#“is that the Red Robin logo?” IT SURE IS AND JASON WEARS THAT COLLAR IN HIS RED HOOD SUIT

[kieran-granola]

"Take a picture, babybird, it'll last longer."

Art commissioned from the lovely @gotham-gargoyle

[batbirdies]

NaNoWriMo 2019 Batfam fic Part 3

I realized I said I was gonna post snippets from my nano and I haven’t for a bit....

Part 3 of my Jason Todd Batfam fic where Jason agrees to dog sit Titus, there are some deep seated issues, unintended animal therapy, snarky text messages between robins and eventually some reconciliation between father and son. Takes place in a murky in between time sometime after Damian was resurrected.

Also I’m sorry guys, I don’t have an actual computer to work on, so I post these from the website on my ipad, so I can use the read more break, but I can’t figure out how to hyperlink on here so I’m not linking the previous installments....but if you search my blog for Jason Todd the first two aren’t far down the list....

Jason swallowed hard and took a breath, set his book down on the coffee table and got up to open the door before he could entertain the idea of pretending he wasn’t actually there and ignoring all attempts to contact him like their conversation the night before had never even happened. For prosperity's sake he did check the peephole before opening the door and nearly had a heart attack because it wasn’t just Bruce standing outside his door.

The demon brat was there too, leash in hand attached to the most massive dog Jason had ever seen. The kid was scowling like no other and the fish eye perspective made it look more comical than annoying. JAson was an idiot, of course the kid was gonna come along, it was his dog. That he was apparently protective enough of that he didn’t want just anyone watching him.

Bruce, next to him, looked enormous, with a blank expression that never failed to make Jason either irritated or nervous. This morning his stomach can’t seem to decide.

Damian glances at Bruce and his frown deepens and Jason realizes he’s been standing at the door for probably too long. “Here goes nothing.” He whispers to himself before stepping back and unlocking the deadbolt. He attempts to smile when he swings the door open but its still really freaking early and Jason’s not really prepared for the way his stomach swoops when he looks at Bruce.

He can’t get that damned card out of his head, can’t help wondering when Bruce wrote it, what he was doing. What he was thinking when he picked up the book and the movie and decided it was a good gift for Jason, whom he hadn’t had more than one pleasant conversation that wasn’t about vigilante business within the last 4 months. And before that….it might have been before he died, not counting any near death experiences where he got weirdly emotional and then regretted every word that came out of his mouth later.

“Hey.” He says lamely, stepping to the side at the expectant huff from Damian. They both walk in, Damian with an air of superiority that Jason’s not sure he knows how to turn off, and Bruce with an awkward sort of shuffle that almost catches him off guard. Jason realizes that without the fish eye lense making him look huge and out of proportion he looks tired.

There are bags under his eyes and a bruise on his cheek that Jason knows he would normally cover with makeup. His hair is mussed and he’s wearing track pants and tennis shoes with a cotton t-shirt and a zip up hoodie. He’s also carrying three enormous shopping bags that he sets on the floor just inside the door. When he straightens his eyes go to Damian before Jason and he realizes he’s staring at Bruce, and obviously so, and snaps his eyes to the kid too.

Damian is taking the dog in loop around the main space while inspecting everything with a sharp eye as Titus noses around his kitchen cabinets and past the glass door to the balcony.

“He better not pee on anything.”

Damian gives him a sharp look and scoffs. “Please, just because you lack proper house training does not mean all animals do.” Jason raises his eyebrows at the acid in the kids tone and nearly bites something nasty back before Bruce speaks up.

“Damian.” The kid stiffens and then slowly lowers his shoulders, staring down at the dog with a deeply unhappy expression and sharp twist to his mouth. Bruce takes a breath and Jason chances a glance over. He’s got his eyes closed, a wrinkled line between eyebrows, before it smooths out and he opens them again, eyes flicking to Jason where he stands, feeling weirdly out of place in his own apartment.

“He’s nervous.”

“I am not-“

“Damian.” They both stare hard at each other for an extended moment, Damian’s posture stretched tight. “Jason is doing you a favor. Act like it.”

“We could just bring him along-“

“We are not bringing a Great Dane to London. We’ve been over this.” And by the droning tone of his voice, they must have been, multiple times. The kid is wringing the leash in his hands and the dog is looking up at him, ears back and tail thumping the ground before he noses at Damian’s clenched fists. Damn this kid actually is nervous.

“He is not well.” He says as he lets the leash go with one hand and sets it gently on the Dane’s head, rubbing back and forth absently, like he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing.

“He has an ear infection Damian. It’s not serious. Jason can handle it.” Bruce’s voice is soft now, cajoling like he’s talking to a kid who’s actually Damian’s age and not some old man stuffed in the skin of a 12 year old. He sounds….gentle, and JAson has to turn away from him entirely to push down on the uncomfortable twist in his chest, busies himself straightening the blanket on the back of the couch that’s clearly already straight.

He remembers that voice, didn't realize Bruce still had it in him.

Damian turns his gaze to Jason finally, glare firmly in place along with a look of deep distrust.

Jason remembers working with the kid. Wearing that ridiculous costume with the fake feathers and he wonders how they made it out the other side of that with less trust than they started with. Damian had been more upset than Jason anticipated when he’d found out who he actually was.

It may have hurt Jason’s feelings, a tad, not that he would ever admit it. - research before posting

Another part of him feels kinda bad for lying to the kid for so long.

“Relax twerp. I’ll take good care of your dog.”

“Tt.” He glances around the apartment again with a look of distaste but the tension in his frame diminishes just a little. “Your apartment is smaller than I anticipated. Titus may require more than two walks a day if he is cooped up in here all the time.”

Jason stiffens, “Well sorry I don’t live in a fucking mansion.” There’s more heat in his voice than he was aiming for and he has to wrestle down anything else he might say before he looks just as defensive as he suddenly feels.

An awkward silence hangs in the air after his outburst, Damian staring at him with that stupid scowl. Bruce takes an awkward step closer to Jason and he has to resist the urge to step back.

“You apartment is fine Jay. Titus sleeps most of the day anyway.” Jason rolls his eyes, telling himself to get a grip.

“Whatever. What’s with the apocalyptic supply stash?” He juts his chin toward the pile of crap by his front door.

The question at least, sends Damian into motion, so he’s not staring around Jason’s apartment like he expects the place to collapse in on itself at any moment. He unhooks Titus’ leash from his collar and coils it up in a loop that he leaves sitting on Jason’s kitchen counter, and then he goes for the first bag.

When Jason says enormous bags, he means it. They are three times the size of regular grocery bags, he didn’t know you could even get bags that size. They all have a logo on the side he doesn’t recognize, something with paw prints, obviously some kind of pet store.

First he pulls out a massive dog bed, which Jason supposes makes sense. Best thing he’s got is the blanket on the back of his couch. The kid looks around while holding it, like he’s gauging the perfect place and finally sets it down next to the gargantuan TV.

Bruce sidles up on Jason’s left side while they both watch Damian unload the bags. Jason is uncomfortably aware of his presence but he doesn’t look over, doesn’t acknowledge him.

“Thank you for doing this.” Bruce says under his breath, while Damian drags a huge, unwieldy bag of dog food across his floor and props it against his kitchen counter. Jason only grunts in return, isn’t sure what to think of this whole thing still.

Next comes a stainless steel water dish and a matching one in porcelain for the food. Then a fresh container of tennis balls, two leashes, some kind of waterproof coat and then a red freaking dog sweater that Jason has to stifle a laugh at. “He really is just nervous.” This is even quieter than the thank you and Jason feels the need to look over. “The infection is minor, but before we took him into the vet he was acting strange, whining and tilting his head back and forth, standing with it at an angle that obviously didn’t look natural. He wouldn’t stay still, would only lie down for a minute at a time before he got up and paced the room. I think he was terrified it was some kind of brain tumor, that he was having complex seizures.”

Jason frowns, watching a white paper bag make its way to his kitchen counter with a prescription tag stapled to the outside. “He’s a good kid, just…” He waits for the word difficult to come out. Just like how people used to describe him, always angry, defensive, annoying. Interacting with the kid he can see why people couldn’t stand him when he was younger but he still gets Damian to a certain degree.

“He’s had a hard time.” Is what he says instead and Jason has to turn away again, decides finally to go introduce himself to the dog to ease the tangled mess in his stomach.

He’s so irritated, two days ago he would never have been this much of a mess over talking to Bruce, even in a casual setting, even in his own apartment. One stupid fucking hint of the man caring about him beyond what he contributes to fighting crime in the city and he’s bending over backwards looking for other signs. He hates his own stupid, dysfunctional brain.

He holds out a hand to Titus, takes a deep breath to let go of the tightness in his chest. Dogs and little kids, they can always tell when you’re upset and he doesn’t want to make him nervous.

Honestly, he’s huge. Like, Jason knew Great Danes were one of the largest breeds of dog but this particular one has to be even bigger than average. He sits on the corner of the living room carpet, watching Jason with alert but friendly eyes and easily sniffs at the hand, then shoves his nose into his palm and butts it up so his hands is resting on the top of his snout. Jason huffs out a laugh and crouches down.

“Like being petted huh?” He scratches behind his ears and is nearly bowled over immediately. Titus twists his head so far to the side Jason doesn’t quite follow with his hand and then shoves forward into Jason’s space, knocking him off balance with his insistence. Then a hand reaches for the collar and draws him back just enough to keep Jason mostly upright. Bruce is standing there, looking mildly amused as he looks at the dog.

“The drops the vet gave him make his ears itch, he can get a little pushy.”

“I can see that.” Jason mutters back. He kneels then, knees on the floor so he’s more stable and reaches out, ready for the sudden twist and shove. “You can let him go, I got it.”

Titus nearly lunges for him, shoves his whole face into Jason’s stomach, making him wheeze out a laugh. He rubs with significant force at his ears and the gargantuan dog goes boneless, flops down across his legs, whip like tail slapping loudly against the side of his coffee table. “Yeah, wow, you’re so big and tough huh? You must get people running for the hills killer.” Jason scratches down his neck and Titus makes a funny little grunting noise and then flops over sideways, belly exposed, head resting in his lap and yeah ok, Jason’s not a monster, he rubs his tummy. “Man you are heavy. Might need to put you on a diet.”

“Apparently, he is on one.” Jason glances up at Bruce, who’s still standing there, arms crossed over his chest, looking down at him with this odd little quirk to his mouth and if Jason had to guess he’d say he looks fond. And he doesn’t know what to do with that so he goes back to the dog, feeling his face flush in discomfort.

Damian clears his throat, pulling Jason’s attention back to him. He’s standing at the edge of his kitchen counter, hands clasped in front of him in a way that reminds Jason starkly of alfred of all people. He still doesn’t look happy, per say, but the anxiety leeching off the kid seems to have gone down and he’s staring at Jason intently.

“Yes. He is on a diet. He has gained weight since the weather started to turn.” With that, the kid launches into a spiel about the do’s and don’t’s of watching Titus. The list is significantly longer than Jason had anticipated, partially due to the ear infection but mostly just because the kid is a little pissant with way too many rules.

Jason takes it all with as much stoicism as he can muster until he pulls out a freaking muffler for the dog.

“What the heck is that?” Jason is still kneeling on the floor, dog laid out half in his lap, lazily wagging his tail and Damian is holding a thick square of black fabric in his hands that turns out to be a tube, it has drawstrings on the top and bottom to adjust the size of the loop.

“It is,” he makes a face here, obviously unhappy about what he’s about to say, “called a Head Muff. It goes over the neck and ears to keep them warm on walks.” He lays it down next to the prescription baggy and Jason has to hold back from a snort and instead looks back at Bruce out of the corner of his eye and finds him already looking down at Jason, expression completely blank and this time Jason chokes when he catches the twitch of Bruce’s lip. Somehow he manages to disguise it as a cough when he looks back but Damian looks suspicious none-the-less.

“I expect hourly update texts with photo’s.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have never owned a dog have you?” The question sounds weirdly accusatory and Jason feels the need to gently push Titus off his lap just so he can stand to his full height for this conversation.

“No, I haven’t but-”

“Then I will need proof that you are capable of the job.”

“Capable of the job? It’s dog sitting, not nuclear fission.”

“The very fact that you are not taking this seriously tells me it is necessary.”

“Well if you don’t fucking trust me then you can get somebody else to watch your damn dog.”

Damian had his arms crossed over his chest tightly, scowl intensifying with every breath. “Because you have shown yourself to be so trustworthy.” Jason clenched his hands into fists, feeling red creep up his neck.

“Damian.” Bruce’s deep voice cut across the room, quiet, but firm. He stepped around Jason, putting himself vaguely between them but not enough to be obvious. “You’re being unreasonable. Jason is perfectly capable of walking, watering, and feeding Titus, along with handling his ear drops.” He glanced over at Jason, eyes uncertain for a moment. “He always wanted a dog when he was younger, he’ll treat Titus well.”

Jason opened his mouth, ready to argue until that last sentence. Instead he blinks back at Bruce for a moment, feeling floored by the simple statement. He doesn’t have a response and quickly breaks eye contact, swinging them back to Damian whose mouth is twisted in a grimace before he finally heaves a sigh and uncrosses his arms.

“Fine.”