Chapter 3
Jason heard the window of his safehouse open. It was the kid, it had to be, because no one else should know the location of this place. Even if they did, that entry was so small only a child could get through it. Jason had chosen it on purpose, and left that entrance trapped with measures he and Damian had worked on together, so he knew the kid wouldn’t get too tripped up.
“Wassup,” he yawned, and shuffled into the kitchen. He didn’t know what time it was, or even why Damian was there, but it didn't really matter. If either of the Bats saw him slip in, they’d assume (correctly) that Damian was meeting with an old League contact or with Hood, specifically.
“I wish to eat something with spice,” Damian said, marching over and helping himself to a hug. “Pennyworth hasn’t even cooked a curry! I thought he was British!”
Jason snorted and scooped the kid into his arms. “Yeah, well, he has to cook for a bunch of folks who think salt is spicy. How d’you feel about khoresh? I have some leftover rice, somewhere…”
“That would be acceptable.” Damian, as he often did, clung tight so that Jason had full use of both arms. “Red Hood has been effective.”
“Red Hood does what he can,” Jason allowed, reaching for the fridge. “How fancy d’you want it? Are we just eating food, or do you want something nice? Are they gonna come looking for you?”
“I removed all my trackers,” which sounded like a ‘they’re definitely going to look for me’ to Jason, but what did he know. “I will have until nightfall.”
“So fancy? Not fancy? Do we have to go shopping? Give me something to work with, here,” and Damian was going to try and avoid asking for something nice. Typical. Thankfully, Jason had already texted Talia for recipes. If it annoyed her, good! She’d lost her hold over him when she’d left her kid practically in his backyard and she knew it. He was going to get good information out of her while he could. He didn’t give a rat’s ass what she was up to unless it concerned Damian.
(And she had sent him a few recipes.)
“Can we have something with eggplant?”
Eggplant wasn’t in season, but whatever the kid wanted, Jason figured. “Yeah kiddo, let’s go find some fuckin’ eggplant. I gotta find my pants first, though. Which means you gotta let go.”
Jason held his arms out to his sides so that Damian could jump free unencumbered, and went to his bedroom. He hadn’t gotten sleep since Damian came into his life, and it didn’t look like he was starting now. He didn’t know why he was at all surprised.
—-
He also shouldn’t have been surprised when they ran into a Bat while they were shopping. They must’ve noticed that Damian was getting too good at removing trackers and come up with a kind Damian hadn’t seen before. Typical.
If stalking was a love language…
At least it was Dick Grayson (civilian) that they ran into, not Nightwing. It made shooting him more complicated, but it also made things less tense.
Damian was wearing civilian clothes and carrying his tiny motorcycle helmet. Jason was, too, and it was even a helmet that looked civilian. It was plain black (so it matched Damian’s) and only had some of the functionality of his Red Hood helmet. Damian’s had a lot of the same functionality, not that either of them had said a word about it to each other.
Along with the helmet, Jason was wearing gigantic, flamboyant sunglasses with rhinestones. It was his goal for every outting to make Damian roll his eyes at least once, and he had succeeded before they’d even left the apartment, with his huge, heartshaped bedazzled sunglasses. He also wore a jean jacket and a pair of cargo pants, just in case.
Thanks to his height, Jason spotted Dick first, and tapped out the ‘incoming recognized third party’ sign on the kid’s shoulder before turning to look at onions. Damian had his back, and tapped out his own response to that effect.
“What are you doing here?” and well, Damian had never been one for manners if he’d felt slighted. Well, never really been one for manners, period, but Jason hoped the kid at least tried to use them sometimes. Otherwise he’d failed as a parent/brother/bodyguard/whatever the fuck he was.
“B and I were wondering where you got off to,” and Dick was trying to keep it cool because they were in public. They were going to stay in public, for just that reason. Well, hopefully. “You know we get worried when you don’t call or leave a note and just disappear all on your own.”
“I follow the rules,” and Damian’s little princeling voice was out again. Jason held back a sigh. It was, hands-down, the most irritating thing about his kid. “I am with an adult that is not paid for my care.”
The back of Jason’s neck prickled, but he continued examining onions like his life depended on it. Damian would let him know if it was time to intervene. Probably.
“Would you introduce me to your friend?” And Dick wasn’t asking. It was an order, and any kind of hesitation would just make everything worse for everyone involved. Mostly Jason, but honestly? That’s the kind of attitude he wanted if his kid disappeared.
“Peter,” Damian asked, tugging on his cargo pants to try to look more childlike and less like they’d been running missions together since Damian was 5. “This is one of my caretakers.”
Good boy. Not giving away any more information than strictly necessary without withholding information that’s already been made clear. It would be exactly the right move if Jason was an acquaintance from the League.
“Nice to meetcha,” and Jason nodded to Dick, adjusting his posture so he looked like one of the older bodyguards from Nanda Parbat. “Said he’d be home by sundown.”
“You too,” and Dick wasn’t smiling his ‘Wayne Heir’ smile. He was smiling like Nightwing did when someone pissed him off, or when someone threatened his Robin. Jason wished he had his body armor-- or at least, more than was just in his pants and helmet. “You’ll make sure he gets home in one piece?”
Jason thought about his possible responses. Obviously he made sure Damian made it home safely, but---
“Kid knows what he’s about,” and he shrugged and turned to the garlic. It made his well-tuned danger sensors go off to turn even perpendicular to Grayson, but Dick wouldn’t do anything to him here.
“Can I go?” Damian insisted. It would have been a whine in a child that was even a little less self-possessed, but somehow Damian managed to avoid whining. “We were in the middle of shopping.”
“Are you going to be home for dinner?” Dick asked quietly, crouching down to be on eye-level with Damian. “Should I have Alfred save you a plate?”
“No,” and Damian’s hand twitched the tiniest bit for the loops in Jason’s pants. He had never really outgrown the need to cling tightly. Damian only restrained himself in public because of his sense of propriety. “Peter and I will be cooking tonight.”
“Have fun,” and Dick only looked a little threatening this time. Jason would have to burn this safe house when he was done, dammit. It had been a comfortable one. “Be back by sundown.”
“May I finish shopping?” Damian demanded, crossing his little arms. Jason resisted the urge to mess up the kid’s hair, just so he would stop Being Like That.
“Sure, sure, just let us know next time,” and Dick kissed him on the forehead and laughed off the half-hearted stab attempt.
After Dick had left the tiny store, Damian turned with a frown. “Will you help me find the tracker this time?”
Jason snorted and hefted Damian into his arms. If Dick was around, he’d probably catch a wingding about it shortly. “Sure, but only if you help me pick out the eggplant.”
---
“Akhi,” and really, Damian had been getting increasingly bold about walking up to him without checking for other people. “I had to eat the most disgusting cucumber sandwiches. I require real food.”
At least the kid was speaking League dialect. Well, whining in League dialect, really.
“What do you want me to do about that, huh?” and Jason was literally mid-patrol. Wasn’t this one of Damian’s nights off? Most school nights were supposed to be nights off, but Mondays always were because of the amount of homework that tended to get assigned. “It’s not like I can just pull out a full kitchen while we’re on a rooftop.”
“But you know where the good food can be purchased,” Damian pointed out, climbing onto Jason’s back and balancing himself so that they could continue patrol. “And we’re out in the part of the city with the best food. You always say so.”
Jason did always say so. He was right, too, because Crime Alley had the most immigrants and folks who would cook with whatever they could find. It meant they had the weirdest (and best) restaurant concepts around. There were a couple that maybe took it too far (the place that only cooked with the radioactive fish from the harbor wasn’t his favorite, but they double-fried everything), but all in all? Best food around.
“Fine, fine,” Jason didn’t know why he bothered arguing with Damian. He gave in most of the time, anyway. “We’ll get food after I finish this round, ‘kay?”
“Only if you bring me your favorite,” and Jason was trying to decide if Damian was trying to haggle or trying to do something nice for Jason when Nightwing, again, swung down in front of them.
“Hood,” Nightwing greeted, and Jason already had a gun pointed at the idiot. Damian had shifted to help make recovery from the recoil easier.
“‘Wing,” and really Jason wished that they weren’t quite so good at tracking Damian to him. Then again, they thought he was going to several old League acquaintances, which was certainly worrisome.
“I asked for more enrichment in my enclosure,” Damian said, the way Jason had asked him to the next time something like this happened.
Nightwing grabbed the bridge of his nose, and yeah. That was perfect. Damian was ideal for messing with Big Bird. “What have we said about spending time with villains?”
“That you would prefer I didn’t,” Damian must have seen something that suggested Nightwing wouldn’t be moving, and so he climbed onto Jason’s shoulders. “However, I have my own networks of allies. And the Red Hood doesn’t hurt children.”
“Fuck no I don’t,” and Damian’s shifting was annoying as hell, so Jason picked him up and put him on the ground. “You’re getting bony. I’ll feed you now, since Nightwing interrupted.”
“Hey, little guy,” and Nightwing knelt again, which-- in front of Red Hood? “Is there a reason you keep leaving for food?”
And good. Jason was glad one of them had noticed. Not that he would ever stop feeding Damian, but it was good that they were paying attention to things like that. Damian deserved it.
“He cooks British and American food well,” Damian said, leaning against Jason’s legs for support. It was a surprise that Damian was willing to be this vulnerable with Dick. Both admitting to not liking a food (expressing preference for food was something that had taken years to work into the kid, even in private), and showing physical affection. Let alone at the same time.
“D’you miss other food?” Dick asked, eyes flicking up to Hood and back down to Damian. “Do you have friends that help you cook or find good places?”
Damian nodded, once. “Hood is familiar with all of Crime Alley, including its restaurants.”
“Kid could use some spices,” Jason shrugged. “Indian, Persian, Mexican, Iranian, Greek, whatever he wants.”
“Other people cook Mexican food?” and right, Jason had been cooking Mexican food for Damian whenever they’d had a kitchen and ingredients, but the idea that someone else might make it was probably strange.
“Boy do they,” Dick laughed. “D’you mind if I tag along? I’ve been missing spices, too, I think.”
And Jason did mind, because he’d be speaking English instead of League with Damian, who needed to hear his native language more often. He’d mind because he’d have to be careful what about their past he let slip. But…it was good for Damian to have caretakers who were on the same page. And what the hell, Dick was usually good company.
“Only if you don’t chew with you mouth open,” Jason said, scooping the kid over his shoulder and onto his back. “Three blocks south and two east.”
Damian clicked his tongue at Dick’s face as the two of them grappled off, and then whispered in League, “Will they have a burrito there? Can I have a burrito?”
“Yeah buddy,” and there was a warm little body holding tight to him. “Yeah. You can have a burrito.”