metalogs | i was born to hold my hands up (open)

( right. he expected this. knew it would happen, because it's bruce and he's just like this. terrifying also to think he's standing here, parenting his parent. as if it wasn't bad enough to already be parenting his older brother who showed up here significantly younger.

he remembers back when he'd been talking to tim about how any of them would have been a better choice to wrangle kids than jason. and now he really, really wishes he'd just kept his mouth shut and said nothing. maybe this wouldn't have happened. maybe he would have avoided this entirely. maybe he jinxed himself. but it's too late for regrets now, so jason's rolling his eyes. doesn't reach for bruce, doesn't move closer at all. just stays where he is, for the moment. )

Land a punch on me, an' I'll leave you be.

( there's a slight scrunch of his nose that happens when jason goes and practically dares him like that. his hands are kept there in his summer jacket pockets and he bows his head some, cap covering his face as he does. )

No you won't. If you thought I could handle myself like this, you wouldn't be here right now.

( looking back up with that baby face and blue eyes, he sighs then. )

You going to take me back?

( to dick's place, he means. )

'cause I know you can't land a hit.

( he's small, bruce doesn't know how to fight when he's small. especially not this bruce; their bruce had trained all of them when they were tiny--maybe he hadn't had to move the way he'd been telling them to, but jason's sure he would have been able to hold onto some of what he was throwing down at them. this bruce hasn't even had that experience under his belt yet.

bruce sighs like he's giving up, and jason takes that as a good enough sign he can turn around and start heading back towards his bike. trusts bruce to follow. )

Nah. I've got somewhere else we can go.

( jason leaves to head towards his bike and bruce stands there for a couple seconds before he slowly trails after him, hands still stuffed in those pockets. he's not taking him back to dick's. )

Where?

( the genuine curiosity that comes from him as he asks. )

Warehouse. If you're gonna wander around like that, you're gonna learn how to fight first.

( it'll keep bruce busy, and show jason some of what he already knows. two birds, one stone.

once he reaches the bike, jason throws a leg over it. reaches back for the hidden compartment on the back of the bike to pull out a green helmet. offers it over to bruce. )

( standing there as jason gets himself on his bike — offers that green helmet to him, bruce skeptically looks to him, not yet reaching out to take the offered helmet. )

I already know how to fight.

( not like this, but. he still knows. )

Yeah?

( he's still holding out the helmet. still looking over towards bruce. raises a brow, even, because--look at him. )

Then hit me. Show me you can fight.

( he's even sitting, clearly that should make it easier. )

( this isn't worth it, he feels. to start something when he's like this and after what they'd been through before he found himself ten years old again. so, rather than try and make a statement — rather than turn on his heel and walk the other way and possibly disappear into the shadows, he takes the helmet offered to him and removes his cap before he pulls it on over his head. moving around to the back of the bike despite his small stature compared to jason's. )

( it's not worth it, especially because jason knows bruce can't land a hit on him right now. not if jason didn't want him to. he's small, his reach is shorter than he's used to, the strength he can throw behind it is less, and he's not accustomed to fighting when he's less than six feet tall. jason was, once. bruce didn't pick up a lot of his shit until he was a little older, far as he knows.

the corners of his lips curl up, weight leaning on the leg that's furthest from bruce as he waits for bruce to climb on. )

There's a communal gym space 'round here that the rest of us use, but I ain't sure how willing Junior is to share it with you. ( given their rocky relationship. jason would know. he's still iffy on bruce too. ) But I've got my own space closeish too.

( it takes him a little to properly climb on, given his small size now and all, but. he manages it, small hands holding to jason's jacket at the back as the helmet wobbles around on him a little. it should be fine. )

You want me to close my eyes on the way there?

( said a little sarcastically, yeah. )

Edited 2023-08-09 16:43 (UTC)

You'll just remember the turns. Or if you don't, I'm betting you have at least a couple trackers on you that you're ready to drop an' leave behind the moment I've got my back turned.

( he hears the sarcasm, and it's cute, but it's also pointless to try and hide jack shit from bruce if he's bringing him in. bruce is too clever for that even if jason had wanted to, but he doesn't. bruce gets himself comfortable, and jason waits for him to have a good hold him before he's picking up his foot and heading off in the direction of jason's own little hideout, not the batgym. later maybe, they can head that way. for now? he's taking bruce off to the edges of central city, where jason had settled for the first couple weeks after he'd arrived. )

( he's quiet as they go, mostly keeping his head down due to the wobbly helmet for his small head, but, every now and then, he looks up — watches as things pass them by. jason might not be able to see but, underneath the helmet, he smiles a little. bruce likes riding — feels free when he does. sometimes thinks that, maybe, if he rides fast enough, he can outrun everything clawing at him from the inside. the nightmares, the trauma, the guilt, the anger. all of it. but it always catches up to him. no matter how fast he rides or how far he goes. he can't escape it.

funnily enough, small hands grip jason's jacket a little tighter — a little more excitedly as they go. seeing the city whizz past them like it is... it feels nostalgic to him. even if it's not gotham. )

( it's why jason prefers bikes over cars.

sure, cars are a little more well--protected, but bikes are significantly more versatile, they can go places cars can't, and jason's used to narrow city alleys where having that kind of flexibility is important. he likes the wind, too. likes feeling it around him, likes hearing the city beyond it, being able to smell it. his bike is quiet, significantly moreso than most both due to the futuristic environment it had come from and jason's own personal modifications. it means that, even when he's not wearing one of the helmets he's programmed with their own communication devices inside along with audio filters to filter out most the wind while leaving the city sounds around them, he can clearly hear cars honking, the sound of nearby engines, and everything in between.

bruce holds on tight, and jason--doesn't know how to feel about any of this. it's all so weighted, and he's got enough weight on his shoulders right now to try and unpack this, too. so he doesn't. focuses on other shit, instead. like the city going by them, the road signs, how he's in deep shit and all of this is just digging himself a bigger hole that he'll have to figure out how to climb out of later.

it's fine. he's got this. he has--people, here. people he can rely on, usually. jason sucks in a deep breath, holds it in his gut for a few moments before he slowly lets it out.

turns down another alley and slows the bike down as they approach a ratty old warehouse. )

( bruce keeps the sights in mind — presses them to his memories as they continue on their way. he doesn't know if he'll ever need to come here again, but. knowing where it is might help one day. who knows. he manipulates shadows — darkness. he doesn't see into the future.

as the bike slows, bruce peers around jason to get a better look ahead, small hands still holding tight to his jacket. tilting his head back some in an attempt to see better through the wobbly helmet, he spots the ratty looking warehouse. )

You stay here sometimes?

Not anymore.

( he used to, before he'd opted to instead snooze on kyle's couch. before he'd then stolen kyle's apartment and shoved him into newark so he was closer, just in case. never know when a lantern will come in handy, and kyle's--well, kyle. the bike slows to a stop, and jason twists around just enough to gently shove at bruce. get off his bike, tiny. )

Just after I got here, a couple pals an' I were working on fixing it up.

( doesn't look like much now. there's obvious signs of construction - a few patched holes, the wire going across the massive hole in the roof of one looks close enough. the kitchen looks almost usable, drag marks coming away from a corner where there had been a generator before jason had taken it elsewhere. )

( even without the gentle shove, he knows to get down and so he does, after holding tight to jason for support while doing so. once he's on the ground, he pulls off the helmet and sets it on the back of the bike, combing at his hair with his fingers some to fix the typical helmet hair that comes with riding a bike.

taking a few steps forward and away from jason, he gives another look ahead. )

Why'd you stop?

( bruce gets off, so jason does too. holds onto the bike by the handles and pulls it forward with them as it shuts off--it doesn't need a key, either, and instead powers down without any visible interaction. jason brings it on through the warehouse door with them, because he's not leaving it outside. )

Central's not my city, I don't need my own set up here. ( didn't really want one, given everyone else is also here. ) Drake has a safehouse, so I've got a place when I need one.

( following alongside jason, bruce looks down to his sneakers as they go. it's funny because he hasn't worn anything like sneakers in some time now, but. at this age and size, they seem the better option. he wonders what he'll do with these clothes when he's back to normal. donate them, probably.

glancing over to jason for a moment, he looks ahead again. )

Do you live in Gotham? Where you're from?

Sometimes.

( the bike gets parked inside the door, and jason walks himself over towards the center of the room. grabs onto the large mat that he hasn't removed yet, specifically for reasons like this, so he can kick it over onto it's side and open it up. )

Don't really live anywhere these days. I go everywhere.

( following along, he takes a look around the warehouse — watches as jason grabs the mat and begins to roll it out. )

Even here?

I've got a couple places here.

( with the mat rolled out, jason starts shucking off his jacket. folds it before dropping it down onto the ground beside the mat. close by enough he can grab onto it quickly if needed, far enough away none of the sharp and pointy objects stashed away are going to be a risk. )

Some used more often than others, given I've got Dickie.

( still watching jason, his gaze drops then after a moment, finding it a little difficult to keep his expressions as unreadable as they can be when he's... not ten years old. something about being this age coupled with memories of an older life on top of childhood ones that burn much brighter now... he stares hard at the floor — mulls over something and when he speaks, it's while still looking to the floor. no efforts made to remove his jacket or anything. )

Were you this age when we met? ( the age he is now, a beat. ) In Gotham?

( weird question, but it is enough that it gets jason to--pause for a moment and look over to bruce. looks him over, head to toe. he's seen the paintings throughout wayne manor, though they--lessen significantly after thomas and martha's deaths. he doesn't remember how small he was, not exactly. so. )

I was eleven.

( so, closeish if not exactly the same. jason steps up onto the mat, gestures for bruce to come along with him. )

But I'd been fighting since I was way younger'n you.

( standing there — lingering, when jason gestures for him to come over to the mat, he takes a moment for himself before he takes a couple steps... then stops again. standing there. this time, he looks up to jason, if he looks over to him. )

Do you think it would have been better if we never met?

If we hadn't met, I'd've died probably younger an' stayed dead. Or I would've ended up as another goon for someone like Penguin or Two-Face, which would've been even worse. 'cause I would've still died, but I would've caused a shitton of damage beforehand.

( he knows bruce improved his life tenfold. knows he would have ended up a lot more fucked up had he stayed in crime alley than he is now. knows bruce taught him--a lot of shit he wouldn't have gotten elsewhere. that robin was the best thing that ever happened to him, that being able to be something more than just another street rat is what made jason who he is today. he wouldn't change it.

doesn't mean he won't still bitch about it on occasion. )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject