Chapter Text
Jason’s day was already starting to go downhill by the time he ran into Gotham University’s other dead kid.
The football coach was hounding him again, doing his utmost to recruit Jason for the team. Jason doesn’t have time for football, not if he wants to keep up with the reading for his literature classes and clubs.
So, to avoid the insistent man, Jason ducks into a class. That he thought was empty. Until he locks eyes with a guy sitting at a desk in the far corner of the room. The guy has black hair and blue eyes, just like a lot of other guys Jason is familiar with, and probably would be surprised at Jason’s appearance if it weren’t for the fact that he obviously hasn’t slept in days and is living off of the large cup of coffee clutched in his hands. Jason lifts a finger to his lips, silently begging the guy not to say anything.
“Mr. Draper!” The football coach calls from the doorway. Jason presses himself more firmly into the wall. If the guy, Draper, hadn’t been in here, there is a chance Jason would have found a way out the window to avoid being caught. “Have you seen a young man come by here? Tall, muscular, built like the perfect linebacker?”
“No, sir,” Draper says with perfect confidence. The coach’s shadow disappears from the doorway and Jason finally allows himself to relax.
“Thank you,” he says sincerely.
“Sure,” Draper responds after a moment. The sudden silence becomes awkward and Jason is quick to break it.
“I’m Jason Peters.”
“I know.” And just like that, the stiff awkwardness is back. Not only is Jason frozen with surprise, Draper also has his eyes wide with panic. He clearly didn’t mean to say that. The best cover up he has is giving his own name. “I’m Alvin Draper.”
“You don’t look like an Alvin,” Jason notes, breaking out of his daze.
Draper shrugs casually, but Jason has lived in the seedy and shady parts of this city for too long not to recognize someone whose name doesn’t fit them because it isn’t their name. Just an identity they are wearing for the time being.
“Well, anyways, thanks again. See you around Chip!”
“Chip?”
“Yeah, Chip. As in chipmunk? Like Alvin the chipmunk?” Jason receives a blank stare as a reaction to his explanation. He huffs out a quick laugh and shakes his head before walking out the door. “Whatever. See ya, Chip.”
~
The next time Jason sees Chip, a few days after the first, he is back in the corner of a room looking even more sleep deprived than when they first met. And grouchy too. Someone probably cut off his coffee.
Jason gives him a small wave, gets a nod in response, and then moves on with his day.
After that, Jason sees Chip everywhere. He would wonder if the guy was following him, if it weren’t for how Chip looks moments away from keeling over and clearly isn’t putting that much thought into where he is going. The more likely scenario is that Chip was always around Jason before, Jason just didn’t notice him until now. In fact, it seems like a lot of people don’t notice Chip. Jason has yet to see him talk to anyone other than a teacher here and there.
Jason finally gets sick of it when he spots Chip sitting alone again at lunch time. The kid, because paying better attention has revealed the fact that he is just a kid who might not even be a legal adult yet, is going through what Jason reasons to be his eighth cup of coffee. It’s not even noon.
“What dorm are you in?” Jason asks bluntly as he plops down into the chair across from Chip. While Chip stares and visibly struggles to process the fact that someone is talking to him, Jason pulls out the cold-cut sandwich he made for lunch. He was looking forward to the food. But the kid needs it more.
“Dorm?” Chip finally asks, blinking in surprise as Jason pushes the sandwich towards him. He opens his mouth to protest, but Jason’s fierce glare stops him. So he hesitantly takes the sandwich.
“Yeah. Your living place on campus,” Jason clarifies slowly. Chip must be more sleep deprived than he thought, if he can’t even remember what a dorm is.
“Oh. I don’t live on campus.”
“Where then?”
“In a box under a bridge,” Chip deadpans, the tension in his shoulders practically screaming his distrust for such a pointed question. Jason huffs, rolls his eyes, and pulls out one of his spare bookmarks. He flips it over and scribbles on the back with a pen before handing it to Chip.
“If you need anything, this is the address to my apartment.” He will probably never come, street kids aren’t trusting enough for that, but Jason feels better just knowing that he is giving Chip the chance to ask for help. A distant lifeline where there might not otherwise be one.
Before Chip can say anything else– or try to give the bookmark back– Jason waves at him, gets up, and leaves.
Just before he rounds a corner, he looks over his shoulder to see Chip looking down at the bookmark with something akin to star-struck wonder in his eyes.
~
The two talk a lot more after that day. Jason doesn’t always have to initiate either. They spend long hours in the library discussing novels and morality. Glancing at Chip’s youthful face, you would assume that he is perfectly innocent with strong morals. It is only once you begin to talk to him, to look him in his haunted ice-blue eyes, that you realize that this kid has seen more than he will ever talk about. He has made compromises that no one so young should even think about.
Jason knows the feeling. He is trying so hard to stay far, far away from his past. From the rage and the sickly green. Trying to keep from looking too far into the future or too closely at the news. Doing everything he can to avoid even the slightest memory of his family.
He is not innocent. Not in the slightest. And the thing is, Chip seems to know that. He is bright and intelligent and can very quickly look into the heart of the matter. So he is at least vaguely aware of the blood on Jason’s hands. They never talk about it. They are both running, and they never talk about from what. They build a fragile peace that could break so quickly, so easily, and then they don’t discuss it.
They don’t talk about how every lunch Jason shares, and every bit of quiet advice from Chip, brings them closer and closer to being something akin to brothers.
They talk about a lot of things, but never about who they are. Who they were.
The truth hurts too much for that. For either of them.
~
When Jason answers the knock at his apartment door at three in the morning, he is ready to berate whoever is crazy enough to walk around Gotham at this hour. Then he sees Chip. Standing in the doorway, shoulders hunched, looking down at his shoes. The quick complaint dies on Jason’s lips.
“Hey, Chip.” He says quietly instead. He waits, hoping Chip will explain. Wanting to take away whatever it is that is making him look so upset.
“Sorry, Jason, I just- I need to make sure my dad can’t find me.” With those words, the green of the Pit that had lain dormant roars to life. A familiar rage surges inside of Jason and he concentrates on the nails digging into his palm so he can force a word out through his teeth.
“What?”
“He found out where I was living. I was hoping to lay low here for a while, since he doesn’t know about you yet.”
“Why would your dad care to know about me?” Jason questions, the green pushed back by confusion.
“Because he is your dad too.”
Jason’s heart feels like it has stopped– again– in his chest. He can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can only stare in shock as Chip lifts his ice-blue eyes and speaks with grave finality.
“I know your name used to be Jason Todd.”