Jason's fight or flight instincts kick in as soon as he sees that familiar face. Damian's hand tightens around his. It would be bad enough if they just froze here, in the middle of splitting a sundae, but, no, Jason has to lean back into his childhood reflexes and choose fawn. Or have it chosen for him, at any rate.
"I'm so sorry," Brucie says, in that disarming, simpering voice he uses with the glitterati, "you look like someone I know."
Someone he knows. Someone he knows, like Jason was a passing acquaintance, and instead of biting back a retort and getting out of there, like he fucking planned, Jason finds himself saying, "oh, I get that all the time. One of those faces!" And laughing. That tinkling laugh he always used when begging, when wheedling donations out of the society set. Damian laughs too, just slightly.
Because Jason's miscalculated. Insofar as he was calculating anything. He wants to be polite and get the fuck out of here, which absolutely would've worked on Brucie Wayne, which would've worked on almost anyone who recognized him. But Brucie Wayne isn't real, and none of it is enough to brush Batman off. "Where are you two staying?" he asks, like that's a normal thing to ask a stranger.
And Jason knows he shouldn't do it, but he tugs at the fraying ends of his sleeves. They're a little disheveled, him and Damian, and he should've listened to his instincts and found somewhere to wash up after they ran into trouble. Some way to get all the grime off. Get the blood off before someone like Batman notices. "With family," he manages to grit out, except Jason's voice still sounds solicitous where he never meant it to.
That elicits a frown. Not a campy little Brucie frown, either, a serious frown. A Batman frown. Damian is trying to make himself as small as possible, hiding behind Jason's leg, and makes everything worse with a simple, "Baba, they're waiting for us." He's just trying to help. Jason knows he's just trying to help, but it makes Bruce twitch, crouch down to try to meet Damian at eye level.
"Hey, there. What's your name?" Bruce asks, with the smile he reserves for little kids he's planning to trick off roofs, and at least Damian knows better than to answer strangers like that.
"We really should be going," Jason says, still demure, still seeking permission from someone he's supposed to have outgrown. Trying to keep him happy even though he shouldn't have to care anymore, and he has money now, so what's he need to make nice for?
"You know," Bruce says, looking up, but not getting up, still trying to hand some little toy to Damian, "there are places you can go, if you need to. Do you get along with your family?" It's so heavy when he says it, and Jason wishes he didn't keep reflexively smiling.
"That's so nice of you," Jason says, and picks Damian up just so he'll stop tugging, scratching gouges in the back of Jason's leg. "But we don't need anything." He just needs to figure out if there's a safehouse anywhere near here, or, worst case, spring for a hotel. Finally get them both cleaned up and presentable enough the fucking Batman doesn't think they're runaways.
"That person you look like? My son," Bruce says, a little too intensely, stepping into Jason's space again. "If my son were in a bad spot, I'd want someone to help him. Don't make me leave someone else's son in that same bad spot."
Jason's mouth goes dry, tongue sticking to his lips, and when he finally gets it under his control again, he snaps, "everyone is someone's kid - that means nothing. We're fine. We're going now." And tries to leave. The hand on his elbow is so gentle, barely there, and yet he can't take even one more step forward.
"You're, what, twenty-one, twenty-two?" Bruce asks softly, glaring holes into Damian's head again, "and your son is seven?" He doesn't reach out to pet Damian's hair, but the unspoken who are you running from is loud between them just the same, and, god, if Jason could've run - everything is tangled up and it's never been Jason's choice to run even when he had to.
And he had to, with what they were doing to the kids there, but the only one he could get to was Damian, and now here's fucking Bruce, back to rub it in his face that he couldn't get the rest of them out. That he only had time to grab one and get the hell out of dodge, like, what, like Batman's offering to fly back and liberate the rest?
Jason forgets to say anything in time, and he has to confront Bruce saying, even more softly, "let me find you someplace safe. Please." And all the protests die in Jason's throat, because Bruce isn't exactly wrong about any of his baseless assumptions, but Jason's done the hard work of stealing and running and the future is supposed to be his. He feels like screaming.
But there's only so much fighting he can do with Damian in his arms, in a room full of kids, eye to eye with the Batman with both of their masks off.
At least this time Bruce isn't taking him home.
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