Dick's schizoeffective-leaning, manipulative ass needs to be taking advantage of Jason's isolation, loneliness and vulnerability more. Where's his haughty, self-righteous, violently (whether through manipulation or physically) *ahem* assertion that he and he alone has most rights over Jason, even over Bruce, for their similarities in personality and especially in looks and because, some part of Dick viscously lauds over Bruce really having chosen Jason for his similarities to Dick.
Bruce chose Jason because of his perceived proximity to Dick over things Jason simply cannot control (his inherent personality traits, his intelligence and adaptability before being taken in, his discipline, his looks). How can Dick not feel some type of conceited over it? How can he not hold that over Jason's head, obsess over it, insist upon Jason being his? You were supposed to be me and so you are mine.
The horrible, infuriating teeter of hating Jason's guts—both for something he had no control over (Bruce's action of taking Jason in) and for Jason's actions and reactions as Red Hood (and yes, Jason becoming Red Hood is in part also a reaction not just a series of actions) and having an absolutely consuming, numbing, single-minded love for Jason. The shame of knowing even now, people around you use you as the standard Jason will never measure up to while you yourself don't measure up to it but the ugly righteousness and visceral anger you feel that anyone dares compare Jason to you at all. The stain on your legacy. The only one who could have held that mantle in those years. The family's failure. Your father's failure. Your failure. Deadbeat big brother. Scornful baby brother. Angry sons.
Dick thinks day in and out he doesn't deserve Jason. He doesn't deserve to have to hold Jason's worst actions as his own shame and guilt. Doesn't deserve the weight of Jason's violence. Doesn't deserve the stain on his legacy. But he knows, in the end, that blaming Jason is the only way he can live with himself without sinking unto the floor and accepting the cold hard truth. He has to blame Jason, otherwise he'll never forgive himself and he'll hate their father forever.
He has to hate Jason; this terrible imposter who wears his face, bore his name, desecrated all he has given his entire life too.
But God, why must he still have so much innocence in his eyes? Why do they shine wet when Dick raises his voice, why do they look so sad and accepting as they turn away from the gaggle of Bats who shun him? Why do those lips still pout in concentration? Why does that voice still thump against Dick's throat and ears and chest? Why does his heart beat twice as fast behind Dick's ribs? Why is his laugh echoing in Dick's empty living room? Why are his gasps and moans eliciting pleasure in Dick's loins when there is no one else in that lonesome bedroom? Dick could have anyone, why does it have to be Jason?
Every breath Jason takes is a stain on Dick's legacy and Dick will swallow each breath like its the very air that keeps his own lungs alive.
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