There had been a fox following Bruce for the last few months. Merely a cub and only skin and bones.
Foxes in the city weren't unusual anymore, but he did have to wonder how this one was able to survive completely on its own, or so it seemed at least.
It was definitely a fighter, judging by the few scrapes he could see on its red fur and the growling which it emitted whenever it saw a crime happen. Bruce would right the wrong and the fox would stay guard, watching curiously.
But despite how bony and starved the poor thing was, Bruce never saw it eat. Foxes are primarily nocturnal and use that time to hunt. Maybe it ate trash for all he knew, or tried its luck at the dumpsters. Which would be even worse, since they were pretty high for one small fox cub. Not to mention all the sharp edges.
So Bruce started bringing food specially for it. Sue him, he was a dog person and foxes and dogs were related. It just meant that there was now a surplus supply for Ace as well and the dog deserved only the best.
And since the fox was so blatantly showing his loyalty and trust, so did it.
One might say he'd grown attached.
Of course he hadn't. While the idea of simply taking the fox back to his own home was something he played around with, he was always quick to throw it out of the window. It would surely upset and traumatize the poor kit more than it already was. The streets weren't a place for any kid alone, be it human or animal, but taking it away from its known environment was just begging for turmoil.
Plus, he hadn't given the fox a name yet. And as long as you didn't name an animal, it meant you hadn't grown too attached to it. Anyone knew that.
Sure, maybe he brought the occasional dog toy with him to play with the cub. And maybe he let his sadness show whenever the cub would look at him as if it were offended at the mere idea of it. And yeah, maybe he did laugh. What was he supposed to do? The fox just looked so human when it used that look. It was too adorable.
Not to mention when the time came around in which the little rascal chose to accept Bruce's gift and even let him play a round of tug of war with it.
It was quick and easy to forget that this was technically a wild animal that kept Bruce company during patrols. But it was so trusting of him, as if it knew that Batman was safe. Maybe it does. Foxes are known for being smart, right? It wouldn't be that far fetched.
—
As time continued on, Alfred had warned him more than once about his actions. But he couldn't make himself regret them, not when the kit seemed so much more alive and better off than when he first met it back at the beginning of spring.
It was the middle of August now and hot enough that the temperature was uncomfortable even during the nights.
So it was no wonder that when the cub saw the broken hydrant, with the water making a loud hiss sound as it was catapulted over the sidewalk, that the fox ran right into it.
It hopped around, up and down, its paws leaving wet patches on the asphalt. Bruce couldn't be anything but amused. Not even when the cub began to shake itself, leaving Bruce soaking wet, he couldn't muster the will to be annoyed. It was almost dawn anyway and way too hot.
It was moments like these that Bruce was more than grateful for having multiple cameras integrated in his gear. Cameras he made good use of.
The cub couldn't seem to be more pleased with itself either, proudly presenting the deep red, wet fur.
It jumped on Bruce and even on its hind legs it barely reached his hips. Bruce raised his hand in order to pet its head. It leaned right into the touch and Bruce began fondling the kit, making note of the places it especially liked.
Still, when the time rolled around and the sun was over the horizon, he had to leave all by himself. This didn't make it any less hard, but he treasured that memory fondly.
—
It wasn't unusual for the cub to not appear at all or only join him really late. However, it was rare enough to make all his alarm bells ring when the cub did show up, jumping, keening, trying to get his attention by all means possible.
Bruce let himself be guided, but had to gently pry away the jaw clenched into his sleeve in order to properly follow it. The vibrating tail always being a mark of focus.
The fox practically threw himself onto the door of a seemingly abandoned apartment complex, or maybe hotel even. The door and windows were barricaded with wood planks, layers upon layers of dust made the once blue facade seem gray. Deep, broad water patches made patterns across the walls.
Nothing seemed to indicate anything of notice. But the fox shuffled and whimpered, embodying misery in its purest forms.
So he went to have a look around the building and, after confirming with several scans that there was absolutely no one at the entrance, he let himself in.
He practically floated across the floor and up the steps, careful not to make a sound. Each room he checked, every corner, every shelf, looking for hidden doors with hidden rooms behind, but each one came out negative.
It wasn't until he reached the last floor that he heard it. Rattling. Scratching. Screeching. Howling. A cacophony of animal noises.
He hadn't realized that he had frozen in place, could have sworn the sounds had grown louder and louder, pushing away every other thought. As soon as he realized his mishap, he sprinted towards the last room on the left, where the sounds were coming from.
Hastily he kicked in the door, no longer caring if anyone was waiting for him and stormed in. His heart stopped for an awfully loud second. A second that stretched into years as his mind tried to comprehend the sight in front of him.
Cages upon cages lining the walls, stacked from the floor up to the very ceiling. Even more were hung up, birds flattering wildly around the too small prison, emitting sounds of panic and of pain from crashing against the bars.
Too big paws tried to get between the bars, some wiggled their claws inside the lock but without success.
Everywhere he looked, up, down, left, right, he saw eyes staring right at him. Begginghim for help. This was the least he could do. How could something as horrifying as this happen right under his nose? Without him ever finding out about it if it weren't for his trusted animalistic companion? He's the goddamn Batman, damn it!
Faster than the Flash he opened the cages and tried his best in trying to coax them out.
Then it dawned on him.
These weren't just animals.
These were shifters.
Shifter kids.
One by one he saw how animals leaped out of their cages and watched how claws turned into feet, wings into arms, snouts into noses.
A new wave of sounds erupted as the atmosphere got filled with panic, confusion, relief. The number of children that ran up to him, determined on never letting him go and using their last strength to wrap their arms around him as tightly as possible, didn't stop at one.
He couldn't convince everyone to stay. But those that did refused to share any knowledge they had, either out of fear or out of shock. This would be one of the larger cases for Gordon once he would arrive.
While he got himself seated on the floor, trying to get the kids to stop fighting and convincing them he was there for all of them and no one needs to feel neglected, he was more than relieved when he spotted his fox friend again, who was currently watching from the corner to his right.
Bruce didn't have to think twice about it before he motioned for them to come. The cub took a look at the children, but eventually trudged towards him, laying their head on his knee.
And if he sat an extra minute on the floor after the police arrived in order to not disturb the fox, he still had some favors open. For the rest, well, Batman autographs were always sought after.
It was only after the sun had made her way over the horizon when he was finally able to go home for the day. Most of the children were reunited with their families, if they so pleased, and the rest were placed with shifter foster parents or shifter-only group homes.
Somehow, it was harder this time to say goodbye to the fox kit. Maybe it was because of the finding of the children and having trouble imagining his own friend being locked away in one of these cages. He might have found these children only much later or when it was already too late, if they hadn't been there.
The way they looked at him reminded Bruce of Dick, who had perfected his puppy eyes over the years in order to get what he wanted as Bruce grew little by little more resistant towards the special technique.
Dick would certainly be overjoyed to met the fox. He would make quips at Bruce about going soft and then they'd laugh about it together and the fox would wag their tail and squeak with them.
Wait, what was he thinking?! Bruce, stop that! Alfred would never let him keep a fox. Foxes don't belong in houses. Humans do. A fox is not a human. It was a wild animal. It didn't matter if the fox trusted Bruce with all their life or potentially saved dozens of children.
Why was this so hard for his brain to understand?
A long sigh escaped his throat. He nearly didn't dare to even look at the kit, fearing if he did he wouldn't be able to stop himself from just taking them into the Batmobile and driving home together. He crouched down to their level and made eye contact. At first it seemed like the kit saw it as a challenge, a staring contest, but before long their eyes reflected sorrow and understanding.
His hand came up in order to pet them properly before he had to leave once and for all for the day. He made sure to be extra gentle, while he smoothed out little knots in the fur, knowing from experience how fond of it they were.
He half hoped that when he'd open the car door, the fox would rush past him and jump right in. A foolish idea, considering it made the disappointment all the greater. He couldn't even see them anymore when he gave a last look around.
When he arrived back at the manor, he couldn't help but feel that something was missing.
Maybe he should give Dick a call.
—
The nights got colder and colder. Cold enough to consider changing into his winter gear. Usually he'd wait until November, but the temperature is said to continue to drop and they weren't even in the middle of October.
Since last month he had actually given Dick a call and explained his situation. Like expected, all he got to hear for the next five minutes was uninterrupted laughter. If their relationship hadn't made a drop a few months back, he probably would have rolled his eyes. Now, he just took it in and let it sit. At least he hadn't hung up on him.
Not even 20 minutes into his patrol, he came face to face with histhe fox. Quickly he made his way down from the roof to join them and was immediately bombarded with an untypical amount of affection. Bruce couldn't do so much as bend his knees so he could go into a crouching position before they came up to him and promptly started rubbing themselves against his legs and continued to walk all the way around him.
Apparently they were in a playing mood, he quickly determined. They kept clawing and biting the cape, trying to get it closer to the ground. Bruce chuckled, unable to not compare the kit to a kitten, before removing the cape. He could get a new one in spring, when the weather was going to be warmer again. This one offers little to no protection against the cold. It was fine. No other reason.
Grabbing the cape with one hand, he turned around and bent down in order to secure it around the cub's neck. Of course it was much too large, even though he triple-knotted it, but the fox didn't seem troubled by it at all. In fact, he would go as far as saying they were actively beaming with joy.
Despite the length, the cub was able to not trip a singular time. The fabric that reached the floor reminded him of the train of a dress due to the way it dragged behind them.
Regardless of the cold, he had warm feelings all around, only amplified the second he saw his cub picking up a pace while the cape was practically flying behind them in the wind, ready to take off into the air at any given moment.
—
One week later, he was walking a friend group of three over to the police station, who had fallen victim to a kidnapping just two days ago. Usually he'd wait until emergency service would arrive, but the temperature has dropped yet again, making this night the coldest of the season so far. They could all use the warmth and safety of the heated police station, which was sure to have warm beverages and blankets.
Commissioner Gordon and his crew seemed to have arrived back at the station just a few minutes ago, he noted, as they made their way in, and watched as the police officers moved between places, changing uniforms, pacing nervously or in a group, complaining about the scene they just had to deal with. From what he could gather, it sounded like another bank robbery and a breaking and entering into a jewelry store.
The victims were led into a secluded area, the newer staff members using this as an excuse to not be in the same room as the Batman, while the older ones didn't even spare him a glance.
"And what brings the Bat intothe police station, if I may ask?" Gordon asked as he walked up to him. He didn't bother with a handshake and immediately went to the chairs to the left.
"The station is heated and offers more protection, from the attackers and the wind, than just standing outside. The walk was shorter than the time it would have taken you to get there with your cars," he replied, still standing, not meeting the commissioner's eyes.
"No ulterior reason?" the amused officer countered as a grin spread on his face.
"No, no ulterior motive."
Gordon sighed, still gleefully, as he stood up. "Tell you what, you take a seat and I'll bring us both a cup of coffee."
"I'll have to pass. I've got work to do."
The chief didn't seem to be faced by this, "Knew you would say that. Come on, just this once. You never come in here, the next time I can offer, I'll probably be close to retirement."
The seconds of silence stretched on.
"Fine," Bruce said, a tick gruffer than usual, but took a seat anyway. "But if I hear anything, I'll be out of here faster than you can blink."
The smile on the other man's face widened. "I don't have any doubt in that," he said, before turning around and making his way into the kitchen.
The receptionist couldn't be bothered less by his presence and besides that, there wasn't much else to do. Each passing minute, his body became more agitated, screaming to follow his instincts and get out of here. Needles began penetrating his skin, urging him to do the same thing. Minuscule bits of pain made its way across his body in waves, only growing stronger by the minute.
Then, when it became almost unbearable, his rescue came. His rescue in the form of a small fox cub with red fur, who is currently standing outside the station and looking nervously. They seemed to have noticed that they were being watched as they locked eyes with him. An easy smile found its way on his face, tension rolling off of him and the uncomfortableness washed away.
As the cub made no notion of making a move, Bruce leaned forward, low enough to be at about the same height as the cub, and made a moving gesture, urging them to come in. But the cub remained outside, staring with full set apprehension at the few police officers who had remained in the room. Bruce looked up to see for himself, before turning his gaze back to the fox.
He waited until the cub's eyes were set on him, before he waved his hand away, signaling that they weren't that big of a deal and added a wink to emphasize it. It didn't seem to convince them fully, but after looking at them one last time, they made their way slowly and crouched to the chairs, before running beneath the one he sat on, when they were finally just a few feet away from him.
Not wanting to cause attention to his friend, he intuitively did not bend over the chair to come say hi. Instead he carefully removed one of his gloves and let the arm fall over the side. It didn't take long before he could feel the tickles of a snout and the small sniffs of air when they breathed out.
This only lasted a few seconds, because apparently his cape was way more interesting than he was. Again they clawed at it, trying to arrange it in a way that would hide them better, he assumed.
At one point, his cape began to move weirdly. A glance around the room told him that either no one had noticed the kit or they didn't bother, so he risked moving closer to the edge of his seat to see what they were doing.
It was absolutely worth it in his opinion and he quickly took a picture of them stroking their head serenely against the thick, soft fabric that was sewn into his winter cape.
In that moment, a pair of footsteps echoed around the room, announcing the arrival of the commissioner, before they made a sudden halt and silence filled the room once more.
"Batman?"
"Yes, Commissioner?"
"What is a fox doing in the station?"
His eyes did not move away from the cub, who seemed to have lost all their prior nervous behavior, squinting at the chief with narrowed eyes.
"Keeping me company."
"This is a fox," the man said bluntly.
"I'm aware," he replied with the same bluntness. "They belong to me."
Several seconds pass.
"This is a fox."
"So?"
He heard a sigh that no longer sounded amused, but tired, followed by barely audible mumbling, "Of course he couldn't have a Batdog. No, it has to be a, a Bat- a Batfox. This city. Only in Gotham, only in Gotham."
Bruce finally turned around. "Could I have that coffee, please?"
With the slouch of a man that had seen too much, he gave him the mug and wordlessly sat down on the seat two chairs next to him.
They drank their beverages in peaceful silence under the constant observation of his fox.
"So, what's his name?"
"They don't have a name."
This seemed to puzzle the man, turning around to ask him, "Why?"
Now even the fox looked up at him, curious to what his answer would be.
"They don't live with me."
Jim Gordon frowned. "I thought you said he belonged to you?"
Bruce clicked his tongue, annoyed at being caught. He did, didn't he?
This caused the officer to chuckle.
They finished their drinks without any more questions.
—
Just his luck that his grapple hook had to break during his first five minutes of patrol. Now he had to begrudgingly walk back to his car to get his spare one.
It had been hard enough to shake the people off when he got out of his car the first time and now he would probably have to do it all again. And all the trouble just because he chose to park in a more crowded area for the night. This was the last time he would make this mistake, no matter how convenient it was for him at times.
He released a deep sigh when he finally had the object of interest in hand and all the people had finally gotten the message that they weren't welcome at the moment. Just when he wanted to return to his target destination, he almost stumbled over a red cord.
No, not a cord, he realized as he squinted. It looked much too soft. Besides, he was 99% sure that cord did not move on its own, especially on a mild night like this.
Without hesitation he dropped onto his knees, once again being glad to have extra armor there.
Just like he thought, the face he found beneath the car was a familiar one. And a tired one as it seemed at that. The cub opened one eye to look at him, then closed it again.
Should he be concerned? From what he read about foxes, they are mostly nocturnal, often hunting during dusk and dawn and asleep during the day. But he also had to consider that this was only a cub, so it would make sense that they would be tired sooner and more often.
Also, despite being canids, and therefore being related to dogs, wolves and similar animals, some of their behavior is known to be more cat-like. And thanks to Selina, he knew how strange a cat's sleeping pattern could be.
The fox should be fine, he concluded. They don't appear to be injured and the fact that they chose to sleep under his car probably meant that they trusted him. After all, they could have picked any car. Or any place for that matter. But they chose the Batmobile.
Okay, maybe the engine still being warm played a part in it.
But he would take it.
"Sleep well," he whispered, before going on his way.
—
Exhaustion settled deep inside his lungs, decade old pain held his bones in an iron grip, like a surgeon with his scalpel. Clouds filled his head, a thunder of rolling pearls made it impossible to hear anything but gunshots. His soul was nothing but a dying fire, leaving a hole where grief could make itself a home.
Each year he asked himself the same question. Why?
Why did he remind himself of the tragedy that made him him on purpose every year?
The lonely bat strolled through the street, tuning out solemn greetings and smiling faces aimed at him. His fox had not followed him tonight. Maybe it was a sign.
This was his burden to bear. For the both them. For everyone. For this city.
Soon the sun would rise, driving away the darkness and the most serious of crimes.
The sun was the protector of the day. He was the dark's knight.
His father would have waxed in poetic terms at that, spun a smart analogy about helping others, not just out of duty but out of a moral obligation. His mom would have chimed in how it's the people around us that made us who we are.
Two decades ago this very street robbed the lives of two amazing people.
The closer he got to the hidden alleyway, the tighter his chest got. He would get into the car and not intrude on this place for another year.
He circled around the corner, only a few steps away from the Batmobile now, when suddenly- he just stopped.
For a moment, it didn't even register what happened. Bruce could only stand there and see with his own eyes what had been done.
The Batmobile was leaning over towards one site and propped on bricks, because three tires were missing.
Three tires were missing from the Batman's Batmobile.
Then he did something he had never done before, not in Crime Alley.
He laughed.
Bruce laughed and his loud bursts of joy echoed through the street.
It took guts, he admitted while inspecting the handiwork. Who knew, maybe the thief will come back?
And with that, he positioned himself on the lookout and waited.
It wasn't long before he could hear a pair of light footsteps, trying to go unnoticed. Under normal circumstances, they would have been, if Bruce weren't Batman, who had more than enough extensive training.
What he wasn't expecting was to see a child going around the corner of his car, freezing directly in front of him.
The boy couldn't have been taller than 4'7'', maybe even smaller. He wore a deep red sweater, over which he had thrown on a black vest in the same shade as his hair.
"Come to finish the job, boy?" he asked fondly.
Feigned innocence mixed with the surprise as the boy rushed to hide the tire iron in his hand. "Whoops."
This kid had an incredible moxie. The audacity. Most rogueswould never, not with the Batman. If he could, he'd just walk away and pretend he hadn't seen anything. A kid, stealing the tires of the Batmobile, that would be a great insult to most thugs he fought daily. Besides, he would have a great story to tell.
But oh well, he kind of needed his tires to drive back home. He's sure driving on the axes alone would damage the car and he'd really like to avoid that.
"Are you going to give me back my tires?" he asked moving to stand up.
The boy wasn't subtle in the slightest with the way he held the tire iron behind his back in both hands and how exaggeratedly he raised his left eyebrow. "Who says I took 'em?"
Was this kid playing him or just a bad liar? Maybe both?
Oh, screw it. He couldn't just let the kid go off on his own now. Not that he planned on it, but now he certainly couldn't. The boy was brave and wasn't afraid to stand up to him.
Bruce wasn't sure how to interpret this. Did he trust Batman or was he just that confident?
"Then what's the tire iron for?" He asked with a trained casualness, taking a step forward and firmly looking down to the boy. Bad move, he realized too late, because all the bravado the boy had held had been wiped of in a matter of seconds. A scowl settled on his face.
The word "This!" made its way to his ears before the impact. Seconds went by before the information of what just happened registered in his brain, which had already sent out messages to his nervous system that he had been hurt.
Without thinking he clutched his left side. "You little son of a gun," he grunted with his teeth clenched as he vaguely saw how the boy darted into a nearby alleyway.
"Come and catch me, you big boob!"
Off was he.
Son of a gun indeed.
What did Bruce ever do to deserve this?
No use in dwelling, he needed a plan and- ouch, yep, those ribs were going to hurt for a while. It shouldn't be hard to stop the kid but maybe he could also let him lead the way to his missing tires.
Let's just hope that his last tire wouldn't be stolen while he got the rest of them.
Through the shadows he observed how the boy winded around corners, until reaching a fire escape where he made his way up.
Quickly he grappled after him, landing on the same floor where the boy finally entered the building, grateful when the stairs didn't make a sound that would alarm the kid of his presence.
Cautiously he stuck his head through the entrance, analyzing his surroundings.
The floor was covered in trash, the ceiling had holes, which explained the water stains. Despite the building's condemned status and seemingly having been barricaded to prevent entry, the walls were decorated with graffiti and signatures.
All kinds of horrible outcomes swirled through his head as he imagined what would be in the room the boy was now heading towards.
If he was part of a gang or other organization, he had to confront and help him before he could enter. But there would be no time for him to reach the boy, the distance was too great. The words almost escaped his throat- but they got stuck.
There was no boy in the hallway anymore. The deep red sweater turned into deep red fur, an even smaller four-legged animal, not a boy, made its way through a hole directly beside the door, which was also barricaded with a singular plank of wood.
For a moment, he thought he was dreaming. That his hopes and wishes simply became too much and his brain was playing tricks on him in an ironic way of comfort.
But the breeze brushing against his naked face, the dust tickling his nose, the creaking of the floorboards as he sneaked, it was all too real.
Inspection proved to him that there was no other entryway except for the hole in the wall and the door, both of which would draw attention.
Silent like a feather he went back to the fire escape, this time to come in from the outside. The walls were crumbling as he walked around the building on its facade, safely secured with a rope attached to a hook which he had thrown on top of the building.
Luck was on his side, he thought, as he stopped im front of the window belonging to the room where the boy- the fox- both- must have hidden away. The windows also had wood planks nailed onto them, but most of them had been pried or fallen off already.
Guardedly he peeped into the room, releasing a breath of relief he hadn't known he'd held when there seemed to be no other soul in the room, except for the boy with the red sweater, who was currently occupying a mattress shoved into the corner of the room.
Overall it did look homely, in a sad sort of way. A yellow carpet was laid out on the floor, but it was rugged and had stains on it. There was an armchair in the corner closest to the window, but stuffing was flowing out its tears. The sideboards were meticulously stocked with CD's from what he could tell.
He almost felt bad as he entered the fox's den.
Swiftly he positioned himself in front of the mattress. Before he could even begin to talk, agitation made itself apparent on the boy, who jumped up, pointing a finger to the right wall.
"Just, just take your lousy tires and leave! Just lemme alone," the voice claimed, barely above a whisper towards the end.
Bruce decidedly did not turn around to look at the spot the boy pointed, where he knew his tires were stacked on top of each other. They did not break eye contact.
"Kid, do you live here?"
The blue eyes in front of him narrowed. "Yeah! It's mine, so I like it."
He furrowed his brows, but kept the concern tightly sealed away for now. "What about your parents?"
The staring contest broke off. The boy looked away, which gave him a clear look at the framed portrait standing on the shelf behind the mattress. It showed a smiling woman with brown, curled hair, blue eyes shining back.
"Pop's probably doing time again."
"And… your mother?"
He had expected sadness, but was instead met with anger. "She's dead. She got sick. Okay? Now get outta here!"
He tilted his head, pretending to study the boy. "Do I know you?"
The blue eyes widened. "What?"
"I said. Do I know you?" He took a step to the left. The cape he had given the fox was neatly folded on top of the mattress.
The boy took a step aside as well to be right in front of him again.
"You seem to be pretty calm with Batman in your den- your home," he said.
The boy looked offended on his behalf. "Puh. Why shouldn't I? Everyone knows that Batman protects kids. And shifters. That's why I got you to the abandoned hotel in the first place." The mistake was realized when it was already too late. "I mean! I- I sent that fox to you! Yeah!" A nod accompanied his lie, not doing anything to help sell his statement.
The smile that was solely reserved for his fox made its way onto his face.
The boy's face scrunched up in confusion. "Why are you smiling?"
And then he did the thing he never imagined himself doing in Crime Alley for the second time that day.
He laughed.
Because now he really understood that this boy and his trusted fox were indeed one and the same person.
The way they narrowed their eyes, the look they had when they felt offended, down to the bravery they both carried.
The boy blinks at him. "Batman. Batman is laughing. I think I broke him," he mumbled.
Bruce forced himself to calm down. Which admittedly took him more effort than taking down a drug cartel. "Do you have any idea how often I told myself 'No, you can't just take him home, he's a fox' over the last few months?"
The confusion continued to grow. "Why would you want a starving fox cub that might or might not have rabies living in your house?"
"Because I have always enjoyed his presence. It felt less… lonely," he responded, as memories came to the forefront of his mind. "If you were cold, you could have just asked, you know?"
The boy snorted. "Oh yeah, because that totally works when you're a fox."
"Why not transform back?" He asked curiously.
The kid crossed his arms as he rolled his eyes. Annoyed, he replied, "Yeah right, because you would've just let me go instead of giving me to the social workers…"
Pleading eyes looked up at him, begging, "Please don't give me to the social workers."
Bruce couldn't have asked for a more perfect opportunity.
"Alright."
The bewilderment from earlier was multiplied times three, not having believed that he would go along with it. "Really? That easy?"
"Of course it would be irresponsible of me to just leave you alone like this-," he held a hand up, when he saw the boy's mouth opening up, ready to protest, "so I'll make you an offer. You can come live with me and no authorities will get involved. What do you say?"
He almost feared that the boy's eyes would roll out of his skull because of how wide he'd opened them. "You mean you won't call the social services AND I get to live with Batman?!"
"Essentially, yes," he nodded.
"Deal!" The boy threw a fist into the air, the enthusiasm laid out into the open.
For a moment, all he did was savor this moment and let the joy fill his heart. He didn't want to forget one second of it.
A mischievous smile crossed the boy's face. "You will need something though, when I'm going to be staying with you."
Whatever it was, he could provide it. He made a gesture, urging the kid to continue. The smile was all teeth.
"My name."
Shit, how had he forgotten about that? He really hoped his surprise and embarrassment didn't show on his face.
"And that would be?"
"Jason. Jason Todd."
Todd? Eerily similar to tod, a male fox. The coincidences this world has to offer.
"It's nice to finally have a name I can call you by," he smiled. With the words spoken, the reality of it all suddenly sank in all the more. He couldn't wait to get home and show Jason around the manor. Learning about his interests. And, of course, spending time with him like he has done almost every night for the last eight months.
"I'm still going to need my tires back."
"Aw, shucks," Jason exclaimed and let his shoulders hang. He couldn't stop the grin from growing.
"Come on. Let's get on with it, kit."
…
"Did you just make a pun?!"