clown

Children, Alfred told him the night he caught Jason smoking a cigarette on the roof, are not a problem to be solved. Really, Bruce should have known this after raising Dick for so long. But he'd been so young himself, navigating a landscape where he was responsible for the care of such a small and impressionable human being. "Feeding and watering aren't all there is to it, then," Bruce had said wryly, the discarded pack of cigarettes still weighing heavily on his mind. Alfred raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. "Yes, I recall quite a bit of shouting and thrown furniture when you were that age, as well." Bruce had smiled. "Jason is a sweeter boy than I ever was, Alfred."

Jason hops up on the stool nearest Alfred, swinging his legs back and forth and smiling at him. He bites the inside of his cheek but somehow musters up the courage to speak up anyway." Thanks for always letting me stay in the kitchen, Alfie. I really like spending time with you," he admits, curling over the countertop to hide the bottom half of his face in his folded arms. "It's nice." Alfred's eyes crinkle at the corners in a rare smile Jason's never seen before. He's even more pleased, burrowing further into his arms so that Alfred doesn't see how his ears have turned pink.

Tonight, Brucie Wayne is the one who holds a glass of champagne, laughing airily at something or other; Batman, the endlessly vigilant protector, is the one who notices. Bruce is the one who drops everything and heads to Jason's side, stepping fluidly between him and the man who's hurt his son.

Once upon a time, a prince brings a pauper to a ball. The clock strikes midnight, and neither lives happily ever after. Jason recognizes a man at a gala and knows: this is the moment it all falls apart. Bruce is there to pick up the pieces.

chapter 1

chapter 2

You can see the body language change in the ears with the first and second trill real well