Archive of Our Own

Peter sighed, rubbing at his face as he let himself into the house. It had been a very long and very upsetting day. It wasn’t often White Collar got dragged into other departments’ messes, but last week their forgery case led to a racketeering ring, which led to the Irish mob, which led to a shootout in a run-down building while backing up Violent Crimes, which left three agents hospitalized and one dead.

Today they’d finished processing the paperwork, and the entire office had been in a subdued mood. A few agents took a mental health day, some chugged coffee like it was going out of style, and others threw themselves into their work as a distraction. Peter hadn’t felt like doing much of anything himself, but Neal had been almost vibrating out of his chair with nerves, so Peter had dragged himself out of his office to do some fieldwork.

Needless to say, he was looking forward to a quiet evening and the FBI’s annual Family Picnic that was scheduled for Sunday. It was always a good day, time to get away from the stress of the office, spend time with his friends, eat some burgers, and drink some beer.

“Honey?” he called tiredly.

“In here, Hon,” El called from the dining room. He shucked his jacket, tossing it over the arm of the couch, and kicked off his shoes, shuffling into the dining room.

El was sitting at the dining room table, a mug warming her hands and a sympathetic look on her face. She also wasn’t alone. Jason turned in his seat to see him, the half-guarded, half-nervous look he always had around Peter firmly in place. El had assured him that Jason just had some issues with law enforcement after a childhood in Gotham, where half the time the people you had to run from were wearing a uniform and badge. “He’ll warm up to you,” she maintained. Peter wasn’t so sure.

Jason’s expression became a bit more uncomfortable, and Peter realized he’d been staring. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing his face again. “Long day.”

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Jason said, slipping out of his chair—it kind of freaked Peter out, how quiet Jason could be when he wanted. People that big generally made noise when they moved.

Jason rounded the table to pull El into a tight hug. She welcomed him eagerly, hugging back just as hard. There was always a hint of desperation when they were together, as if they worried that they’d lose each other if they didn’t hold on tight enough. Peter figured that was to be expected, for two people who each thought the other dead for years. But it managed to make Peter feel like an outsider in his own house, which was a distinctly uncomfortable sensation, if one he kept to himself. He didn’t want to make El feel like she had to stop having Jason around or anything. He’d get used to it, and maybe they would too.

Jason slipped past him with a neutral nod, careful not to brush against him as he headed for the door and pulled on the black, steel-toed combat boots he seemed to wear everywhere.

“See you Sunday,” he said, and then he was gone.

Peter blinked at the door before turning back to El. “Sunday?” he asked, slumping into Jason’s vacated seat as El brought him a mug of hot chocolate.

“Well, it’s the Family Picnic,” El said, looking nervous as she took her seat. But she took a sip of her hot chocolate, straightened her spine, and looked Peter in the eye. “I’ve invited Jason to come. If that’s alright,” she added after a moment. “I know you haven’t introduced him to your team yet, and that things are still a bit awkward, but-”

“El,” Peter said, putting his mug down, “I think it’s a good idea.”

El brightened. “You do?”

“Yes. It’s a good time to introduce him to everyone.” And maybe he’d stop looking so nervous, if he could see Peter relaxing with some friends.

“Thank you, Peter,” El said, covering his hand with her own. He scrounged up a smile for her. “The paperwork?” she asked gently.

“Went through today,” he confirmed. “We’ve made a dent in the Irish, at least, and Harrison was released from the hospital today.”

“That’s good,” she said. “But you must be exhausted. Come on,” she left her mug on the table. “Let’s go upstairs and I can rub your shoulders.”

“Hon, you are amazing,” Peter said, wrapping his arm around her.

Jason tugged his button-down shirt straight and stared at himself in the mirror. If anyone accused him of freaking out, he’d shoot them, but in the privacy of his own mind he could admit that his elevated heart rate and developing tension headache weren’t exactly signs of relaxation. He fussed with the shirt some more. He’d decided to leave the leather jacket behind today. It accentuated the width of his shoulders, his height, his muscular figure. It made him look like more of a threat, which was half the reason he wore the jackets so much. But today he needed to not look like a threat. Today he was spending the day with a bunch of FBI agents, and he’d really rather not make a scene. So. Button-up and sneakers, instead of his usual jacket and boots.

He felt exposed and twitchy, and he hadn’t even left his safehouse yet.

His cell phone buzzed and he grabbed it off the table, half wishing for some disaster that would let him off the hook with this picnic, and half dreading disappointing Mom. She’d looked so hopeful when she brought up the picnic, how it was for the family of the FBI agents and “you’re part of my family, Jason, no matter which family it is.” He’d caved like a piece of wet cardboard.

It was a text from Mom: “Just leaving! See you in 15 :)”

Jason blew out a slow breath and bounced in place a little to shake out the nerves. “See you there,” he shot back, grabbing his keys. He opened the door and hesitated, staring into the hallway.

“Fuck it,” he said.

Two minutes later he was peeling away from the curb on his motorcycle, leather jacket firmly in place.

“Think we’ll meet the mystery step-son today?” Diana asked Jones, sipping her beer.

“At the family picnic?” Jones said doubtfully. “I didn’t think he and Peter were that close yet.”

“But he and Elizabeth are,” Diana pointed out.

Jones nodded, taking a sip of his own beer. “That’s true. And if anyone could talk them into it, it’d be Elizabeth.”

A motorcycle roared along the road. Jones watched it go by idly, only to perk up when it pulled to a stop among all the sedans and assorted family cars parked along the edges of the park. “Check it out,” he said. “Anyone you recognize?”

Diana squinted at the figure that slid off the motorcycle, pulling off his helmet to reveal black hair with a shock of white in the front. “No. New probie?”

“Someone’s boyfriend?” Jones suggested.

The man paused for a long second by his bike, staring at the park full of FBI agents and yelling kids. Then he squared his shoulders and marched forward. “New transfer?” Diana said.

Jones eyed the guy. “He looks almost military,” he said thoughtfully. “But not quite.” There was a certain arrogant slouch to the guy’s posture and walk that belied a soldier.

“Son instead of a boyfriend,” Diana said, once he got close enough for them to see his very young face that was very at odds with the rest of him. “Unless he’s a probie’s. Or jailbait.”

Jones snorted and took another swig of his beer. Diana opened her mouth to call the young man over, her curiosity piqued, when someone beat her to it.

“Jason!” Elizabeth’s familiar voice called. The young man turned smoothly on his heel, changing direction to scoop Elizabeth into a bear hug.

Jones was the first to recover. “Huh,” he said blankly. “Step-son?”

They watched as the young man and Peter shared a painfully awkward handshake. “Yeah,” Diana agreed, amused. “Looks like.”

“Peter didn’t tell us he was so….” Jones hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to say ‘looks like a gang enforcer’ nicely.

“Yeah,” Diana agreed.

“Jones, Diana,” Neal’s smooth voice said as he slid up beside them. He had a wine box in his hand and a thoroughly disgusted look on his face. “Are you enjoying your mediocre beers? Because I am not enjoying this…‘wine’.” The tone of his voice made the air quotes clear, and Diana laughed at him.

“You’re lucky there’s anything at all. One of the partners must have brought them, normally we’re 100% beer.”

Neal made a noise of deep offense, taking a grudging sip of his drink. “What are you guys gossiping about?” he asked finally, resigned to his wine-box fate.

“Two o’clock,” Jones said, nodding his head. Neal looked over, where the newly dubbed ‘Jason’ was talking quietly to Elizabeth. He was tall, and Elizabeth’s own height just made him look bigger.

Neal looked intrigued. “Is that the step-son?” He whistled.

“That’s what we were saying,” Diana said. “We didn’t expect him to be so…tall.”

“I mean, fair,” Neal said. “El isn’t exactly towering over anyone.”

The slightest emphasis told Jones that Neal had picked up on Diana’s unspoken message and was responding in kind. It was true, he thought, studying Elizabeth a bit closer. He couldn’t picture her as a threat. She had managed to escape Keller, though, so who knew?

Peter spotted them staring. Jones waved, long past the point of being embarrassed for watching. Peter said something to Elizabeth and the Burkes-plus-one started over.

“He does not seem happy to be here,” Jones muttered out of the side of his mouth. The kid was hiding his nerves well, but they were used to picking up on Neal’s tells. Compared to the conman, Jason’s twitchiness was easy to see.

“I sympathize with him,” Neal said, raising his wine box in solidarity. “A park full of FBI agents is not my idea of a good time.”

“Yeah but you have a criminal record,” Diana said. She paused and they all looked considerately at Jason. Peter had been waylaid by some other agents, and was introducing Jason to everyone. Jason smiled and chatted, posture relaxed but eyes darting in a search pattern.

“He’s also attending an event about family, with a man he only recently met,” Neal pointed out. “It’s awkward,”—he gave them a pointed look—“trust me.”

“Neal, Diana, Jones,” Peter said with a smile. “How are you all?”

“Doing well, Boss,” Diana said. She smiled at the young man. “Is this the step-son we’ve heard about?”

Jason stuck his hand out, cocky grin firmly in place. “All bad things? Peter wasn’t exactly thrilled when I popped out of the woodwork. I’m Jason.”

“Diana.” 

“I haven’t said anything bad,” Peter protested as Neal and Jones introduced themselves.

“I’m just messing with you, Peter,” Jason said, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. He was relaxed. So relaxed it was clearly intentional. “Surprise step-son appearing out of the blue isn’t anyone’s idea of a good time. I’ve heard some about you guys too,” he said, nodding to the two agents and Neal. “Mostly from Mom.”

“All bad things?” Neal repeated, grinning.

Jason grinned back, looking a bit more genuine. Jones and Diana exchanged meaningful looks. “All interesting things. You remind me of someone back home.”

“Back home?” Neal inquired.

“Gotham. Ever heard of Catwoman?”

“Who hasn’t? Her work on the Bastet gems was unparalleled,” Neal gushed. “I’m flattered by the comparison.”

“Well I heard about the U-boat. That’s pretty hardcore. I don’t think Catwoman would have the patience to chase a jewelry box for years.” Jason shrugged. “Not enough cat themed stuff stolen by the Nazis, I guess.”

Neal preened. Peter decided to step in before his C.I.’s head got any bigger. “Alright, let’s not talk about felonies at the FBI picnic.”

Jason sent Neal a smirk. “Another time, then. I’ve got the inside scoop on some of Catwoman’s lesser-known escapades, being a Gotham native.”

“I won’t say no to that,” Neal agreed.

Peter looked like he was regretting letting Jason come. Or maybe Neal. Or both. Elizabeth just looked fond.

Jason looked at Elizabeth. “Do you want a drink?” he asked, jerking a thumb at the tables and coolers set up by the grill.

“I’ll have a water bottle, Jace, thank you,” Elizabeth said.

Jason nodded and retreated. He was halfway to the picnic tables when Elizabeth turned and shouted, in a display that was not very like the Elizabeth they knew, “Stick to the virgins, Jace!”

Jason spun on his heel, a roguish grin on his face. He opened his mouth.

“The drinks!” Elizabeth cut him off, rolling her eyes.

Peter was frowning off in Jason’s direction. “That’s…different,” he said.

“What do you mean, Boss?” Diana asked.

Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen Jason so…cocky. He’s pretty reserved at home.”

“Oh he’s definitely still nervous,” Elizabeth said, smiling fondly in Jason’s direction. “You learn to cover it up pretty quick in Gotham.” She looked at Jones and Diana. “Don’t take it personally if he’s a bit distant,” she said. “Inner-Gotham kids all have issues with law enforcement. You have to run from one too many dirty cops, you don’t trust any of them.”

“I didn’t know you were from Gotham, Elizabeth,” Diana said, surprised. The mild and kind Elizabeth Burke she knew did not fit with her knowledge of Gotham.

“I’ve adjusted a lot in the past decade,” Elizabeth said. “Peter’s lucky he didn’t try to flirt with me when I first moved here. I would have been more likely to shank him than accept his phone number.”

The agents and Neal stared at her wide-eyed. “Damn, El,” Neal said. “You just won yourself the title of scariest Burke.”

Elizabeth smiled at them innocently.

Jason was standing awkwardly by himself in the middle of a park full of FBI agents. Peter had pulled Mom off to go talk to someone, and Peter’s FBI partners and C.I. had disappeared into the crowd. Jason took a sip of his water bottle, wishing it was a beer. But Mom had been clever, yelling to him like that. It had gotten the guy manning the coolers’ attention, and he’d just raised an eyebrow and passed Jason a water bottle when he approached. Jason could have flashed one of his many fake I.D.s, but the risk of Mom burning it wasn’t worth a shitty beer.

Worth it or not, the alcohol might have taken a tiny edge off the nerves churning in Jason’s gut. This was the one thing he hated about being around his mom: All of the emotional walls he’d spent years building collapsed like a house of cards. Normally he’d just channel Red Hood a bit, the part of him that was confident and cocky and never afraid because he was the scariest thing around. The part of him that had used a duffel bag of severed heads as a bargaining chip with the most powerful mobsters in Gotham. He’d been trying to channel that confidence, but Alfred would be ashamed of his acting abilities today. His smile was too tense, his shoulders too tight, his hands clenched into fists that he kept hidden in his pockets.

The problem was he couldn’t be the Red Hood here, with Mom. Bruce and Alfred and his siblings back home had known of his identity as long as they knew he was alive again. Their expectations were based on him being the Red Hood. But Mom’s weren’t. Mom’s expectations were based on him being Jace, her son, who had gotten out of the criminal life by being adopted by Bruce Wayne. Jace wasn’t a killer, and Jason was forcibly reminded of that every time Mom smiled at him, so falling back into his very-much-a-killer persona was a no-go. Which just left Jason Todd, a kid who was way out of his depth after finding his mom alive and married to an FBI agent.

“Hey mister?” a high-pitched voice said.

Jason looked down. A kid was standing in front of him, looking nervous. A cluster of other kids were grouped a small distance away, staring. Clearly, this kid had been nominated as spokesperson. Jason smiled a little. This he knew how to handle.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Our kite got stuck up the tree,” the kid said, staring at his boots and talking so fast Jason could barely hear him. “And we’re not tall enough to get it down.”

Jason glanced at the surrounding trees, spotting the kite easily. “Sure, I can get it down for you.”

He walked over to the tree, the children clustering behind him. Jason examined the branches for a second before jumping, grabbing a low branch, and hauling himself up into the tree. After years of running around Gotham’s rooftops, a tree was easy, and Jason was soon jumping back down, landing in a roll with the kite held carefully in one hand.

“Here you are,” he said, presenting the kite to the kid.

They all stared at him, wide-eyed. “Thanks,” the kid breathed.

“That was super cool!” another chimed in.

“Thank you,” Jason said.

The spokeskid exchanged looks with the others, then looked back at Jason. “It’s not windy enough to fly a kite anyway,” he said. “Do you wanna play a game with us?”

Jason grinned. “What did you have in mind?”

Ten minutes later, he was roaring loudly and swinging around on the jungle gym as children screamed and ran away from him. “I’m going to catch you,” he roared, ducking under the wobbly bridge and popping out in front of a couple kids who’d made the mistake of going down the slides. They shrieked and scrambled up the slippery surface.

Jason slowly walked toward them, making his steps loud on the wood chips. “There is no escape from the lava monster,” he said, reaching for them.

The little girl yowled and used her friend as a step, boosting herself up the slide and onto the jungle gym. She didn’t look back once as she sprinted away.

Jason laughed, delighted. “Betrayal!” he said. The other kid screamed dramatically as his friend’s jump sent him back down the slide. Jason grabbed him.

“Caught!” he roared, lifting the kid above his head. The children on the playground screamed in excitement.

Jason put the kid on his feet. “Now you are one of my minions!” he declared. “Don’t you want revenge on your friend who betrayed you?” he pointed dramatically at the girl.

The little boy roared and ran toward her. She shrieked and bolted for the highest point of the jungle gym.

The game continued long enough that Jason was sweating even without his jacket, which he’d left on a bench before they started playing. Jason was stalking a particularly fast kid when he suddenly found himself surrounded. “What’s this?” he demanded. “You are standing in my lava, and you’re not burning?”

The kid he’d caught stepped forward, chest puffed out. “I betrayed you, lava monster! I’m stopping the lava from hurting them.”

“Clever,” Jason said. He grinned. “But not clever enough!”

He lunged for them, but instead of running away, the kids grabbed his legs and arms. Some even leapt into the air and tackled his waist. Jason laughed, staggering. “You will never defeat-” Another kid lunged onto his back and Jason tipped over, angling his fall so he didn’t crush any of them.

“Betrayal!” he howled as a dozen kids pinned him to the ground. He thrashed around a little, careful not to hurt anyone, and then went still. “I cannot be…defeated,” he rasped. Then he made a ‘blegh’ noise and went limp.

“The monster is defeated!” a kid bellowed, standing over Jason and raising both hands in the air in victory. The kids all cheered.

Jason laughed breathlessly and sat up. He was sweaty and dusty and there were wood chips in his hair. He hadn’t felt this relaxed since Mom invited him to this picnic.

Some of the parents that had been supervising took the opportunity, calling their kids over for lunch. Jason brushed himself off and headed in that direction too. “I need like a gallon of water,” he muttered to himself, grabbing his jacket.

“How about a beer to go along with it?” a smooth voice asked.

Jason looked over to find Neal Caffrey a few steps away, under the shade of a small tree. He had a beer in one hand, two water bottles in the other, and a smile on his face.

“Won’t say no to that,” Jason said, a little wary. Neal seemed nice enough, but he was also a con artist. Seeming nice was his job. Still, compared to the feds surrounding them, Neal was downright comfortable.

Jason accepted one of the water bottles and tilted his head a little to listen as he cracked the lid. He shrugged unapologetically at Neal’s knowing look. “I’m from Gotham.”

“You won’t find any judgment from me,” Neal said, opening his own bottle. “I’ve had enough experience with poisons myself.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Lots of poisonings in the alleged art forging and theft communities?”

Neal grinned. “More than you might expect. They have to get in the double-cross, you know.”

“Of course,” Jason agreed. They strolled further away from the crowd, toward a larger patch of shade. “How else would they fill their cliche bingo card?”

“And you have to fill it or you get kicked from the union,” Neal nodded.

They came to a stop in the shade, the picnic a buzz of sound behind them. Jason leaned against the tree and drained the last of his water. “So,” he said, crumpling the bottle up and stuffing it in his jacket pocket. “Did you want something in particular? Stories about Catwoman?”

Neal shrugged, managing to make the movement look elegant. Jason was suddenly very aware of his dusty, wrinkled state, standing next to Neal’s neatly pressed chinos and perfectly coiffed hair. “I wouldn’t say no, but…I know what it’s like to be the odd man out at these events. I figured I’d give you an out, now that the kids are leaving.”

Jason glanced at the beer, and Neal held it out. “Alcohol helps of course,” he added dryly. “First thing I did once I got here was find the wine, but you seem more like a beer guy.”

Jason tilted his head in a nod as he took the bottle. “Why are you here, anyway?”  he asked. “No offense,” he added quickly, “it just….”

“Doesn’t seem like my scene?” Neal offered. “You’d be right. Peter asked me to come. He likes to keep an eye on me, you know. Felon and all.”

Jason scoffed. “Non-violent and white-collar,” he muttered, popping the lid off. “You’d think he’d ease up a bit.”

Neal hummed noncommittally. “Not all bad. The park’s outside of my radius, at least. It’s nice to see some unfamiliar trees.” His lip quirked. “And you’re not such bad company.”

Jason snorted and took a swig of his beer. He grimaced. “They claim they’re not pigs,” he muttered, glaring at the bottle, “and yet they insist on drinking swill.”

Neal let out a shocked burst of laughter. “You should have tasted the wine. Truly horrible.”

Jason grinned a little and sighed, taking another swig. He could get over the taste for the alcohol.

Neal took a sip of his water, watching Jason. “Not the fondest of law enforcement?”

Jason appreciated that Neal wasn’t being subtle about his information digging. It was practically an invitation to ignore him. “Not in the slightest.”

Neal hummed and Jason braced himself for questions. Even if he could dodge them or lie, he was out of his element here and Neal was undoubtedly the better cold-reader, with how successful of a career he’d had. He’d probably learn things about Jason he’d rather keep to himself.

“So,” Neal said, “you said you had the inside scoop on Catwoman?”

Jason relaxed a little and sent him a small, grateful smile. “Yeah.”

Neal was a good audience. Sure, he was enamored by Catwoman’s skills, but he was also sharp as a tack and asked lots of questions about her specific techniques. Jason answered a few of the less incriminating ones, but most of the time Neal answered his questions himself, throwing out different theories as to how she might have pulled off a heist. It turned out to be as entertaining for Jason as it was for Neal, and he tucked away a few of Neal’s ideas for the next time he wanted to piss off Black Mask.

Half an hour passed in a flash, and soon Jason was waving his arms around excitedly, talking about one of his earliest cases as Robin—not that he was letting Neal know that. “And everyone knows it was her, right? No one else in Gotham bothers with targeting cat-themed jewelry, and she’s the only person who could have gotten into that vault. But no one can prove anything because she didn’t leave a single trace!” Batman had been pretty pissed off, and where Catwoman was concerned that meant Jason got sent to wait in the Batmobile while they…worked out their disagreements.

“What kind of vault was it?”

Jason almost opened his mouth to rattle off the brand—the bank still used the same kind, because only Catwoman had ever managed to get in and that was as good as a recommendation in Gotham—but caught himself. “Sorry, I dunno.”

Neal hummed, tapping his fingers on his water bottle. “Maybe it was a-”

“Jason?” Mom’s voice called. Jason jolted upright, looking down at his beer bottle and then around for a place to hide it. Mom had always been very emphatic that Jason never drink or do drugs, and he had a feeling her sentiments had only strengthened since she recovered from her own addiction. He did not want to risk getting reamed out in front of a park of FBI agents, but there were no hiding places available.

“Jason?” Mom called again.

Jason cursed and lunged forward, shoving his empty beer bottle into Neal’s hand and snatching his water bottle in return. He leaned back against the tree just as Mom came into view.

Mom stopped and glanced between the two of them, gaze snagging on the beer bottle in Neal’s hand. She narrowed her eyes.

Jason smiled and hoped he looked casual. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

Mom stared at him for several long, intense seconds. Jason resisted the urge to shuffle or chew his bottom lip like he’d done as a kid. Mom finally sighed and shook her head. “What did I say about the virgins, Jace?”

“I find the implication that I would only talk to Neal for his body insulting,” Jason replied instinctively.

Neal laughed.

Jason winced. Note to self: Being snarky when trying to avoid a scolding was a bad idea.

Thankfully, Mom just gave them both a long-suffering look. “We’re gathering for lunch,” she said. “And Peter’s started wondering where the two of you wandered off to.”

Jason did not entirely manage to keep his thought that Peter can go suck a dick off his face.

Mom sighed a little, her remaining annoyance disappearing. “Jace, I know it’s hard to believe, but he’s one of the good ones, okay?” She patted him gently on the arm. “Give him a chance to prove it.” She smiled at them both. “Don’t take too long.”

She turned away, but paused. “And Jason,” she glanced back at him. “For future reference, Neal never drinks beer.”

Jason waited until she was out of sight before tossing Neal’s water back to him and slouching in relief. “Man, I thought she was gonna skin me alive.”

“That was the most intense I’ve seen El outside of a kidnapping,” Neal remarked.

Jason grimaced and reminded himself—not for the first time—that the Red Hood could not go and murder Matthew Keller out of the blue. That’d be way too suspicious. Now, if he could plan something longer-term that would give him a reasonable motive….

“She’s right, you know,” Neal said, interrupting Jason’s thoughts.

“You really never drink beer?” Jason offered, raising an eyebrow. He had a feeling he knew what Neal was circling around, and he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to hear it.

Neal didn’t blink at the deflection. “No. Well, yes. But I meant that Peter is one of the good ones. He can be a bit overzealous, but he’s trying. And I know he doesn’t just want me here to keep an eye on me. We’re partners, and I think he worries about me being lonely.”

“Sounds like a pain.”

Neal shrugged. “You ready to eat? Anderson is manning the grill, and she makes some of the best burgers you’ll ever taste.”

“I’ll have to be the judge of that,” Jason said as they headed back toward the picnic. “Gotham’s shit, but we’ve got some of the best street food in the country.”

“The villain attacks add flavor?”

Jason laughed. “Exactly.”

After a good thirty seconds of thoughtful chewing—which Peter thought was honestly overkill—Jason hummed approvingly. “Okay, I’ll give it to you. This is a damn good burger.”

Neal grinned and raised his wine box in salute. “Told you.”

“Anderson is the pride of the Bureau,” Peter agreed, smiling awkwardly. He wasn’t exactly thrilled that Jason had been hanging around Neal—or that he seemed more relaxed around Neal on their first meeting than he had around Peter in six months—but he wasn’t going to say anything. He could do the math: If people in Gotham couldn’t trust the cops, then they probably saw certain criminals as more trustworthy. Neal was white collar and non-violent, making him the perfect kind of illegal to feel safe around. Peter just had to keep being non-threatening and forge his own connection. He wasn’t great at that stuff, but El’s happiness was worth the effort.

“So, Jason,” Diana said, putting down her own burger. “What do you do?”

“Jason’s getting his degree,” El said, sounding absolutely thrilled. “He’ll be the first in my family.” Peter smiled and squeezed her hand.

“That’s great!” Diana said.

Jones looked startled at the revelation that El hadn’t graduated college, but he hid it quickly. “What are you majoring in?” he asked Jason.

“English,” Jason said awkwardly. “Just part time, a couple’a classes a semester.”

“What are you planning to do with it?” Diana asked.

Jason smiled a little, almost shy. “Teacher. Gotham desperately needs ‘em, and I like kids.”

“We could tell,” Diana said, smiling. “I think you’re the new best friend of every kid here.”

Jason flushed and looked down at his plate.

“Do you have a job?” Jones asked, rescuing him.

“Yeah.” Jason’s smile was a little tense around the edges now. “I work security. Night shift. Gotham always needs those too.”

That was as much as Peter knew about Jason’s job. He never elaborated, and El always shot Peter reproving looks when he tried to ask. “Don’t make him feel like you’re interrogating him,” she’d whispered one evening. Peter didn’t like not knowing things, especially when his gut told him something fishy was going on, but he’d dropped it after that.

From the side-glance Diana and Jones exchanged, he wasn’t the only one who found Jason’s answer suspect, but they didn’t push.

“Have you ever seen a vigilante?” Jones asked.

“Oh yeah, plenty,” Jason agreed. “Mostly from a distance, though.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. Vigilantes were just another kind of criminal, taking the law into their own untrained, unregulated hands. He’d never been comfortable with the amount of “hear no evil, see no evil” the police force and even local feds operated with when it came to Batman and his accomplices.

“How close have you gotten?” Neal asked.

“Well, there was this one time when I was doing security for a warehouse—because there’s nothing criminals in Gotham like more than robbing warehouses—and there’s this noise so I go inside and find Spoiler digging around.”

“Did you confront them?” Jones asked, leaning forward. He’d always been interested in vigilantes and the Justice League.

Jason laughed. “‘Course not, I’m not an idiot. I let her do what she needed to do and checked everything over after she left. Wasn’t anything missing and nothing ever came of it. I dunno what she was looking for but we were on the up and up, so I guess she never found it.”

“Have you ever seen Batman?” Jones asked eagerly.

“Yeah”—Jason waved dismissively—“but he’s not the coolest. If you want the best vigilante, you gotta see Black Bat. Only thing is, she’s almost impossible to see. Even rarer sightings than Batman himself.”

“People online don’t talk about Black Bat,” Jones said, cocking his head. “I don’t know anything about her.”

“She’s badass,” Jason enthused. “I heard she can take down like ten assailants by herself. She moves too quick and quiet for anyone to catch, and she’s fucking brutal in a fight. Got a terrifying mask too.”

Peter sent a strained look to El. There were quite a few things he wanted to say about that, but Jason obviously wouldn’t appreciate it.

El patted him on the hand but made no other move to help. Peter sighed and made use of his spot on the end of the bench to look around the park. Most everyone was sitting on blankets or at picnic tables, though a few kids had already returned to the jungle gym. An old car was making its way down the street, visibly rattling. Peter wondered how it hadn’t been scrapped yet.

He made a note of the make and model and resolved to talk to someone about it—the car couldn’t have passed its last inspection, and it was a safety hazard to have on the streets.

The car proved his point, backfiring loudly enough to make several agents automatically reach for their hips.

Peter had barely started turning back to the table when something slammed into him with the force of a small truck. He crashed to the ground, a heavy weight pinning him down and forcing the breath from his lungs. He gasped uselessly, struggling to reach for his gun. Were they under attack? Had the car been a distraction?

A familiar, soothing voice washed over him, and Peter paused, blinking rapidly as he tried to get his bearings. That was El. It was El on top of him. But El wasn’t this heavy.

“It’s okay,” El said. “It wasn’t a gun. It was just a car backfiring. No one’s shooting at us, Jace.”

Peter blinked at the grass as he processed that statement. Jace?

Oh. Oh.

Peter let his hand drop away from his hip.

The weight finally lifted off of him, and Peter sucked in a breath, rolling over onto his elbows. El was sitting in front of him, still talking softly to Jason. Jason was hunched over, his forehead resting on El’s shoulder. One arm was wrapped tight around El’s back, while the other…held a long, serrated knife. Great.

Peter reluctantly took his eyes off the knife, scanning the area to make sure El was right and there really was no other threat. The surrounding tables were all staring at them, and a good number of agents had their hands on their holsters, but the tables further away hadn’t seemed to notice anything amiss, and no one had actually drawn.

Peter glanced at their own table and found Diana, Jones, and Neal all half out of their seats, watching them.

El would not want this to turn into a scene—well, not any more than it already had. Peter had to defuse the situation.

“A little help?” he grunted. Jones slowly circled the table and hauled him to his feet. “Thanks, Jones.”

Peter waved off the surrounding agents, flashing the sign for all-clear.

“No problem,” Jones said, eyeing El and Jason. “You okay?”

Peter didn’t mention the bruises he could already feel forming. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry,” a rough voice said.

Peter and Jones looked down. Jason stared back at them, still holding tight to El and the knife.

“I thought”—Jason cleared his throat—“I thought it was a drive-by. I couldn’t let Mom get hurt. I’m sorry for alarming everyone and knocking you over, Peter.”

Ah, so he was just collateral in Jason’s attempt to protect El. He’d been wondering. “It’s alright, Jason,” Peter said. It was easier to let go of the adrenaline racing through his system when Jason looked so haunted. Plus…“I’m glad you’re so ready to protect El.”

Jason’s hand fisted in the back of El’s shirt before he nodded and let go, drawing back into himself as he stood. He seemed to have almost forgotten the knife in his hand, but Peter definitely hadn’t.

“I’m really hoping that knife is under four inches,” he said. “It would be really awkward if someone had to arrest you.”

Jason snorted, his remaining reservations disappearing behind his mask of bravado. “3.95,” he said, flipping the knife into a more casual grip. “You can measure it if you want.”

“Toeing the line,” Diana noted, sitting back down now that everyone was upright and unharmed.

Jason shot her a grin that didn’t fully reach his eyes. “My specialty.”

Peter huffed, turning to El. “There’s two of them,” he complained, subtly looking her up and down for injuries.

“You love me, Peter,” Neal called from the other end of the table.

“I know I do,” El said, squeezing Jason’s arm and sending a smile to Neal. She met Peter’s gaze, and he could see her gratitude. He smiled and bumped their shoulders together as they retook their seats. He would put up with a lot more than a few bruises to make her smile like that.

“Speaking of toeing the line,” El said, turning back to the table. “One time, when Jace was seven-”

Jason groaned loudly, and Peter chuckled. Things were still awkward between him and Jason, and he still had an uncomfortable number of unanswered questions about the young man, but he was a good kid who loved El and made her happy, and that was enough for Peter. Hopefully someday, Jason would be comfortable around him and they could become friends, or maybe even family.

As he watched Jason demonstrate knife twirls, a small but genuine smile on the young man’s face as he tried to distract from El’s embarrassing stories, Peter thought that day might not be so far away.