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1.
Jason blamed Roy.
Over the course of their friendship-slash-partnership-slash-whatever the fuck their relationship was now that they were fucking but not talking about it, Jason had been to Star City enough times to become familiar with the place. He still hated the entire state of California with a burning East Coast passion and would sooner die a second time than admit to enjoying an In-N-Out burger, but if the time he spent with his best friend-slash-partner-slash-fuck buddy wasn’t enough to make Jason’s cross-country trips worth his while, at least one other good thing had come out of them: He’d discovered the magic that was Trader Joe’s.
Jason had a special relationship with food. Everyone who knew him knew this. Childhood malnutrition would do that to a person. He’d learned how to cook in his teen years from one of the best (Alfred Pennyworth himself), and now that he was an independent, mostly-functioning adult who could afford to treat himself, he liked to keep his kitchen stocked with high-quality, nutritional ingredients (and an adequate amount of junk food, because life was about balance).
In his quest to cultivate a culinary oasis for himself in his shitty studio apartment, Jason had developed strong opinions about grocery stores. Grocery store selection was an integral part of the food preparation process. He’d narrowed down his options to three stores: Costco, because he liked to save money buying in bulk when he had the requisite storage space and their meat department was unparalleled; Giant, because it was the closest to where he lived and had a wide selection; and Trader Joe’s, because it carried certain products that nowhere else did. He rotated between the three depending on his weekly needs.
There was only one Trader Joe’s in all of Gotham. It was on the north side of the island: the affluent area, where million-dollar townhomes lined the streets, with their tidy flower boxes and brown brick exteriors. There was a Whole Foods right beside it. Jason wouldn’t be caught dead in a Whole Foods; hadn’t set foot in one since he was fifteen, tagging along with Alfred on grocery day. It was exactly the sort of place a Wayne would shop: overpriced, pretentious.
It was exactly the sort of place the Waynes did shop. This specific Whole Foods, in fact – the one next door to the only Trader Joe’s in Gotham – was where Alfred came once a week to restock the kitchen at Wayne Manor. This alone had almost convinced Jason to avoid Trader Joe’s entirely. But Jason was willing to make a lot of sacrifices in the name of good food. Apparently this was one of them.
It had been six months since Jason had started shopping there. He never went on Tuesdays, because Tuesday was grocery day for the Waynes, and this was how he managed never to encounter Alfred in front of the store or in the parking lot.
He had, however, encountered Steph. This wasn’t so bad. Steph wasn’t actually family, in the technical sense of the word, and when they both happened to be shopping on the same day, she had the good sense to ignore Jason. They’d once stood elbow-to-elbow examining the “New Arrivals” endcap and managed to act as though they were perfect strangers.
They kept up this streak until one fateful evening, when Roy called last-minute to tell Jason he’d be in town (with an accompanying winky face and eggplant emoji, because the man had no class). It was Roy’s birthday. Jason didn’t know if that meant anything: if Roy just happened to be in the area and wanted to spend his birthday with a friend-slash-partner-slash-fuck buddy instead of spending it alone, or if he specifically wanted to be with Jason on his birthday. And if it was the latter… well, what the fuck did that mean?
Either way, the part of Jason’s brain that stored all the manners he’d learned living with Alfred for three years told him he needed to be a good host and cook Roy a birthday dinner. Roy liked Jason’s cooking. (Everyone liked Jason’s cooking; Jason was an excellent chef.) And Jason didn’t have anything else to give Roy, nor did he know if he and Roy were the type of friends-slash-partners-slash-fuck buddies who got each other birthday gifts. A home-cooked meal struck the right balance of thoughtfulness and plausible deniability. Roy would appreciate it, but it didn’t have to mean anything.
The only question left was: What to cook?
Jason was standing in the frozen aisle at Trader Joe’s, glaring down his options like they’d each personally offended him, when he heard someone coming up behind him. It set off his internal alarms – the ones his father and the streets and Batman and the League of Assassins had repeatedly trained (and sometimes beaten) into him – but he ignored them, because he was in a small, crowded grocery store and people were allowed to stand behind him.
“You look distressed.”
Jason’s glare intensified. Fucking Stephanie. “I thought we had an agreement,” he growled, not deigning to look over his shoulder. If he ignored her, maybe she would go away.
“Yeah?” Steph replied, undeterred by Jason’s hostility. “What was our agreement?”
“I generously allow you to shop here and in return you pretend not to know me when we run into each other.”
Steph didn’t point out that she had been shopping here longer than Jason had, although she would have been well within her rights to do so. Instead she simply told him, “I don’t remember saying that.”
“It was an unspoken agreement.”
There was a brief pause, during which Jason (irrationally, he knew) hoped Steph would take the hint and leave him the fuck alone.
She did not. “Why are you distressed?”
Jason exhaled loudly through his nose and turned to face Steph, conceding the first point to her. She’d managed to capture his attention. “I’m not,” he lied. He wasn’t about to tell Stephanie Brown about his relationship dilemma. “Fuck off.”
Steph nodded at the products Jason had been surveying. “If you’re thinking about the Mandarin orange chicken, just go for it. It’s amazing.”
“I know it’s amazing,” Jason snapped. He wasn’t some Trader Joe’s novice. He snatched up a bag of Mandarin orange chicken and tossed it into his basket.
Steph regarded him coolly, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest. Her own mostly-empty shopping basket hung off of one elbow. “I’m not leaving you alone until you spill the beans,” she threatened. “And you can’t start a fight with me.”
“Why not?”
She grinned, a threatening, shark-like expression that the criminals of Gotham had no doubt learned to fear. “I’ll scream.”
Jason narrowed his eyes. Steph was playing dirty pool. If she made a scene, she’d get them both kicked out of the store. Jason didn’t have time to drive across town and buy the ingredients he needed at another store if he wanted dinner to be ready before Roy arrived, and he wasn’t going to buy them at fucking Whole Foods.
He caved. Two points to Stephanie. “I’m trying to decide what to make for dinner. Happy?”
“Just a casual dinner for one? A cozy night in by yourself?” she remarked in a fake-innocent tone that reeked of ulterior motives.
“Sure. Whatever.”
Another shark grin. Steph nodded to Jason’s basket. “Then what’s with the wine?”
There was a bottle of wine in Jason’s shopping basket. Non-alcoholic wine. He hadn’t committed to buying it yet. He needed to decide two things before he did. First, was he trying to make this evening romantic or not? Wine was supposed to be romantic. And second, would Roy appreciate the gesture, or would he think it was stupid and Jason was stupid and he’d made a mistake even associating with Jason in the first place?
Jason’s logical brain tried to shut down this line of reasoning by telling him that Roy wasn’t going to end their whole friendship-slash-partnership-slash-whatevership over a bottle of non-alcoholic wine, but his anxious brain persisted that it was totally possible, and was actually probably going to happen, and he should give up before he destroyed the closest thing he’d ever had to a real relationship just like he’d destroyed every other relationship in his life.
“A guy can’t drink wine alone in his apartment on a Thursday night without being interrogated about it?” he countered.
“It’s Wednesday,” Steph pointed out. “And that’s non-alcoholic wine.”
Jason bit back a curse. Nothing got past the Bats, did it?
“If you were having a night in by yourself, you wouldn’t be drinking this,” Steph pressed on, lifting the bottle. “So, I repeat: What’s with the wine?”
Maybe getting kicked out of the store wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “Fuck. Off.”
“Is it for your boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Steph rolled her eyes. “Sure. Pretend you have any secrets from all the world-class detectives in your life,” she said dryly. “Even if we weren’t investigative geniuses, your boyfriend is friends with Dick. Of course we’re gonna know. Dick can keep a secret, unless that secret has anything to do with someone else’s love life.”
Jason was going to send Dick a strongly-worded text message and accompanying picture of himself flipping the bird after this. “Roy is not my boyfriend,” he maintained through gritted teeth.
Steph raised both eyebrows. “You’re seriously trying to tell me you’re not hitting that?”
Fine. Fine. “I am. But he’s not my boyfriend.” Jason and Roy had both very carefully avoided any words that implied commitment: “boyfriend,” “relationship,” “dating,” “love.” And Jason sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one who broke the streak.
“You’re just planning a romantic dinner for two with your fuck buddy,” Steph said skeptically.
Jason loomed over her. “I’m this close to leaving and going to Costco,” he warned, even though he definitely didn’t have time to drive all the way to Costco. “I know you don’t have a membership.”
“I could sneak in.” Steph paused, looked in Jason’s shopping basket again, and added, “The wine is a nice touch, but it might come across like you’re trying too hard.”
Jason scowled. The last thing he wanted to do was take advice from Steph, of all people. But she was the only person here and Jason’s other option was going with his gut, which had steered him wrong so many times in the past that he knew not to trust it. And she was right about one thing: Jason didn’t want to come across like he was trying too hard. “What would you get, then?”
“What do you have at home?”
“Water, coffee, and soda,” Jason recited from memory. The only three non-alcoholic drinks he ever had at home.
“Soda is good,” Steph said, nodding. “Stick with soda.”
With that decided, Jason returned the non-alcoholic wine and Steph continued trailing after him as he made his way around the store, gathering the rest of the ingredients he needed for the dish he’d decided to make: pasta, snow peas, orange bell pepper, peanut sauce. Once he had everything, he made his way to the checkout lines, and Steph spoke up again. “You’re not done yet.”
“Yes I am.”
“No you’re not.” She flung out an arm, drawing Jason’s attention to the store entrance, where rows of fresh-cut flowers lined the wall. “This place has, like, the best floral arrangements.”
Jason stared at Steph like she’d suggested he break out into a musical number, complete with choreography, in the middle of the crowded grocery store. “This isn’t a romantic dinner for two,” he reminded her. And then, bitterly, “Since when do you even know anything about romance?”
“Since never. But I know no one ever gets guys flowers because our sexist society has arbitrarily decided flowers are for girls. Even though guys wanna be appreciated just as much as girls do.” She smiled, less shark-like. “How would you feel if Roy got you flowers?”
Jason considered the question carefully. How would he feel if Roy got him flowers?
Fuck. Maybe Steph was right. (Wouldn’t that just be the worst thing that had happened to him all day?) “What happened to not coming across like I’m trying too hard?” he questioned.
“With the flowers, you can just put ’em in a vase in the center of the table,” Steph explained. “They don’t have to be for Roy, unless you get the sense that he wants them to be for him, and then they can be. With the wine, there’s no way to talk your way out of that. You would never buy yourself non-alcoholic wine. See the difference?”
Jason did. The difference was plausible deniability. And he could appreciate that. The flowers would only be for Roy if Roy wanted them. Schrödinger’s flowers. (Jason smirked at the thought of how Bruce and Tim would react if they knew how wildly he was misappropriating that thought experiment.)
He left the checkout line and trudged over to the flowers. Steph, naturally, followed him.
“Which ones?” he asked, begrudgingly.
“Choose ones that match his personality,” she unhelpfully instructed.
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Sure you do.”
Jason grabbed an arrangement that had a lot of red in it. (But no roses. He wasn’t going that far. He wasn’t stupid.) “Now will you leave me alone?”
“Of course.” Steph held up her basket. “I still need to get my shopping done.”
She turned and headed for the produce section, leaving Jason standing with a handful of stems that were either going to make or break his relationship with Roy. He stared at the colorful arrangement. He could put it back. Steph didn’t have to know.
How would you feel if Roy got you flowers?
Jason put the flowers in his basket and returned to the checkout line. Maybe he was stupid.
He was about to find out.
2.
The next time Jason ran into Steph at Trader Joe’s, she asked him how the dinner and flowers had gone over, and he said something along the lines of, “Why don’t you ask Dick, since apparently he knows everything about my relationships?” She’d then called him immature, but hadn’t spoken to him since, so Jason was counting it as a win.
The truth was, the dinner and flowers had gone over very well. Not only had Jason gotten laid that night – which he’d already been planning on – but he’d landed his first actual, official date with Roy. (Three days later Dick had texted his congratulations, and Jason had ignored him and pretended not to know what he was referring to.)
For several months after that, Jason’s grocery shopping trips went blissfully uninterrupted. Winter turned to spring, and Gotham was on the cusp of summer. Things with Roy were getting progressively more serious; he and Jason had gone from best friends-slash-partners-slash-fuck buddies to best friends-slash-partners-slash-boyfriends, and Jason couldn’t be happier about it. Though he’d still gut anyone who implied he was a romantic.
It was June. Jason was perusing the aisles of Trader Joe’s, deciding between a few of his favorite snack foods. Fuck it, maybe he was going to just buy all of them. He was an adult. He could do whatever he wanted.
Unlike with Steph, he didn’t hear the person who came up behind him until they said his name: “Jason.”
On instinct, he struck out an arm behind him, which Cass dodged easily. Jason’s surge of adrenaline faded when he saw her face. “Hasn’t anyone told you not to sneak up on people like that?” he snapped. “What are you doing here?”
“Need help,” Cass said simply.
His brain still stuck in fight-or-flight mode, Jason immediately leapt to the worst-case scenario. Someone was dead, or dying. Someone was missing. The world was ending. “What happened? Who’s in trouble?”
“Me.”
Jason scanned Cass for injuries. She was wearing a tank top and shorts in the heat, and apart from some fading bruises along her shins – a bad landing, if he had to guess – she looked unharmed. Her posture was normal and there wasn’t any pain in her expression. Probably not injured, he decided.
He ran through a list of all the other reasons Cass would have come to him for help. Jason filled a very specific role in his siblings’ lives. Dick was the emotional support older brother and had known Bruce the longest and could therefore help with all manner of Bruce-related problems. Tim was tech support and gave good financial advice. Cass was freakishly good in a fight and, as the favorite child (though Dick and Damian both disputed this, everyone else knew it was true), could get Bruce to go along with things he wouldn’t normally agree to. And Damian was a powerful ally in many ways… if he could be convinced. Jason wasn’t yet familiar with Duke’s strengths, outside of his metahuman abilities, but he was sure the kid would find his niche.
Meanwhile, Jason had a specific set of skills, and he knew what they were. “Did you do something illegal?” he asked Cass, lowering his voice in the crowded store. “You need to get rid of a body? You need to lose the cops?”
Cass looked at him strangely. What? What else could she possibly need his help with?
“No,” she said, holding up an empty shopping basket. “Groceries.”
Jason stared at her, momentarily dumbstruck. “Why do you need my help with that?”
“You… shop here. Steph says.”
“I do.” Jason forced himself to stop brainstorming ways to get rid of a body and start focusing on the matter at hand, which was… grocery shopping. “Why are you shopping here, though?”
“Steph says… it’s the best.”
Fair enough. “She’s right. She shops here too. Why can’t she help you?”
“You’re… a better cook.”
Now it was all coming together. Yes, Jason was a better cook than Steph. He was also a better cook than anyone else in the Wayne family or among their associates, save for Alfred. (To be clear, this was not a high bar.) “You need to make something?” he guessed. Cass nodded.
Okay. Okay, sure. Jason could give advice, point Cass in the right direction, maybe send her a link to a recipe and tell her what ingredients to buy and what Alfred would have at the Manor. That wouldn’t be such a big deal. “What’s the occasion?”
“Father’s Day.”
Oh, fuck no. Never mind. Absolutely not. Jason took it back; that would be a big deal. That would be a huge deal. He wasn’t touching Father’s Day with a ten-foot pole. “You’re on your own.”
He turned away, but Cass caught him by the arm and blinked her brown eyes at him, a move Jason was sure worked on Bruce every time. “Please,” she begged.
“No,” Jason told her firmly. “Ask Alfred to help you.”
“Can’t. It’s… for him too.”
The roller coaster of Jason’s emotions swerved in a different direction. Helping Cass with a Father’s Day meal for Bruce was out of the question. Helping her with a Father’s Day meal for Bruce and Alfred… That was a different story.
“You won’t tell anyone I helped you,” Jason said dangerously. Least of all Bruce, he knew he didn’t need to add.
Cass nodded, looking serious. “Promise.”
Jason hesitated a moment longer. Cass really wasn’t asking that much, and he was already here, and he knew a lot of easy-but-delicious recipes, and it was for Alfred, for fuck’s sake, the man who’d taught Jason how to cook in the first place. “Fine,” he agreed. “For Alfred. What’s your skill level?”
Cass waved a hand back and forth to indicate “so-so.”
“Let’s do something vegetarian, then. Too many ways to fuck up cooking meat.” Plus, assuming this was a family meal, then Cass wouldn’t have to make something separate for Damian. “Is this for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or dessert?”
“Dinner.”
“Got any particular cuisine in mind?”
Cass shrugged. “Chinese?” she suggested.
That’d work. “Fried rice with extra veggies,” he decided. Alfred and Bruce both liked to eat healthy – hence the veggies – and no one could object to fried rice. Jason motioned for Cass to follow him. “Come on.”
They gathered ingredients: a white onion, some carrots, broccoli, snow peas, cabbage, bell peppers, ginger, red pepper, brown rice, baby kale, soy sauce, sesame oil. Jason hadn’t been in the kitchen in Wayne Manor in many years, so he wasn’t going to rely on Alfred having anything other than the basics: salt, pepper, et cetera. It was better to buy something Cass didn’t end up needing because Alfred already had it than to leave her missing an ingredient because Jason assumed Alfred would have it and he didn’t.
“I’m texting you the recipe,” Jason said, tapping away at his phone. “I’ve included very specific instructions. I want you to read everything and tell me if it makes sense and sounds doable.” He hit “send.” Cass’ phone buzzed in her pocket; she took it out and read, then nodded.
“Makes sense.”
“Are you sure? Do not call me if you need help while you’re making it. I won’t answer.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Jason squinted at her. He wasn’t familiar with Cass’ skill level in the kitchen. He knew Bruce and Dick were hopeless. He assumed Tim was as well. Damian, he figured, could go either way. “If something goes really wrong,” he relented, “You can call me. Actually, FaceTime me; I’ll need to see it. But only as a last resort.”
Cass nodded. “Okay.”
Jason pointed her toward the front of the store. “Go check out. Wait, no.” He had a thought. It was probably a bad thought, but Jason wasn’t known for his impulse control, was he? “Get some flowers.”
“Flowers?” Cass looked confused.
Jason couldn’t believe he was doing this. But he remembered what Steph had said about no one ever getting men flowers because of arbitrary sexist standards dictating that flowers were for women, even though men wanted to be appreciated just as much as women did.
Flowers weren’t just exchanged for romantic reasons. People got their mothers flowers on Mother’s Day. Alfred (and Bruce) would probably appreciate some flowers on Father’s Day. “For Alfred and Bruce,” Jason said. He walked with Cass over to the flowers.
“Which ones?” she asked.
“You decide.”
He watched Cass carefully deliberate, picking up the different arrangements, examining them, and putting them back. She finally settled on a bouquet with lots of greenery and jewel tones, placing them carefully in her basket. She turned to Jason with a smile. “Jason?” she said.
“What?” he replied. Please don’t ask me to do anything else.
“Thanks.”
She walked over to the checkout lines. Jason looked down at his own empty shopping basket. Right. He’d almost forgotten he’d come here to buy himself groceries.
Sunday came – Father’s Day – and Jason didn’t hear from Cass. She didn’t text, or call, or FaceTime, even though he kept his phone next to him all day and checked it every few minutes.
Finally, shortly before heading out for the night, he decided he should probably check, just to make sure.
JASON TODD: Did everything go ok?
Jason stared at his phone, and the message he’d sent. A minute passed, then two. Three dots appeared, indicating that Cass had seen his text and was responding.
CASSANDRA WAYNE: went great! they loved it *smiling emoji*
JASON TODD: I forgot to tell you which wine to pair with it.
Alfred (and Bruce) enjoyed a glass of wine with dinner. Jason wouldn’t call himself an expert, but he knew the basics, knowledge he’d absorbed from living with Alfred and learning to cook from him. He would have advised Cass to go with a white wine with this particular dish. Probably a chardonnay.
CASSANDRA WAYNE: dick was in charge of wine
Oh, God. That had the potential to go horribly.
JASON TODD: What did he pick?
CASSANDRA WAYNE: chard
Or not. Maybe, like Jason, Dick had absorbed Alfred’s knowledge of wine pairings through osmosis. Or maybe he’d accidentally gotten it right. (Or maybe he and Jason were both wrong. That was always a possibility.)
JASON TODD: Good.
CASSANDRA WAYNE: thanks again *smiling emoji*
All these “thank you’s” and smiling emojis were making Jason feel weird. Like he’d actually done something good for his family for once. He wasn’t used to being helpful, except when he worked with the other Bats on a case, and even then, he was pretty sure he spent more time arguing with his father and siblings about methods and appropriate use of force than he did fighting bad guys or solving mysteries.
JASON TODD: You didn’t tell anyone?
CASSANDRA WAYNE: no
No one knew Jason had helped Cass prepare a lovely Father’s Day dinner for Alfred (and Bruce). Bruce didn’t know; that was unquestionably a good thing. Jason didn’t want Bruce to develop unrealistic expectations for him. Alfred didn’t know either; that was less good. Alfred deserved to know that all the effort he’d put into teaching Jason how to cook hadn’t gone to waste. (Somebody deserved to know that all the effort everyone had collectively put into Jason hadn’t gone completely to waste.)
It was for the best, Jason told himself. He didn’t want Alfred to develop unrealistic expectations for him either.
JASON TODD: Then you’re welcome.
He put his phone away and got ready to go out on patrol.
When he returned, there were three picture messages waiting for him, all from Cass. One was an artfully cropped photo of the meal Cass had cooked. It looked delicious. Jason approved.
The second showed Alfred and Bruce sitting at the dining room table with their Father’s Day dinner laid out in front of them, glasses filled with Dick’s chardonnay. They were both smiling for the camera (well, as close as Alfred or Bruce ever came to smiling for a camera).
The third showed the entire family sitting at the table with Alfred and Bruce. Someone must have set the camera up on a tripod or something, because everyone, including Cass, was in the frame. Bruce was at the head of the table, Alfred, Damian, and the new kid – Duke – on his left and Dick, Cass, and Tim on his right.
There was an eighth place setting next to Duke’s. The chair was empty.
3.
Jason was spending less time in Gotham and more time with Roy. Gotham was still home, and it always would be, but leaving felt like a vacation, in a way. It cleared his head. He wasn’t mired in family drama or Bat business all the time.
Just like a vacation, coming back was equal parts disappointment and relief. Disappointment because it meant he had to come back to reality, where he lived in a lonely apartment and pretended it was the life he wanted. Relief because everything here was familiar, these streets where he’d grown up, these streets he protected by night.
If he and Roy kept this up, Jason was eventually going to have to choose. There was no way Roy would ever move to Gotham, and Jason would rather shoot himself than live in California, but they could find a place they both liked. If it ever came to that. If they both wanted to settle down, and do it together.
In the meantime, Jason was here, in Gotham. And so was the family he was trying to ignore.
He still ran into Steph at Trader Joe’s, and now Cass or Duke were sometimes with her. Cass would give him a little wave, and Jason would acknowledge her with a nod. Duke would follow Steph’s lead and pretend Jason didn’t exist, except to sneak glances at him when he thought Jason wasn’t looking. This was the extent of their interaction.
On a day when he’d only just returned to Gotham from a week-long team-up with Roy that had doubled as a convenient excuse to have a ridiculous amount of sex, Jason saw another familiar face during his weekly shopping trip. This time, though, the person in question didn’t sneak up behind him in an aisle.
This time, Jason saw them standing outside Whole Foods, right next to Trader Joe’s, with grocery bags in their arms, waiting for someone or something.
Jason was sitting in the parking lot, still wearing his motorcycle helmet. He frowned at the kid – not a kid anymore, as of recently – who was blocking his path into the store and weighed his options.
He could leave and go to Giant or Costco instead, but he’d really been looking forward to restocking his favorites, and it felt like admitting defeat to change his whole plan for the day just because the last person he wanted to see (okay, second-to-last, after Bruce) was in his way.
He could walk right by and hope the kid didn’t say anything. He probably wouldn’t. He probably didn’t like Jason any more than Jason liked him. Even if their relationship had improved somewhat over the past few years as tensions had cooled and Jason had taken several much-needed chill pills, attempted murder wasn’t the sort of thing most people got over easily.
Or he could confront the kid. For what purpose? To start a fight? Over what? Or maybe just to acknowledge each other’s presence and move past it. Get the inevitable awkwardness out of the way. “I see you’re shopping for groceries; I am too. Look at that, something we have in common: We both eat food. Anyway, see you around, but hopefully not too soon.”
It wasn’t that Jason hadn’t interacted with Tim since the aforementioned murder attempt. They’d even worked together, though not extensively. They knew how to coexist in costume. But as civilians, they’d avoided each other like the plague.
That was how it went for Jason these days. In costume, Red Hood could be tentative allies with Batman and his Batlings, including Red Robin. Out of costume, though, he didn’t have a helmet to hide behind. He could be Red Hood, Batman’s sometimes-ally. But he couldn’t be Jason, Bruce’s son. And he definitely couldn’t be Jason, Tim’s brother. There was no version of events where that relationship worked out. Not after everything that had happened.
Jason pulled off his helmet. This was ridiculous. All he had to do was walk past Tim. He was being dramatic.
When Jason was halfway across the parking lot, Tim spotted him. His eyes widened marginally. Jason glared, silently warning Tim not to say anything. Tim took the hint and looked away. Jason walked past him, into Trader Joe’s, and breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.
Jason resented Tim and everything he stood for, but at least Tim – unlike Steph and Cass – knew how to stay out of Jason’s business.
Jason got his shopping done as efficiently as usual, checked out, and left the store. He glanced to his right.
Tim was still there. Jason stopped in his tracks and looked at him strangely. Why hadn’t he left yet?
Tim, sensing the eyes on him, turned and stared back. He blinked and answered Jason’s unspoken question: “I’m waiting for Conner.” He held up his brown paper grocery bags. “The team is throwing a party and I’m in charge of snacks.” “The team” meaning either the Teen Titans or Young Justice. Jason could never keep track of which of his siblings were on which teams at any given time. Mostly because he didn’t care.
Jason raised an eyebrow derisively. “And you decided to go to Whole Foods?”
“Where else would I go?” Tim countered.
Jason held up his Trader Joe’s bags, and used them to gesture to the entrance to Trader Joe’s, with an implied, “Duh.”
“I’ve never been,” Tim said.
“You’ve never been to Trader Joe’s,” Jason deadpanned.
“No.”
Jason shook his head. “I knew there was something wrong with you. What did you buy?”
Tim held out his grocery bags for Jason to look inside. Jason sneered at their contents. “Ugh. How did I know you’d be terrible at this?” He put down his own bags to sift through Tim’s, making sure there wasn’t any good shit hidden underneath all the boring garbage he’d bought. There wasn’t. “Who all is coming to this party? Just you and your stupid friends?” Jason needed to know so he could decide how much he cared.
“No, any current or former members are invited,” Tim explained.
Current or former members. That implied Tim was talking about the Titans. Which meant there was a chance Roy would be there. (Roy would be there if Wally and Dick were gonna be there, and Wally and Dick were probably gonna be there.) Jason couldn’t subject his best friend-slash-partner-slash-boyfriend to this bullshit. He sighed. “Follow me.”
Jason turned and walked back into Trader Joe’s. Tim made no move to follow him, and Jason glanced impatiently over his shoulder. “Why?” Tim asked.
“I’m only going to do this once,” Jason snapped. “Not for you. For Trader Joe.”
“For…” Tim sounded confused.
Jason sighed again, louder this time, grabbed Tim by his sleeve, and dragged him into the store. “Get in here.”
He handed Tim a shopping basket and led him past the flowers by the entrance. “They’ve always got good flowers here if you’re trying to impress a date,” he said gruffly.
“You’re speaking from experience?”
“Don’t talk. I’m trying to forget it’s you. If you talk, you’ll ruin it.” As they walked past endcaps, Jason indicated each of them. “Seasonal items, new items.” He motioned to the back of the store. “Produce section. But you need snacks.” Jason wove through the aisles; he knew where everything was. He grabbed what they needed, rapidly filling Tim’s basket.
In front of the chip display: “Some cheesy potato chips. Regular pita chips in case anyone there is boring. Might as well get some Everything But the Bagel chips too.” An assortment of dips to go with the chips. Then, “Mini chocolate chip cookies. Chocolate-covered pretzels. The best animal crackers you’ll ever taste. And you’ll need these.”
Tim inspected the box Jason had handed him. “Knockoff Oreos?”
“Watch your language,” Jason scolded, pointing a threatening finger at Tim. “Joe-Joe’s are better than Oreos and they always will be. Don’t listen to anything Dick says otherwise.” He stood in the middle of an aisle with his hands on his hips, thinking. “You got the lame stuff already so you should be good to go.”
Tim frowned into his overflowing shopping basket. “This is a lot of food.”
“How many speedsters will be at this party?” Jason prompted.
Tim’s frown deepened. “I should get more Joe-Joe’s,” he decided.
By the time Tim and Jason made their way to the checkout, Tim was precariously balancing a mountain of snack food in his arms on top of the basket. Jason didn’t offer to help him with any of it. He’d done his part.
When they were standing in line, Tim’s phone started ringing. “Can you answer that for me? It’s in my jacket pocket.”
“No,” Jason said. Tim cocked his hip and gave Jason a look. Jason didn’t know when Tim had gotten the idea that he was allowed to give Jason looks.
“Come on, what if it’s an emergency?”
Tim had a point. If someone was hurt or in trouble or dying… “Fine.” Jason pulled Tim’s phone out of his pocket – Tim readjusted the bags of chips in his arms to give him access – and swiped to answer it.
“What?” Jason said impatiently into the receiver.
The voice on the other line was Kon’s. “Who is this?”
“Jason.”
“Oh.” Kon paused. “Is Tim dead?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Tim’s checking out.”
“Of the grocery store. Not of… life. Right?”
Tim reached the front of the line and the cashier started scanning and bagging his items. “For fuck’s sake,” Jason complained, “I haven’t tried to kill Tim in three years. He’s alive. He’s right here. Say hello, Tim.” He held the phone to Tim’s ear.
“Hey,” Tim said. “You waiting outside? … Be right there.”
Jason hung up the phone and returned it to Tim, whose hands were now free. He swiped his credit card and he and Jason left the store to find Kon waiting for them outside, near where Tim had been standing.
“What took you so long?” Tim asked.
“Oh, you know, the usual. Hero stuff,” Kon answered with a smirk and a shrug. “Got everything?”
“I hope so.”
Kon noticed all the bags Tim was carrying, some with the green Whole Foods logo and others with the red Trader Joe’s logo. “You went to both stores?”
“Apparently I needed to be converted to the Cult of Joe.”
Kon turned to Jason. “What are you doing here?” He sounded suspicious still.
“Proselytizing,” Jason deadpanned.
Kon narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what that means.” Apparently deciding he didn’t care, he asked Tim, “Ready to go?”
“Yeah, let’s go.” Tim hesitated for a moment, then added, “Thanks for the help, Jason.”
“Don’t mention it,” Jason said firmly. “Really. Never mention it, to anyone. Ever.”
That evening, Jason got a text from Roy about the party.
ROY HARPER: super lame tt reunion party tonight wish u were here
“Wish you were here.” Jason was alone, so he allowed himself to smile.
JASON TODD: Didn’t get an invitation.
ROY HARPER: u were on the team! not a lot but still
JASON TODD: It’s fine. I didn’t want to go.
Jason was sure he could have landed an invitation if he’d wanted to. Dick would’ve easily let him tag along. But spending a few hours at a party full of teenage and young adult superheroes who all knew each other and had history together sounded like a nightmare. Especially when four of those superheroes were Tim and his closest friends.
If Jason wanted to hang out with Roy, he could do so one-on-one and have a much better time.
ROY HARPER: good food at least. dick & wally are here. dick keeps tryin to ask me abt u smh
Jason didn’t mention that the food was only good because he’d intervened on Roy’s behalf. That was a story Jason wanted to tell Roy in person. So he focused on the latter half of Roy’s text.
Dick had been trying, ever since Jason and Roy made their relationship official, to use his friendship with Roy to get closer to Jason. Jason wasn’t taking the bait. He knew this: If he let Dick back into his life, it would be a slippery slope to letting his whole family back in. Dick would make sure of it.
Dick had it in his head that Jason missed everyone and wanted to be part of the family again. He was wrong, of course. Jason liked his life. He didn’t need attachments. Other than Roy.
JASON TODD: Typical.
ROY HARPER: im coming to gotham after this. want a preview?
Jason’s smile twisted into a smirk.
JASON TODD: Hell yeah.
Roy replied with a bathroom mirror selfie. He was leaning back slightly and lifting the top half of his bright red, skin-tight uniform to shamelessly show off his six pack. Jason could tell he was flexing his biceps, too. He’d taken his mask off; his eyes were hooded and he was biting his lower lip. It was the most obvious attempt at seduction Jason had ever seen. It worked like a charm.
JASON TODD: Don’t take too long.
ROY HARPER: limber up for me, gonna be a long night
Jason knew Roy wasn’t referring to fighting crime.
4.
Roy was visiting. This, by itself, wasn’t anything to write home about. Roy visited Jason all the time. Not quite as much as Jason visited Roy, but still regularly enough that it felt routine.
But this time, Roy had brought Lian.
Jason had a good relationship with Lian. At least, he liked to think he did. She had a nickname for him (“Jayjay”) and she drew a picture of him every time he visited. He had them all hanging on his refrigerator. She gave him lots of hugs and asked him to read to her, and when he cooked dinner she ate every bite.
But Lian had never visited Jason in Gotham. Until now.
It had been Roy’s idea, naturally. Though Roy hadn’t said as much, Jason recognized it for what it was: taking things to the next level. Jason was torn between happiness and fear. Happiness because he wanted to take his relationship with Roy to the next level. Fear because he didn’t know what was waiting for him there. He wasn’t ready.
Roy had been dropping hints about moving in together. Jason had been purposefully ignoring them. He liked the idea of seeing Roy all the time, every day, and going to bed with him every night. But the more time Jason spent with Roy, the greater his chances were of fucking up.
Roy and Lian had been in town for two days and were staying the whole week. Jason was a bundle of nerves. Today they were in Blüdhaven, visiting Dick. Jason was taking the opportunity to get out and clear his head, and also get some errands done. Which meant he was at Trader Joe’s.
Actually, he was just outside Trader Joe’s. He’d been about to walk in when he heard a familiar voice.
“If you would just listen to me—”
Jason would recognize the voice of his pint-sized, rage-fueled youngest sibling anywhere. It was coming from Whole Foods; someone had just walked through the automatic doors, and Jason had caught a snippet of what sounded like a heated debate.
Jason’s first assumption was that Damian must have accompanied Alfred on his weekly shopping trip, and he spared a moment to wonder why Alfred was shopping today instead of his usual grocery day, Tuesday.
Of everyone in the family, Jason had the most loyalty to Alfred. Alfred had never done anything to Jason. He was the grandfather Jason had never had. And it sounded like he was about to have a Damian Wayne temper tantrum on his hands. Jason couldn’t let him deal with that on his own.
Jason objected to Whole Foods on principle, but if he had to wade into enemy waters to rescue Alfred, so be it. He braced himself and entered the store, following the sound of Damian’s shouting.
“This never would have happened had you started on the correct side of the store!”
It was coming from the back of the store, near the deli, so that was where Jason went. He was walking down the juice aisle when he heard another voice.
It wasn’t Alfred’s.
“There is no ‘correct’ side of the store. You can go in either direction,” Bruce said. His tone of voice signaled that Damian was dancing on his last nerve. Bruce had used that tone on Jason countless times in Jason’s youth. Jason knew it well. He stopped in his tracks.
Jason had been more than willing to come to Alfred’s aid. But if Bruce was the one wrangling the thirteen-year-old problem child, well, that changed things. Jason wasn’t in the habit of helping Bruce. (Except with Bat stuff, occasionally, but that was different.)
Jason lingered by the juice and listened in on Bruce and Damian’s escalating argument while he debated what to do: leave, knowing neither Bruce nor Damian had seen or heard him and they would be none the wiser that he’d ever even set foot in Whole Foods, or stay, and… and help. Like he’d helped Tim. Reluctantly, but he’d still done it.
Jason didn’t know what was going on with him. He was being uncharacteristically nice to people lately. He didn’t know whether to blame it on Roy and Lian’s influence – whether they were sanding away his sharp edges – or whether it was all just part of growing up. He was firmly in his twenties now. His teenage angst was fading. He was still an asshole, but maybe not all the time.
Was that a good thing?
“If you start in the produce aisle, all of the fruits and vegetables end up at the bottom of your cart and get squished,” Damian was telling his father. “Although I suppose that doesn’t matter, since you seem to have gone out of your way to choose the most bruised, disgusting-looking produce I’ve ever laid eyes on. Look at these bananas, Father. This is a disgrace.”
Jason snorted quietly. He had to admit, he did enjoy listening to Bruce get reamed out by his kid. That would never not be entertaining.
“I wanted to start in the produce aisle so we could finish in the frozen section,” Bruce rebutted. “I didn’t want to have frozen goods defrosting in our cart for too long.”
“That wouldn’t be a concern if we made this a quick trip, but you neglected to consider the fact that you can’t read your own children’s handwriting. If you had seen to it that your other children were properly educated, they might be able to write more legibly.”
Jason heard Bruce sigh. “Do you want to wait outside?” Bruce asked Damian.
“Absolutely not,” Damian snapped. “I do not trust you to successfully complete this trip on your own.”
Truth be told, Jason didn’t trust Bruce to successfully complete a shopping trip on his own either. He wondered why Bruce was here instead of Alfred.
Mostly out of curiosity – at least, that was what he told himself – Jason approached, revealing himself to Bruce and Damian. “You’re causing a scene,” he reprimanded, arms crossed.
Bruce and Damian wore twin expressions of surprise. They looked even more alike when they did that. “Jason?” Bruce said, his frustration with Damian forgotten.
“I know for a fact you don’t shop here, Todd,” Damian snapped, his frustration very much not forgotten.
“And don’t you forget it,” Jason rebutted. “No, I shop next door, but I could hear the two of you yelling at each other all the way from the parking lot.” An exaggeration, but not much of one. To Bruce, he asked, “Why are you here instead of Alfred?”
“Alfred is out of town, taking a well-deserved vacation,” Bruce told him. “I thought I could handle the grocery shopping.” I thought wrong, his tone implied.
“Your first mistake was coming on a Monday,” Jason said, businesslike. “This place restocks on Tuesday mornings. That’s why Alfred shops on Tuesday afternoon.” Jason gestured to Damian. “Your second mistake was bringing him along.”
“I had to pick Damian up from school,” Bruce protested.
Jason continued, undeterred. “Your third mistake was making a paper list instead of a digital one.” He plucked the list from Bruce’s grasp. “You should have just texted in the family group chat to ask what everyone needed.”
“Alfred always makes a paper grocery list.”
“Alfred knows how to read everyone’s handwriting. I agree with you about the direction, though. Ending with the frozen section is the right idea. And you won’t run into Damian’s produce problem if you keep the produce up here where it won’t get squished.” Jason indicated the cart’s child seat.
It was clear Jason’s intervention was desperately needed. Bruce didn’t know the first thing about grocery shopping. Jason shook his head and held up the list. “Take out your phone; I’m gonna read this and you’re gonna type it out.” Bruce complied, and Jason started reading. “Brown rice. Eggs. Orange juice, no pulp. Greek yogurt. Kale.” He continued until Bruce had a typed version of the list, and then Jason folded up the piece of paper and stuck it in his pocket. He peered into the cart at what they had so far. Damian was right about the produce.
“I’m gonna go switch out this produce for the good shit,” he said, then thought better of it. “Actually, no, I need you to come with me; you’re forty years old and it’s honestly embarrassing that you can’t recognize good bananas.”
Jason led the way to the produce section, putting back everything Bruce had collected. “Damian. Do you know how to pick good bananas?”
“Of course I do,” Damian said. He stood in front of the display for a moment, considering, and selected a bunch of perfectly yellow, minimally bruised bananas. Jason shook his head.
“Wrong. Those are already ripe. You want a bunch that are almost ripe but not quite there yet. Otherwise they’ll go brown too quickly, no one will eat them, and they’ll all go to waste.”
Jason took Bruce and Damian through the entire store, chastising them – mostly Bruce – for their lack of very basic knowledge until they finally reached the checkout. Jason gawped at the receipt as they were walking out.
“Jesus Christ,” he exclaimed. “This is highway robbery.” He stuck the receipt back in one of the bags. “Damian. What did we learn today?”
“That Father doesn’t know how to effectively navigate a grocery store, a fundamental life skill that every functioning adult should possess,” Damian recited.
“Exactly.”
Bruce tolerated Jason and Damian’s insults. “Thank you for your help, Jason,” he said. “Let me pay for your groceries. How much?”
“I can buy my own groceries,” Jason tried to say.
Bruce held out a hundred dollar bill. Jason glared at it. “Take it,” Bruce said. “You don’t have to use it for groceries if you don’t want to. I hear Trader Joe’s has good flowers.”
“Who told you that?” Jason asked suspiciously.
“Cassie got me some last Father’s Day.”
Jason hesitated another moment, then took the hundred dollar bill. He’d get something nice for Roy and Lian. Including flowers.
After a quick trip to Trader Joe’s and a few more errands, Jason made it home in time to start cooking dinner. Roy and Lian arrived shortly thereafter.
“We’re back!” Roy announced, forewarning Jason of an incoming five-year-old. Seconds later, Lian collided with the back of Jason’s legs, hugging him tightly. Jason reached behind him and patted her on the back.
“You’re just in time,” Jason told both of them. “I’ve got dinner ready.”
Roy entered the kitchen as well, one hand on Lian’s shoulder and one hand on Jason’s, kissing Jason on the cheek. “Smells delicious,” he proclaimed.
Lian released her hold on Jason. “Uncle Dick says ‘hi!’”
“Did you have fun at his house?” Jason asked, using the term “house” very, very liberally.
“Yeah, lots,” Lian said. “He can do so many tricks! He can juggle!”
Jason exchanged a look with Roy. “She’s never seen him juggle before?” That was the oldest trick in Dick’s book.
“He ups the ante every time,” Roy explained. “This time he ate the apples he was juggling.” Honestly, Jason was pleasantly surprised Dick had fresh fruit on hand in the culinary dead zone that was his apartment. Good for him. “What did you do today?” Roy added.
“Went grocery shopping.” Jason crossed the kitchen to the Trader Joe’s bag sitting on the counter. “I got you something, Lili.”
Lian’s eyes lit up. “What is it?”
Jason withdrew a mixed bouquet of yellow flowers and presented them to Lian. He glanced up and saw a look cross Roy’s face, surprise and tenderness and love. It wormed its way into Jason’s heart, and he returned his attention to Lian.
“Yellow is still your favorite color, right?”
“Yes!” Lian exclaimed.
“What do we say, Lian?” Roy prompted.
“Thank you, Jayjay!”
Lian hugged Jason again, and Jason smiled. “Let me put these in a vase for you,” he said. “Roy, can you take the noodles off the stove? They should be done.”
Roy plated the food Jason had prepared while Jason trimmed the flower stems and arranged them in a vase, setting it in front of Lian’s spot at the table. They all sat down together to eat.
Jason didn’t tell Roy that Bruce had technically paid for their dinner, and the flowers, and the rest of their home-cooked meals for the week. No one needed to know. It was, Jason had decided, fair compensation for teaching a forty-year-old man and his thirteen-year-old son how to shop for groceries.
5.
Roy’s birthday, and Roy and Jason’s one-year anniversary, came and went. They spent it in Gotham, and this time Roy came alone, leaving Lian with her grandparents, as he usually did when he traveled.
Jason had never been in a real relationship, ever, for any amount of time, let alone for a whole year. The only anniversaries he’d ever had were the anniversary of his mother’s death, his adoption anniversary (which he still remembered but didn’t celebrate), and the especially grim anniversary of his own (and his other mother’s) death.
This anniversary was unlike any of those. It didn’t have any gruesome or bittersweet memories attached. And he didn’t have to spend it alone. That was new. It felt special.
A lot of things about Jason’s relationship with Roy felt new and special. And while that sometimes contributed to the anxiety Jason had surrounding their future and the likelihood of something bad happening, Jason knew those feelings weren’t based in reality.
The reality was, he’d made a ton of progress since coming back from the dead. He was learning to let people in again, or maybe for the first time.
Jason was under no delusions that he’d completely recovered from his trauma. He probably never would. He wasn’t even really trying to. With Roy, it had just… happened.
Roy called Jason out, sometimes, for the lack of effort he put into recovery. Jason rolled his eyes when Roy tried to talk about it, even though he knew Roy was right. Roy was usually right, damn him.
Speaking of people who were usually right, Jason ran into another one of them – where else – at Trader Joe’s, a few weeks after his and Roy’s anniversary.
Dick was the last member of his family who Jason would have expected to see in a grocery store in Gotham. First of all, Dick didn’t live in Gotham. Second, he wasn’t the sort of responsible, self-sufficient adult who shopped for groceries. Dick was exactly the sort of person who takeout and delivery was invented for.
Which probably explained why Dick was hovering near the milk, looking lost and confused. Jason rolled his eyes. If he was going to have to teach another grown man how to navigate a grocery store, he was staging a family-wide intervention.
Just as Jason was about to approach and deliver a lecture on nutrition and basic self-care, a second thought occurred to him, an alternative explanation for Dick’s presence.
Underneath the friendly, smiling exterior, Dick was easily the most devious member of the Wayne family. The fact that he was here, in a grocery store Jason had never known him to shop at, in a city he didn’t live in, which just about every one of their siblings knew Jason frequented, rank of ulterior motives.
If word had gotten around the family that Trader Joe’s was the best place to find and corner Jason anytime anyone needed to talk to him about something that wasn’t Bat-related, Jason was going to be supremely annoyed and stage an intervention of a very different sort.
“What are you doing here?” Jason demanded. Dick turned, appearing unsurprised to see him. A point toward Jason’s latter theory.
“Shopping,” Dick said, wearing a perfectly innocent “who, me?” expression that Jason knew well.
Jason wasn’t falling for it. “Bullshit. You don’t shop for groceries. You wait until you’re completely out of food, live on takeout for another week or two, and then have groceries delivered. Why are you even in Gotham?”
“I come to Gotham all the time,” Dick answered calmly, unfazed by Jason’s hostility. He was used to it. “My entire family lives here. I don’t know if you knew that.” He shrugged a shoulder, lightening the impact of his sarcastic remark. “Besides, it’s Thanksgiving weekend.”
Jason paused with a scathing rebuttal on the tip of his tongue. Had Thanksgiving seriously already happened? And Jason had just… missed it? He hadn’t even noticed?
It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened – over the course of his life, Jason had probably missed more Thanksgivings than he’d celebrated – but it was still a shock.
Maybe it was the fact that Jason had just celebrated a birthday-slash-anniversary, breaking his years-long streak of ignoring the passage of time completely. He didn’t celebrate his own birthday, or any of his siblings’. He certainly didn’t celebrate Bruce’s birthday or Father’s Day (or Mother’s Day, for that matter). He didn’t go to the Manor on Christmas or Hanukkah or Thanksgiving.
Was that sad? That was kind of sad, right?
“Did you forget?” Dick said, echoing Jason’s thoughts. Jason hated when he did that.
“No,” he lied.
“You forgot.”
Jason glared. “It’s not like I celebrate Thanksgiving.”
“You used to,” Dick pointed out. “It used to be your favorite.”
That was also true. Teenage Jason had loved Thanksgiving. A whole holiday just for food? Of course he’d loved it. And Alfred had cooked that food, which made it even better.
“There’s a lot of things I used to do that I don’t anymore,” Jason said. And then, using Dick’s own words against him: “I don’t know if you knew that.”
Dick didn’t flinch. He was so difficult to get a rise out of these days. Jason blamed it on all the time Dick had spent with Damian. A certain amount of zen was required to deal with that kid, especially back in the early days, when Dick had been in charge of him.
“We missed having you,” Dick said.
“Shut the hell up,” Jason retorted, already losing steam. This conversation was going nowhere.
“Alfred set a place and made extra food for you, just in case you decided to come.”
Like the photos Cass had sent him of Father’s Day dinner. Did Alfred do that every holiday? Every family dinner? How often did Jason’s family set a place for him, on the off chance that he might show up? How many times had Jason unknowingly disappointed them?
How much longer before they gave up on him completely? Would they ever? Did Jason want them to?
Jason shoved these questions aside. Plenty of time to torture himself with them later. “Why are you here?” he repeated, wanting the truth this time.
“We’re out of milk and I volunteered to go.” Dick reached over and grabbed a gallon of milk. “I chose this place because it’s close to home and Whole Foods is a ripoff. Have I adequately explained myself to you?”
“Sure. Whatever.” Jason didn’t believe Dick for a second, but it wasn’t worth sticking around any longer just to hear Dick confirm what Jason already knew.
Jason was going to have to rethink his grocery shopping strategy. He didn’t want to have to take Trader Joe’s out of his rotation. Maybe he could force himself to get out of bed early and get there as soon as it opened. No way he’d run into another Wayne at that time of day.
Before Jason could turn away and get back to his shopping, Dick stopped him with a question that came totally out of the blue: “How are things with you and Roy?”
“Ask him,” Jason said dismissively. “He’s your friend.”
“I have asked him. I want to hear your perspective. I care about both of you.”
Dick had asked Roy about his relationship with Jason? Jason shouldn’t have been surprised; like he’d said, Roy was Dick’s friend. Of course they would talk to each other about their relationships.
Jason wondered what Roy said about him. He always wondered how people talked about him when he wasn’t around. He could ask Dick, but he wasn’t going to.
“Things are fine,” he said vaguely.
“It’s been a year now, hasn’t it?” Dick asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you do anything for your anniversary?”
“None of your business.”
Dick put his free hand – the one that wasn’t holding the gallon of milk – on his hip. “You don’t have to hide things from me, Jay. I’m not asking you any questions I don’t already know the answers to.”
Fine. Dick wanted to know what Roy and Jason had done to celebrate their anniversary? Jason would tell him. “We ate dinner and had a lot of sex. Really hot, really kinky sex.”
Dick made a face, giving Jason a smug sense of satisfaction. “I guess I had that coming,” Dick said.
“I can give you more details,” Jason offered vindictively.
“No, it’s alright. I’m alright.”
“You sure? I can be descriptive.”
“I’m happy you have a good sex life. Please don’t tell me about it.”
Jason smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Any more questions?”
He expected Dick to take the opportunity to escape this conversation, given the direction Jason had steered it, but once again, it seemed Jason had underestimated Dick. Dick did have more questions, and he was going to ask them, even if Jason retaliated by making it weird. “Do you like him?”
Seemed like kind of a stupid question. “Of course I like him. I’m dating him, aren’t I?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t.”
“Do you see a future with him?”
Oh, absolutely not. No way was Jason talking about the future of his relationship with anyone other than Roy. And even then, he tried to avoid the subject. “I’m not thinking that far ahead. It’s only been a year.”
Dick looked at Jason, his expression inscrutable. “Hm,” he said.
“What?” Jason prompted, nearly out of patience.
“Nothing,” Dick lied.
“Just spit it out so we can both move on with our lives,” Jason said.
This time, Dick actually listened to him. “He sees a future with you.”
That wasn’t exactly a shock. Roy clearly wanted Jason to move in with him. That was, like, the first major step of building a life together, wasn’t it? But the way Dick had stated it so plainly, like it was obvious… “How do you know that?” Jason challenged.
“He told me.”
Roy told him. Roy told Dick that he saw a future with Jason. “Why would he tell you and not me?”
“Same reason he didn’t tell you he wanted to be your boyfriend until you cooked him dinner and bought him flowers,” Dick explained. “He doesn’t want to put any pressure on you and potentially scare you off.”
Was that what Roy thought Jason would do? Was it what Jason would do? There were certain things Jason knew he wasn’t ready for; he wasn’t ready to move in with Roy (yet). But he was warming up to the idea. He’d dropped the L-word multiple times, to the point where it now came naturally. They’d had an anniversary.
Maybe there were other things Jason could do, short of agreeing to move in with Roy, that would show he was invested in this relationship. What were the sort of things that people did when they were getting serious? Roy and Jason hadn’t gone through the whole “meet the family” ordeal, on either side, mostly because they already knew each other’s families and Jason wasn’t on the best of terms with his. That would be too complicated.
Jason thought about Thanksgiving. He and Roy could spend a holiday together, maybe. Not Christmas; Christmas was too much pressure, and Jason knew Roy and Lian spent Christmas with Dinah and Oliver. And Roy didn’t celebrate Hanukkah; Jason didn’t either, really, but he had in the past, living with Bruce.
New Year’s, maybe. That was a low-stakes holiday. It didn’t have too many traditions attached to it. Kissing your lover at midnight was the only one Jason knew of. That, and getting really drunk, which wouldn’t be a problem with Roy involved.
Jason was lost in thought for several seconds before he realized Dick was still standing there, staring at him, holding a gallon of milk. Jason glowered. “Did you really come here to buy milk, or did you come to talk to me about my relationship?”
“Alfred needed milk,” Dick reiterated. “And I was hoping I might run into you.” He glanced down at his watch. “I’ve been waiting for half an hour.”
Jason pictured Dick loitering in front of the milk for half an hour, looking suspicious as hell (or like the world’s most indecisive person). All that just to tell Jason that Roy was serious about their relationship. Dick could have said that in a text. “You thought ambushing me at the grocery store was the best way to have this conversation?”
“You could ignore a text or a phone call, and I didn’t think you wanted me showing up to your apartment uninvited.” Fair point. “Anyway, I’ve got my milk. And I said what I wanted to say. Happy Thanksgiving.”
Dick gave a little wave with his free hand and walked to the checkout lines. Jason waited for him to pay and leave the store before he resumed shopping.
New Year’s. It wasn’t a bad idea. He’d have to think about it.
1.
Jason spent Christmas and Hanukkah the same way he’d spent every Christmas and Hanukkah since his return to Gotham: alone, in his apartment.
Last year he’d woken on Christmas morning to find two unmarked gifts on his doorstep and a gift bag filled with baked goods from a well-known bakery in Blüdhaven and signed with the letter D. It was easy to tell who that one was from. The other two, though unsigned, were equally transparent: a stack of books from Bruce, who was the only one who knew Jason’s taste in literature well enough to reliably buy him books he would enjoy, and a KitchenAid mixer from Alfred, because who else would gift Jason a kitchen appliance?
This year Jason found two unmarked gifts, another gift bag – signed with Dick’s full name this time – and an additional card. He opened Dick’s gift first: chocolate instead of baked goods, but the fancy, upscale kind of chocolate that Jason knew for a fact Dick would never spend the money on for himself. The unmarked gifts contained more books from Bruce and a set of expensive kitchen knives from Alfred.
Jason opened the card. He’d been expecting some cheesy Hallmark shit, but the cover looked hand-drawn. Jason didn’t think he knew anyone who could draw. It was a quaint holiday scene, colored with colored pencils, with a Christmas tree in front of a fireplace and a lit menorah on the windowsill. It was obviously the living room of Wayne Manor. Someone had drawn it from life.
Something fell out of the card and onto the floor. Jason picked it up. It was a Trader Joe’s gift card, preloaded with – Jason’s eyebrows shot up – five hundred dollars. In neat handwriting, someone had written a simple message inside the card: Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah. There was no signature.
Annoyed, Jason dialed Bruce’s number. Bruce picked up right away.
“I thought I told you I can buy my own groceries,” he snapped before Bruce could say anything.
“If you’re referring to the gift card, that wasn’t from me,” Bruce replied evenly. “I sent the books.”
“Yeah, obviously,” Jason retorted. He frowned at the gift card. Five hundred dollars. “Who sent it, then?”
“Your siblings. Everyone except Dick; I was told he had a separate gift for you. They all split the cost.”
“All of them?”
“Tim, Cassandra, Damian, and Duke, yes. And Steph, actually. Please don’t get upset at them. They were trying to do something nice for you.”
Jason hung up without another word. Tim, Cass, Damian, Duke, and Steph. Tim, who Jason had once tried to murder. Cass, Duke, and Steph, who Jason hardly interacted with. Even the thirteen-year-old hellion had chipped in.
Jason slipped the gift card into his wallet.
The end of the year rolled around. Jason drove his bike across the country, stopping only for food, bathroom breaks, or to catch a few hours of sleep in a motel before continuing. He arrived in Star City at ten P.M. on New Year’s Eve, just in time to catch Roy heading out for the night, all geared up.
Jason parked his bike and trailed after Roy from a distance, watched him take out criminals, rough a few guys up. All the while, Jason kept an eye on the time. At eleven-fifty, he finally made his presence known, approaching Roy on a rooftop. (It was a truth universally acknowledged among vigilantes that rooftops were the ultimate romantic rendezvous point.)
Roy turned, looking unsurprised to see a dark figure lurking behind him. He’d no doubt been aware that someone was following him all night. He did, however, seem surprised that his stalker was Jason.
“Hey,” Jason said. He was geared up too, his red helmet obscuring his features, but Roy knew him well enough that he’d be able to read from Jason’s tone that Jason wasn’t here on business.
“I thought I had an assassin tailing me,” Roy remarked.
“I mean, technically…” Jason shrugged. It wasn’t too far from the truth.
Roy approached, and Jason got a good look at him, up close and personal for the first time in weeks. “What are you doing here?” Roy asked.
“I wanted to see you.”
“You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.” Jason looked around. They were in a quiet part of town, for this time of night. All the late-night revelers were elsewhere, in their homes or at their favorite bars, eagerly awaiting the stroke of midnight. “What are you doing out like this on New Year’s?”
“Didn’t have anything better to do,” Roy said. “Thought I’d blow off some steam.”
Jason took a step into Roy’s personal space. “I can give you something better to do.” He watched a smirk spread across Roy’s lips.
Roy reached up and removed Jason’s helmet, setting it by their feet. He put a hand on Jason’s face, covered only by a domino mask, and another hand on Jason’s waist, drawing him in even closer. When he spoke, his voice was sultry and low. “Is that a promise?”
Roy leaned in for a kiss, but Jason stopped him, glancing down at the time on his Bat-issued smart watch. “Wait,” he instructed, watching the seconds tick by. Roy waited. Three… two… one. “Now.”
They kissed. Jason sank into the familiar feeling of Roy’s lips and Roy’s hands and Roy’s body, the contours of his suit, the slide of his tongue.
When they broke away, Roy was smiling. “What was that about?” he asked.
“I wanted to kiss you at midnight.”
Roy’s smile widened into a grin. “And your brother tells me you’re not a romantic.”
“How dare you mention my brother at a time like this.”
Roy and Jason were up most of the night together, and Jason stayed a few additional days after that before returning to Gotham.
Jason was feeling good, and that was a refreshing change of pace. He made a “welcome home” meal for himself, using his new kitchen knives. They were a welcome improvement over his old ones. He made a note to thank Alfred.
Actually – he checked the date on his phone – he could probably thank Alfred in person. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Alfred.
The following day was Tuesday, and at noon, Jason drove to the Whole Foods next to the Trader Joe’s, searching the parking lot for Alfred’s car. He hoped Alfred wasn’t out of town again; he knew Alfred spent Christmas in England, but he was usually back by New Year’s.
Jason found the car and parked nearby. He went into Whole Foods and searched the store, but Alfred was nowhere to be found.
Jason tried Trader Joe’s. He found Alfred in one of the aisles, frowning at a row of snack foods.
“I’ve never seen you in here before,” Jason said, alerting Alfred to his presence.
“Master Tim requested we add this store to our regular rotation,” Alfred explained. “Apparently there are a few items he enjoys that cannot be found anywhere else. Do you know where I can find Joe-Joe’s?”
“Right over here,” Jason said, showing Alfred where they were. “What else do you need?”
Jason and Alfred shopped together, and Jason stood with Alfred in the checkout line. “Thank you, Master Jason,” Alfred said. “You are every bit the expert everyone says you are.”
“Who says I’m an expert?”
“Masters Tim, Dick, Bruce, and Damian, Miss Cassandra, and Miss Stephanie have all remarked on what a help you’ve been on their respective supermarket outings.”
That surprised Jason. “I didn’t help Dick much when he was here,” he said. “Even though he needs it almost as much as Bruce does. I’m not trying to insult your parenting, but Bruce is missing a few key life skills.”
“I am aware,” Alfred replied. “Master Damian is now adamant that he be left in charge of the shopping whenever I am unavailable.”
Jason smirked at the image of Damian ordering Bruce around Whole Foods. “Good.”
They reached the front of the line and Alfred paid. “Thanks for the knives, by the way,” Jason said as he helped Alfred carry the bags to the car.
“I trust you have been keeping up your skills in the kitchen?”
“I like to think I’m a decent chef. No one’s ever complained.”
Alfred closed the trunk of the car. Jason lingered for another moment, long enough for Alfred to say, “Perhaps you’d like to help me around the kitchen sometime. It’s been a while.”
It had been a while. The last time Jason had helped Alfred cook anything was before Jason had died. Those were good memories.
“And you’re always welcome at family dinner,” Alfred continued. “You do remember those, don’t you?” He looked hopeful. Jason couldn’t let him down.
“I remember.”
“I understand if your schedule doesn’t permit you to attend, but we would enjoy seeing you if you can arrange it.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Alfred offered the flicker of a smile. “Master Roy is also welcome,” he said.
There was no way in hell Jason was bringing Roy to family dinner. But he appreciated the thought. He and Alfred said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.
It took a few weeks for Jason to work himself up to attending family dinner. But every time he used the kitchen knives from Alfred or the gift card from his siblings, or saw the books from Bruce on his bookshelf or the hand-drawn card hanging on his fridge amid Lian’s crayon drawings, or when he finished the last of the chocolate from Dick, Jason thought about it. He thought about the empty place at the dining room table. He thought about the pictures Cass had sent him on Father’s Day. He thought about missing Thanksgiving.
As Jason pulled into the driveway at Wayne Manor, he was fully aware that he might be making a terrible mistake. But the last big risk he’d taken had led to his relationship with Roy, and that was unquestionably a good thing.
Besides, when had Jason ever shied away from making terrible mistakes?
Jason tried the front door and found it unlocked. He hung up his coat and wandered into the kitchen, where he found Alfred putting the finishing touches on dinner.
Walking through Wayne Manor was like walking through Jason’s own memories. Everything was achingly familiar: the hardwood floors, the high ceilings, the paintings on the walls. The air felt still, like time hadn’t moved since Jason had last set foot in this place. He’d been here since his death, but not often.
“Master Jason,” Alfred said, offering a rare true smile when Jason entered the room. “Welcome home.”
Jason swallowed and shifted his weight from one foot to another, feeling awkward and out of place. This wasn’t his home anymore. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re right on time,” Alfred assured him. “Everyone’s just taken their seats.”
“You wanted me to help you cook, though.”
Another smile. “Another time, perhaps.”
Alfred ushered Jason into the dining room, where everyone was sitting around the table, waiting for the food. Dick was the first to look up, and a grin split his face when he did. “Jason!” he exclaimed.
Everyone else stopped what they were doing and followed Dick’s gaze. Their expressions were a mixture of surprise, uncertainty, and happiness. For some reason Jason hadn’t expected anyone would actually be happy to see him.
“I didn’t know you were back in town,” Dick added.
“Been busy,” Jason said.
“We saved a spot for you.” Dick gestured to the empty place next to Duke. Duke offered Jason a tentative smile. Jason sat, just in time for Alfred to serve everyone’s food and pour their drinks.
“Wine, Master Jason?” Alfred asked.
“Yes, please.”
Bruce spoke up from the head of the table. He’d carefully schooled his expression into one of casual interest. “It’s good to see you, Jason,” he remarked, like there was nothing unusual about Jason coming to dinner, like he did it all the time. “You were out of town?”
“I went to Star City for New Year’s,” Jason told him.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
“I did.”
Silence ensued, interrupted only by the scrape of knives and forks. Dick was glancing between Bruce and Jason. Tim kept looking up and then looking back down when he accidentally caught Jason’s eyes. Cass was watching Jason unabashedly, and Duke was pointedly not watching him. Only Damian appeared unfazed by Jason’s presence.
Feeling even more awkward than before, Jason tried to rekindle the conversation. “I might be moving later this year. Or maybe next year.”
Jason didn’t know why he said this. He’d talked about it with Roy during his New Year’s visit, sort of, if exchanging a few vague sentences counted as “talking about it.” Roy had dropped another hint about moving in together and Jason had said, “Only if you leave California,” to which Roy had replied, “I’ll leave California, but I won’t move to Gotham.”
“Guess we’ll have to pick somewhere else, then,” Jason had said. Roy had smiled, and then he’d let the subject drop.
So Roy knew Jason was open to the idea of moving in together, but they hadn’t actually made any plans. Why, then, was Jason bringing it up with his family?
Maybe he wanted his family to know he wouldn’t be sticking around much longer. Maybe he wanted to see how they would react to that. Would they miss him?
“To Star City?” Duke asked, interrupting Jason’s musings. Dick snorted, and Duke frowned. “Why is that funny?”
“Jason would never move to California,” Dick said.
Jason gestured at him with his fork. “And don’t you forget it.”
“Where would you go?” said Cass.
“Somewhere else. I don’t know; we haven’t made any plans.”
“We’ll miss having you around, if you leave,” Bruce told Jason. “But you’re welcome to visit anytime. And so is Roy. And Lian.”
Jason looked down at his plate. They would miss him. So Bruce said, anyway. Despite all their history, Jason was inclined to believe him.
Maybe he was getting over some of his trust issues.
“Like I said, we haven’t decided anything,” Jason reiterated. “But either way, I’m sure I’ll be around. I can’t trust you all to look after Gotham by yourselves.”
Jason looked back up just in time to catch Bruce’s smile.