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WARNINGS: none really, just funny banter
Jason Todd liked to think he wore many masks.
The city knew him as Red Hood. To his brothers, he was the snarky, trigger-happy one. To Bruce, a question mark with a temper. But every Tuesday and Thursday, in a tidy, sun-filled classroom, he was something else entirely:
He taught third grade English Lit. Paperbacks. Book fairs. Glitter-covered essays. Small chairs. Lots of stickers.
And somehow? He loved it.
Jason never expected to find peace in a room full of tiny, chaotic humans, but here he was—"Mister Jay" to twenty-four third-graders at Gotham Academy’s lower school, reading Charlotte’s Web with more expression than he thought humanly possible.
He wore cardigans now. He drank peppermint tea. He even had a bulletin board labeled "Our Word Wall."
And he hadn’t told a soul in his family
Not because he was ashamed—he actually liked it. He liked the simplicity, the structure, the way little Brian Jennings waved at him with both hands every morning and offered him a friendship bracelet made of rainbow rubber bands. He liked the chaos he could understand for once.
“Okay, who can tell me what the monster in Where the Wild Things Are really represents?”
Rory’s hand shot up first—Rory with wild curls, a constant sprinkle of glitter on her cheeks, and a reading level two grades above her age.
Jason grinned. “Hit me, Rory.”
“His FEELINGS. Because Max was MAD and monsters are mad feelings!”
“You nailed it.” Jason gave her a fist bump. “A plus level insight. Someone write that down.”
Rory beamed like she’d just won an Oscar.
It started during the fall parent-teacher conference, when you arrived ten minutes late, breathless and apologetic, your daughter’s glitter-covered backpack slung over your shoulder.
Jason took one look at you—coffee-stained shirt, wild bun, tired eyes and soft voice—and immediately short-circuited.
“Sorry—my car wouldn’t start, and then I had to stop Rory from feeding goldfish crackers to a raccoon.”
Jason blinked. Smiled. “Sounds like a Tuesday.”
“Sorry again,” you huffed, taking a seat. “I’ve had a long day.”
He blinked. “No problem. Uh, Rory’s doing great.”
You sighed in relief. “She talks about you all the time. Mr. Jay says this, Mr. Jay says that. I was starting to think she liked you more than me.”
Jason laughed—and it was a real one, the kind that crept into his ribs and stayed. “Don’t worry, she just likes that I let them write haikus about dragons.”
“Very serious educational practice.”
You smiled. Something clicked into place.
It started slow. A cup of coffee after conferences. A chat outside after school pickup. Then, one Saturday, he ran into you and Rory at the Gotham public library. Rory sprinted into his legs, squealing “MISTER JAY!!!” loud enough to startle nearby birds.
That day ended with the three of you at a bakery. Rory passed out with a cookie in her hand. You gave him a look—surprised, amused, softened—and said, “She’s never warmed up to someone like this.”
Jason didn’t say anything. Just wrapped Rory’s scarf tighter and said, “She’s a good kid.”
What he meant was: I’d do anything to keep her happy.
Jason fell hard. Harder than he’d fallen in years. He kept it quiet at first, didn’t want to spook you with his baggage, didn’t want Bruce to send a drone overhead and “investigate” why his second-oldest son was skipping crime fighting for PTA meetings.
He just wanted this one thing for himself.
You dated quietly. Rory loved him instantly. He helped her with spelling words and listened to her detailed theories about dragons living in Gotham’s sewer systems. He fixed your heater when it broke and always remembered your favorite snacks.
By the time spring rolled around, he was yours, completely.
Jason was...gone. Just absolutely a goner. He’d found a rhythm in the chaos—dinner with you, homework with Rory, bedtime stories, and night patrol. It was weird and messy and full of glitter.
He was there when Rory lost her first tooth. When she scraped her knee on the playground and insisted only Mister Jay could clean it. When she had a nightmare and called him, not you, because "Daddy Jay fights monsters."
He didn’t correct her. Not once.
You saw it—how she clung to him, how he always bent to her level, how she crawled into his lap like it was the safest place on earth.
You asked him once, “You sure you’re okay with this?”
Jason kissed your forehead. “She’s my kid, too. Blood or not.”
So when you had an emergency work trip and your usual babysitter canceled, you didn’t even hesitate.
“You sure you don’t mind watching her overnight?” you asked, handing him a list of instructions and emergency contacts longer than a novel.
Jason kissed your cheek. “She’s my favorite kid. We’re going to build a pillow fort and eat suspicious amounts of mac and cheese. Go save the day. Go save the world, I have this covered.”
You kissed his cheek, hugged Rory tight, and left.
“Alright,” Jason turned to her. “Movie or fort?”
Rory’s eyes sparkled. “BOTH.”
What neither of you accounted for... was Bruce Wayne.
Two hours later, the living room was a pillow apocalypse. Jason wore a glitter crown and had his nails painted purple. Rory was asleep, snuggled in his hoodie, soft snores muffled under a blanket castle.
It started at 6:37 p.m., when Bruce—who was supposed to be on a League mission—showed up at Jason’s apartment.
Bruce Wayne stood in the doorway.
“I need to talk to you about the armory in Blüdhaven,” Bruce said, standing in the doorway like the world’s most dramatic bat.
“Uh.” Jason didn’t move. “Hey.”
Bruce’s eyes flicked to the bright pink tiara sitting crookedly on his hair. The glitter smearing his cheeks. The empty sippy cup peeking out of his pocket.
Jason, his Jason, was wearing a pink apron that said “Kiss the Cook” and holding a bowl of glitter slime, staring at him dumbfounded. “Now?”
Then Rory ran into the room with a towel-cape tied around her shoulders. “JAY. THE UNICORN IS UNDER ATTACK.” Hew hair wild as if she had woken up by a nightmare.
She froze when she saw Bruce.
Bruce froze when he saw her.
There was a long, loaded silence.
Bruce narrowed his eyes. “...Is there something you want to tell me?”
Rory looked up at Jason and whispered, “Is that Batman?”
Jason sighed. “Yeah, that’s Batman.”
“COOL,” she whispered loudly.
“She looks like you,” Bruce said.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She’s not—! I mean—! I’m babysitting!”
“I’m serious! She’s not mine!”
A pause. Then a tiny voice mumbled, “Daddy Jay?”
Bruce looked like he had transcended.
“She’s SIX and I READ TO HER. It’s a TITLE OF AFFECTION, not a PATERNITY CLAIM!”
Jason screamed, his arms wildly flailing. “She has a BUTTON NOSE!”
Bruce just stated “I expect pictures at Christmas.”
Rory interrupted cheerfully, “He’s dating my mom!”
Bruce looked like he aged ten years in one second.
“...You’re dating a civilian... with a child… and didn’t tell me?”
“She’s not mine!” Jason repeated, clutching the slime bowl like a lifeline. “I’m just babysitting!”
Rory handed Bruce a plastic tiara. “Do you want to be the princess or the dragon?”
Bruce stared at it. Then at Jason.
Jason shrugged helplessly.
When you came back the next morning, you were greeted by a sight you would never forget:
Jason, asleep on the couch, Rory curled up beside him like a cat. The apartment was a war zone of glitter, tiaras, and cookie crumbs.
And Bruce Wayne, sitting in a tiny plastic chair at Rory’s tea table, wearing a paper crown and reading a bedtime story.
He looked up at you. “She made me tea.”
You blinked. “Is it real tea?”
“No. It’s glue and glitter water.”
“She named me Sparkle Dragon.”
You smiled. “Fitting. What happened?”
“Your kid called me Daddy Jay. In front of Bruce.”
You blinked. “Okay. And?”
“He thinks she’s my biological daughter.”
“... Did you correct him?”
Jason stared at you. “She said I have her nose. Bruce believed her.”
You covered your mouth to hide your laugh. “Well... she has told people you’re her ‘real’ dad since February.”
Jason groaned into his hands.
You kissed the top of his head. “It’s okay. Honestly... I don’t mind. You are kind of her dad.”
You met his eyes. “You show up. You care. You paint her nails and make dragon haikus and fight the blender when she wants smoothies. That’s more than biology.”
Jason’s chest tightened. Then softened.
“I love you,” he whispered.
You smiled. “Love you more”
Jason opened one eye. “Tell me you brought coffee.”
You laughed. “Only if you tell me why Batman is babysitting my child.”
Jason sighed into the pillow. “Long story.”
Bruce stood. “She’s a good kid.”
“She’s a menace,” Jason mumbled fondly.
Rory woke up and shouted, “GLITTER PANCAKES?”
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