He flinched when the movement of Jon sitting caught in the corner of his eye.
When was the last time he hadn't been completely aware of his own immediate surroundings enough to flinch? It was an awareness that Bruce had installed deep in his brain...but also, living with Bruce had eased the flinch response entirely. He had still occasionally done it if he'd been tired or focused on one specific thing, but by the end of his four years in that manor, either man could walk up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder and he'd only look up and smile.
The League had put some of that flinch response back, but even so he'd only ever done it for Jon in the beginning of his time there, when he was hurt and weak and still expecting the rogue to use him in some experiment or another.
Jon hadn't even touched him and he'd jerked hard enough to cause Craw to spread his wings and croak a protest.
"Shit... I..Nothing. I'm fine. I..." He pulled his hand away from the bird and instead shoved both hands through the mop of curls on his head. "I don't know why this is wigging me out so bad..."
Oh, Jon clocked that flinch too. That was a fear response before the Master of Fear. Surely Bruce taught Jason better than that, and yet? Jon didn't start peeling his mind or pushing the fear.
A whistle that Nothing would recognize brought Craw to Jon's shoulder, the stubborn bird yanking at messy ginger strands. Something that happens a lot and gets ignored in favor of the broken boy before him.
Seeing how he ran his hands through his hair. A nervous habit he used to have before he broke his fear. Mostly now it's when he is frustrated that he will pull his hair and break something, when Scarecrow is just a little too close to control. That song that had been so poignant switched over to an instermental.
"Because she did something to you that pushed your comfort. She did something, or someone wherever you went did. You're not alone here, even if you just need some quiet, that is fine." This was where he would normally call Edward or Jervis to hack cameras and find info, but he knew Edward was in Arkham, and he didn't want the headache. Jervis? Jon wasn't talking to him again, his latest Alice had shown signs of assult and Jon had been the one to drop the anonymous tip to the GCDP after seeing her and punching Jervis. He would forgive him again soon, such was the cycle.
Edited 2025-08-17 01:17 (UTC)
Yeah, let's just keep that CW rolling for the rest of this, shall we XD
He frowned a little when Jon called Craw to him, following the short flight with his eyes but unwilling to actually look at Jon for longer than a few seconds before looking away again. He already missed the bird's presence and he knew that if he whistled, Craw might actually disobey Jon in favor of him...but he didn't want to drive a wedge between them. Instead, he drew his legs up to hook his heels on the edge of the chair, arms wrapped loosely around his knees.
He buried his face against the denim of his jeans, letting the music play against the frazzled edges of his nerves before he finally spoke again.
"I don't know why, though. She didn't hurt me. It wasn't bad. I didn't even say 'no'." His breath caught in his throat with that admission and he shook his head hard and gripped his legs tight enough to make his knuckles down white. "Fuck, this is so stupid..."
Nothing didn't have to worry there; it wasn't Craw that answered the distressed look. No, Nightmare flew down from the curtain rod he liked to perch on when not bugging Jon or being treated like the old baby he is. Landing on the arm of the chair, a deep croaking noise is given instead of his mimicry. Knocking his head lightly into Jason's knee before fluffing himself up.
The rain and the bluesey undertones of the music really helped, not to mention the fact that Crane kept warm light bulbs in this room, plus the fireplace. Far too comforting to be expected of the Scarecrow, but this was Jonathan's sanctuary. Not the lair of the Scarecrow.
As Nothing spoke, Jonathan's eyes widened behind his lenses. Dots connected. He remembered being that age, listening to other young men boasting about their exploits while others felt used. Yet, there seemed to be more. "It is not stupid." A touch of firmness in his tone before it eased. "Even if you didn't say no, she is lord knows how many years your senior. Not to mention, wasn't she one of Batman's exploits?" The Rogues gossip like hens. Selina had bitched about that one to Oswald years back but had been tipsy enough not to notice Jon at the bar. Most back then didn't know what he looked like out of costume.
Nightmare's sudden appearance was met with a grateful smile and one hand let go of his tight clench enough to reach over to rub the silky feathers of the old bird's neck. Outside, thunder rumbled and slowly, breath by breath, he started to relax again.
"Pretty sure that's why she wanted it. Me. I...I look like him." It was true, of course. Jon wouldn't know, but of all of Bruce's children, Jason had been the one to grow to look the most like him. Add in the fact that he was almost on par with the man for sheer size and...well, it made a sick sort of sense. Especially-
"She called me by his name." It was barely a whisper. That had been the moment when he'd lost any little bit of interest he'd had in the situation and that pain was clear in his voice. Something wet soaked into the knee of his jeans and Nothing startled a little as he wiped at the unexpected wetness from his eyes.
"It's fine. Whatever. It didn't hurt, she didn't force me to do anything. I've been there, done that...this wasn't the same."
The old bird stayed close, making little noises and hopping closer. Jon watched, mentally documenting the reactions. It was only when Jason's knee appeared wetter that he unlaced his hands and reached over to a basket Nightmare often slept in, a ghost-printed blanket held over it.
"You need to warm yourself. The fire will only do so much." No judgment, just a gentle chiding only after the boy had finished speaking. "That worsens it." He spoke, his eyes betraying the calm look. He was angry, but for Jason's sake, not at him. "She used you, child. You have every reason to feel as you do. But I must ask. What do you mean you've been there?" He is pretty sure he knows, that he doesn't want to know.
He took the blanket with numb fingers, staring at it blandly. Was he cold? He was shivering, so he must have been. Right? Or was it a tremble instead of a shiver? What if the cold was coming from him instead of from the rain?
Nightmare puffed up and crooned, gently catching his fingers in his beak. The touch helped, his eyes shifting from the blanket to the bird as he obediently finally let the fleece unfold before leaning forward to wrap it around his shoulders.
It helped. A little. Enough that he was able to reach out to continue stroking Nightmare's head and neck as he spoke, but not enough to put any life back into his voice.
"Mom overdosed when I was nine. Bats didn't pick me up until I was almost twelve. You do what you gotta do to eat, right? It was fine, most of the time. Sometimes...
Silently watching as the boy wrapped the blanket around himself and stroked Nightmare's head and neck. Lifting his spidery hand for Craw to hop over, moving him over to the chair so he could go back to Nothing as well. A little calmer as if reading the room, it wouldn't last though.
"You were practically a baby then..." It struck Jon that he was likely still teaching back then, when this boy had to sell himself to survive. "I knew this city was beyond redemption, but to have to go through that at such a young age." He could remember Henry's final humiliation of him the day he left Gotham to return home disgraced. He had been an adult, and it screwed him up for months...
Shaking his head. "Think it is fine if that is what you need to do to survive, but know that you will never have to do that again as long as I am alive. You are allowed to tell people no, Jason." Another use of the real name, but he wanted to drive the point home.
Jon's voice made him glance up at the other man. Just for a moment, just long enough to really take in the look on his face before it hurt too much to see such emotion directed at him. He didn't want pity, didn't want to be coddled and told how horrible he'd had it. He'd survived. Worked hard to survive.
How was he supposed to tell someone who looked at him like that that selling himself after his mother's death hadn't even been the worst part? That she'd needed him to find ways to get her drugs when she'd been too weak to work. That she'd introduced him to the first person who'd ever been in his mouth.
No one should have to know that. So he kept it to himself.
"I just...I don't know why this is hitting me so hard. It shouldn't. It didn't hurt. It's different if it hurts or if I say to stop and they don't." Except...except he had told her to stop. After the wrong name had been whispered into the dark, he'd tried to tell her to stop and she'd just tightened her grip on his shoulders and shushed him before riding him harder.
"Can...can I be Nothing again? I don't want to be Jason anymore."
Their eyes met for only a moment before the boy was looking away. Most only saw Jon looking emotionally dead. Breaking his amygdala had taken more than his fear. He was harder to anger, harder to make happy; everything numbed a bit. Part of it was a blessing; pouring ice water on a fiery temper had cut down on the number of calls Batman and Robin had to deal with, but at a high price.
Matt and the boys have all talked on bad days with Nothing about watching Jon, to make sure he didn't walk out into traffic or anything that could kill him. Staying alive was harder than dying. His work had helped, the birds helped, and now caring for the boy helped.
The emotion Nothing saw was real; Jon would argue it wasn't pity—survivors never wanted pity. "Because you never addressed your childhood trauma. She may not have aimed to feel like that child again, but something triggered it. You are older now; you protect kids from ending up in that situation. I have heard the tales of Red Hood."
Nodding when the question was asked. "Yes, you can be, but I must ask you to think of a new legal name because I can't call you Nothing if we go to the grocery store. People will think you are being abused, and I ain't got time for that shit." The last bit was a bit of a joke to ease up the tension, but he had been meaning to bring it up anyway. Even if they didn't use it right away. "You can think on it and tell me later."
Nothing, on the other hand, was starting to be a little envious of that broken amygdala. He'd always been a emotionally exposed child, a byproduct of his dad's beatings and his mother's strong influence while she'd had the mind to, but waking up after his death? After the Pit? Things had been so much worse. He'd felt everything, all the time. There was no filter between the hurt of outside world (Because in the League, there was only hurt) and the parts of him that felt it. It was agony, razor blades across his mind every time Talia had shown him a picture of Tim or pointed out how no one had mourned at his funeral.
He was a raw nerve and everything was a hot poker. So for the betrayal to have come from the woman who'd once called him 'son'? It hurt in ways he hadn't felt in a very long time.
"I don't actually have a legal name. I'm dead. Dead kids don't get state issued IDs. So no matter what, I guess we'll have to come up with something for that...but honestly? Fuck 'em. I'm Nothing and that's how I want it." He pulled the blanket a little tighter around him, making a small amused sound when Craw crooned and adjusted himself on Nothing's knee so he could poke his head through the gap. He stroked his fingers over glossy black feathers and finally started to relax a little.
"I didn't want to leave. Before, I mean. I just...she'd done so much for me, you know? She made me human again, trained me like B never would. She helped me focus on what was important."
He was too close to realize that she'd only helped him focus on what was important to her.
Jon had been a highly emotional being in his younger years, before Granny's lessons and life forced him to be more solemn. Given the choice, he would encourage Nothing's emotions and insist on masks every time Nothing is in the lab with him.
Crane had been lucky; his short stint as a hitman never got him on the league's radar, and by the time he met Ra's no one thought about his start into the criminal underground. If he knew how cruel they had been to Nothing, it could change nothing, but he would glare more at them.
"Do you think this house is in my legal name? I'm a felon, child. I have a guy who can make a new identity. It will hold up well enough." Nodding then, as he sat back to pull the pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket. He shook two out as he lit one and held the other and the Zippo over to Nothing. An ashtray nearby, even if he didn't often smoke inside. "Fair enough, Nothing it is."
Nodding as Nothing explained, watching his boy and his birds. It was always strange to realize he had pulled together these abandoned creatures and claimed them as his own. "You felt obligated. She was a trusted adult who took care of you when you needed it most. It is understandable, even if her reasons likely had selfish intentions."
Taking a draw from the cigarette before speaking through it. "Just know if she ever comes back again, you do not have any reason to go with her. You can stay with me, and I feel it should be said, I expect nothing of you, child. Just for you to do your best, maybe go back to school if we can pull that off."
He leaned forward a little to accept that cigarette and lighter, the motion disturbing the birds enough that Nightmare hopped from his chest to the back of the chair. Craw didn't move, just grumbled at his movement, then opened his wings dramatically when Nothing moved him anyway. He would ruin his own lungs, sure...but the birds didn't need to be around it.
Sending them both back over to the couch, he waited to make sure Craw actually settled in and listened before he lit up and drew in a lungful of heat.
"What, you telling me you have no intentions of rolling me over in the middle of the night? It's apparently all I'm good for." He glared, shaking his head and holding up a hand to fend off the disapproval he was fully expecting.
"I know. I know it's bullshit. I just...sometimes it really feels like that and I either have to make bad jokes about it or throw a fit. And throwing a fit is kinda pointless, so...here we are." He didn't sound particularly happy with that fact, but he did look a little less haunted when he glanced up to meet Jon's gaze once more.
"I don't care what my first name is, but...not Todd for the last? He was an abusive asshole who hit people who didn't deserve it and I'm done having his name. Just...whatever is on your fake will work, I guess. Since 'Crane' is a little too on the nose around these parts."
Nothing has seen the lighter enough, a momento that Batman somehow has never gotten away from him. The engraving on it was certainly not Jon's initials; it was a lighter he took off Henry's body and still uses to remind himself people aren't to be trusted. Yet here he was offering trust and safety to someone who at a time had been his enemy, not that he really ever felt threatened by the Robins, much less this one. He'd never blame Nothing for his addiction issues. That was just business.
He watched the birds flutter over to the couch, peeking at each other a moment before Jon gave one of those sharp whistles, and they both looked affronted and sat down to play with the shiny bits on a cushion.
Reaching ever then to smack at Nothing's upper arm, a way he's seen Jon do when Simon cracks a joke that he doesn't necessarily approve of but won't chastise. "Not funny, and you're not my type." A second later about to chastise more, but the former Robin is speaking on as Jon nods.
"Make all the jokes you need; I may not always approve, but humor is a very valid reaction. If you ever feel like you have to rage it out, tell me; I know plenty of underground fighting rings that you could clean up at." When Matt was strapped for cash and Jon was too cheap to advance him, Matt would go fight in those circles. The boys would often drag Jon to watch and cheer with them. Not that he ever cheered.
That less haunted look was a relief, not that he would say it. "Absolutely, let Todd stay with the past; you owe him nothing. Let's also not give any credit to the bastard that helped create me; he was probably a rapist at best. Me carrying his last name is a punishment for being a bastard." He didn't always talk much about his life. "This house is under Whateley. I think we can do better than Lovecraft." He may not give Karen much credit, but these days he blames Gerald more, hes done the math, he knows how young his mother was and how not young his father was.
He had siblings here in town through Gerald, but they didn't know about him, and he wanted to keep it that way.
The slap to his arm was jarring, but not in an unpleasant way. He didn't flinch, didn't look away like he was waiting for more abuse to follow. In fact, his eyes went a little wide as a sharp bark of surprised laughter was jostled from his the depths of his guts. It wasn't a good sound, not happy or particularly healthy, but it was so much better than the broken voice of before.
Bruce had never joked like that. In the beginning, in his first months of living in that big, old manor, he'd been defensive and cagey. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. For his door to open in the middle of the night and for Bruce to take what he owed the man from his body. And when that never happened, he'd eventually gotten so tired of waiting for it that he'd just cornered both men at the breakfast table and made the offer himself because at least then the waiting would be over.
They'd both looked at him with so much pity, looked at him like he was a fragile, broken thing that would shatter apart if breathed on wrong. Alfred had tried to reassure him that nothing like that would ever happen to him again (a lie, though he hadn't known it at the time). Bruce had gently reprimanded him for thinking that either of them could be capable of such a thing. Bruce had spent the following month making sure they were never alone in the cave until Jason had started to relax. Neither of them had ever commented on it again.
That light swat and 'you're not my type' went miles further to soothe his mind.
He relaxed for the first time since he'd sat down, letting out a long breath that carried away some of his tension as he leaned back into the chair. For the first time he could feel the heat of the fire soaking into the leather of his boots, wicking away the rain from his jeans. He took a drag from his cigarette, savoring the warmth that rolled easily into his lungs, and his exhale took another few notches of tension with it.
"Fuck them both. We're better than them. Leave them behind, just be our own." He didn't add 'family', but the word was heavy in the air around them. In the house that Jon had rented to move Nothing into once his recovery was beyond the point of needing to be constantly watched. He'd packed pretty much everything he'd brought with him into this house and it had been left with Talia...but maybe there was something to be said for starting anew.
"....how much do the others hate me for leaving? Sam..?"
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no subject
When was the last time he hadn't been completely aware of his own immediate surroundings enough to flinch? It was an awareness that Bruce had installed deep in his brain...but also, living with Bruce had eased the flinch response entirely. He had still occasionally done it if he'd been tired or focused on one specific thing, but by the end of his four years in that manor, either man could walk up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder and he'd only look up and smile.
The League had put some of that flinch response back, but even so he'd only ever done it for Jon in the beginning of his time there, when he was hurt and weak and still expecting the rogue to use him in some experiment or another.
Jon hadn't even touched him and he'd jerked hard enough to cause Craw to spread his wings and croak a protest.
"Shit... I..Nothing. I'm fine. I..." He pulled his hand away from the bird and instead shoved both hands through the mop of curls on his head. "I don't know why this is wigging me out so bad..."
cw; sa mention
A whistle that Nothing would recognize brought Craw to Jon's shoulder, the stubborn bird yanking at messy ginger strands. Something that happens a lot and gets ignored in favor of the broken boy before him.
Seeing how he ran his hands through his hair. A nervous habit he used to have before he broke his fear. Mostly now it's when he is frustrated that he will pull his hair and break something, when Scarecrow is just a little too close to control. That song that had been so poignant switched over to an instermental.
"Because she did something to you that pushed your comfort. She did something, or someone wherever you went did. You're not alone here, even if you just need some quiet, that is fine." This was where he would normally call Edward or Jervis to hack cameras and find info, but he knew Edward was in Arkham, and he didn't want the headache. Jervis? Jon wasn't talking to him again, his latest Alice had shown signs of assult and Jon had been the one to drop the anonymous tip to the GCDP after seeing her and punching Jervis. He would forgive him again soon, such was the cycle.
Yeah, let's just keep that CW rolling for the rest of this, shall we XD
He buried his face against the denim of his jeans, letting the music play against the frazzled edges of his nerves before he finally spoke again.
"I don't know why, though. She didn't hurt me. It wasn't bad. I didn't even say 'no'." His breath caught in his throat with that admission and he shook his head hard and gripped his legs tight enough to make his knuckles down white. "Fuck, this is so stupid..."
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The rain and the bluesey undertones of the music really helped, not to mention the fact that Crane kept warm light bulbs in this room, plus the fireplace. Far too comforting to be expected of the Scarecrow, but this was Jonathan's sanctuary. Not the lair of the Scarecrow.
As Nothing spoke, Jonathan's eyes widened behind his lenses. Dots connected. He remembered being that age, listening to other young men boasting about their exploits while others felt used. Yet, there seemed to be more. "It is not stupid." A touch of firmness in his tone before it eased. "Even if you didn't say no, she is lord knows how many years your senior. Not to mention, wasn't she one of Batman's exploits?" The Rogues gossip like hens. Selina had bitched about that one to Oswald years back but had been tipsy enough not to notice Jon at the bar. Most back then didn't know what he looked like out of costume.
no subject
"Pretty sure that's why she wanted it. Me. I...I look like him." It was true, of course. Jon wouldn't know, but of all of Bruce's children, Jason had been the one to grow to look the most like him. Add in the fact that he was almost on par with the man for sheer size and...well, it made a sick sort of sense. Especially-
"She called me by his name." It was barely a whisper. That had been the moment when he'd lost any little bit of interest he'd had in the situation and that pain was clear in his voice. Something wet soaked into the knee of his jeans and Nothing startled a little as he wiped at the unexpected wetness from his eyes.
"It's fine. Whatever. It didn't hurt, she didn't force me to do anything. I've been there, done that...this wasn't the same."
So why did it feel like it was?
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"You need to warm yourself. The fire will only do so much." No judgment, just a gentle chiding only after the boy had finished speaking. "That worsens it." He spoke, his eyes betraying the calm look. He was angry, but for Jason's sake, not at him. "She used you, child. You have every reason to feel as you do. But I must ask. What do you mean you've been there?" He is pretty sure he knows, that he doesn't want to know.
Still, he had to ask.
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Nightmare puffed up and crooned, gently catching his fingers in his beak. The touch helped, his eyes shifting from the blanket to the bird as he obediently finally let the fleece unfold before leaning forward to wrap it around his shoulders.
It helped. A little. Enough that he was able to reach out to continue stroking Nightmare's head and neck as he spoke, but not enough to put any life back into his voice.
"Mom overdosed when I was nine. Bats didn't pick me up until I was almost twelve. You do what you gotta do to eat, right? It was fine, most of the time. Sometimes...
Sometimes, it wasn't."
no subject
"You were practically a baby then..." It struck Jon that he was likely still teaching back then, when this boy had to sell himself to survive. "I knew this city was beyond redemption, but to have to go through that at such a young age." He could remember Henry's final humiliation of him the day he left Gotham to return home disgraced. He had been an adult, and it screwed him up for months...
Shaking his head. "Think it is fine if that is what you need to do to survive, but know that you will never have to do that again as long as I am alive. You are allowed to tell people no, Jason." Another use of the real name, but he wanted to drive the point home.
no subject
How was he supposed to tell someone who looked at him like that that selling himself after his mother's death hadn't even been the worst part? That she'd needed him to find ways to get her drugs when she'd been too weak to work. That she'd introduced him to the first person who'd ever been in his mouth.
No one should have to know that. So he kept it to himself.
"I just...I don't know why this is hitting me so hard. It shouldn't. It didn't hurt. It's different if it hurts or if I say to stop and they don't." Except...except he had told her to stop. After the wrong name had been whispered into the dark, he'd tried to tell her to stop and she'd just tightened her grip on his shoulders and shushed him before riding him harder.
"Can...can I be Nothing again? I don't want to be Jason anymore."
no subject
Matt and the boys have all talked on bad days with Nothing about watching Jon, to make sure he didn't walk out into traffic or anything that could kill him. Staying alive was harder than dying. His work had helped, the birds helped, and now caring for the boy helped.
The emotion Nothing saw was real; Jon would argue it wasn't pity—survivors never wanted pity. "Because you never addressed your childhood trauma. She may not have aimed to feel like that child again, but something triggered it. You are older now; you protect kids from ending up in that situation. I have heard the tales of Red Hood."
Nodding when the question was asked. "Yes, you can be, but I must ask you to think of a new legal name because I can't call you Nothing if we go to the grocery store. People will think you are being abused, and I ain't got time for that shit." The last bit was a bit of a joke to ease up the tension, but he had been meaning to bring it up anyway. Even if they didn't use it right away. "You can think on it and tell me later."
no subject
He was a raw nerve and everything was a hot poker. So for the betrayal to have come from the woman who'd once called him 'son'? It hurt in ways he hadn't felt in a very long time.
"I don't actually have a legal name. I'm dead. Dead kids don't get state issued IDs. So no matter what, I guess we'll have to come up with something for that...but honestly? Fuck 'em. I'm Nothing and that's how I want it." He pulled the blanket a little tighter around him, making a small amused sound when Craw crooned and adjusted himself on Nothing's knee so he could poke his head through the gap. He stroked his fingers over glossy black feathers and finally started to relax a little.
"I didn't want to leave. Before, I mean. I just...she'd done so much for me, you know? She made me human again, trained me like B never would. She helped me focus on what was important."
He was too close to realize that she'd only helped him focus on what was important to her.
no subject
Crane had been lucky; his short stint as a hitman never got him on the league's radar, and by the time he met Ra's no one thought about his start into the criminal underground. If he knew how cruel they had been to Nothing, it could change nothing, but he would glare more at them.
"Do you think this house is in my legal name? I'm a felon, child. I have a guy who can make a new identity. It will hold up well enough." Nodding then, as he sat back to pull the pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket. He shook two out as he lit one and held the other and the Zippo over to Nothing. An ashtray nearby, even if he didn't often smoke inside. "Fair enough, Nothing it is."
Nodding as Nothing explained, watching his boy and his birds. It was always strange to realize he had pulled together these abandoned creatures and claimed them as his own. "You felt obligated. She was a trusted adult who took care of you when you needed it most. It is understandable, even if her reasons likely had selfish intentions."
Taking a draw from the cigarette before speaking through it. "Just know if she ever comes back again, you do not have any reason to go with her. You can stay with me, and I feel it should be said, I expect nothing of you, child. Just for you to do your best, maybe go back to school if we can pull that off."
no subject
Sending them both back over to the couch, he waited to make sure Craw actually settled in and listened before he lit up and drew in a lungful of heat.
"What, you telling me you have no intentions of rolling me over in the middle of the night? It's apparently all I'm good for." He glared, shaking his head and holding up a hand to fend off the disapproval he was fully expecting.
"I know. I know it's bullshit. I just...sometimes it really feels like that and I either have to make bad jokes about it or throw a fit. And throwing a fit is kinda pointless, so...here we are." He didn't sound particularly happy with that fact, but he did look a little less haunted when he glanced up to meet Jon's gaze once more.
"I don't care what my first name is, but...not Todd for the last? He was an abusive asshole who hit people who didn't deserve it and I'm done having his name. Just...whatever is on your fake will work, I guess. Since 'Crane' is a little too on the nose around these parts."
no subject
He watched the birds flutter over to the couch, peeking at each other a moment before Jon gave one of those sharp whistles, and they both looked affronted and sat down to play with the shiny bits on a cushion.
Reaching ever then to smack at Nothing's upper arm, a way he's seen Jon do when Simon cracks a joke that he doesn't necessarily approve of but won't chastise. "Not funny, and you're not my type." A second later about to chastise more, but the former Robin is speaking on as Jon nods.
"Make all the jokes you need; I may not always approve, but humor is a very valid reaction. If you ever feel like you have to rage it out, tell me; I know plenty of underground fighting rings that you could clean up at." When Matt was strapped for cash and Jon was too cheap to advance him, Matt would go fight in those circles. The boys would often drag Jon to watch and cheer with them. Not that he ever cheered.
That less haunted look was a relief, not that he would say it. "Absolutely, let Todd stay with the past; you owe him nothing. Let's also not give any credit to the bastard that helped create me; he was probably a rapist at best. Me carrying his last name is a punishment for being a bastard." He didn't always talk much about his life. "This house is under Whateley. I think we can do better than Lovecraft." He may not give Karen much credit, but these days he blames Gerald more, hes done the math, he knows how young his mother was and how not young his father was.
He had siblings here in town through Gerald, but they didn't know about him, and he wanted to keep it that way.
no subject
Bruce had never joked like that. In the beginning, in his first months of living in that big, old manor, he'd been defensive and cagey. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. For his door to open in the middle of the night and for Bruce to take what he owed the man from his body. And when that never happened, he'd eventually gotten so tired of waiting for it that he'd just cornered both men at the breakfast table and made the offer himself because at least then the waiting would be over.
They'd both looked at him with so much pity, looked at him like he was a fragile, broken thing that would shatter apart if breathed on wrong. Alfred had tried to reassure him that nothing like that would ever happen to him again (a lie, though he hadn't known it at the time). Bruce had gently reprimanded him for thinking that either of them could be capable of such a thing. Bruce had spent the following month making sure they were never alone in the cave until Jason had started to relax. Neither of them had ever commented on it again.
That light swat and 'you're not my type' went miles further to soothe his mind.
He relaxed for the first time since he'd sat down, letting out a long breath that carried away some of his tension as he leaned back into the chair. For the first time he could feel the heat of the fire soaking into the leather of his boots, wicking away the rain from his jeans. He took a drag from his cigarette, savoring the warmth that rolled easily into his lungs, and his exhale took another few notches of tension with it.
"Fuck them both. We're better than them. Leave them behind, just be our own." He didn't add 'family', but the word was heavy in the air around them. In the house that Jon had rented to move Nothing into once his recovery was beyond the point of needing to be constantly watched. He'd packed pretty much everything he'd brought with him into this house and it had been left with Talia...but maybe there was something to be said for starting anew.
"....how much do the others hate me for leaving? Sam..?"