of… well… me." I laughed to Dick and he smiled back.
"Good, you're here," Bruce's voice surprised me from the doorway. "Jason's showering now. We'll surprise him when he comes back down."
"How'd he do this morning?" I asked as I followed him out of the kitchen.
"Well," Bruce acknowledged as he continued leading us down the hall to the atrium, "very well. He's been working hard, I can tell. Something in the last few months seems to have focused his energy." He stopped and turned once more to face me and Dick. "Perhaps he had a feeling something special might happen today."
I smiled innocently back, knowing fully well that it wasn't just training in the AR Chamber that had made Jason a better fighter. "That's great," I said. "I'm excited to get him out there with us."
"Tonight, it will be just him and me. I need to see how well he responds to direction, and how he can take orders to stand down or fall back," he explained, grabbing paper hats from a hall table and handing them to Dick and I.
"Sounds good. I can do a patrol of the rest of Gotham," I said as I slid the tight elastic of the party hat under my chin and put the festive cone hat on my head. I didn't let slip that Bruce was wise to go into the night with those concerns in mind: they were always my greatest struggles with Jason when he fought in the red hood. I tried to stifle my smile, knowing Jason had come a long way in being able to take direction since we'd started working together.
"How's Bludhaven?" Bruce asked seemingly absentmindedly, but I knew no question from Bruce was ever truly a throwaway. He cared, even if he did seem to be more interested in the fit of his party hat.
"Oh, same as ever," Dick sighed out. "Paranoid about the Joker. Hoping that those problems stay here in Gotham. But crime never stays completely isolated in one place, you know."
"I do," Bruce confirmed, casting a glance at Dick. "Perhaps we should catch-up soon. We haven't strategized thoroughly since the assault on Arkham Asylum."
"Maybe," Dick said warily, clearly cautious of having his autonomy encroached upon by his former boss. "If you're asking for a favor, that is."
"You guys look like idiots," Jason's lightly laughing voice said from the top of the stairs as we all turned back up to face him. His hair was still wet, and his cheeks were red not from the heat but from possible bruising during training this morning. Bruce hadn't gone easy on him.
But then, I remembered some of my own earliest training. It hadn't been easy for me either.
"Happy birthday!" the three of us yelled up the stairs at him simultaneously, yet not in unison. He laughed and shook his head at us as he came down the stairs at a jog.
"Seriously, with the hats?" he asked Bruce.
Bruce hooked his arm around the boy (no- man's) shoulders and led him past me and Dick as if we weren't even there. "Well, this morning was no party. I figured you deserved to feel a little celebrated today."
It was yet another side to the illusive Bruce Wayne. He had his playboy billionaire personality that he showed the news cameras and TMZ; his Batman persona that horrified criminals everywhere; his mentoring and coaching mode that I saw most often; and what I liked to think was his true self, what I saw when he toured me around the clocktower before I moved in. He'd been so excited and genuine and supportive. But this was something else. The way he smiled at Jason, how his head bent so close to his, how the two jokingly flicked at his chain-store party hat: this was Bruce as a father.
"He's so happy," I couldn't help but whisper aloud to Dick. Dick cocked up one side of his smile and his gaze floated to the floor; he had his own memories of Bruce as a father.
"Bruce likes training us. I think that genuinely makes him happy. But celebrating us when we really deserve it," Dick faced me as Bruce and Jason rounded a corner into the dining room, "those are his proudest papa moments." I smiled back at Dick and we hurried down the hall to catch up with them. They hadn't even noticed we were gone as they sat down, Alfred already bringing plates of food out to them.
"Alf, you're gonna eat with us, right?" Jason insisted and Alfred smiled knowingly back.
"Yes sir, I've made the arrangements," he said, setting a large, leaning burger down in front of Jason.
"I'll help you grab the rest of the plates there, Alf," Dick said, pulling out a chair from the table across from Jason so I could sit down.
"Oh… thanks," I smiled, flattered and surprised at the gesture. Even if it had been public we were dating, it was a gentlemanly move that I wouldn't have anticipated from him. Dick and Alfred returned with three remaining plates filled with burgers and we all dug in. Bruce asked Jason questions about school and if his thoughts about college had changed and if he had any friends he'd miss after graduation. Then Dick's questions came out about training this morning and who Jason had to face in the simulator and what his fighting strategies were for bigger enemies like Bane. They were clearly topics Jason was more interested in talking about anyways.
"… cause they're so tall that their center of gravity is all messed up, so if you can throw them off that's your best bet," Jason said with a half full mouth.
I held in a laugh as Alfred mumbled quiet scolds like "swallow, then talk."
"Yeah, but that's not the only way you can use their weight against them, right?" Dick answered. "Think about Killer Croc: last thing I want to do is try to attack his top, with those teeth. I'd rather attack him at his base. That's when using their momentum and weight against them can really be the kicker."
"Yeah, yeah," Jason excitedly answered, almost looking like he'd come out of his seat in excitement, "or like, using their environment against them, because Croc does so well in water. And like, he's definitely got the advantage there, but not if we can use that advantage against him…"
"Alright boys, that's enough shop talk," Bruce said in a calming voice as he swallowed a bite of burger that he'd somehow managed to eat quite tidily. Dick and Jason obliged, but with wide, tight smiles. "Jason will have plenty of that to think about tonight, anyways," Bruce baited as he used his fork to take a small bite of the burger that had dropped from the sandwich. Jason's eyes darted excitedly up to his.
"Tonight?"
Bruce couldn't keep his smile hidden. He put down his fork and raised his napkin, wiping his mouth. His pause must have felt like an eternity to Jason, whose eyes darted impatiently at me for a confirmation of what he'd heard. I smiled happily back.
"If you'd like," Bruce answered, putting the napkin down and sitting back in his chair as he assessed Jason. "I thought we might be able to do a lap or two of the city."
"But… I don't have a suit yet…"
"All that's been taken care of," Bruce assured him. Jason's eyes doubled in excitement as he looked back to Alfred, who innocently took a massive bite of his burger as if he couldn't be bothered.
"Seriously?" Jason asked as his head whipped back to Bruce. "Tonight, really?"
"Yes," Bruce confirmed. "But this would be a test drive, Jason. Not anything to be taken lightly."
"No, of course, I, yeah, that's great, let's do it," Jason spat out the thoughts that churned through his head, too excited to pick any particular one. "So… I'd… get the name?" I almost didn't know what he meant, until he looked across the table to my side at Dick, who plucked a finger from his mouth as he finished his burger.
"Hey, don't look at me, man," Dick answered with a cool smile. "I haven't been Robin for a while now." Jason turned back to Bruce, who was reaching into his coat pocket for something.
His hand came out and placed a domino mask on the table in front of Jason. "Yours, if you're ready for it. Robin."
The idea of dessert and birthday gifts was forgotten. Jason dragged Alfred down to the Batcave so he could try on and run diagnostics on his new Robin suit. I gathered up dishes so Alfred wouldn't need to when Jason finally set him free. Bruce came in as I was washing dishes and I waited for the inevitable argument I always heard from Dick ("you don't have to do that, Alfred will"), but it didn't come. Instead, Bruce rolled up his sleeves and pulled a clean towel from a drawer, drying off the clean dishes I had set aside to dry.
"Thank you," I smiled up at him, and his soft and content smile answered. We kept washing for a moment in the quiet, his eyes softly gazing at the plates he dried though I knew his thoughts were miles away. "Give a holler, if you need anything tonight," I said as I rinsed off a cleaned plate. "I figured I'd start in Old Gotham, then make my way around the islands. Monitor police feeds in case anything pops up."
"We'll start on Bleake. I want to give him a look at where the Batsignal comes from on GCPD's roof, start him there. Remind him that we do this with the police, not against them," he said. I nodded, my thoughts inescapably thinking of my dad.
"Making introductions tonight?" I asked.
"Not yet," Bruce said, the tone of his mentor voice coming through a bit more. "Tonight will identify his areas of growth; where we need to focus improvement. I have a feeling his independent streak will be one of those areas." I nodded affirmingly.
"He is quite spirited, isn't he," I reflected ambiguously. Bruce let out a breathy laugh at my side in agreement.
"I'm very proud of you," he said, in a way that stopped my dishwashing abruptly and forced my eyes up at him, stunned. He said it not in his mentor voice, but in that same voice he used about Jason. That compassionate tone. He extended a hand to me and I smiled softly back at him, realizing I was holding the wet plate in front of me like a shield. I gave it to him and he dried it off, putting it down with the others. "I've never had a team of three before," Bruce reflected.
"There's a first time for everything."
The suit fit him perfectly, clearly made just for him. It wasn't Dick's suit, altered to fit him; no, this suit was brand new, the lines of the abdomen cut just for him. He didn't look like a 'boy-wonder' in this suit, he looked like a man. A man no one would want to fuck with.
If only his ten-year-old self could see him now.
Batman and Jason went out by themselves, even though he secretly wished Batgirl would join them. After these months of Barbara training him and calling the shots, he had an extra layer of trust and faith in her. She felt safer than Batman did in some ways, because he at least didn't need to impress Barbara. But throughout the night, he'd occasionally look out into the distance and see her, crouching low on a rooftop or clinging to a cell phone tower, watching them. Proudly, he imagined.
As soon as the cowl was on, Batman was not Bruce anymore. No joking, no sarcasm, no horseplay. And Jason could have groaned at how slowly they were taking the night to begin with. A lot of practice with gadgets and showing him important places, as if he didn't know where the Batsignal came from. But he patiently listened and followed and waited, knowing that all of this was just another test, another way Batman was measuring if he was ready and worthy.
He wondered if he'd ever feel like he wasn't being tested.
But then, that's probably why Dick decided not to be Robin anymore.
He reminded himself to revel in the fact that he was Robin now. He had done it: inherited the mask and the suit and the bike. This was his city: and not because he knew the players of the underworld like the back of his hand, like he had five years ago, but because he could protect it. He could stop bullshit like his childhood from ever happening to anyone else again.
When they finally returned home around three in the morning, Jason took another very necessary shower and smiled into the hot water: the first night was behind him. It would only get better from here.
When he came back into his bedroom, wearing only his boxers and ready to fall into bed, he realized there were still wrapped presents on his bed waiting to be opened. Exhaustion could wait. He tore into the presents ravenously. Perhaps it was the impoverished little kid inside him that loved wrapped presents so much; he'd never received them in his youth, and they still felt like wealthy treasures even after years of living with Bruce. Shredded wrapping paper littered his bed and the floor around it.
Alfred had given him a small kit of things he'd probably be needing through training: boxing tape, electrolyte goo, hydration pills, and a travel sewing kit (that Jason realized was not for sewing up socks, but for sewing up torn flesh).
Bruce had given him an annotated book: Alice in Wonderland. He recognized the book immediately and realized it was not a gift of leisure reading. It was more work for Robin, in case he ever encountered the Mad Hatter. He had a feeling Bruce would expect him to read the book thoroughly, several times, probably within the next week, before he'd spring a pop quiz on him.
Dick had given him a snuggie. Two snuggies, actually. Jason shook his head and smiled at the gift, the first one totally unrelated to him being Robin. As stupid as it was, it was kind of refreshing and comforting. Almost like Dick was saying that being Robin didn't mean sacrificing their time together. That thought brought a smile to his face.
And finally, he peered into the bag from Barbara and laughed aloud as he pulled out a thick, comfortable, Nike hoodie. A red hoodie. A note was attached.
'To replace the old one, which should probably never see the light of day again.'
Jason smiled and held the hoodie up in front of him. While he honestly loved his old red hoodie and it had become a memento of his childhood, the life he'd left behind, he knew she was right. Bruce could recognize the sweatshirt, could identify that he had been the Red Hood troublemaker around Gotham before given permission to fight crime. The old hoodie would have to be destroyed, somehow.
Or maybe he could just hide it in a corner of his closet. After all- it was just a hoodie.