Chapter Text
Surprisingly easily Jason finds the kitchen without getting lost once. He carefully looks behind every closed door, not finding anyone there. Somewhere a clock is ticking, the only present sound apart from Jason's footsteps.
The kitchen hasn’t changed overnight. Except the dishes are washed. There’s a plate with a fork on the table. Beside it is an unopened bottle of milk and a pack of Nesquik, also unopened. Jason’s only seen those on the very top shelves in the supermarket before, there was always plenty left since no one wanted to waste money on idiotic luxury.
Jason slowly climbs onto one of the chairs. Not expired, the package is tightly closed. On the back there’s another sticky note telling him to eat.
Not ominous at all.
Though what’s the point of poisoning him now?..
It actually is delicious. Very much so. In less than a minute the bowl is empty and Jason pours himself some more.
While taking another’s food wastefully is ill-mannered… whatever, Wayne will be no poorer.
He’s not forgetting that the Prince jerk can appear any second. He’s not letting his guard down.
The kitchen’s not far from the exit. He thinks?
The next room also has a door to the back yard, so if Wayne decided to invite someone over it’s time to leave and-
There’s a sound of a running pair of feet in the hall, someone yells.
Footsteps and a voice head towards the kitchen.
Jason instantly dives under the table, hiding under the long tablecloth. His heart is pounding.
Is the mansion getting raided? It’s nothing unusual for Gotham, but it’s weird for some reason to imagine the untouchable Wayne Mansion being attacked.
Sometime ago you could say the same about the Waynes themselves
And where’s Bruce? Have they got to him yet?
For some reason he’s getting a little worried for him. He’s definitely creepy and probably deserves everything they’ll do to him but… Jason finds it hard to wish pain onto a person with a face of a wet rat in a pink bathrobe.
It’d be like throwing stones at a puppy. Even if at a big one.
He gets interrupted from his scrambled thoughts and hyperventilation by footsteps. At first he sees only points of the sneakers and a shadow of a person snooping around the kitchen.
Or rather unloading something into the fridge, there are bags nearby. That does not look like a robbery. It’s unlikely that the Prince maintains this huge mansion himself, so maybe it’s some servant of his.
When Jason could hear again the man was screaming.
“...left the food on the table?”
No answer. The fridge closed shut and the man started coming towards the table, mumbling something. Startled Jason began crawling back, bumping the couch that made a thud.
The man froze. Jason froze too, a chill ran down his spine. The stranger noticed.
“Wally? Dick? If you’re planning to jump out on me then…” the man crouched down and quickly pulled up the tablecloth.
Having already brought his hand up to strike, Jason stilled just as the man before him.
The man, a bright blonde with a puzzled expression on his face, says: “You’re not my redhead”.
Jason didn’t know what to say to that. What the fuck does that mean?! Are there other redheads in this house? Does Batman intentionally hoard redheaded kids here?
Okay, Wayne once again deserves all the horrors that can befall him. Fucking fetishist, Jason just escaped, why are they all so fixated on the redheads-
“Hey-hey, kid,” the stranger's voice, way quieter now, breaks through his panic. He lifts the tablecloth fully out of the way but moves to the other end of the kitchen himself, sitting down beside the sink.
Jason stares, ready to lunch at him with his teeth.
The man narrows his eyes slightly and looks concerned. Not mad at all.
“How about we get to know each other? I’m Barry, my ward is friends with Bruce’s son, I brought them here after the sleepover. They weren’t really sleeping of course, making ruckus all night with the playstation like there’s not enough hours in the day. But they suddenly wanted to watch a movie at the home cinema, since my tv is apparently not cool enough, and decided to have another sleepover here…” the man kept on chattering nonstop like he’s got no need for oxygen. Jason lets half of it go over his head.
Unbeknownst to himself Jason’s breathing evened out from this long and calm explanation.
Oh yes. The jerk has an adopted child Jason’s heard something about. Or more like the rumors that came after. Some have said that the Prince has decided to play a benefactor, some – that the rich bastard decided to buy himself a flexible toy (only years later did Jason realise what that one meant), and some… said that the Prince saw a child lying in a pool of his parent’s blood and could not walk past his own reflection. And now, years later, that child’s on tv and in newspapers, looking pretty happy.
Jason desperately wants to believe that last rumor, especially now.
And even if Wayne does fuck his adoptee, it still looks like better conditions than he and a lot of other street children had. A fancy school, sports accomplishments, sleepovers with friends…
He wills himself not to think about it further.
“...but Bruce didn’t tell me someone's home, so sorry for scaring you so. He also didn’t know that we would be back a day earlier and maybe didn’t have the time to warn you. So... you need help climbing out, or?..”
The silence hangs. The man, Barry, looks ready to get up and give him a hand but Jason cuts him off with a sudden “No!” and gets up by himself.
Meanwhile Barry, who’s pretending like everything is completely normal and he did not just find a strange child under his friend’s kitchen table, gets back to loading the fridge. The last time he came by his friend’s to chat about Iris and found a small angry child that witnessed his parent’s death and Bruce that was between catatonia and hyperactivity after a recent trigger.
Shit, where and how is Bruce?..
Barry tries to act calm, pouring himself a glass of juice, intentionally not looking too closely at the kid that is finally sitting back on the couch.
“So… what’s your name? Want some juice?”
“No,” muttered the kid, his gaze unmoving. Hell, this one also looks like Bruce. “I’m Jason.”
Barry freezes for a few seconds.
Blinks fast several times. And slowly keeps drinking, nodding.
“Nice to meet you Jason. I’m sure you’ll get along great with the boys,” Barry was absolutely not sure about it but he wanted to trust the insight and emotional intelligence of the two teenagers in his care, who sometimes behaved way older than their age, and sometimes did incredibly stupid and tactless things.
Like Barry and Bruce at times. One of those things probably sits before him right now but Barry doesn’t want to blame (or praise) his friend too soon. He’s got another suspect.
Flash hears the loud peace-breakers approach and catches the widening eyes of the child before him. Fuck. Can’t even speed up.
“Boys, we have a guest, please behave,” says Barry louder, looking at the kids entering the kitchen with a meaningful look.
Dick and Wally stand still, looking at them in confusion, but Barry carries on in the same cheerful and friendly tone: “Go on, go to the back yard with Jason or whatever you wanted to do, while I talk to Bruce, okay?”
A momentary understanding flashes in Dick’s eyes when his gaze falls on the kid scrunched up on the couch. Wally simply stares puzzled at Dick as the latter without hesitation answers: “Sure thing, uncle. Hi, Jason, want to play console with us?”, putting his charm on maximum.
There’s confusion in Jason’s guarded eyes, they shift between each person in the spacious kitchen that looks much more cramped now.
Barry decides to trust Dick, and partially Wally, to keep an eye on the kid while not driving him to another breakdown. Dick has become much calmer and self-assured in these last few years and has been great at helping the civilians (especially children). That’s why, wishing them a good time, he carefully leaves the kitchen to find Bruce as soon as possible.
Flash has learned not to dismiss his hunches.
He’s almost certain that Jason’s last name will be Todd, which means it’s time to update their file...