baby steps.
jason todd x fem!reader
word count: 4.9k warnings: jason has a kid, mentions of pregnancy, a bit of arguing but mostly fluff
Who knew a family of detectives could be so oblivious? (A.K.A the four times the Bats are blatantly confronted with Jason's kid and the one time they finally realise she's his).
It was incredibly rare that Tim asked anyone in his family for help. At best they would mock him for needing help in the first place, at worst (and in most cases) they would create more problems and, in turn, an even greater headache. It was even rarer that he asked Jason for help – Jason had a talent for doing both, rinsing him within an inch of his life while helpfully pointing out the fifteen flaws in whatever Tim had originally been thinking in the first place.
Alas, needs must.
Jason had made it abundantly clear that under no circumstances was anyone allowed to visit his apartment. He was fiercely protective of not only his space, but yours. The first time Dick had shown up unannounced, injured, whilst Jason was still out on patrol, meaning that you had to patch up a bloodied Nightwing on your favourite rug – well, Dick’s initial injury had been the least of his worries. Jason had practically chased him out of the apartment, and needless to say Dick hadn’t made an expressed effort to return any time soon.
But Jason had also made himself impossible to contact. The only chance anyone ever had of catching him was at the tail end of his weekly visit with Alfred, or some kind of Bat-emergency that involved all of them swarming into the Cave, typically with bigger issues at hand. Every time someone figured out his phone number, he changed it. Nobody knew his email address. He didn’t have a habit of responding to his mail.
Tim just had a few questions about shifts in gang territory in Gotham, questions he knew Jason would know the answer to, saving him hours of detective work trying to figure them out on his own. It was a long shot, and one that could potentially end in much more than a flesh wound, but he’d already sunk so many hours into the case that anything seemed like a decent option at this point.
And so, he sucks in a breath as his knuckles rap against the front door.
It takes a few seconds, a bit of shuffling from inside the apartment, but eventually it swings open, revealing Jason – looking alarmingly sleep-deprived, even for him, clad in his worn, stained Gotham Knights jersey and sweats.
“No.” The door ricochets shut almost instantly. He hears the chain go across.
“Please, Jason,” Tim calls through the letterbox, knocking more frantically on the wood, “It’ll only take five minutes!”
There’s a brief pause, a silence so thick you could cut it with a knife; he tries to prise the letterbox open, desperate to get a look inside. He nearly falls flat on his face as it swings back again.
“What do you want, Tim?” Much like his look, Jason’s voice is tired, laden heavy with sleep. It’s strange, Tim considers, it’s not like Jason had been patrolling more than normal, if anything he’d been out less in the past few weeks. He hadn’t had any major injuries that they’d known about.
In spite of that, he plasters on a smile, “Can I come in?”
Jason’s entire frame fills any view into the apartment – Tim has never been before, and he’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t as interested about the case as he was in Jason’s choices in home décor. For a second, a look of genuine hesitation flitters across his brother’s face, but eventually he lets out an exasperated sigh, “Give me a minute.”
The door slams shut once again.
He can hear the telltale signs of life, the slam of doors and cabinets, the jumble of objects being moved about – he tries to look through the letterbox again, it’s in his best interest to know if Jason is up to something after all. It’s only a minute until the door swings open again, a clear path for entry this time, and Tim tries his best to look like he’s not casing the place as he makes his way over to the dining room table tucked in the corner. It’s unexpectedly cosy: warm colours, blankets, a roaring fireplace, a few photos of you and Jason hung up sporadically across the walls. He’d visited Jason’s safehouses before, and they tended to have more of a clinical, American Psycho kind of vibe. Needless to say the change of pace is a pleasant surprise, and no doubt your doing.
Jason doesn’t sit, instead opting to stand imposingly in the corner of the room with his arms tight across his chest. There’s a deadly scowl knitting his brows together, only the flickering of flames in the hearth interrupting the silence.
“Where is your better half?” Tim asks politely, trying to lighten the mood, “She’s much better company than you.” Probably not the way to go about it.
“Not here, clearly,” Jason huffs under his breath, throwing a look that very pointedly screams ‘get on with it’, but Tim almost draws back in surprise at his next words, “Would you, uh, like a drink?”
“Would I like a drink?”
“Yes, Tim, a drink.”
“You are asking me if I would like a drink?”
“At this rate you’ll be lucky if it’s cyanide,” Jason bites, “now for the last time, would you like a fucking drink?”
“Oh, yeah,” Tim splutters, spreading the collection of papers he’d brought with him haphazardly across the table, “A Coke would be great, if you’ve got it.”
Jason only grunts in response, trapsing languidly off to what Tim could only imagine is the kitchen. For a brief second, just as the door opens, something catches the corner of his eye that he definitely was not expecting to see.
A stroller.
It’s just so odd. Jason and a stroller are two things he’d never anticipated seeing in a room together – let alone a room that belonged to Jason. Ideas race through his mind about what the purpose of it could be: Some kind of disguise? Did it have some kind of hidden vigilante potential that none of them had ever considered before? Was he using it to, uh, move things?
It hits him all at once. Lian.
It wasn’t at all strange for Jason to look after Lian for the odd night or two when Roy was away on missions. He’d occasionally bring her round to the Manor to see Dick during those periods to keep her occupied for a few hours. Tim hadn’t seen the girl in a while, a few months at least, and whilst he was fairly certain she was too old to be ferried around in a stroller, he wouldn’t exactly consider himself to be an expert on childcare.
He's quickly shaken from his thoughts as soon as Jason returns, kitchen door clicking shut softly as he slams a can of Coke down on the table, sipping his own coffee down in massive gulps.
“So, Timbit, tell me what you got. You have 30 minutes.”
Steph loved shopping. Not extravagant shopping in luxury stores with millions of assistants that would attempt to shake her down for every penny as soon as she breathed through the door – just grocery shopping. It had always seemed like a mountainous task growing up, trying to make every penny stretch as far as possible, being forced to make practical decisions about what would last the longest or be the most versatile. But with a bit more money in her pocket now, it was a joy, the freedom to pick and choose anything, to go in with a recipe list and gather the ingredients, even splurge on a name brand.
It's her favourite part of the week, every time. Some people might find it sad, but hey-ho, it’s not like she gives a shit anyway.
That’s why she almost doesn’t notice when her cart clips the back of someone’s leg, lost in her own world, leering forward as she’s jolted over the handlebar. She definitely hadn’t noticed, until her victim turns around, that the person that she’d hit had been you.
“Holy shit!” Before you can even get a word in, Steph grapples her arms around you in some kind of pseudo-bear hug, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! Jason practically keeps you under lock and key, you know?”
You have an oddly sheepish look on your face as you reply, Steph astutely notices, eyes darting side-to-side. You look exhausted, concerningly so, the typical fun-to-be-around vibe you normally emanated decidedly missing. “Tell me about it. Uh, how have you been?”
“I’ve been good, good, same old really,” Steph pauses, before dramatically mouthing vigilante-ing with an overzealous eye roll.
“Jason mentioned you’d been doing really well,” you offer with a genuine smile, “Said that you and him had been working together a little more.”
“Yeah, well, it’s never easy with that pig-headed bas- oh my god who is this?”
A baby. Steph had failed to notice the whole-ass fucking baby in a carrier situated across your cart, giggling and beaming up at her with these beautiful blue doe eyes. Through her incredible detective skills (and the Daddy’s Little Princess sweater engulfing the tiny little thing), Steph quickly considers that this gorgeous young lady is the most magnificent creature she’s ever had the pleasure of laying eyes upon. There’s a few tufts of thick, jet-black hair sprouting out of her head, a little crazy looking – but only adding to the charm.
“Can I?” She asks almost instantaneously, practically vibrating with excitement. The little girl seems just as eager, reaching up with her chubby little fists to try and get a grip on Steph’s waggling pointer finger.
She’s surprised, upon looking up, to see how uncertain you are. Your smile is nervous, still seemingly a little rattled by the unexpected encounter. It doesn’t take long, however, for your eyes to soften, a more legitimate grin quirking at the corner of your lip, “Go on then. Just – be careful.”
Steph’s already got the baby in her arms: bouncing her up and down, cooing, playing with her adorable rosy cheeks. It occurs to her all at once that she didn’t know that much about you, your history, or your family. If she’d known you had such a cute niece or cousin or something, she would’ve made an effort to get to know sooner.
The three of you stay like that for a least half an hour; you seem to loosen up over the course of the conversation, answering all of Steph’s questions about the little angel. There’s a warmth that burns bright in her chest as you ensure to ask about her just as eagerly, making sure that yes, she’s good and letting her know that, in spite of what Jason might say, she’s welcome any time if she needs anything. It’s only as the baby begins to cry, shrill and loud, interrupting her story about a chase her and Jason had been on last week, that Steph agrees to let her go – and I mean, she feels like wailing at the loss of that little bundle of joy.
She can’t say she blames you as you wrap the whole thing up fairly quickly, the pair of you sharing one more tight hug and the usual promises to see each other more often. You’re gone in seconds, fleeing down another aisle and out of the way of the other disgruntled customers bitching about the screaming infant.
It doesn’t take long for Steph to lock back into her mission in the cookie section, staring down at the lines of shelves: name brand Oreos? Yeah, name brand Oreos.
“God, I wish that kid would shut up,” comes a quiet grumble from the old gentleman to her left.
“Hey, fuck you, man. She’s literally a baby.”
There were a lot of things that Duke liked about school. His friends, primarily. The schoolwork itself was a bit of a dud.
Needless to say, the most difficult part of his week was rallying the youngest Wayne to be ready for their carpool back to the Manor on a Thursday evening. It was every Thursday, like clockwork, that Duke would visit Bruce and the rest of the Bats – and it was every Thursday that he would have to locate Damian Wayne and navigate him through the end of day crowds to meet Alfred. The kid clearly liked school more than he cared to admit, because trying to find him in the halls of Gotham Academy at 3pm each and every time was by far the most difficult mission he had ever been assigned.
Which is why it’s a surprise when he spies Damian stood directly in front of the main entrance, arguing with Jason Todd, nonetheless. He only catches the end of the conversation as he makes his way over, but it doesn’t scream of anything particularly brotherly, even friendly.
“–just tell me, Todd. I demand to know.”
“It’s none of your fucking business, you little brat. Move out of the way.”
It’s then that Damian catches sight of him, offering a standard scowl in his direction, “Thomas, don’t you think it’s fair that Todd should have to tell us why he’s arrived at our school on a seemingly random visit?”
“Nice to see you, Jason.”
“Hey Duke,” Jason grinds out, brow clasped between his fingers, “Damian. Move. Out. Of. The. Way.”
“Pfft, it is never a nice day to see Todd. What a preposterous notion,” Damian drawls, so infuriatingly blasé as he inspects the dirt underneath his fingernails.
“Duke,” Jason’s practically pleading, and it throws him for a hell of a loop. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Jason plead for anything, “Please can you get the little rat out of the way? I’m already late for something.”
“B didn’t send you to pick us up or anything?” Duke asks, and – hey, he’s a vigilante too – it’s in his nature to ask questions.
“Jesus fuck, not you as well,” he makes a quick dash to try and push past Damian, who quickly shifts to block his way, eliciting a scowl from a few teachers gathered across the path, “B wouldn’t dare ask me to pick you two annoying little fucks up. He knows I’d say no.”
“Todd, just tell us why you are here and I’ll let you past.”
“Damian, I swear to God if we weren’t at a school I would rock your –”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Jason,” Duke begins calmly, the fear of having to break up a fight between two trained assassins in a school yard echoing in the back of his mind, “Is what you’re doing really so bad you can’t just tell him? It’ll make this whole thing go quicker.”
“I’m not doing anything bad!” The elder throws his hands up in exasperation, “You people think the absolute worst of me. I’ve already told him – I’m here for an evening class. One that I’ve managed to come to for the past five Thursdays without running into either of you!”
“Is that enough for you, Damian?” Duke turns to face the younger Wayne, who still has his face contorted in a sour expression.
“No.”
“Fucking waste of time,” Jason mutters, full of venom, under his breath, slinking down to sit on a step. Duke can’t claim to know Jason particularly well, the man is definitively the scarcest of all the Wayne children, and they’ve rarely hashed out any kind of conversation one-on-one – but the man looks wrecked. Dark bags hang heavy underneath his eyes, hair flat and wavy against his forehead, the usual stripe of white mostly hidden underneath thick tufts of black. Even as he sits, his shoulders are slumped over, and Duke’s not unconvinced that the man might just fall asleep on the spot.
“Listen, Damian, I think maybe we should just–”
“Master Damian,” a curt voice calls out from behind them, and a bit of life seems to gleam back into Jason’s eyes as he clasps his hands together towards the sky, “I believe it would be rude to keep your father waiting any longer, would it not?”
Damian, who up until ten seconds ago had seemed such a mighty force, instead deflates, slinging his schoolbag over his shoulder and making ever so minute movements towards Alfred. Not an audible word passes his lips, but more a steady stream of various different threats and commands slowly dwindling to silence as he finally makes it to the butler.
“Master Duke, I believe you are due to come with us tonight, yes?” Alfred offers a warm smile in his direction, as always.
“See ya’, Jason,” Duke throws a salute in his direction, electing to not take it to heart when Jason gives him little more than a huff and a half-hearted wave in response.
“Master Jason,” Alfred begins so slowly, in a tone that they all know is reserved only for his favourite grandson, “It is only 4:06pm. I am sure if you arrive now, they shall still be inclined to let you in.”
“Thanks Alfie,” Jason mutters, hoisting himself to his feet with seemingly the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Damian’s eyes instantly come alive, fire blazing in his irises as he glares up at Alfred, “You know what he is here for, Pennyworth?”
“And Master Jason–” Alfred simply ignores the pestering questions of the boy at his side “–you seem to be lacking in a great deal of sleep. May I remind you, as I have many a time, that I would be delighted to help, should you require it.”
Jason’s face morphs into a mixture of relief and genuine fondness as he nods towards Alfred, disappearing into the entrance of the school.
If at that moment, Duke happened to notice the flyer on the school gate that read something along the lines of New Parenting 101, 3pm, Thursdays, he didn’t dare say anything about it. Unlike some of his counterparts, he’d like to believe he knew when to keep his mouth shut.
And besides, that means he can’t temporarily relish in knowing something that the mighty Damian Wayne doesn’t.
“Pennyworth, if you do not tell me what is going on with Todd, I shall be forced to ask Father.”
“I wish you the greatest of luck in that line of inquisition, Master Damian, I’m sure you will get very far.”
For a man who lived, worked and patrolled most nights in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson sure seemed to spend a ridiculous amount of time at Wayne Manor. It felt like he spent every waking moment stuck in traffic between the two, constantly ferrying back and forth: report due at work in Bludhaven, Babs wants his input on a case, need to go home to feed Haley, Tim needs this taking to Wayne Enterprises – Can he pick Damian up from school? Yeah, he can pick Damian up from school.
Which is why when nights like tonight come around where nobody requires anything else of him, he’s got his patrol covered for the evening and he can just leave the Manor to go home and cash in on that precious gem the rest of the world like to refer to as sleep, he’s packing his things up and hitting the road quicker than Wally. Even Bruce gives him a nod and a smile on the way out, telling him to rest up for their – oh god, their mission tomorrow.
The very last person that he’d expected to run into on his way out was Jason.
People. Because, holy shit, Jason has a baby strapped to his chest.
It’s all so casual, Jason with his sunglasses and tank on, strolling up to the front doors like there is nothing bizarre about the whole situation. The baby is fast asleep against him, letting out the occasional huff of air, but beyond that completely still and peaceful.
“Hi Jason,” Dick says, almost incredulously, as Jason had clearly just planned to carry on past him without a word.
Even through his sunglasses, Dick can practically hear his younger brother’s eyes rolling in his skull, “Hi Dick.”
“Hello baby,” He’s often been credited for being fairly observant, but it doesn’t take a mastermind to acknowledge the clear outlier in this situation. To add insult to injury, Dick makes sure to stare as pointedly as he can at the small child using its own thumb as dinner.
“C’mon now Dick,” Jason teases, a smirk on his lips, “We’ve gotten closer over the years – we’re not that close.”
“Jason why in the fuck do you have a baby strapped to your chest?” Every syllable is emphasised with a soft slap to Jason’s shoulder, and instantly Dick realises he might have just written, signed and mailed his own death sentence.
Clark would struggle to hold a candle to the intensity of the look Jason gives him, and Dick can’t help but falter back as Jason’s shoulders begin to square, his body language echoing a stance that he’s seen on his brother many times. The indicative signs he’s about to beat the shit out of someone.
“Are you stupid?” Jason grits out in a whisper, “She’s clearly asleep.”
“You are yet to answer my question.”
Jason’s glasses slip down onto the tip of his nose, allowing Dick a glimpse into those smouldering eyes. Everything written on his face screams obvious as he so snidely remarks that she’s yours, duh. Dick can’t help but do a double take as he stares down at the little girl – he’d had no idea that you had a kid, and he can’t help but feel atrocious now that it all fits into place.
Jason had always been so intensely private about your relationship, and your presence within the family saved exclusively for special occasions, holidays, birthdays, the like. Like an epiphany, Dick realises all at once how little he knows about you and your background. He had no idea that you’d even been in a relationship prior to Jason, let alone had a kid that you’d brought along for the ride. You were so young! And Jason – the fact that his brother had stepped up into the role, well, he couldn’t help but be impressed.
“Oh. Oh. I see,” Dick replies, awestruck, feeling far too ashamed and ignorant to dare ask any questions that might pry into Jason’s personal life. He knew how they tended to make him scatter. Does Bruce know about this?
“Uhm, Dickhead, you’re kind of in the way,” Jason thrusts out an arm to push him to the side, “Move.”
Holy shit Bruce must know – he’s brought the baby to the Manor.
“Oh shit, yeah, uhm, sorry.” He’s still in a trance. Haunted, some might say.
Jason, a little confused but cranky as always, offers little more than a judging look up and down as he passes through. Dick feels his entire body rupture as the door shuts softly behind him, leaving him in the evening husk.
So much for getting any sleep tonight.
“I’ve called this meeting because I believe we have something we need to discuss,” Dick starts, addressing the room. It didn’t take long to rally everyone, 24 hours to be exact, all of the children of the family sat engrossed on the floor of the library: himself, Tim, Duke, Steph, Cass, Damian. Everyone except Jason. “We need to talk about Jason and the baby.”
“What baby?” Damian blinks furiously, looking around demandingly at the rest who seem to nod in some kind of understanding.
“Jason brought a baby to the Manor yesterday. It is not his,” Dick starts causing a chorus of ooo’s and ahhh’s to erupt across the room, instead Dick just offers your name, “The baby is her’s. And now they’re raising her together.”
“Uhm, guys–” Duke calls out quietly amongst the rabble, sneaking a hand up slowly.
“Are you stupid?” Steph shouts, relishing as Dick jumps back in surprise.
“Why do people keep saying that to me?”
“She’s not hers,” Steph explains, “She’s like, her niece or something.”
“That would explain the stroller in their apartment,” Tim adds thoughtfully, and everyone whips round in an instant, throwing out a barrage of questions about Jason’s apartment – oddly focussed on its décor.
The door to the library slams open, silencing everyone in the room, “I can confirm, you’re all fucking stupid.”
At first, all that’s visible is Jason, an angry look etched into his features as always. The real shock comes when you step out from behind him, the little girl in question clutched tightly in your arms. He takes a moment to pull a chair over from across the room, taking the baby briefly in his arms as you get comfortable before handing her back over. Without missing a beat, he leans over to press a chaste kiss on the baby, brushing back strands of thick black hair off of her forehead.
“This is my daughter, you imbeciles,” Jason grinds out as he stalks over to the group, “Mine. Ours. As in me,” he pauses to point to himself furiously, before pointing to you, “Her.”
Whoever said a library was meant to be silent had clearly never encountered the Waynes. The noise is everywhere; everyone is on their feet practically clawing to get in front of their brother. Damian, who makes an attempt to grab at Jason’s jacket, is quickly swatted away. Dick, who is dipping up and down in a desperate attempt to maintain eye contact with Jason, gets his face shoved out of the way by Steph, who is trampling everyone in her path to try and get answers.
“Quiet. NOW.” Jason’s words come out so much quieter than any one of them would expect, but in an instant all six mouths snap shut. “Stop screaming in the presence of a literal 6-month-old.”
A few heads hang in shame, sauntering off to the other side of the room to get a look at the baby nestled in your lap. Dick stands gaping like a fish, arms raised at his sides, “But how? I thought she wasn’t yours?”
“Excuse me?” You call out from your perch on the chair, watching as the eldest Wayne winces in response.
“When were you even pregnant?”
“About six months ago,” you deadpan. Dick jumps back like he’s been burned.
“I was being sarcastic, Dickhead! Dick, that’s a baby. We’ve been together for three years!” Jason spits back, a look of complete and utter disbelief on his face.
“I don’t know how to age estimate children!”
“Well, I’ll give you a real good hint – that one’s not older than three!”
Dick pauses sombrely, a dark look passing over his features, “I didn’t– I didn’t think of that.”
Steph, who is now cradling the girl in her arms, turns to you in confusion, “But when we ran into each other at the grocery store? You didn’t say anything?”
You can only offer her a sheepish smile, “We hadn’t told you guys anything yet, and we were still getting used to the whole parenting thing. I thought you might have figured it out on your own, to be honest, but I wasn’t going to correct you if you were wrong.”
“Can’t hate a girl for protecting her peace,” Steph shrugs.
Tim peers over at the baby with an astonished laugh, “Jeez, Steph, are you blind? She looks exactly like him. Hair, eyes, nose, everything.”
“Okay Mister #1 Detective, I didn’t hear you figuring anything out.”
“Is this why you have looked reprehensible for the past months, Todd?” Damian calls out, trying his utmost to look disinterested in the girl cradled in Steph’s arms. His eyes blatantly give him away. “I thought you were having a mid-life crisis.”
“Mid-life crisis? Damian, I’m twenty-two,” Jason blusters, face going a dark shade of red, “and let’s not state the obvious about my mid-life crisis. But yes, it is why I have looked tired for the past few months.”
“You’re glowing,” Cass offers politely, a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You give her a bold smile in response.
Jason seems to deflate, finally collapsing down on the couch, “Yeah, cheers Cass. You look great too.”
It’s at that moment that a thunderous voice echoes from the hallway, a set of heavy footsteps rapidly approaching the library, “Jason? Is that you? Have you brought my grandchild to see me?”
“I’m so popular,” Jason grumbles bitterly to himself, eliciting snickers from everyone else (all apart from Dick, who has yet to move on from his previous conversation), “Yes, B, she’s in here.”
Bruce Wayne appears, clad in golf-attire from some Brucie event he’d been wrangled into attending, to instantly swoop the baby up in his arms, a soft smile on his lips as a symphony of giggles ring out across the room. Horror is etched into the face of every other vigilante present; scorned looks of complete and utter betrayal cast towards Jason lounging in his seat.
“You told Bruce and not us!”
“That’s not fair!”
“What the fuck, Jason?”
“Why would you tell Bruce first?”
“Technically, Alfred knew first,” Jason adds thoughtfully with a sharkish grin. The protests only get louder.
Bruce doesn’t seem to care for the rabble, nestled in an armchair with the baby cackling happily on his lap, his features lighter than they had been in years. Eventually, things begin to quieten as all attention is drawn to the pair, everyone pausing their complaints to stare fondly at the girl who can only peer at them with absolute curiosity. In the moment of peace, you and Jason offer each other a delicate smile – it’s been a long few months, but you’d relished doing it together. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to bring in the village.
“Well,” Bruce mutters with a grin, “at least none of you have to argue over who’s my favourite anymore.”
I had a day off work today and literally just smashed this one out. I'm a sucker for the 'jason has a whole life that nobody else knows about trope' and idk if you can tell from my reblogs recently but girl!dad Jason is haunting my narrative
If you liked it, well, like it - a reblog is always appreciated. If you don't like it, leave me alone.
