metalogs | ( open ) and what's the worst you take

Entry tags:

( open ) and what's the worst you take

Who: Bruce Wayne/Batman

batsymbol
What: July Catch-all, Bruce assimilating to things, Batman being Batman
When: Throughout July, some August things too
Where: Primarily Central City, will mention otherwise
Content Warnings: TBD but let's just say Bruce being Bruce and Batman being Batman.

BRUCE or BATMAN

open to both [brackets] and prose, i'll follow your lead if you have a preference. if you want something else with bruce or bats, shoot me a PM or PP at

telekinetics to discuss. otherwise things we've planned/discussed can be dropped in here as well. starters in comments.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( putting the bottle down as well as the syringe, he instead opts for an astringent and some gauze, bringing it over to set down on the table as well as tension bandages that are dropped down there. taking a moment, he removes his gauntlets, hands wrapped tight in white bandages beneath them.

he doesn't look to jason — doesn't try to fight him with taking the domino mask off. instead, he busies himself with uncapping the astringent — with carefully wetting the gauze with it. hair falls in front of his face as he does, hiding blue eyes behind them. blue eyes that slowly fall shut where he sees the twisted faces of his mother and father. of martha and thomas wayne.

slowly, eyes open, though he keeps looking to the gauze he holds, watching it grow wet. )

I'm sorry. For before.

( words soft and that almost tremble, he takes a second to swallow — to collect himself before he looks up and, when he does, his eyes are a little wet there, bruce just focusing his gaze on the slashes to jason's cheek. )

( he's not expecting bruce to let up any because once he's decided on something, he doesn't let go of it. jason gets it, because jason pulls the same shit. he wouldn't say it's something he picked up from bruce. he would say it's likely it's something bruce saw in him, when he'd first found jason. gross.

bitching and complaining is useless, and as much as jason would love to bitch and complain for forever just to out-stubborn bruce, the quickest resolution here is just to let him do what he feels he needs to do, stitch up the cut on his neck, and take off. call dick probably to help bruce figure out his shit, because jason can't. jason hasn't figured out his own shit or even how to fake it effectively.

and gets pulled out of his thoughts by an i'm sorry jason hadn't ever expected to hear. it pulls at something in his chest, something he can't name right now because it's just going to fuck them all up worse and they don't have space for that. he turns to look at bruce as he moves in closer with his gauze to--clean jason's barely there flesh wound that he could just shove some superglue on, call it good, and clean it off when he gets time to shower later. like a proper gotham vigilante.

not only was there an i'm sorry but there's tears too, threatening to escape and that's too much. bruce doesn't let himself be caught when he's emotionally vulnerable. especially doesn't do it when jason's around. and yet here he is, and jason's--huffing out a sigh before he's reaching up for bruce.

pulls shit he's only ever pulled with his siblings, and--reaches over to softly hold onto bruce's forearm. jason's not one for physical affection, not often, not with a lot of people, but he's offering it here. )

Hey. ( soft, and a little wary. this is new territory, paranoia settles at the back of his head that whispers bruce is fucking with him on purpose for reasons jason can't think of but he manages to ignore it. this time. ) We've all got shit that fucks us over, yeah? It's normal. That's why we have each other's backs--this isn't the kind of shit you can do alone. I knew what I was jumping into, I knew I could handle it, and you don't need to apologize for having feelings.

( bruce not only guards himself physically with the suit he wears, he guards himself emotionally with the people around him. sometimes he thinks he disconnects himself from whatever he feels. other times, it feels more like he replaces it all with anger instead.

but seeing his parents again — seeing them like that and seeing his father be shot again like he was... that shouldn't have been anything he had to witness again. not like that. not when it still hurts him so much. when he still feels guilt for being unable to bring them justice.

he lost in those thoughts when jason reaches up to touch his forearm and he snaps himself from them, looking to jason as he speaks.

he's right. he doesn't need to apologize for having feelings. but for what happened to jason? for his freezing up when he should know better and being unable to turn that fear into anger... that's his fault. that could have cost them a lot more.

he stares to jason for a little longer — doesn't let the heartache there in his eyes fall to his cheeks. instead, a slow lick of his lips, he gives a faint not before he presses the wet gauze to jason's cheek, cleaning up the wound his father gave to him. )

You did what you had to.

( his voice is soft — a little trembling before he clears his throat and just lets himself focus on cleaning up that wound. hopefully it doesn't sting too much.

letting his gaze drop back to jason's face, he pauses in what he does. )

You shouldn't have had to though.

( he should have been able to handle it, but. he couldn't.

setting the gauze down, he reaches for the tension bandages, placing them in jason's hand, keeping his own there with jason's for a moment. )

Thank you.

( because he doesn't think he could have been able to. not yet. )

( it stings but it's a pain jason's familiar with. he doesn't flinch until the gauze hits a particularly painful patch of skin, and is otherwise--fairly unbothered. doesn't let his expression waver, because bruce is opening up to him and jason knows damn well how hard that is. he's saying i'm sorry and thank you and he doesn't know how to take any of those. jason drops eyes down to the tension bandages for a moment, before he's looking back up into bruce's own.

there's empathy there, but there's also the stubborn determination that he also shares with bruce. jason isn't batman, he never will be. but he's got something batman doesn't have. )

I do what you can't. ( his voice is even-toned; not soft, not harsh, just--clear. ) An' I always will. There's lines you can't cross, but mine aren't drawn the same.

( bruce couldn't kill his parents, because they were his parents. jason would have had the same hesitation, and his parents were--significantly less parental than bruce's. but even if it hadn't been void monsters, jason would have done the same thing. if it had been zombiefied thomas and martha wayne, he would have eviscerated them. sometimes the darkest path is the right one to take. jason knows that. )

( there's exceptions to things — shades of gray that can become murky if ones not careful. monsters taking on the form of dead parents and making them be dead in every way possible... seems like a gray area. yet bruce still couldn't bring himself to do it, even when that very monster wearing his mother's face was thrashing atop him, trying to kill him. he couldn't. if jason hadn't been there... he'd probably be dead.

it's funny. he's not afraid to die and yet... he'd felt fear in that moment. but for different reasons. guilt. failure. heartache. loss. they all hurt so much more than the thought of dying. of him dying.

fingers slip away from the tension bandages placed there in jason's hand, arm dropping to his side. it's hard for him — hard for both of them for him to be this... vulnerable, but. here he is. being just that. if even for the moment.

there's a sort of understanding there in his eyes — in the way he lifts his gaze up to meet jason's and he takes a moment to swallow again, licks over his lips, then looks back down to the tension bandages he'd given him. )

Still. I can't afford to freeze like that. ( having thought he'd mastered all of his fear, but. he knows there's one or two things that still destroy him from the inside. make him feel like he's ten years old again. ) Might want to wrap your arm with that. Just in case.

( there's a lot he could follow that up with. he could tell bruce that he's still new, that being batman is a lot. he could tell him that no one would expect their dead parents to approach them as zombies trying to rip their skin off. or tell bruce that, even when he's older, there are still things that fuck him up. could accentuate that they're a team because they all have weaknesses and strengths, and they work better together than apart. but jason also--he isn't part of that team anymore, is he? bruce kicked him out. tim said it's fine, bruce's forever is never forever, and jason knows that from experience but it was never as bad as the last time, and--it's complicated.

jason doesn't know what to say. he's not dick grayson, he can't give encouraging speeches or pick people up once they've fallen. jason leaves. he leaves because it's always his fault, and he always makes shit worse when he tries, so leaving is the only reasonable response. so he says nothing instead. puts the wrap up on the closest counter as he gets himself up to his feet. )

At worst it's a hairline fracture. ( his arm raises, and while it causes jason to grimace he doesn't reach a point where he can't move it. he curls in fingers, extends them out. ) Bandaging it is just gonna point it out as a weakness to take advantage of. I'm fine.

( but he does gesture towards his neck, while he moves to sift through the rest of bruce's shit. )

Sit down. I'm not gonna listen to Grayson bitch 'bout how I let you get an infection 'cause you're being stupid.

( dick probably wouldn't bitch. but he's as good of an excuse as any. )

I meant underneath.

( under the suit he has on, like how bruce himself wears bandages around his hands beneath the gauntlets. kids.

this is a sort of deja-vu all over again for him. jason insisting on patching him up lest dick get on his case about leaving him in such a state. it's strange— maybe he'd find some sort of dark humor in it if he weren't still so shook up from having monstrous versions of his parents trying to kill him. sleeping tonight is going to be... difficult. he might have to force himself to with something.

regardless, he takes a seat on the stool there — slow in doing so and grimaces a bit as he cranes his neck. it's nothing serious. nothing that needs him to be hospitalized or the like, but. it's angry and it's oozing and it hurts. typical of him to just rely on his own natural adrenaline and focusing on jason instead to try and ignore his own pain.

eyes falling shut for a moment as he sits there, he slowly opens them up again, watching jason from where he sits, the heel of a boot resting against the silver edge of the stool. )

Who's Artemis?

( no. he didn't forget. he never does. )

( his gear's not nearly as--loose or thick as jason's usual shit. it makes moving easier, but it also makes hiding shit under it harder. he supposes, under the suit and under the jacket would probably be enough to hide it. unless he loses the jacket, which, given the amount of times he's been stripped of his toys before, he won't discount the possibility.

but it's irrelevant, because jason's not going to bother with it right now. first aid on non-urgent wounds can wait until later when the mess is over. jason's arm'll be fine in the meantime. bruce sits, and jason takes out a bottle of painkillers. counts out a few and tosses them into his mouth to swallow them down dry. may as well, while he's taking a breather.

since they're not in the batmobile with bruce's very few supplies, he goes for proper supplies for stitching someone up: a needle driver, sterilized needle and thread, a cup which he fills with water to rinse out the wound first. bandages are for scrubs, but he grabs some surgical tape.

it'll stick better and bruce is less likely to tear it off when it starts irritating him. )

Artemis of Bana-Mighdall, she's an Amazon. ( it's part of an answer. and it's all bruce is getting for the moment. jason grabs onto another stool and pulls it up close to bruce's side so he can sit down on it and--lean forward into bruce's space. puts fingers against bruce's chin to get him to tip his head up so jason can get a better look at the wound. ) Strong as hell, doesn't take anyone's shit. Didn't take mine, ever. We worked together.

( he lets jason do whatever he needs to do right now — sits there and waits. he's probably going to head back out— he should do that, soon as he can shake off everything from before — get stitched up a bit. a shot of adrenaline to the leg wouldn't have helped much. it's exactly what it's called: adrenaline. it doesn't magically heal him. just makes him numb to it until it all wears off.

it's the sound of the stool tapping down beside him that has bruce pull out of his drifting thoughts — has him look over to jason before his chin's being tipped up. even so, those blue eyes within the smeared greasepaint look over to him. )

Just worked with?

( just like he's just working with selina. right. )

( he gets the implication there. jason could lie, but lying to a family of liars is stupid as shit, he knows better.

so instead he takes the cup of water and slowly tips it over the wound to flush it out. there are less messy ways of doing this, bruce didn't make a mess, but jason doesn't give a shit. bruce can live with it. jason talks while he opens the rest and threads the needle. )

She kissed me. Right before jumping into a black hole. I would've gone with her, but some asshole in a cowl insisted on bashing my skull in, so.

( needle ready, jason puts the end of it between lips so he can reach forward and pinch the wound closed with a hand. raises the other to take the needle back, and starts sewing bruce up. )

Could've been worse. I doubt a black hole's enough to take her out.

( there might be a slight wince at that — a soft hiss through teeth when jason gets going, but. he does his best to suck it up. he's had worse... physically, at least. emotionally? this might top a number of things, to say the least.

as always, he falls quiet. a man of few words. it's... easy with jason though? the way in which he seems to know how to navigate that silence — what all the little looks, hums, and grunts mean. alfred's also relatively good with that. having jason be able to communicate with him in his own way is... familiar. so at least there's that here. )

You really hate him, don't you?

( his bruce, he means. )

No.

( the answer is quick, firm, and jason lets it sit between them while he ties off a stitch and starts on the next one. he could have used butterfly bandages on this, but given it's bruce--better to be safe than sorry.

his feelings for bruce are significantly more complex than butterfly bandages or stitches. there is no safe answer, because having feelings at all is an exploitable weakness. he could say he doesn't like bruce but it isn't hate. he could say he loves bruce, but it's complicated. it's always complicated. it always hurts. his jaw clenches tight, but jason's hands keep steady. )

I grew up in Crime Alley. My dad died in prison--he was a thug, did a lot of stupid shit. My mom was an addict, I found her body in the bathroom before I'd hit double digits. Bruce was the best thing that'd ever happened to me. I'd be dead or worse if he hadn't taken me in. Still dead, I mean. Wouldn't be half the man I am today without him.

An' despite all the bullshit, I never hated him. Not even for a moment. Might've thought I did at one point or another.

Edited 2023-08-01 01:42 (UTC)

( he's not sure what he expected to hear.

he knows he's not the easiest person to get along with — to talk to if it isn't about whatever he's focused on or obsessed with currently. it takes him over — consumes him to the point where he doesn't know how to be bruce wayne and he knows it upsets alfred, but he can't stop. even here. he looks for things to busy himself with. looks for people to go after, take down, punch into the ground until they're not moving and just barely breathing. being anything other than that... he doesn't know if he can do it, despite how dark and lonely a path it is he's heading down by doing it. by being vengeance.

initially, he thought he could just shrug this off — shrug them all off and keep to himself. but they'd found him — searched him out and, despite his not being whatever bruce any of them know, they keep coming around. keep reaching out. lending a hand. inviting him to birthday parties. even stitching him up. they could all stay away from him. it'd be easier. but it takes a sort of courage to not. he's been thinking about that lately. on his own.

he's not afraid of dying. but letting himself even begin to get close to them... that terrifies him. to have more people he could lose. to not know if he has it in him to be what they might need or want. but like with gotham, maybe he just needs to try. )

I can't promise I won't upset you. ( at some point. bruce just has a knack for that with everyone, especially close to him, which isn't many. ) But I don't want it to be like that. With any of you.

( dick, jason, tim... damian. )

( it's more than jason is expecting.

he expects the grunts and hums bruce usually gives as answers to shit that's directed at him. has learned to translate those, to pick apart the ones that mean he's mulling it over, the ones that say he heard it, but he's not going to acknowledge it further, the ones that mean yes, he agrees. or the way he clicks his tongue just like damian does when he's especially irritated. jason knows bruce wayne's cues, or at least his bruce's. he spent his early teen years getting them down, knowing how to play off of bruce, off of batman. he spent his later teen years finding all the ways he could pull them apart. he's had serious conversations with bruce, he's had ones that felt more like bruce was talking at him despite him verbally saying nothing at all. he's talked at bruce, going on and on while bruce looked at him, stone-faced and unresponsive to anything jason threw at him.

i can't promise i won't upset you isn't the low hum he was anticipating, nor is the i don't want it to be like that with any of you even close to anything he was expecting. this isn't the closed off bruce who fucked off and turned away the moment jason started getting in his face, this is--someone who's trying.

jason isn't sure how to feel about it. he raises the hand with the least amount of blood up to rub at his eyes, only to remember there's a fucking mask there and instead just. squeezes his eyes shut under it, like that'll help with the almost-tears that threaten to fall. he's not taking it off, especially when he's this close to losing it.

the last stitch gets tied off, and jason grabs onto the tape to tape straight over them. no bandages, only tape. bruce can have fun yanking that off over still-healing skin if he decides to say fuck it and disregard his injuries. )

I think your no killing rule is stupid. ( pointing out all the reasons for bruce to be upset with him feels like the right way to handle this. piss him off, so it doesn't cut any deeper. ) That sometimes the people we fight are just garbage, monsters, that need to be taken out. They're not gonna stop killing an' hurting people unless they're put in the ground. I get why you do it. ( he's seen what happens, when batman resorts to murder. it never ends, and maybe it's more--peaceful like that, quieter, but it's not right. ) But I'm not gonna follow your rules. I do things my way.

( another wince, the surgery seems to go well enough and, as he already knows, jason's not too bad at stitching someone up. again, probably comes in handy both for himself and being around him... around batman.

gently, fingers brush over the tape, feeling jasons' handiwork beneath the smooth surface. it's nothing permanent and he's liable to rip them if he really gets into it, but. it'll do for now and that's really all he needs.

he's heard this before, of course. just from the other jason who had thought to slug him in the park when bruce didn't agree with his methods. he'd let him. slug him, that is. feeling that he clearly needed to get it out of his system on someone who looks like and reminds him of someone else he knows. someone else who disagrees with his methods. but he still doesn't. agree with him or jason here and it shows in the way he looks to him through the smeared black greasepaint there across his eyes.

but there's no lecture — no sigh of disappointment or quiet slipping away with a back turned to him as he busies himself with whatever close by. instead, he simply sits there on the stool and lets himself stare to jason for a little longer. )

I don't expect you to. ( follow his rules, do things his way. ) But I won't give up on you.

( that there's another way. always another way. )

( never before has jason been more grateful that the domino mask whites out his eyes. see? lenses are useful for plenty of shit. because bruce is right there, barely a breath's distance away given jason was working on his neck, and he--well, he can see the way jason's lips press tight together, how his brow wrinkles, but he can't see the hurt in his eyes. he can't see the way those tears that jason had been working to keep back start gathering in the corners of his eyes.

i won't give up on you versus the i was a fool for ever believing in you he'd last heard from his own bruce. jason's always been. . emotional. he feels strongly, he reacts strongly, he's loud. but this is one of the times when he wishes he was--less. less reactive, because he can't stop the way his lower lip begins to tremble. less loud, because the shuddered exhale he gives is a little too obvious.

the way he leans forward to press his forehead against bruce's shoulder isn't exactly stealthy, either. nor is the way his shoulders slump, or how he waits until after bruce can't see his face to reach up and pull the mask off, so he can wipe at his eyes. and while being more quiet may have been handy, the silence jason leaves between them is a little too telling. because there are several snarky little comments he could throw straight back at bruce, but he can't bring himself to voice any. not when he's--trying to hold himself back from crying. )

( everything about this should make him tense up — should make him stare like a deer in headlights almost and yet... he doesn't. there's something about this — about what they've both been through today and the previous time and the previous before that that has bruce sitting there. quiet. feeling some sort of way that makes him wonder if this is how it all starts. if this is how he starts to want to be there for them, starting with a young and newly orphaned dick at some point.

this connection so strongly felt through so much pain that he can almost feel it himself. even if different — even if not entirely the same, it's familiar to him and he hates that there are those around him who feel this, too.

it's then that a thought touches him. i do what you can't, jason had said to him and sure. he's right. so maybe for him it's more... i'll do what he — the other him — can't. or at least... try. no matter how tired it makes him, no matter how much he might wonder if it even matters. just like with gotham, he needs to try.

letting jason lean against him like he is — taking the moment to just try and keep it together in ways bruce has felt and done himself when it's just been himself alone, he lifts the hand up closest to jason, and gently presses it to the crown of his head, fingers softly carding their way through dark strands of hair as he does. unspoken, the sentiment is still there regardless; i've got you. )

( he feels bruce shift, and his immediate response is to tense up. waiting for the fight, for the hit, for something. it's--instinct, one he's managed to curb with some, but not bruce. because chances are high shit will turn into a fight with bruce, and maybe this is where it does.

it doesn't. fingers brush through his hair and it's the kind of soft touch jason only ever expects from--dick, when he's feeling affectionate. kyle is usually where it comes from, and it's still something jason's getting used to. he communicates with his fists, through fighting, through banter he's been using since he was just a kid with an attitude. this is new, slightly uncomfortable,

but it's still enough to cause the dam to break, for the tears to actually start falling. he'd been out there fighting for a while, taking down people's nightmares, getting civilians out of the way--taking down thomas and martha wayne, which is shit jason wasn't expecting to do today. he hurts, he's exhausted, he's got a kid running around out there that he let loose and who the fuck knows what dick is getting into, he's full of chaos and energy.

jason's here, leaning onto bruce, his fingers in jason's hair that's just barely long enough it's starting to curl again, and jason's pulling in a breath through his mouth before his shoulders start shaking. he doesn't reach for bruce, keeps his hands down on his thighs. doesn't say jack shit as tears fall and land on bruce's gear. doesn't say anything through the quiet gasping breaths, just breathes through it to try and keep himself from falling apart even more. )

( he know what it feels like to keep it all in — to ignore it to the point of never really acknowledging it because it just hurts too much to and who the hell would ever willingly want to put themselves through such emotional torment? physical altercations? that seems to be more the way to deal with it — deal with the misplaced anger that's actually fear or pain. the last time he'd really been like this — where he'd really broken down as jason seems to be, is when he was still young, after his parents death, and had no one but alfred there to console him in whatever way he could.

[you needed a father, but all you had was me...]

he doesn't know what jason needs — doesn't know the words to say to make any of this better. so he just sits there with him, fingers slow and gentle in the way they rub his head in some quiet attempt to try and console him. fighting someone to make it better somehow seems so much more easier than this... but that's also why he needs to do this. because it's hard and difficult and teeters too close towards letting himself care.

but he does care. he's always cared. even when it seems like he doesn't. even when he's been callous with telling alfred how he's not his father. now he might lose him and he'd have to live with that guilt, too.

there's the faintest sound of discomfort there on his lips as he shifts some on the stool — as he shifts to face jason better and lets that hand there on the crown of jason's head drop down to rest at the nape of his neck instead. making it easier for jason to lean into him. to be held with the one hand there at the nape of his neck. no pushing away, no leaving him there to deal with what he's feeling on his own. eyes falling shut, he sits there with him, the sound of his laptop running the program it's working on filling the silence that hangs between them. )

( jason didn't grow up with a safe space to--break down like this. he had to take care of his mom, because she was too sick to take care of herself most the time. then she was gone, and jason had to take care of himself in a place affectionately named crime alley. where no one came out without getting at least a few scars, and jason has plenty of them to show for it. he had himself, then he had bruce and alfred, and as soon as he was starting to get comfortable, to find his footing somewhere he did have support, he was dead. he came back, and all he had was talia until he didn't have her, either. and by then none of it mattered. he was a nobody, and then he was red hood, crime lord turned criminal turned part time vigilante, and no one has time to let themselves fall apart. he tells himself to get up, pull himself together, and he tapes together the pieces of jason todd he can get his fingers on. calls it good enough and keeps going.

he's had people he trusts not to fuck him over since then. he had roy, who jason almost got killed. artemis and bizzaro, who jumped into a black hole. dick and tim have been. . trying, over the last few years. most of the bats have been. but jason's not a kid anymore. he never was. he'll tell tim and the rest of them over and over again that it's okay to not be okay, but he can't give himself that same space. because when jason breaks, he shatters. jason shudders on an exhale, still keeps himself quiet because he has to be.

sucks in another breath, before he's shoving off of bruce. keeps his head bent down, so his face isn't visible. raises a hand to wipe away tears, but it mostly just--smears blood over his eyes. pulls in another breath, steadying, before pressing the domino mask back on. another shaky exhale, and he's wincing as he pulls himself up straight.

stands up, shoulders squared, lips twisted into a little frown because it helps hide how shaky he is. he'll pull himself back together, he just needs another moment. jason's standing, he's steady, that's about as much as he's going to get right now.

and as if the entire incident never happened, he turns back around towards the batmobile. raises a hand to wave bruce forward. )

We've got shit to do.

( when jason pulls away, he lets him — lets him take that moment to pull himself together, arm slowly falling down to his side. he shifts a little there on the stool — slowly cranes his neck to the other side as a means to stretch it some and rolls his shoulders back some while looking around the "cave" he currently has. there's still a lot for him to do with it — things that will keep him busy in his so-called downtime around here. for the moment, however, it does what it needs to.

jason goes and says what he does and he knows he's right. there might have been a bit of a lull for them — bruce having clearly needed a second to pull himself together as well after seeing his parents as he had, but. they need to get back out there. things will only amp up again at some point after all.

boots heavy as they tap against the floor, he pushes himself off the stool with a low grunt and makes his way over to where he'd set his cowl and gauntlets down, pulling those on first. )

Where were you headed?

( because he doesn't think jason had been tracking him throughout it all. more like they'd simply come across one another. or he'd heard the batmobile and knew bruce was around. )

Nowhere in particular.

( he was tracking bruce, but he wasn't looking for him. anyone jason could shove a tracker on and keep it on them, he has. behind his mask, the hud lights up once more to display all the little dots where the rest of their crew have fucked off to.

jason reaches into his jacket, pulls out a small, dime-shaped disk which he holds between two fingers over his shoulder to show it to bruce, very pointedly, before he places it under the closest table. an emergency beacon of sorts, which doubles as a bug. he figures bruce'll find it quick enough anyway, may as well make his intentions known. it'll also help hide the one he's absolutely dropping in the batmobile. he showed bruce this one, clearly if he was going to put another, he'd show bruce that one too. right?

each step forward puts jason just that much closer to--putting whatever that was behind him. bruce isn't talking about it, which jason appreciates. because he definitely doesn't want to talk about how he just broke down and cried on some reclusive asshole who managed to find just the right way to dig into all of jason's bullshit without even trying. fuck him, really.

fuck all of it. bug planted, and jason walks himself around the batmobile so he can throw himself back into the passenger seat. winces again because--that probably wasn't the best way to sit down when he's a little physically fucked over. it's fine. )

I've got eyes on everyone. Might not be a bad idea to check through 'em. ( but-- ) Anyone give you access to the bat channels yet?

( with his cowl pulled back on and it fastened as best as it can be given the stitches he now wears beneath the tape, he watches jason hold up the small bug and his expression says it all: not surprised, heavy sigh just barely there on his lips. he knows they do this — he's caught a few of them already, but. for the most part lately, he just leaves them. after all, if he really wants to be left alone — to disappear or not be followed, he'll get rid of them or put them somewhere else. they're curious, he figures, and sure. he is, too, with them. which is why he has his own ways of keeping tabs on them.

still. if a bat doesn't want to be found, they have ways of doing just that.

steps heavy as he makes his way over to his laptop, he looks at whatever it's running for a moment before he heads to the batmobile, sliding into the driver's seat. )

Bat channels?

( he stares to jason in genuine confusion, it's almost innocent in a way.

door shut, key turned, the engine comes to life and he looks over to the stools there left by the table. nothing they need to talk about, because what needed to be said or left unsaid, has been. )

( that's a no if jason's ever heard one. weird that no one else has brought them up to bruce yet--he's shared them first with dick jr, but jason was also the one who found him first. bruce has been around a while, jason would have thought someone would have given him access by now. but jason's not going to be the person who does it, so he just--snorts.

tries to ignore the way the i won't give up on you settles deep in his gut and hurts. jason doesn't want to change, but bruce. . this bruce, saying he's going to try means more than he could put into words. means more than the embarrassment of breaking down and crying on him, too. jason's--tired, physically, mentally, emotionally, this is going to weigh on him for a while. but that's something he can handle later.

or he can just throw it aside, pretend it never happened, and never think about it again. that's likely going to be the easier, less stressful path. just pull a tim drake and shove it all in a neat little box to be forgotten forever until it becomes a problem. )

Yeah, you know. Batmobile, batarangs, batchannels. Gotta put bat in front of everything, don't we?

( his head leans back against the seat, injured arm draped across his abdomen. )

Ask Grayson. I'm sure he'd love to add you to the gossip chatgroups.

( gossip chatgroups. bruce looks over to jason with a somewhat perplexed expression as that's certainly nothing he's ever been part of, but. then again, who exactly would he have a gossip chatgroup with to begin with? alfred? again, nothing he really wants to think of at the moment, so. instead, he looks ahead, gloved fingers gripping the steering wheel. )

I'll keep it in mind.

( that's all he really says about that before he's taking them out of "the batcave" here and back ono the streets through the slick shadows. )

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