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

( 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. )

( penguin he knows — he's dealt with him a couple times already. two-face... that's not a familiar name to him, but. then again, none of them were familiar names to him either.

after a moment of mulling over that, he takes to unzipping his jacket, removing it and holding it there in his hands with his cap. making his way more over to the mat, he sets them down near jason's jacket, standing then, rubbing at his neck where he still has a bandage there from jason's patching him up. )

I hope things are different if we meet in my Gotham. ( a beat. ) Better.

Jesus christ.

( a roll of his eyes, and jason stays just where he is, for a minute. he's got plans here, but what's more important is getting bruce to shut his stupid mouth, so he'll reconvene on--everything else here in a second. )

I'm gonna say shit, and I don't want to hear it repeated anywhere, alright? I don't wanna hear any of it come up between us again, I don't wanna hear Rayner parrot it back to me, nothing. ( he's not going to wait for bruce to respond, but he does drop down onto his knees on the mat. lowers himself so he's closer to bruce's eye level. ) I was a fucked up kid before Bruce Wayne ever got his hands on me. I didn't want help fixing any of it, I wanted to prevent it for everyone else. An' you can't make any of that different, not without taking away all the crap that makes me, myself. It was B pushing me to get help that had me running off to do crap on my own. That got me killed. I wouldn't trade meeting B for anything.

( he's thought about it--a fair amount, between the conversations with this bruce, with everything that's come up since getting here. )

Becoming his--your--son, becoming Robin, I don't regret a damn moment of it. Alright? If you want shit to be better, ( a hand raises, fingers shoving through his hair as jason lets out a breath. ) just listen.

Edited 2023-08-11 22:13 (UTC)

( he does as jason asks even before he asks: listens to what he says.

there's still a sort of way to feel about knowing that jason's died at the hands of the joker — that his bruce hadn't done anything to avenge someone he considers a son of his, but. he doesn't know what he would do if it were to have happened to him. right now? he's too angry, too scarred, too full of trauma that, despite his never wanting to kill, something like that might genuinely tip him over the edge or damn near close to it. but he still doesn't like that it happened to him... that he has to carry that with him.

looking up, as his gaze has drifted downwards when jason started speaking, he eyes the other and the way he's there on his knees — eye level with him — and stares for a long moment. he gets it. they've already been through... a lot... in ways he never thought he would with someone else — someone who comes to be a son to him eventually. so, after a moment to let that sink in, he speaks then. )

Does this mean you're gonna call me dad now?

( it's said as playfully as ever and yet is somehow still delivered with that dry tone of bruce's despite his being a ten year old version of himself there. yet, even in doing so, it's obvious he's just teasing and that he gets it. )

Why not? You look like you could father someone in their mid twenties.

( he rarely even dads his own bruce, so nah, that's not happening. but he's not going to bring that up. jason's speech is done, he's not getting into it anymore. he doesn't want to go through the complexities of his relationship with his family when he's still sorting through it himself.

jason pulls himself back up to his feet. takes a step back. rolls his shoulders, before he's throwing bruce a grin and raising a hand up to gesture him forward. )

C'mon, tiny. You said you know how to fight, show me.

( fighting is a great coping mechanism and no one can ever convince jason otherwise. )

( that's fine by him. honestly, if any of them genuinely referred to him as dad, he probably wouldn't know what to do, let alone how to feel. he's accepted that This Is A Thing, sure. that some other version of him has taken in a number of kids as his own. he can see that — relate to that needing someone but not knowing who. for him, it was alfred, and for them, it's apparently him. but he still needs to deal with that, both here and eventually back in gotham. so all he can do is try... when he's able to. when he's not lost in his own anger, trauma, and guilt.

regardless of the moments he's had with jason thus far, it's going to be a work in progress and he's probably going to screw it up sometimes — let him down in some way.

but for now, neither of them have to worry about that. )

No weapons?

No one out there's gonna care what you've got on you, why should I?

( a lesson he'd picked up before bruce, but one bruce had made sure jason was ready for on multiple occasions. robin wore his weapons in plain sight: a bright yellow utility belt strapped around his waist under an equally bright yellow cape, but robin had been a distraction, and jason hadn't needed anything he'd kept in there if he'd been caught without it.

jason lowers his hands, to gesture over to himself. the almost skintight suit doesn't leave much room for weapons, though there's the two holsters on his thighs and a couple knives at his waist. the jacket's where all his real fun toys are, which is with the rest of bruce's shit. )

I ain't unarmed.

( he just doesn't want to be stabbed again. especially being so small. even if he hopes they're both past that now. )

Neither am I.

( he says that rather coolly as he stands there — takes a moment to roll his sleeves up and makes his way over to jason a little more. watching. careful. until he's right there, nearly in front of him. )

Hit me.

Hit you.

( with a quirked brow, as he looks pointedly down to bruce. )

Y'know, I generally try an' avoid hitting kids these days. Gremlins excluded.

You said you wanted to fight.

( well. "teach him how to fight" which he suspects he means at this current age and size. )

Or are you planning to fight with harsh language?

I said I wanted you to show me you know how, never said I'd be hitting you.

( this is a training session, not a pummeling one. )

But if you wanna trade insults, I'm sure I could take you down a peg.

So you assume you'd actually be able to hit me.

( said so very dryly with that ten year old voice. )

You underestimate me because I'm smaller now?

No, 'cause you're a good decade and change behind me.

( and he's smaller, but mostly that first bit. )

I could take you when you're full-sized without breaking a sweat. ( now that? intentionally exaggerating. he wants to piss bruce off, get him riled up. make him want to win, to try, thanks. )

Edited 2023-08-16 16:04 (UTC)

( crossing his arms, he sighs. )

Five.

Edited 2023-08-16 16:20 (UTC)

Five what?

( is this a countdown. )

Four.

( it just might be. but who ever knows with bruce. )

Three.

( knees bent and one leg sliding back and arms raising up to pull himself into a southpaw boxing stance. he may have told bruce he's not shit, but jason knows better. )

Two. You can still back out.

( it's some like father like son moment almost. )

You don't scare me.

( with a roll of his eyes, but the corners of his lips are twisting into a grin. he's not annoyed, he's having fun. )

One.

( maybe not as he is, but some version of bruce does. scare him.

with the countdown over, bruce flicks his hand out from under his crossed arm towards jason. a marble drops. except it's not a marble. it's a smoke bomb. one he'd taken from his jacket before he'd set it down to the side. filling the space between and around them with thick smoke. jason's not the only one who carries toys. )

Edited 2023-08-16 16:45 (UTC)

( there's more than one kind of fear. bruce scares jason, because he can destroy him in an instant if he wants. all he needs to do is open his mouth and say just the right thing in just the wrong way and jason--falls apart. but jason's gotten his ass beaten more times than he can count, and bruce bruising him up doesn't frighten him. physical pain never has, he's a big boy who knows how to take a hit. but bruce has likely figured that out by now, too.

smoke begins filtering into the warehouse, and jason pulls his arms in a little closer, but doesn't move elsewise. the lenses on his mask shift to glow a dull red, switching to thermal imaging without any prompting needed of jason. and he--waits. to see what bruce's next move is. )

i was born to hold my hands up (open)

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