Jason (reluctantly) visits his family and checks in with Sabine.
Chapter 15 of What's Up, Danger?: Little Talks
6:30 PM, Thursday
Unfortunately for Jason by the time Thursday rolled, there weren't any signs or threats of imminent disaster in Gotham on the horizon. No mass breakouts from Arkham Asylum, no dangerous hostage situations—hell, there wasn't even a holdup at a bank or a robbery at a corner store, or even a cat stuck in a tree. Not that he had been praying for anything bad to happen, the bruises and aches in his body could use a night or two off.
His mind dragged, wondering what would be the worse of the two fates he saw in front of him: spending the day alone or swallowing some of his bitter feelings and making a surprise guest appearance at the manor? It would be worth it to make Tim spend the holiday cautiously looking over his shoulder.
So, instead of confining himself inside the lonely walls of his apartment, he found himself at the last place he thought he would be; driving up the long winding private driveway lined with trees to Wayne Manor. The monstrously large behemoth of a mansion loomed over him as he pulled up to the landing stairs.
Jason rested his forearms on the handlebars, shifting his weight forward as he kept one foot on the ground and the other on the footpeg while his motorcycle continuously rumbled underneath him.
He didn't have to go in, he knew that. But he also knew that the dozens, perhaps hundreds, of hidden cameras scattered around the estate grounds had already caught sight of him. They knew he was outside, and that knowledge combined with his aggravated anxiety grated his nerves.
He told himself he was there because he didn't have anything better to do.
He told himself he was there because it would make Alfred happy to see him.
Jason told himself a dozen other half-baked excuses as he tried to alleviate the tension that bubbled beneath his skin and invaded his mind.
He was really here.
He was really doing this.
Goddamnit.
Jason saw a flutter of movement behind one of the curtains in one of the large front curtains. A hand drew back the curtain and Cass peeked out. She smiled softly and gave him a small excited wave.
He was at the point of no return. Might as well dive straight in.
He parked his bike off to the side, next to the cars in the driveway. Turning off the engine seemed to solidify his fate—that he was really doing this.
Jason marched slowly up the stairs as if he was going to his funeral, hands shoved into his jacket pockets and brows furrowed.
The ornate front door swung open before he even knocked. Alfred's timeworn face with the tiniest upward tug of his lips greeted him. He swept out an arm to invite Jason inside and stepped to the side.
"Master Jason, welcome."
Jason's features relaxed; shoulders dropping and eyebrows lifting. "Heya, Alfred."
Alfred helped him remove his jacket as he stepped inside. He wished that he didn't; he felt so exposed without the extra layer as if the leather was as protective as bulletproof armor.
The inside of the manor smelled divine, even Jason had to admit it; a warm and welcoming combination of cinnamon, nutmeg, pumpkin, and allspice accompanied by the sound of a crackling fireplace.
As Alfred put away the jacket in the coat closet, Stephanie strode into the foyer, her blonde ponytail bouncing.
Instead of a 'Hi' or 'Hello', Stephanie greeted him with a chuffed smirk and hands bracketing her hips. "Tim's sulking because he owes me twenty bucks now."
Head tilted sideways, Jason scowled and quietly said, "Doesn't he have a cushy position at Wayne Enterprises? A twenty is a drop in the bucket for him."
Stephanie followed up with a cheery snicker, "I think it's the principle of the bet."
So they were betting on whether or not he'd show up? Well, as long as Tim lost…
Jason rolled his eyes as Barbara—who was not even trying to hide how pleased she was—flanked him and needled her elbow into his hip in a way that could only be interpreted as I knew you'd show.
He clenched his teeth, surveyed the familiar foyer with a biting sense of nostalgia, and ground out, "Let's get this over with."
9:40 PM, Friday
Sabine sat on the cushions in the window nook with a puffy blanket around her shoulders. CEO, the spoiled rotten king of a cat that he was, laid on his side on top of a small shag rug that Roz had placed in front of the heater for him. She had pulled up a small tray table next to the nook, and on it sat a cup of warmed cider and a half-eaten slice of apple pie with a melting scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of it.
The week had passed by at an unhurried pace, the days and nights dragging into one long blur fraught with sleeplessness and an unshakeable uneasiness that simmered inside her blood. The skin under her eyes was puffy and dark from a lack of rest. The edges of her nerves were frayed down to the last few connected threads, barely holding on and ready to snap.
It was reassuring to be home, surrounded by family and the comfort and familiarity they provided even if they didn't completely melt away her worries. Roz, ever the energetic busy bee, had decorated the front porch with decorative gourds and fall leaf garlands hung along the trim. Logan always rolled his eyes and grumbled when she pulled the boxes full of seasonal decorations out of the attic, but Sabine liked that her stepmother enjoyed creating a festive atmosphere.
Sabine tried not to think too much about Marie, but guilt ripped at her insides like a feral beast demanding to be acknowledged. Would there be a service for her? A memorial? Should she send a letter of condolence to the Leblanc family? God, she looked so much like her mother when she found the body—
Her chest squeezed uncomfortably, encasing her ribs in a crushing pressure, and adding to the fear that swelled inside her. She took several shallow breaths because it hurt to breathe in too deeply. She let the moment pass and the pressure ebbed away into an ache.
Sabine rubbed her chest gently with her hand, trying to massage away the tenderness.
Her eyes searched the tray table next to her. She needed a distraction, something to refocus her thoughts. Her phone, face down next to the mug of cider, offered relief.
Sabine's hand reached for it, pausing for a moment over it as if she expected it to disappear or suddenly grow eight legs and scuttle away from her. Several seconds ticked by before she picked it up, deeming it safe.
She scrolled through her phone, taking note of the several unanswered texts piling up. Some from her classmates asking questions about assignments and coursework, one from a coworker, Tamara, checking in on her, another one from Logan whose primary form of communication with her these days was sending dystopian capitalism memes, and one from Jason, simply stating that he didn't see her this week and that he hoped she was doing well.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she replied to Tamara, thanking her for volunteering to cat-sit CEO while she was away and apologizing for bailing on that plan at the last minute when she took the cat with her to her parent's.
It was the first text she'd sent all week, and seeing the notification number for the unread messages go down helped ease some of the immense weight she felt pushing in around her, suffocating her. And it gave her enough of a burst of serotonin to glance at the other messages.
Her eyes idled on Jason's text. Underneath the unfurling edges of his mask of bluster and sarcasm, there was something soft and squishy. He tried to hide it, but it oozed out in ways that were very him. Sabine observed that he wasn't bad at showing that he cared, but he wasn't great at it either.
Thinking about what to say, she tapped the edges of her phone with her index fingers. Teetering on the precipice of stressing too much over sending a measly text, Sabine opted to keep an upbeat tone because she didn't want to worry him. Four short words and a smiley face later, she was satisfied with her carefully crafted response and sent it.
She leaned her head back and shifted her gaze outside, looking up at the night sky. The bright streetlights obscured most of it, and the hazy glare of the white made it difficult to discern any of the heavenly constellations. Almost lost in a far-off otherworldly trance, she jumped and knocked her elbow into the tray table when her phone vibrated in her lap.
9:45 PM, Friday
Jason sighed as he plunged his hands under the hot water from the kitchen faucet, a yellow sponge in one hand and a plate in the other. Temporarily distracting himself from the events of the previous day, he scrubbed the crumbs and grime off the ceramic plate before slotting it in the dish drying rack next to the sink.
Although Bruce had been all strained smiles yesterday, Jason wondered if he had been really happy to see him. Their conversations were always tense and brief in a way that still made his heart sting. They were still picking up the jagged pieces of their fractured father-son relationship. It was never going to go back to the way it was; it couldn't. But, before he left, they cordially shook hands. Even Dick had wrested a handshake out of him.
Alfred had forced almost a half-fridge full of leftovers and a small pastry box full of baked goods onto him before he left, which he had to balance a tad perilously with him on his motorcycle during the commute home. Growing up on the streets, Jason wasn't one to waste food when it was offered to him. He was sure one of the reasons that Alfred had pushed the leftovers on him was so that they wouldn't go uneaten or straight into the rubbish bin. His meals for the next few days were going to consist of a helluva lot of turkey sandwiches and green bean casserole, but he was certain there were worse fates.
Jason had just pulled his compression shirt on and over his head when his phone dinged. His gear—guns, holsters, grappling hook, helmet—laid out on the table that often did double duty as a workbench or a gun cleaning station.
He walked past it on the side table next to his bed, giving the notification badge at the top of the screen a throwaway glance.
(9:50 PM)
Sabine: aww you missed me :')
He blinked, not expecting such a lighthearted text to appear from her after not hearing from her for days. He scratched the back of his neck as he picked up his phone. But was that a sad smiley face? So maybe the tone wasn't as lighthearted as he initially thought.
He ran a hand over his face because—fucking hell—was he analyzing the meaning behind a simple emoji?
Jason walked across his apartment and plopped down on the couch, his eyes focused on the phone in his hand. Patrol could wait a few more minutes.
(9:51 PM)
Jason: I mostly missed someone buying me coffee.
(9:52 PM)
Sabine: wooow ok
Jason: I had to buy a cup for myself and it wasn't the same.
Sabine: you must be scarred for life now, I'm sorry I put you through that
(9:53 PM)
Jason: I fear I may never emotionally and financially recover.
Sabine: Ok you're milking it now
Jason knew he wasn't exactly the warmest or most approachable person. So the fact that Sabine was responding to him, and even joking so casually with him, felt strange, but good. It put some of the worries that ate away at his nerves for the past few days at ease.
However, guilt still seeped through to his core because he knew his motives for talking to her weren't purely altruistic and friendly, he had another specific purpose in mind: gathering intel. But, even then, he wanted to know if she was really okay. Gotham was a beast that could viciously chew someone up and spit them out, and he didn't want the city to ruin her.
He could hear Bruce's voice nitpicking in the back of his mind; chastising him for straying away from the line of objectivity, getting too involved, and for losing sight of the mission.
Jason wondered how far past the point of no return he was; maybe it was the night he took her to the diner when they both couldn't sleep. Maybe it was when he first showed her how to throw a punch. Or maybe the moment was when he first met her in the elevator and he found it hard to ignore the fact that she was…cute, and he had to open his mouth to say something to break the tension because his idiotic hormones demanded it. A five-second elevator flirt wasn't supposed to turn into this, whatever this was.
(9:55 PM)
Sabine: sooo
Sabine: I'm star gazing
Sabine: or, at least, trying to
Jason: And how's that going?
(9:56 PM)
Sabine: not great, maybe I should get on the roof?
Jason: Hell yeah, go for it.
Sabine: you're a bad influence
Jason: I've heard that before.
(9:57 PM)
Sabine: what if i fall and break my arm?
Jason: I think you can still call for help with a broken arm.
Sabine: JASONwhahsdsjk no
Jason arched a brow at the random string of letters, recognizing it as keyboard smashing because Roy did it all the time.
He watched as three dots appeared on the screen then disappear. Then, the triple dots came and went again without a text. He briefly mulled over what she was thinking.
Jason's eyes zipped to the time displayed in the corner of his phone screen. It was 10, still early in the night for him.
Eventually, several messages materialized on the screen in quick succession—
(10:01 PM)
Sabine: can we talk?
Sabine: sorry if this is an awkward ask
Sabine: oh my god this is awkward isn't it?
Jason's body stiffened as if someone had cast a spell to turn him into stone. His heart thundered against his sternum and continued to wildly palpitate for several seconds because he didn't know what the hell to do. A strange heat ravaged his body, enveloping him from his toes up to the crown of his head.
After an eternity—which was less than thirty seconds—he audibly swallowed, and the spell wore off. The warmth faded, and the void it left was replaced with curiosity.
Hauntingly transfixed by the words on the screen, thumbs over the onscreen keyboard, he made a decision.
10:05 PM, Thursday—
Sabine
Incoming call
"Sorry for calling so late."
Jason tried not to sound as clumsy as he felt. "It's fine. This is actually my wake-up time."
"You're kidding, right?"
A lull, and she continued—
"So you're a bouncer or something, right? Or do you work the overnight shift somewhere? Security guard?" She dropped her voice. "Mercenary?"
He scoffed but didn't deny it. "Why are you so interested in what I do for work?"
"Because you're mysterious about it and I like figuring things out. You won't even tell me your last name. I bet it's something embarrassing."
"Like what?"
"Uhh, I don't know, or maybe it's something silly like 'Danger'. Jason Danger." She snorted. "No…that sounds like a bad C-list action movie star."
He laughed. "Ouch."
"It's probably something boring and common, like Smith or Johnson."
"You just insulted all the Smiths and Johnsons of the world."
"They'll never know unless you tattle on me."
"Don't worry, I'm not a snitch."
"Good to know."
"So…how was Thanksgiving for you?"
"Mm, it was all right. Quiet, nice, good food. Can't complain. How was yours?"
"Less irritating than I thought it would be."
"Oh, did you spend it with family? After what you told me about what happened to your parents I didn't know if you had…sorry, this sounds so awkward. I'm sorry."
"S'alright. I have other family."
"You don't sound too…thrilled about them."
"It's complicated." He changed the topic, "So quiet and nice? That sounds downright pleasant."
"Yeah, it was. It really helped too."
"Helped?"
"Um, yeah. I had a lot on my mind before coming home."
"Stressing about school and work?"
"No, not that stuff. Well, actually, yeah, I mean…kind of? I just needed time to clear my head and get away for a few days, so it was good timing."
"Did something happen?"
It was a few seconds before she responded with a long exhale. "Yeah."
"Is the cat okay?"
"Oh, yeah, the chonk is fine, thankfully. It was…something else."
"The chonk?"
"Nickname for the cat."
"Oh. Because he's big?"
"And getting bigger. I shouldn't give him so many treats."
Her voice drifted off into silence. Another beat passed before he asked:
"…do you wanna talk about it?"
"I'm sure that would be the healthy thing to do."
"Well, I've never had the healthiest coping mechanisms so you're in good company."
That earned him a strained chuckle.
"But if you wanna talk about it, that's fine. And if you don't, that's also fine."
She exhaled again. "I saw something…really scary at work the other day." And I feel so stupid and selfish for making it about me and my feelings was the thought that ran through her mind as she sighed. "You'd think living in Gotham would toughen me up or something, but I can't even handle…"
She was talking around the subject with vagueness, but he wasn't going to press directly on the raw and vulnerable exposed nerves she was sharing with him.
"I just don't know if I can go back there. My manager already scheduled me to work a closing shift this Monday when I'm back, but…I don't know if I can. I don't think I can go back there at all, period."
"Then don't."
"Isn't it selfish though? They might be short-staffed because of me."
His irritation flared. "So-fucking-what? If you need to take a step back, then do it. If you need to quit, then do it. People can get their bad coffee and stale donuts from someone else."
"Yeah, but—"
"—is it worth almost having a panic attack every time you step inside that place? Because you saw something awful? Hell no. You need to do what you need to take care of yourself."
"I really should be paying you instead of my therapist. What's your hourly rate?"
"You wouldn't be able to afford me, but since you're a friend…I'll let you buy me another coffee sometime and we'll call it even."
"Thank you for your generosity."
"What can I say? You're welcome."
"And you're so humble."
"It's part of my charm. That and my mysteriousness."
"How could anyone resist?"
"…so, feeling a little better?"
"Yeah, a little."
"Well, we can add that onto the 'you owe me' tab."
"Geez, you're just trying to extort a never-ending amount of free coffee out of me, aren't you?"
"All part of the plan, doll." He stopped and was thankful she couldn't see the embarrassed flush that came over his face. "Aw, crap. Sorry, that just kind of came out."
"It's okay. You should hear what my dad calls me."
"You can't just lead with that and not tell me."
"He calls me Beans. When I was a kid he would call me his…little can of Beans."
Jason wheezed over the line, trying to contain his laughter.
Sabine groaned. "It's not funny! When kids on the playground heard him say that they never forgot, it was mortifying! I was teased for years."
"Does he still call you that?"
"No…yes. Sometimes. And no, you can't call me that."
"Wasn't gonna. Still looking at the stars?"
"Yep, all three of them."
"Well, that's light pollution for you."
"…Betelgeuse, Sirius, and, oh wait, I think the third one is Jupiter."
"And how's the moon?"
"It's nice. Bright. Looks like a clipped fingernail."
"The moon's an arrant thief, and her pale fire she snatches from the sun."
"Are you…are you quoting Shakespeare right now?"
"Yes, I've read a play or two. Try not to faint in disbelief."
She huffed, but in a way that he could tell she was also smiling against her phone.
"Thanks for talking to me for a bit. I do feel better."
"Yeah? That's good."
"I'm sure I owe you, like, a hundred cups of coffee now."
"We can take it one cup at a time. I'm not going anywhere."
Jason turned and lingered by the window, his eyes fixated on the waxing crescent in the sky. The harsh glowing lights and smog that blanketed the city left little visible above the horizon except for hazy blackness. The moon wasn't anything spectacular tonight, but its ghostly white and slender curve against the velvety black was nice.
With an amused hmph, he navigated to her contact info and hit the edit button. In the section for the contact's name, he deleted hers and quickly typed in something else: Beans. He snickered before gently tossing his phone onto the couch cushion next to him. Just because he said he wouldn't call her that didn't mean he was going to forget that embarrassing tidbit of information about her.
The momentary amusement didn't last long. He uselessly rubbed at a bewildering throb that reverberated deep inside his ribcage.
Determined not to dwell on the foreign bittersweet feeling that fizzled and popped inside him, he finished suiting up; guns loaded, holsters strapped, combat boots tied, jacket on, and his infamous red helmet shoved on and its locking mechanism at the base of his head secure.
He opened a window and the cool night air blasted over the small slivers of exposed skin, his forearms, and neck. Staring out into the thousands and thousands of city lights that dotted the landscape, Jason pulled out his grappling hook, fired it, and swung to the nearest building, leaving his ruminations behind in his dark and empty apartment.
A/N: Pulled an UNO reverse card from previous chapters here-
*previously*
Sabine: *texts Jason cat photos*
Jason: *doesn't reply for days*
*now*
Sabine: *waits days to reply to a text*
Jason: *no chill, responds immediately*
This chapter was originally all text messages and phone calls, but I decided to flesh it out a bit more.
Thanks for reading! :)