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Jason liked having a routine. He liked being able to wake up early and go help Alfred make breakfast.
He had grown to love their alone time in the kitchen together.
Now the routine was broken. He had stayed up late playing games with his new older brother Dick. Bruce had called him to ask if he would want to come visit, something about suspecting that Jason was well adjusted enough with the Manor for them to have guests.
They had spent most of the night fooling around. Board games, Mario kart and even having him try some of the tricks Dick knew. Mostly he just ended up failing at the twists and getting caught midair by Dick before he could body slam into the mats below.
Needless to say he had woken up very late. Well, late for him. It was about 10 am when he rolled out of bed, keeping his bed head as he only stopped in his bathroom to brush his teeth before heading downstairs.
As he entered the kitchen – still clad in his red, blue and yellow wonder woman PJ set – he saw Bruce sitting in his seat. At the head of the table Bruce was doing as he did every morning. Drinking coffee with a light breakfast as he read the morning paper.
His morning routine hadn’t changed even though he patrolled with Nightwing. Actually, if anything that probably helped him. He would have had to cover less of the city. Giving him an easier night and able to return earlier than expected.
If only Bruce would hurry up and clear him to be Robin then he could really start helping them instead of just cooking with Alfred to make him feel like he earned his place in this family.
Bruce was wearing black slacks with a navy blue turtleneck, his hair already having been styled back for his W.E. meeting in a few hours with the board to discuss something or other.
0o0o0
(Bruce)
Bruce had been raising his mug to take a sip as Jason was entering the kitchen. Slightly raising an eyebrow as he looked at the disheveled state his sleepy son was in, he couldn't help but quirking the edge of his mouth into a smile. The cow lick on the back of his head from sleeping had completely thrown most of the curls into the boy's face. Dick had always been full of energy, it hadn’t gone away with age. He had tuckered Jason out quite well yesterday if the sleep lines covering Jason's left arm and face were any indication to go by.
0o0o0
(Jason)
As Jason entered he realized that he was too late to help with breakfast.
0o0o0
(Alfie)
Alfred turned from where he was doing the dishes when he heard the boy's soft socked footsteps stop in the middle of the room. He kept averting his gaze between the dirty dishes from preparing breakfast, Master Bruce at the table, and the prepared food on the island.
That was when Alfred was able to put the pieces together.
Master Jason had mentioned a few times that he liked cooking because it meant that he was earning his keep. They had tried to convince him that this was his home now and there was no such need to ‘earn his keep’.
Master Jason was trying to figure out what he should do given that he couldn't help with preparing the food. He still didn’t fully believe them that he was allowed to be a child.
Assuming Master Jason even knew what that entailed.
From what they had been able to learn from the boy in the month they had had him in their care they had learned that he has never been allowed to be a child. His mother had fallen ill when he was six, getting worse and worse as time passed. Leading her to street drugs to help ease the pain as she couldn’t afford the prescription. And not being able to work because she was in too much pain.
When she passed Jason had been eight years old, the same age Master Bruce and Master Dick had been when they had been left alone in this world. From then until Master Bruce had found him, the child had been surviving in the streets.
Alfred had been the one to suggest they warned Master Dick about some of the things Jason had experienced. Master Dick did not need details, that was for Master Jason to disclose with him. But rather give him a warning that Jason hadn’t had a good childhood and wouldn’t be the bubbly child Dick had been.
Their first meeting last night had gone well. Master Dick had started calm and slowly added his familiar chaos as the two acquainted themselves.
With Master Jason’s morning routine disturbed, he now was at a literal stand still of what to do.
0o0o0
(Jason)
He didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know if he was allowed to eat if he hadn’t helped make it. Then he would just be adding more dishes to the pile that was already on the counter. Maybe they would let him eat if he did the dishes first? That way it was still less overall work for Alfred.
As he had been debating what to do he realized Alfred had made him a plate.
Now standing in front of him, handing the plate of eggs and toast over with one hand while the other was gently placed between his shoulder blades. Gently pressure being placed as Alfred said “go eat my boy.”
Looking up at the man to make sure it was really okay, Jason made his way over to his seat next to Bruce. As he began eating his eggs Alfred appeared next to him as the man placed a glass of orange juice beside him before disappearing to return to the dishes.
0o0o0
(Dick)
Fuck it felt good to not wake up sore.
Well, he was always sore from his nightlife but more so he hadn’t realized how shitty his mattress was in his apartment because he was so used to it. Going back to his childhood bedroom, sleeping on the plush queen bed made him dread the inevitable trip to get a new mattress that was in his future.
Not bothering to do anything more than roll his ass out of bed before he made his way downstairs.
0o0o0
(All together now)
As Dick joined the others in the kitchen, grabbing himself food before sitting down, Jason was about half way through his eggs with a piece of toast left. Bruce seemed to be skimming to obituaries as he finished the rest of his coffee, as Alfred dried the clean dishes.
They kept up a mindless conversation between the four of them. Dick, talking with a mouth full of cereal, had earned him glares of disgust from Jason a few times as well as a mild scolding from both Bruce and Alfred about table manners.
As his sugar filled cereal began to sog through he decided without much thought to play with Jason. Just some harmless big brother teasing that kids always did. Dick reached over and stole a piece of Jason's toast.
It was downhill from there.
With the speed of a vigilante Jason had lashed out. Yelling no as he reached for Dicks arm, only managing to scratch him in the process.
It didn't hurt. But the shout had been enough to draw Bruce and Alfred's attention to the children.
Both boys were frozen.
Dick seemed to be too stunned to move while Jason’s eyes were wide, flicking around the room as if he was waiting to be attacked. His breaths come in quick puffs.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he can register that he is shaking.
He hit Bruce’s kid.
He hit Bruce’s kid. After he stole food. He didn’t help make it. Didn’t earn his portion.
Before anyone has a chance to scold or whoop him he quickly stands. As the chair squeaks on the tile behind him he whispers “I'm sorry” and runs for his room for safety.
0o0o0
(not Jason)
“What did you do?”
“What?” Dick questions. Too stunned by the kids outburst to even register what Bruce had said. “Bruce I. Nothing, I didn’t do anything.” He had meant them to have a bicker back and forth. From the looks of it though he had sent Jason into a panic attack over a measly piece of toast.
Reading his eldest face Bruce must have noticed that Dick had been just as shocked as the rest of them with the shy child's outburst. Instead of interrogating he went to look for Jason. Leslie had mentioned that it would be best to comfort Jason when he lashed out. If they let him try and calm himself down he was liable to take longer to feel safe in his new home. Like he was still the only one taking care of himself.
With that, Bruce chased after his youngest.
The kitchen was silent with its now two occupants for a few seconds before Alfred spoke up. “Some wounds don’t show. But they are there, Master Dick. Hunger leaves a long echo.”
Dick was silent for a few beats as he collected his thoughts. “Yeah I get he's a skinny little 8 year old, but it was a piece of toast. I didn’t, I didn’t mean to freak him out.”
“Master Dick, Master Jason has been food insecure for a long time. He is not eight, he is four months shy of being a teenager.”
At this revelation Dick turned to look at his adoptive grandfather, his confusion clear on his face. “Alf, he barely clears the kitchen counter”
“Yes,” Alfred replied as he turned back to continue drying the dishes. “That is what happens when you are malnourished for your entire life. Your body does not have the nutrients needed to grow, so he did not.”
Without Dick replying, Alfred clarified his point. “Master Jason does not yet trust that he will be fed without ‘earning his keep’ as he worded it. We threw off his routine Leslie set for him to adjust to his life at the Manor. He didn’t get to help make breakfast, so in his mind, he didn’t earn it. When you took the toast, you confirmed that—confirmed that his food could be taken from him, that it was never really his to begin with.
As Dick’s silence continued Alfred felt he should say “we have been trying to make Master Jason feel safe in this house, but I fear he does not know what it means to be a child.”
0o0o0
(Jason)
No no no no no.
He had to get away.
Had to hide.
He didn’t want to get hit like when dad would whoop him for sneaking food when they barely had any.
Bruce was bigger, it would hurt more. And his father hadn’t been gentile. Bruce punched criminals hard enough that they needed hospitals.
0o0o0
“Jason?” Bruce questioned as he knocked on his youngest’s door. He could hear the ragged breaths forcing their way through his respiratory system at an alarming rate. Jason was having another panic attack.
Grabbing the doorknob Bruce explained “I need to come in Jason, I need to make sure you are okay.”
And with that he turned the knob and entered.
Jason had confessed that when he was scared he would shove himself into the smallest corner he could find. Due to his size there was no way he would’ve been able to outrun bigger kids on the streets; he could fit in smaller places though. Places they couldn’t follow. Eventually they would give up their hunt and leave him be.
The safety net of small spaces was still ingrained in him now.
As Bruce entered he knew Jason would be under the bed, centered under the queen mattress. Curled into a ball so that no one would be able to grab him to pull him out. The bed frame being too low to the ground for anyone else in the house to be able to fit underneath.
Jason had been here for a month now.
Bruce knew how to help him ride out the panic attack.
Closing the door behind him, Bruce walked over to the far side of the bed. Jason was still gasping for breath as he lowered himself to the floor, lying down on the carpet beside the bed.
“Jason, can you tell me what upset you?” Bruce questioned as he stared up at the ceiling, his hands folded across his chest. Letting Jason recognize on his own that Bruce was near but not trying to grab him.
Jason didn’t respond for a long time.
The two were just lying together, the only sound was Jason as he tried his best to even out his breathing.
“You’re, you’re not mad at me?” Jason questioned, now hiccupping from his tears.
Turning his head to look at his youngest Bruce replied “no. Why did you think I was mad?”
Jason was curled into a ball the best he could. With the bed being so slow he had to lay on his back, drawing his limbs as close to his body as he could given the small quarters. “Cuz I hit your son” Jason whispered out as fresh tears fell from his eyes, glittering as the moisture caught what little light was able to enter the small space.
“Dick is my son but so are you, Jason. Siblings will always fight. That's just what they do.”
Silence fell between the two, Jason tears slowly began to cease.
“Can I hold your hand?” Bruce questioned. “I promise not to pull you out.”
Jason didn’t respond verbally, simply nodding his head before he shifted from under the bed. Uncrossing his arms as Bruce tentatively reaches one of his own under the bed. As Jason’s small hand fell into his own, he began to rub circles onto it with his thumb before speaking again. “Just like how you are not used to having an older sibling, he isn't used to having a younger brother. And that’s okay. You and Dick just need to learn each other.”
They laid like that for a while, Bruce rubbing circles onto the back of Jason’s hand as the younger came down from his panic attack.
Before long though, a hesitant “can I come out” was asked from the dark abyss. It was met with a rare smile from Bruce before he asked “do you want help?”
A stronger “no” was heard before the hand in his own disappeared, signaling Bruce to sit up; withdrawing his arm from under the bed.
Sitting up he turned, putting his back against the red comforter that covered Jason’s bed. Allowing Jason as much time as he needed to shimmy his way out of his hiding spot.
He came out on the other side of the bed, choosing to walk over to Bruce. Fiddling with his shirt sleeves with his gaze downcast he apologized, simply saying “I’m sorry” as he refused to look at Bruce.
Bruce could tell his face was still red and puffy from the tears, even with the boy's curls falling further into his face.
Leaning forward slowly – to not startle the nervous boy further – Bruce stilled Jason’s hands. Holding them still with his left hand, he reached up to Brush back the sleep-crazed curls with his right, thumbing away the remaining tear tracks as he did so. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
It wasn’t often that Jason took the first step, he had grown up like a feral kitten. But in this moment – with absolutely no grace – Jason flung himself into Bruce’s lap. Burying his face into the crock of Bruce’s neck as he wrapped his arms halfway around him.
Bruce knew Jason still had a long way to go to feel fully safe in the Manor, in this pieced together family. But maybe, just maybe, soon enough he would realize he was Bruce’s son too.