A/N: Hello there! I think it's time we got some character variety. Why drunk! Steph and brother! Jay you ask? Simply because Stephanie's not always optimistic and Jason doesn't always have to be self-destructive. Plus, they're cute. Not a ship, but as a brother-sister relationship.
The sun was setting by the time Jason pulls into the Batcave. He's not particularly used to being diurnal, though his investigations today took him to the underbelly of MinotCo, a subsidiary of LexCorp—though hopefully far enough down the list of importance to draw the tycoon's attention. He doesn't even have it in him to put the kickstand up on his bike. He simply lays it on his side and lets his helmet roll to a stop at its side before practically dragging himself up the stairs to the Manor.
Jason swears to get the fuck out of there…as soon as he gets something to eat. A little voice tempts him with the possibilities of Alfred's baking. A much louder voice tells it to shut up, you'll take what's there.
The lights are off, which isn't too odd since the room he appeared in was a side living room (the label of which caused him to roll his eyes), but so were the lights in the main hallway. With only the fridge's light illuminating his face, he pauses. Cocks his head and stops chewing the drumstick between his teeth. Listens.
There's a dull thud, like someone banging on the wall. He hasn't taken two steps when something crashes into him. From behind.
Jason manages to turn around just enough to catch a glimpse of blond and get a mouthful of hair as they both go down and the chicken leg rolls away. The sneaky bitch.
And he knows who it is before he shoves her off of him, because anyone else that can get into the Manor with nobody home has black hair or is balding. Now she's sitting on the ground, blinking owlishly, and staring up at a man who is much more the Red Hood than he is Jason Todd. And holding a knife nonetheless, not that he even remembers reaching toward the block.
"The hell, kid?" he snaps, sheathing the knife after an impressive flourish. "I could've slit your throat. Don't sneak up on me," he practically hisses.
"Jason?" Stephanie says stupidly, still not rising. Frustrated—this girl's supposed to be a vigilante?—he flips the light switch and does his best to hide a flinch. Her eyes are rimmed with red and saltwater tracks have been laid over her cheeks. Jason steps closer to get a look at her pupils (which are too large) and the smell hits him like a freight train. Not just beer, but hard alcohol. If he had to guess? Vodka. And she looks like a puppy on one of those animal cruelty commercials, a look familiar to him.
"Where is everyone? It's like a ghost town in here." It's about as close as he can come to asking if she's okay, because that's sappy. Sappy, Jason Todd is not.
She has to use the counter to hoist herself up, and Jason stands by awaiting her answer. Steph's absolutely hammered, Jason realizes, and she was still able to get behind his back.
"Japan," she spits, like a particularly offensive curse. "They've gone to fucking Tokyo, but at least i'looks like I'm not the only one they 'forgot' t'tell."
"So what are you doing here, Brown?" he asks in the most disinterested voice he can conjure up, though he does catch her arm when she starts to topple. Wow, yeah. Time to get her to bed….
Except, you know, she doesn't exactly live here either. Jason, gentility being lost on him and without the patience of a bat, he practically shoves her before him to the main living room's couch. The whole way, her shrill protests and stumbling feet leave Jason wondering just how far gone she is. She lands heavily against the armrest, glaring with cloudy, heavy-lidded eyes, though Jason's not paying her any attention, but his focus belongs to the drained bottle of Grey Goose.
The cynical girl makes as if to get up, and Jason points at her. "I swear to God. I know I'm supposed to be behaving, but there's nothing to say I can't nail your foot to that couch to keep you put."
"Fine," she says, pouting. "I'll just wait 'til you leave." The last word's said like she already knows what he's going to do, and if there's one thing Jason can't stand, it's people thinking he's predictable. A cliché that comes with a map.
He doesn't know what to do though—this is not his home, and this girl, he barely knows her, not well enough for emotional support. But…I'm pretty sure I could make sure she doesn't do anything stupid.
"I'm not," he says, flopping down on an overstuffed leather chair unceremoniously and snagging the remote.
They watch the television for half an hour in silence. To Jason, it's comfortable, even though he got his knife out, twirling it and pressing it into his skin. Not enough to cut, but just enough to keep him awake. To Stephanie, it's torturous. Her hands sweat and she feels like shit. Her hands reach out and she grasps the light bottle, feeling the liquid slosh against the side, though she holds it more like a teddy bear than a bottle of alcohol.
"I didn't want…to be—alone," she says brokenly, quickly pressing the mouth of the bottle to her lips and drinking fire, a vain attempt to drown her own words. All of the ease has leaked out of Jason's posture, out of his mind. "There's always someone at the manor."
Except tonight, Jason thinks, when she needed someone. He doesn't dare say anything though. How old is this girl? Nineteen at most? It's not like he can say anything without being a hypocrite, but the kid looks miserable.
Stephanie doesn't tell him what's wrong, and he doesn't ask. She doesn't even want to talk about it, she just wanted Alfred to make her a hot meal, a knowing look from Bruce, hell, she'd even have settled for a 'Fatgirl' quip from Damian. She's glad that Jason's there, even if it's a begrudging presence. He's there and he hasn't left or tried to throw that knife at her.
"You okay, Blondie?" Jason asks, taking his muddy boots from the coffee table and leaning forward. "You don't look so great."
Face paled, bottle discarded, Stephanie nods tersely. Her face gains a green hue, and Jason's halfway out of his chair by the time she's got her head halfway in the toilet down the hall. To his credit though, he's got his foot in the doorway before it can be slammed in his face.
Jason pulls her hair back from her face and toilet water and she gurgles around leftover lasagna and Vodka, protesting his presence and apologizing between heaves. He shushes her because fuck, she's not going to remember ANY of this in the morning.
"It's okay," he mutters in her ear as she pants into the porcelain. "I'm right here."
Once her mouth is rinsed out and he's helped her into one of the spare bedrooms upstairs—he's sure Bruce would have no quarrel with it—she's nearly out. Half into a drunken slumber, she's apologizing like crazy and it's all Jason can do to not knock her out himself. It'll only be a couple of minutes, he chides himself. Her hair's draped over her face like a backwards wig, which has got to make it hard to breathe so he flips it back across the pillow.
He's planning on dragging a chair in, or he's so tired he thinks he could crash on the floor, leather jacket, boots and all, but when he takes his hand back she grabs onto it.
"Stephanie," he groans to her pleading eyes, detangling her fingers from him and pulling away. He makes it as far as to the foot of the bed, where he sits and pulls a knee up for his chin to rest on.
He thinks she's been unconscious for a while when her mouth and lets a "Thanks, big bro," slip out. And only because she's asleep again, completely drunk, and he's tired enough to be delirious himself her replies:
"What's family for, kid?"
The clock strikes midnight and Jason closes exhausted eyes. While Jason's getting along with most of his siblings and mending his relationship with Alfred more every day, it's fitting that Bruce would be gone today.
So it's officially April 27th as he kicks his boots of and falls asleep sitting up on the comforter by Stephanie Brown's feet, glad he isn't alone for the first year since it happened.
A/N: And in case those of you out there don't know: April 27, Jason's death day. The head canon for this fic being that it's the day Stephanie's baby was born. Total head canon, there's no truth whatsoever to it, but it was cute.