Archive of Our Own

Jay Todd

Universe B - June 21st

Jay Todd is definitely going to Hell.

The trouble begins with the portal. Really, the trouble began when he made the dumbest mistake of his life and agreed to let Bruce Wayne adopt him, but—this specific part of the trouble begins with the portal. He’s out as Robin, investigating some disturbance or whatever with Batman. It’s actually been a good night so far, all things considered. Batman is in a decent enough mood. They’ve been chatting casually as they investigate, even joking around together.

It kills him, sometimes, how genuinely fun being with Bruce can be.

They reach the abandoned building where the Batcomputer’s sensors had picked up the disturbance, and they’re struggling to figure out how to get in, and then Jay spots an entrance Bruce missed. Bruce smiles at him, pats his head, tells him how clever he is and what a good eye he has, and Jay hates himself for the way that makes his heart flutter. It’s the same feeling he gets when a cute girl at school smiles at him or a cute boy on his soccer team hugs him. He knows he’s disgusting for it. But such effusive praise from Bruce is just rare enough that Jay devours it like a starving man presented with a feast every time it comes.

When they finally reach the disturbance—a big, swirling mass of light on the ground—Jay is even the first one to realize it’s some kind of portal somewhere. Bruce gives him a proud smile and squeezes his shoulder in a way just intimate enough to be wrong. Jay tries to pretend he doesn’t lean into it. Bruce’s hand slips down to the small of his back, and Jay presses closer against Bruce’s side, and that gets him another pleased smile.

So, overall, the night is going great, until Jay trips and falls into the stupid portal.

Jay feels Bruce’s hand grasp desperately at the edge of his cape; hears his panicked, “Robin—!”

Then there’s blue light all around him, a thrumming sound like a mechanical heartbeat, a suffocating pressure crushing his chest. His body is weightless, like that sensory deprivation tank Bruce has had him do a few times. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. And all he can think is, Oh my god, I’m going to die.

Universe A - June 21st

He’s deposited on concrete ground hard enough to leave him winded. The portal closes with a weird shwoop sound and plunges the room into darkness. As Jay lays there, shaking like a freaking chihuahua, familiar black-gloved hands grasp him and a familiar voice says, “I’m here, Robin. Breathe.” Jay leans against Bruce’s chest and tries to sync their breathing together.

They pull apart from each other a few minutes later, and that’s when the confusion starts. Bruce looks at Jay, surprise visible even beneath his cowl, and says, “Your hair is a different color.”

Jay grabs at his short hair. “What? What color is it?”

“Black.”

Now Jay is the one giving Bruce a strange look. “It’s always been black. What’s with your costume?”

“What do you mean?”

“It was black and yellow. Now it’s blue and grey.”

Bruce slowly pulls the cowl off. The face beneath looks mostly like what Jay was expecting—the strong jaw, the handsome nose, the piercing blue eyes—but the scars are a little different, and the confusion in his gaze as he looks at Jay tells him something is very wrong.

By the time they’ve arrived back to the Batcave, they’ve already figured out that the portal connected two universes—both very similar, but just a little different. The Batman and Robin of this universe had been investigating it on their end, and the other Jason tripped and fell at the same moment as Jay.

Alfred and Bruce help Jay get settled in, even though they’re obviously both worried about their Jason, which is pretty nice of them. Bruce shows Jay to Jason’s room and says he can wear Jason’s clothes until they can get him some of his own. After, Alfred and Bruce give Jay a tour around the manor and the Batcave.

The Batcave is largely the same. So is the manor above. Alfred is the same. From what he sees in the pictures hung all over the manor’s halls, Dick’s eyes are brown instead of blue here, but he’s the same besides that. The pictures also tell him that the other Jason looks just like Jay, though his hair is red and his face is just a little leaner.

Jay wonders if Bruce is the same, too.

Bruce excuses himself down to the Batcomputer to try to figure out how to swap the Jasons back to their right universes. Alfred goes to help him. Left alone, Jay showers and changes into some of the other Jason’s clothes. Jason seems to be a little taller and leaner than Jay, so his clothes don’t fit perfectly, but they work well enough.

It’s approaching two in the morning, and Jay is somehow both completely exhausted and utterly wired at the same time. His restless wandering through the manor takes him to the library before he even realizes where he’s walking. Even in this strange new universe, the library is familiar enough to be comforting.

Jay has his nose buried in a copy of Shelley’s Mathilda when the library door opens and someone approaches him. “One sec,” he says, not looking up. “Almost done with this part.”

A voice that isn’t Bruce or Alfred says, “I can wait, kid.”

Jay startles and looks up. “Oh,” he says awkwardly. “Um—hi, Dick.”

Dick smiles down at him. “Thought I might find you in here,” he says casually, as if this is the most normal thing in the world, as if this isn’t the weirdest situation Jay has ever faced in his already very weird life. “Mind if I sit?”

Back home, Jay has never been particularly close with Dick. But the walls of this manor are filled with pictures of Dick and that strange redheaded Jason together, and both of them look so weirdly happy in all of them. They could be mistaken for brothers. It makes Jay a little—just a little—more open to trusting Dick than he otherwise would’ve been. “Sure,” Jay says. “You can sit.” Dick sits. “What are you doing here? Do you live in the manor?”

“God, no,” Dick snorts. “I live in New York, with the Titans. I started driving as soon as I got Bruce’s call. I figure this must be weird for you, and that B is probably already wrapped up in trying to fix it, and I thought you might need someone to check on how you’re doing.”

Jay… doesn’t know how to process that. If Dick had just said he’d come right away because Bruce asked him to, Jay would’ve believed that without question. He can’t quite wrap his head around Dick coming for him. The part of his mind shaped like a frightened little rabbit starts yelling that Dick is lying, or manipulating him, or—or something.

Something on Jay’s neck catches Dick’s eye and makes him frown. Jay prays that he doesn’t have a hickey. “What is it?” he asks, trying to feign innocence as much as he can.

“Those bruises look like hands,” Dick says. As panic rises like bile in Jay’s throat, Dick continues, “Christ, what sadist tried to choke you out like that? Was it Black Mask?”

“Yeah,” Jay says, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, it—it was Black Mask. Uh, I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“Right, totally, of course.” They sit in silence for a moment. “Sorry this is all happening. Do you miss your Bruce?”

“Yes,” Jay answers immediately, and he hates himself for meaning it.

Dick gives him a sympathetic smile. “I miss my Jason. Hope he’s doing alright over there.” (Jay thinks about what’s probably happening to the other Jason and almost throws up.) “You miss your brother?”

“Who?”

“Your universe’s version of Dick, I mean. Wait, is there a Dick over there? Did Bruce only adopt you?”

“No, he did adopt Dick, I guess I just—I’ve never really thought of him as my brother. I barely see him. We’re not really that close. Honestly, I don’t think he likes me that much.”

“Oh. That sucks, I’m sorry.”

Jay shrugs. “It’s fine. Bruce is—” he chokes on the word nice. “Bruce is… um, I like living with him. Even if it makes Dick jealous. The—the other Dick, I mean.”

“Sounds like other me is kind of a jerk. Sorry on his behalf.” Dick gives him a charming smile, and Jay understands why all the girls back home call him handsome. “I’m gonna head down to the cave and talk to B, see if we can figure out a way to get you back home—back to your dad.”

Your dad. This universe’s Bruce makes Jason call him dad.

Holy shit, this guy’s a sicko.

But Dick’s also about to go distract him for a bit, and it occurs to Jay that this might be his ideal time to go to bed if he wants to maybe, possibly, avoid a little late night visit to his bedroom tonight. “Um, I’m gonna go to bed, okay? See you later.”

Jay had hoped to just sneak off into bed, fall asleep, and avoid Bruce until the morning. A few minutes after he gets settled, though, there’s a soft knock at his door. His entire body tenses. “Yeah?” he calls quietly, voice high and scared and small.

Bruce opens the door just enough to stick his head in. The light from the hallway frames his black curls like a halo. Jay loathes how handsome he is. “Hi, Jay,” he says, soft and a little unsure. “Dick told me you were getting in bed. I just wanted to come say goodnight. Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Jay says automatically, before it occurs to him that saying no may have even been an option.

Bruce sits on the edge of his bed. Jay sits up and pulls his knees to his chest. “Uh—” Bruce stumbles over himself a little. “Do you… does your Bruce usually give you a goodnight kiss? I normally do with Jason, and I know it’s important to him, but I don’t want to…” he trails off awkwardly.

A goodnight kiss. That’s one way to put it. “No,” Jay lies. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Right, of course.” Bruce scoots a little closer and puts a hand on Jay’s shoulder. Jay is fully backed into the corner now. He thinks, somewhat dizzy and wholly resigned, He’s about to do it. “I’m sure this is a very frightening situation to be in. If there’s anything you want, anything I can do to help you settle in or make you happy while you’re here, please do let me know. This is your home as much as it is ours.” Jay just nods, unsure what the right thing to say is. “Well—goodnight, lad. I’ll be in the Batcave with Dick for a few more hours, then we’ll both be retiring to bed. You can come and get either of us—or Alfred—if you need anything. Wake us up if we’re asleep. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jay says quietly, and he braces himself for the aforementioned goodnight kiss. He braces himself for whatever Bruce will want to do after that, too.

Bruce squeezes his shoulder, smiles, and leaves.

He leaves.

Jay spends the next ten or so minutes sitting in that same position, just waiting for Bruce to come back in. He never does. Slowly, he lowers himself back down into the bed and pulls the covers up.

Jay had hoped to pass out as soon as he got in bed. Instead, he spends his first night in the other Jason’s bed awake, trembling, and staring at the door. He finally drifts off sometime around sunrise, and wakes up a few hours later wholly untouched (at least as far as he can tell).

That is, in its own way, worse. It’s like hearing the buzz of a wasp that you can’t see: He knows he’s gonna get stung eventually, but he doesn’t know when, and the looming anticipation is almost worse than the inevitable sting. He keeps thinking about that saying, the one about the Devil you know. Jay never thought that he would, in a billion years, ever think this—but somehow, despite everything, he misses his own Bruce.

Jason Todd-Wayne

Universe B - June 21st

“I’m definitely in Hell,” Jason says shakily. His entire body is trembling, but he can’t tell if it’s from the fear or the cold air on his bare skin or the drugs he let Bruce give him.

Bruce had offered the drugs when they’d first started earlier in the night, said it was something that’d help Jason relax and help it hurt less. Jason had valiantly refused them until the moment Bruce started pushing his—pushing inside of him. He’s still embarrassed at how he started sobbing and begging for the drugs then.

One of the side effects of whatever drug Bruce gave him seems to be excessive chattiness. Since they finished a few minutes ago, Jason’s been incoherently rambling. “The portal killed me—that’s what I think. Or maybe it was just a portal straight to Hell. But that’s—that’s where I am. I dunno what I did to deserve it.”

“You were a thief, when you lived on the streets,” Bruce says evenly. He’s leaned back against the headboard, a cigar in hand, his bare chest still gleaming with sweat. And it’s such a dumb thought, but Jason finds himself thinking smugly that his world’s Bruce wouldn’t have needed to exert himself so much just for—for this. For sex. Not that he’d know, really, but it makes him feel better somehow to decide that his dad is stronger and faster than this strange Bruce. Makes him feel like, once they get a portal back open, his dad will be able to protect him. Maybe even the other Jay, too.

“Sure, but I figure there’s gotta be some kind of like—I dunno, statute of limitations or, or exception for minors or something. I’m a good kid. I help people. I pray, sometimes. I’m-I’m a good kid.”

“You are a good kid,” Bruce agrees. “A very, very good kid.” Jason swallows and ignores the surge of pride that threatens to swell up at Bruce’s words. “You took all of that very well.” He tugs Jason closer, pulls his head into his lap—Jason thanks God that the man’s lap is at least covered with a blanket now—and begins combing his fingers through Jason’s sweaty curls. “Your Bruce really hasn’t done anything like that with you?”

Jason feels a rush of tears come hot to his face. He chokes them back. “Dad would never. He’d never.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, lad. It’s a shame you two aren’t close enough to do this.”

Jason actually laughs at that—just a little, just softly. He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Bruce. Jason sniffs and wipes his eyes with the blanket. “I wanna go home.”

“You will,” Bruce promises. “Dick is coming over tomorrow. The two of us are going to get right to work on figuring out how to get you and my boy back into your own universes—and I’m sure your Bruce and Dick will be doing the same. We’ll get you home.”

Jason hates how comforting the words are. It’s exactly what dad would say, in the exact tone that dad would’ve said it in, and it makes him sick to hear it when he still hurts from the force of Bruce splitting him open.

“Does Dick know?” Jason asks.

Bruce takes a long, slow inhale off his cigar. “No,” he finally says. “It would be best for both of us if you don’t mention it. He gets jealous, you see; he’s been upset about Jason since the moment he found out I adopted him. I don’t want to make him feel even more resentment towards you.”

“When did you start?”

“Start what?”

“Touching Jay.”

“Shortly after he came to live with me.”

Jason stares at the wall. When he speaks again a few minutes later, the last of his tears have dried on his round cheeks and his voice is perfectly calm and steady. He traces his eyes over Bruce’s body as he speaks. “Carotid artery. Lungs. Axillary artery. Femoral artery. Heart. Carotid artery. Lungs. Axillary artery. Femoral artery. Heart.”

The unsettled expression on Bruce’s face is deeply satisfying. “What are you doing?”

“Carotid artery,” Jason repeats. “Lungs. Axillary artery. Femoral artery. Heart.”

Bruce puts his hand over his neck. It’s a bad move; if Jason was gonna actually go for anything in his current position, he’d pick the femoral artery without a doubt. If he had a knife—

—if he had a knife, would he be able to bring himself to use it?

“If you kill me,” Bruce says, “You’ll only be trapping yourself here. Dick won’t be able to figure it out without me—if he’ll even want to let you go home after that.”

Silence. Jason whispers, “Carotid artery. Lungs. Axillary artery. Femoral artery. Heart.”

Bruce sighs, annoyed. “Go to sleep, Jason.”

Jason pushes himself away from Bruce and stands. “I’m going to sleep in Jay’s room,” he declares. He expects Bruce to protest, to scold him, to force him to stay.

Bruce gives him the same unimpressed look a parent would give to a little kid who just declared they’re never eating vegetables again. All he says is, “Alright. You remember where it is?” Jason nods. “Goodnight, Jason. I’ll see you in the morning.” A small smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “Do you want a goodnight kiss?”

“Go to Hell.” Jason shoves his pajamas back on and storms away from the monster who wears his dad’s face.

Universe B - June 22nd

Jason isn’t sure what he’s expecting of this world’s Dick Grayson—but even still, as he stares at Dick across the room, he finds himself thinking that Dick isn’t what he expected.

He’d felt a rush of relief when Dick came in. Because screw Bruce, of course he was gonna tell Dick, and of course Dick would listen and be horrified and find a way to fix everything.

But this man is not the Dick Grayson he knows.

When Dick arrived at the manor, Jason ran up to him in the same puppy-ish way he runs up to his own brother back home. But this Dick just gave him a tight, polite smile—a smile Jason’s seen his own Dick wear countless times at galas, parties, and other events where he’s forced to socialize with people he doesn’t actually like. Jason had gone in for a hug before he could stop himself. Dick dodged the hug, awkwardly pat Jason on the head, and excused himself to the Batcave. He starts to wonder if maybe something is wrong with this Dick. Maybe he’s been touched by Bruce too, or maybe he’s been tortured recently, or—or something to explain how he could act so cold.

Then Jason sees Dick with Bruce.

Jason sits on the floor in the Batcave, back pressed firmly to a wall, and watches the two of them together. With Bruce, the tension releases from Dick’s shoulders. He smiles more. He laughs. He puts his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. He doesn’t flinch when Bruce returns the gesture. Jason has the frantic, panicked thought that maybe Bruce had been lying for some reason, that maybe Dick does know—more than knows, that he’s in on it. That he’s also touched Jay. Put his—taken his—

Jason is doubled over and retching before he can finish the thought. If he’d been able to stomach anything at breakfast, something might’ve come out. As it is, he just dry heaves.

Bruce is the one to come over and check, with genuine-seeming concern in his eyes, if Jason is okay. Jason flinches away from his touch and tries to scramble out of arm’s reach. When Bruce grabs his shoulder to keep him in place, Jason is shot back to the sensation of Bruce’s hands gripping him last night, and his entire body goes limp and frozen. He allows Bruce to maneuver him, place a hand on his forehead to check his temperature, play at being a concerned parent. For the first time since he’d stopped living on the streets, Jason feels the all-too-familiar sensation of sliding out of his own body. Everything goes numb, like Bruce isn’t even touching him. Like he’s not even there. Jason wonders if his eyes look as glassy as they feel.

Across the room, Dick watches them in silence. The steady, analytical gaze of the Titans’ leader scans over the scene. Jason prays that he’ll piece it together. If he does, it doesn’t show on his face.

Jason feels like someone else is speaking through his mouth when he chokes out, “May I please go upstairs for a bit?”

“I’m not sure,” Bruce says. Jason still can’t tell if his concern is genuine or not. “We don’t know anything about these portals or the effects they have on those who travel through them. It might be better to keep you down here, for monitoring…”

“Let the kid go upstairs, B,” Dick says. Jason nearly jumps at the sound of his voice. “He’s not a prisoner.”

“I know that, Dick,” Bruce says, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. It almost makes Jason dry heave again.

Dick looks unimpressed. “We can pull up the security cams on one of the monitors. Just in case he keels over.”

Bruce still looks hesitant, but he agrees, “Alright.”

Jason shoots Dick a grateful look. Dick awkwardly averts his gaze.

By the time Jason gets upstairs and collapses on the first couch he finds, he still isn’t sure if Dick’s intervention had been an attempt to protect him or just an attempt to get alone time with Bruce.

Everything starts to fall into place for Jason. Why this Jay has seemingly never told a single soul what his own adoptive father does to him.

Bruce was careful. He didn’t leave any visible marks on Jason. First thing in the morning, he’d dragged Jason into a shower with him and scrubbed every inch of Jason’s body clean, inside and out. Maybe the drugs would show up on a test, but Jason has no idea what he’d been given—and depending on what it was, it might make people less likely to believe Jason. He closes his eyes and sees the words Family history of addiction written on his medical form.

There’s almost nothing in the way of physical evidence. Maybe there’s some tearing down there, but even that could be explained away by someone clever enough—and Bruce is more than clever. It would be almost entirely Jason’s word against Bruce’s.

If Jason told his big brother that dad was touching him, Dick would believe him. Jason is confident about that.

But if Jay told this Dick that Bruce was touching him, Dick would take Bruce’s side.

Maybe Jason is being unfair. “Would accuse a kid of lying about rape” is a pretty big leap from “Is kind of cold to his adoptive brother”. But the chance that he’d take Bruce’s side feels too high to be comfortable with, especially given the risk of Bruce finding out that Jason tried to tell someone. For the first time, Jason wonders if this Bruce would be willing to kill him.

So Dick is out of the question. This world’s Alfred is so cold and distant that he feels about as approachable as a brick wall. Babs is barely involved with Bruce and Dick in this universe, apparently more involved with the Birds of Prey than she is with them, and Jason has no idea how to contact her subtly. Commissioner Gordon is best friends with Bruce. Superman is best friends with Batman.

Bruce Wayne and Batman combined have all the power in the world. Jason is the child of a drug addict and a criminal who grew up in the kind of poverty where getting ten meals in one week felt like a luxury.

Jason nearly retches again as it truly sinks in that nobody here will ever believe him.

Jason curls up in a tight ball and squeezes his eyes shut. He grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around himself as tightly as he can. With his eyes shut and the blanket pulled over his head, he imagines his dad holding him until he falls into a shaky sleep.

Jason is woken to the feeling of a grown man’s hand on his face.

He jerks away and screams, “Don’t touch me!”

Dick steps back, hands in the air. “Sorry, sorry. Your face looked flushed, and with how sick you seemed earlier, I wanted to make sure you didn’t have a fever.”

“I’m fine,” Jason spits out. He awkwardly sits up, blanket still wrapped around him. Dick perches, awkwardly, at the other end of the couch.

“What’s your home universe like?” Dick asks. Jason tries and fails to gauge if Dick is genuinely interested or just making an attempt at casual conversation to get Jason’s guard down. He’s good at disguising the latter as the former.

Jason shrugs. “Pretty similar to this one, I guess. There’s definitely some differences, though.”

Dick tilts his head to the side curiously. “Like what?”

Like my dad’s never raped me, Jason thinks but doesn’t say. “The Dick Grayson in my universe is my big brother,” he says instead. “Jay isn’t your brother, is he?”

“Not really,” Dick admits. “Just never been close with the kid, I guess.”

“How come you gave him Robin, then?” Jay asks. The surprise on Dick’s face is its own answer. “… Did you give him Robin?”

“… No. I found out that Batman had a new Robin from the newspaper.”

“He didn’t even tell you?”

“B’s not always the best at talking. At least not in this world.”

Jason snorts. “Guess that’s a universal constant.”

The corner of Dick’s mouth lifts. It’s the closest Jason has come to making him smile. Then the sort-of-smile falters as he stutters out, “You know, if you—if you need someone to talk to about… anything…”

Bruce appears as if by magic. Jason nearly screams. “Dick,” Bruce greets warmly. “There you are. The computer finished analyzing those reports. Come take a look at them with me?”

Dick hesitates for only a second before nodding. He departs, leaving Jason alone again in an empty room.

Jay Todd

Universe A - July 5th

The next two weeks pass strangely. This other Bruce seems nice. So had his Bruce, at first. Hell, his Bruce is nice a solid 90% of the time. Dick is in and out of the manor, trying to balance whatever hero stuff he and the Titans have going on with helping Bruce figure out how to swap the Jasons back, and he seems nice enough, too. Everyone is nice and no one is touching him, and it’s freaking Jay out because he’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Bruce hasn’t even kissed him yet.

And the most worrying part of it all is that Jay can’t figure out why. Maybe Bruce just hasn’t had a good chance. Maybe his worry over his own Jason is killing his boner. Maybe his Jason is the only one he wants to touch. Jay violently shoves down the part of him that’s inclined to view that as romantic. The point is: Bruce hasn’t touched him yet and it’s freaking him out.

Because, see, he knows his Bruce. Whatever anyone wants to say about Jay and Bruce and their relationship, they know each other. Jay knows exactly what signs mean Bruce is in a bad mood, and how to interpret those signs to figure out if he’s best off trying to soothe Bruce or avoid him. If the answer is soothe, Jay knows everything Bruce likes—knows how to pour his whiskey exactly when he wants it before Bruce even has to ask, knows how much Bruce likes it when Jay wears one of Bruce’s t-shirts and nothing else, knows that nothing settles Bruce as much as Jay curling up in his lap and nuzzling into his neck.

He knows when his Bruce is going to fuck him. He knows when Bruce is going to make him suck his cock. He knows what Bruce likes, he knows how to make everything end as quickly as possible, he knows what will and won’t trigger Bruce’s wrath and he knows how to avoid the worst of Bruce’s temper.

His Bruce knows him, too. He can tell within a few seconds of picking Jay up if school went well or not. He can tell at a quick glance if Jay is sad or happy or horny or angry or scared. When Jay wakes up from a nightmare, Bruce is already there, already holding him and stroking his hair and assuring him that it was just a dream. Jay has lost count of the times that he’s been having a bad day and Bruce has surprised him with a trip to the movies or a new book or dinner at his favorite restaurant. For better or worse, nobody has ever known him as well as his Bruce does.

But he doesn’t know this Bruce. That terrifies him.

Jay knows he’s been withdrawing more, and he knows the others have been noticing. They’ve expressed concern, and Dick in particular has been trying to spend more time with him, but every bit of attention directed his way just makes Jay panic more.

Dick and Bruce sit at the Batcomputer. Lucius is over, too, talking about potential blueprints for some device that could reopen a temporary portal. Jay sits in a dark corner and stares at Bruce. He wants very, very badly to run up to Bruce and start yelling, Just get it over with and fuck me already—but if this Bruce doesn’t touch his Jason, that will make Jay seem fucking crazy.

Jay freezes. It feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him a little. Because this is the first moment he’s seriously considered the possibility that this Bruce—that any Bruce—could have a Jason he doesn’t touch. That maybe, in fact, maybe it’s just his Bruce who’s the freak, or maybe it’s just Jay who’s so sick and so dirty that adult men just can’t help but touch him.

“Jay?” Dick says. Jay comes back to his body just a little, and he realizes only then that he’s shoved himself to his feet and sent his chair clattering to the floor. “You okay, kiddo?”

Kiddo.

That’s what Bruce called him the first time he—the first time they—

Jay sprints out of the Batcave and back up to the manor, ignoring Dick’s worried calls behind him.

He needs—he needs something. Proof. He needs proof. He needs to know one way or another, needs to know if this Bruce is—if he—

Jay blinks and he’s in Bruce’s bedroom, tearing everything apart, ripping clothes out of drawers and tearing the blankets off the bed. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. A bottle of lube? A stash of condoms? Blood on the sheets? Would any of that even prove anything? This is Bruce Wayne, Mr. Always Prepared, Mr. Never Off Guard, Mr. Ultra Paranoid; it’s not like he’s gonna keep photos of Jason sucking his cock lying loose around his bedroom.

He finds his proof tucked carefully inside the top drawer of Bruce’s desk. It’s a card, handmade on construction paper, with a (kinda crappy) drawing done in the slightly-unsteady hand of an unpracticed middle schooler.

Happy Father’s Day.

The drawing seems to show Jason and Bruce on a boardwalk together, Bruce holding Jason’s hand in his. Jay’s hands are shaking as he opens it. There’s an acrostic poem inside, spelling out “Bruce”—the poem is, admittedly, of much better quality than the drawing—and a message that simply says I love you, dad.

The inside of the card bears the old stains of some kind of liquid spilled on the paper.

This is it. This is his proof, this is—this is sick, is what it is. Jay can so clearly picture Bruce jerking off with one hand while he holds this in the other—or maybe making that poor kid suck him off so he can enjoy the cards hands-free, then cum on it right at the end—

The point is that this is proof, this is proof that Bruce is disgusting in every universe; it’s proof that it’s not just his Bruce, proof that it’s not just him.

By the time Bruce finds him, he’s ripped the entire card to pieces.

Jay wheels around and looks at him through eyes blurry with tears. Bruce looks shocked. Then he looks angry—and then, terrifyingly, he leaves.

Jay stands there, still except for the trembling of his shoulders as he pants. He waits. He knows this game. Bruce is gonna come back in just a minute, and it’s gonna suck for him either way, but it’ll be better if he can at least prove that he’s still capable of obedience.

Or he could run. Ten feet away, the moonlight calls to him through the window. They’re on the third floor. He doesn’t have any gear on him, but maybe he could scale the wall still. Hell, maybe a fall from a third floor window would be better than whatever Bruce would do to him. If he survives, the inevitable injuries might force Bruce to be gentler with him. And if he dies—well, then he won’t have to deal with any version of Bruce anymore, will he?

Footsteps. Jay tenses.

Bruce enters, looking much more calm and much more sad. He seems aware of how frightened Jay is—and, weirdly, he doesn’t seem to be reveling in it. He sits on the edge of the bed, scooting some blankets aside to make room for Jay to sit if he wants to but not forcing him any closer.

Silence. Jay finally breaks it with a quiet, “Are you mad at me?”

“I was for a moment,” Bruce admits. “I really wish you hadn’t done that. But—” He exhales, slow and steady. “But you’re a child enduring a situation that many people thrice your age would struggle to handle. I understand why you want to lash out. The card is important to me. But at the end of the day, it’s just paper. And it’s not the only card Jason’s ever made for me, though it is admittedly one I hold a particular fondness for.”

Jay slowly approaches the bed and pulls himself up to sit next to Bruce. He hands Bruce the largest surviving piece of the card. “Why?” he asks.

Bruce looks at the scrap of paper—a fragment of the drawing on one side, the last few lines of the poem on the other. Jay looks at it, too. He realizes for the first time that he and this Jason have identical handwriting; the same small, neat cursive. “He made this the first Father’s Day after the adoption formally went through,” Bruce says. “I had no idea he was making it—he did it at school, during art class. On Father’s Day, Jason and Alfred woke me up with a breakfast that Jason had made almost entirely by himself. He was so proud. It was good, too; the kid’s a good cook. Then he gave me the card.” He swipes his thumb over one of the water stains. “I cried, if you couldn’t tell.”

“You really love him, huh?” Jay says quietly.

“Of course I do.” Bruce looks at him, and there’s a hint of concern on his face that makes Jay squirm uncomfortably. “Does your Bruce love you?”

“Yes,” Jay says readily. And he means it, he really does. But it feels different now. It’s always felt sick, and now it feels even sicker, even dirtier. He needs to get in the shower and scrub his skin raw. “He-he does. He loves me. I miss him.”

“Do you love him?”

Jay doesn’t want to lie and say no, but he can’t quite make the word yes come out of his mouth. He nods instead. “I-I’m sorry. About the card. Um, I could probably try to recreate it for you, but—I-I know it wouldn’t really be the same.”

“It wouldn’t be,” Bruce admits. “But I appreciate the offer. And it’s alright, really—we’ll have this all sorted out soon enough, and then both you and Jason will be back in your own homes.”

Jay stares at the ground and tries to ignore the way his stomach churns at the thought of returning. Which is stupid, and dumb, and he knows it’s bad—the sex aside, his Bruce has been so good to him, and the thought of being ungrateful is—he doesn’t want to—he can’t—

“Jay, lad?” Bruce says quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Just—just missing home, I guess,” Jay chokes out. He swallows and looks up at Bruce. He wants to say that there’s something different in this Bruce’s face; that he looks better, gentler, kinder than his Bruce back home. But the truth is, he looks exactly the same. “Bruce, um—do you think—could we maybe get dinner somewhere tonight, just the two of us?”

Bruce looks surprised, but not displeased. “Of course. Anywhere you want.”

Jay tells himself this is a test. Get himself well and truly alone with Bruce, see if Bruce will do what his Bruce would do—see if they end up in a hotel downtown, away from prying eyes, somewhere Bruce can do whatever he wants to Jason without fear of being caught by Dick or Alfred.

But he knows that’s not the real reason.

The truth, as weird as it is, is that maybe this Bruce is just… good. And maybe Jay is selfish, because maybe he just wants to be able to spend some time with a good version of Bruce, even knowing he’s taking time away that Bruce could be using to send him back—back home.

Bruce looks at him with a contemplative expression. “Did Alfred clean your Robin uniform after you arrived?”

A spark of excitement lights up in Jay’s numb chest. “Yeah, it’s hanging in my—in Jason’s closet right now.”

“Excellent. What do you say we go on patrol together tonight?”

Jay grins—not a shaky, scared smile, a full-on grin like his face hasn’t known in years. “Really?”

“Of course.” Bruce smiles back at him. “Can’t have Batman without Robin, now can we?”

Jason Todd-Wayne

Universe B - July 6th

A few weeks pass, and Bruce doesn’t touch Jason again. It’s because of Dick, Jason realizes—because Dick really doesn’t know what Bruce is capable of, what he’s spent years doing to Jay, and Bruce wants to make sure he never finds out. If Jason just told Dick, he might not believe him. But if Jason screamed and Dick rushed in and saw Bruce inside of him, he’d have to believe it. Maybe he’d even help. This dimension’s version of Dick may not like Jason, but he’s still a hero.

Then again, so is Bruce.

Two weeks after Jason’s arrival, Dick comes down for breakfast and says, “I need to go back to New York for a bit—the Titans are in trouble.”

If Jason hadn’t been sitting already, he would’ve fallen down. The ground is gone beneath him. The walls close in oppressively. Everything is dark and heavy and damp; he’s pinned, a pressure on his chest like he can’t breath, trapped and restrained and torn apart.

“Jason?”

Dick. It’s Dick’s voice. Jason blinks a few times to clear his vision and looks up. Dick has come over to him—he’s kneeling in front of him, touching Jason’s shoulder, lightly, delicately, like he’s worried Jason is gonna break. Jason leans into Dick’s hand. He doesn’t speak. He just looks at Dick. “Jason?” Dick repeats. “Are you okay?”

Jason wants to say no. He wants to scream it. But Bruce—Bruce is behind Dick, looking right at Jason with a dangerous look in his eyes, and Jason can’t make any sound come out of his mouth at all.

“The research I’ve been doing into trans-dimensional travel indicates it’s common for travelers to go through a period of physical and psychological distress as their bodies adjust to being in another dimension,” Bruce says. His voice is perfect, hitting just the right mix of authoritative knowledge and parental concern. “I imagine that’s what he’s going through. Does that sound right, Jason?”

Still unable to speak, Jason just nods.

Dick looks doubtful. His voice is casual, but Jason can tell he’s choosing his words as carefully as Bruce was as he says, “I’m not sure if being cooped up in the manor all day is good for him. Maybe he could come to New York with me.”

It’s almost impressive, how high Jason’s hopes manage to get and how quickly Bruce crashes them down with a single, “No.”

The growing suspicion in Dick’s eyes is the only thing that stops Jason from falling into complete despair. Dick stands, but keeps his hand on Jason’s shoulder and remains firmly planted beside him. “Why?”

“Several reasons,” Bruce says. Dick gestures for him to elaborate. “The Batcave contains one of the only medical bays on Earth that’s feasibly equipped to handle illnesses related to trans-dimensional travel, and I don’t want him that far from it. If I manage to contact the other universe, I don’t want him to miss the only chance he may have for a long while to talk to his father. And, finally, when I do manage to get a portal open, it may not be open for long. Jason needs to be ready to go through the second the portal opens.”

It all makes sense. Jason’s stomach sinks. Dick and Bruce bicker back and forth a while longer, but Dick eventually gives in, like Jason knew he would.

Dick doesn’t leave until later that afternoon, and he spends much of his time before then trying to get a few minutes alone with Jason—but every time he nearly does, Bruce appears. Finally, when it’s time for Dick to leave, Jason and Bruce see him to the door together. Dick hugs Bruce. And then, to Jason’s genuine shock, he hugs Jason, too.

Right before Dick pulls away, Jason feels him slip something into his pocket.

Dick leaves a few minutes later. As soon as Bruce seems to be distracted by the call of the Batcave, Jason sneaks away into Jay’s room to see what Dick put in his pocket.

It’s a small piece of paper, torn like he ripped it out of a notebook. And even if Dick hadn’t been the one to slip it to him, Jason would’ve known right away that he was the one who wrote it, because he has the exact same handwriting as Jason’s brother.

(646) 038-1940
Call me if you need me

Bruce clears his throat behind Jason.

Jason jumps. Stupid, letting his back face the door—he hadn’t even heard Bruce come in. Jason scrambles to try to hide the paper. Bruce just walks forward, calm and stern, and holds his hand out. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to.

Jason numbly hands him the paper. He’s trying desperately to hold the number in his head, but he can already feel it slipping away. “I don’t—I don’t want…” Jason chokes out.

“What don’t you want, lad?”

It takes everything in Jason to force out the words, “I don’t want you to touch me again.”

He’s expecting violence, yelling, coercion, anger, something. He’s not expecting Bruce to nod and say, perfectly reasonably, “Okay, lad. I won’t.”

And that’s that. Bruce returns to the Batcave, and Jason is left wondering why it is that this almost feels scarier than if Bruce had said no.

Jay Todd

Universe A - July 15th

The day that Jay’s opinion on this world’s Bruce really changes is the day when it occurs to him to look more closely at Jason’s pictures.

Jason’s friends have been calling, inviting him to water parks or beach trips or other summer fun, and Jay always awkwardly declines because he doesn’t know if Bruce would let him to go (and he doesn’t know how to pretend to be the other Jason, anyway). With Bruce and Dick occupied in the Batcave all day, he’s been spending a lot of time wandering the manor by himself.

On one of those wandering nights, when Bruce and Dick are in the Batcave together and Jay has brushed off Alfred’s eightieth offer to take tea together, Jay collects every picture he can find of Jason and spreads them out on his bedroom floor. Sorting them into a rough chronological order is easy enough, just by looking at the way Jason’s grown—both in height and in filling out the lankiness of previous malnutrition—but from there, he has to gently open the back of the frames and check the dates to get everything in the exact right order.

Jay did this at home, once, with all of the pictures of himself. He’d started laughing, when he had them all laid out like this—the way that the hope in his eyes faded and his obvious discomfort with Bruce grew as time went on was so tragic it was nearly comical.

The pictures of Jason tell the opposite story. In the first one, Bruce and Jason are standing about a foot apart from each other, and Jason looks withdrawn and a little wary. But as the pictures go on, Jason gets happier, more exuberant, more alive. He gets closer to Bruce in each one until almost every picture with both of them in it has them right next to each other, and Jay feels confident he can read the other Jason well enough to accurately state that their closeness is by Jason’s choice.

Looking over Jay’s photos had been like watching a corpse slowly wither to nothing. Jason’s photos look like a patient on the brink of death being brought slowly, tenderly, lovingly back to life.

Jay puts the photos back up in silence. He creeps down to the Batcave and hangs awkwardly about ten feet back from the Batcomputer until Bruce stands and approaches him. “Jay? Is everything—?”

Jay flings himself at Bruce. Bruce makes a surprised noise, but wraps his arms around Jay in a warm embrace. When they’re done, Jay gives Dick a hug, too, just to make sure he doesn’t feel left out.

“What’s this about, kid?” Dick asks. “Everything okay? Did something upset you?”

“No. No, just… just wanted a hug, I guess. Um—” He tugs awkwardly on the hem of his shirt. “Can I sit down here with you guys? I dunno if I’ll be able to help much—must’ve skipped science class the day they did the interdimensional travel unit, hah—but can I just… sit here? I’ll be quiet.”

“You don’t have to be quiet,” Bruce says. “And you’re welcome to stay. As long as you like, lad. You’re always welcome to stay.”

Jason Todd-Wayne

Universe B - July 26th

Bruce holds true to his word. He doesn’t touch Jason.

He doesn’t touch Jason at all.

When Jason asks Bruce to pass him the pepper during dinner, Bruce sets the pepper mill next to Jason so their fingers don’t brush. When they pass each other in the hallway, Bruce gives Jason as wide a berth as possible. When Bruce drops a pen and Jason grabs it for him, Bruce waits silently for Jason to just drop it on the table for him to pick up. No shoulder pats. No hair ruffles. No hugs.

In the morning, Jason wakes up alone and sits across the dining table from Bruce. He spends the days alone in the manor while Bruce works at Wayne Enterprises or in the Batcave. Jason’s phone has been ringing off the hook all summer with invitations to accompany his friends to water parks or beach trips or other summer fun, and he spent the first few weeks here wondering what he should say in response when one of Jay’s friends called.

His wondering seems to have been pointless. Nobody has called for Jay.

And after sunset, Bruce goes out on patrol alone while Jason sits at the Batcomputer on an account with strictly limited access—enough that Jason can give Bruce some support while he’s out on the field, but not enough for him to find Dick’s phone number or reach the Justice League or contact anyone in the entire freaking world besides Bruce Wayne.

One night, Bruce comes home more injured than usual. Alfred is away dealing with some personal matter with his daughter, and Bruce is sitting alone in the medical bay attempting to treat his own injuries. Jason watches through the glass wall for several minutes before he comes in and shyly says, “Do you… do you want help, Bruce?”

Bruce looks up at him. Jason hates how much those blue eyes look like his dad’s. “Do you know how to suture incisions?”

Jason nods. “Dr. Thompkins taught me.”

“I’d appreciate a hand, then.”

Jason cleans his hands the way that Dr. Thompkins taught him. Bruce already has everything lined up all neat and orderly—the same way dad does, exact same order and everything, and it makes Jason’s heart ache. He silently sutures Bruce’s wound. He’s done this for dad before. The first time, Bruce examined the suture and said that Jason’s grandpa would be proud of how well he did it, and Jason felt like he was gonna burst with pride.

He feels like he’s going to burst now, too—not from pride, but from the little sparks that light up in his hands every time he brushes Bruce’s skin. It’s the closest he’s come to touching another human in weeks.

“There,” Jason says when he finishes. His voice is small and dry from disuse, but it seems to echo in the silent room. He clears his throat. “How does that look?”

Bruce examines it. He grins at Jason, and Jason tries to suppress the way it makes his chest heat up. “Like Dr. Thompkins herself did it. Excellent work. Will you help me clean the others, too? I fell in a patch of gravel, and I want to make sure all of the wounds are fully clean.”

Jason nods and helps Bruce clean and dress the rest of the wounds. He lingers a little longer than he really needs to, just so he can keep touching Bruce’s skin and feel the warmth under his fingers. “Okay,” he says when he finishes. “You should be good now.”

Bruce stands and hugs him.

Jason stiffens, then relaxes into the hug. He closes his eyes. Bruce even smells like his dad. Tea tree body wash, peppermint shampoo, woodsy aftershave. With his eyes shut and his face buried in Bruce’s undershirt, he can pretend, for just a moment, that he’s home.

Then Bruce’s hand trails lower and brushes against his ass.

Jason jumps and squeaks, “Bruce!”

Bruce pulls away—completely, entirely, severing every bit of contact between his body and Jason’s. The room feels suddenly very cold. “Apologies, Jason. I’ll mind myself.”

Stupid, hot, frustrated tears well in Jason’s eyes. “I know what you’re doing,” he grits out.

“What am I doing? I’m only trying to respect what you asked of me. I forgot myself for a moment. I do apologize. I promise, Jason, I won’t touch you again unless you ask for it.”

Jason storms past him out of the medical bay. He breaks into a sprint and doesn’t stop until he’s back in Jay’s room, door shut and locked, panting and trembling and holding back tears.

Unless you ask for it.

“Sick bastard,” Jason mumbles. He gets changed into bed with shaking hands and resolves that he will never, ever, under any circumstances, ask Bruce to molest him.

Jay Todd

Universe A - Aug. 6th

Another month passes. They’re making progress on the thing that’ll be able to send Jay away, and it’s slow-going, but the progress is definitely there. Bruce explains to him that their current project is figuring out how to communicate between the universes, which he says is necessary because it’s looking like the only surefire way to manually force a portal open is for it to get opened in the same spot in both universes at once. Even if they do it perfectly, their window will be tight.

Jay wonders what the Bruces will say when they can communicate with each other. He wonders what the other Jason will say if he gets a chance to talk to his dad.

A week before Jay’s birthday, Jay goes down to the Batcave to find Bruce visibly worried. Jay hops up on the workbench next to Bruce and leans against his side without fear. It’s a strange feeling. Nice, too. “Is something wrong, B?” Jay asks.

Bruce rubs his face, smearing a little grease on his forehead. “I just received a transmission from the Justice League. There’s an emergency going on; critical tier, all hands on deck. They need both Nightwing and I at the Watchtower as soon as possible.”

“But…?”

“But if we’re at the Watchtower working with the JLA, we won’t be here working on this. And many of our specs are based on current temporal readings, but—given the flexible nature of time and space—I can’t guarantee those readings will still be accurate when we return. If we go to help with this, it could delay us by weeks, maybe even a handful of months.”

“What’ll happen if you don’t help?”

“Best case scenario, they’ll be able to get by fine without us. Worst case scenario—well, the world probably won’t end, but things would get very bad.” Bruce looks at Jay. “Your universe, is it—will my son be taken care of there? If it takes a few extra months, will he be fine? Is he in any danger?”

And this is why Jay is going to Hell: because when he’s faced with the chance to stay in this world longer, to get more time with this strange Bruce who loves him and never touches him, he can’t bring himself to reject it.

So Jay looks Bruce in the eyes and lies in a perfectly even voice, “He’ll be fine. I’m sure my Bruce is taking good care of him.”

Jason Todd-Wayne

Universe B - Aug. 13th

Jason’s resolve doesn’t even last another month.

Both dad and Dick have commented before that Jason is a touchy kid. If dad or Dick or Babs are anywhere near him, he’s almost guaranteed to be clinging onto them, holding onto a hand while they walk, curling up in their lap on the couch. Back when he was still really little and things hadn’t gotten all wrong yet, he’d done the same with mama and daddy. Before mama got too weak to hold him. Before daddy got dragged off by the cops and thrown in a cell, too far away to hold Jason or kiss his forehead or tuck him in at night. Before mama died. Before daddy joined her.

This must be the longest time Jason has ever gone without touching anyone since the period between his mom’s death and his adoption.

But he’s been holding firm, insisting to himself that he can wait until he gets back home. Once he’s back home, he’s gonna cling onto his family and they’ll give him all the touch he wants. He knows they will.

A few days before Jason’s birthday, he goes down to the Batcave to find Bruce visibly worried. Jason lingers a few feet from the workbench, too wary to sit next to Bruce. “What’s wrong?” he asks, trying to stop his own worry from creeping into his voice.

Bruce rubs his face, smearing a little grease on his forehead. “You know the trans-dimensional communicator I’ve been working on?” Jason nods. “I was able to get it work, just briefly—I spoke with your Alfred.”

“What?” Jason’s voice cracked. “You had Alfred on the—why didn’t you call me down?”

The look Bruce gives him is genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry, lad, there wasn’t time—we barely had ninety seconds before the transmission dropped.”

“Well, what did you two talk about? Is the transporter almost ready?”

“No.” Bruce rubs his face again. “Your father and brother have been called away to assist with some critical emergency at the Justice League. I received the same call from our world’s JLA. I’m going to stay here and keep working, but we won’t be able to make the switch until the portals are up and running in both dimensions. This could delay us by weeks, even months.”

The air leaves Jason’s lungs. Months. Months. He’s been trapped here for months already, and almost all of that time has just been him and Bruce and the rarely-seen Alfred. Dick hasn’t come back since he left to help with the thing the Titans were doing. The paranoid part of him keeps wondering if maybe Dick is dead and Bruce just hasn’t told him.

“I’m sorry, lad,” Bruce says. “I’m sure this isn’t what you wanted to hear.”

“Did you… did you record the conversation? Between you and Alfred?”

“I did.”

“Can I hear it?”

Bruce takes him over to the Batcomputer and pulls up the recording. The conversation is exactly how Bruce described it, which Jason was honestly expecting—Bruce wants his own Jay back as much as Jason wants to go home. But that wasn’t why he wanted to hear it. He makes a copy of the file and edits it down to just the parts where Alfred talks.

Bruce returns to the workbench. Jason sits at the Batcomputer and continuously hits the replay button, listening to the warm, worried voice of his own Alfred over and over again.

Universe B - Aug. 15th

Jason hates himself for what he’s about to do.

He stands in front of the big oak door and just stares, shifting his weight from side to side. If this Bruce is anything like his own, he probably already knows that Jason is there.

He probably knows that Jason did this the past few nights, too.

Those times, he left as silently as he could. Tonight, he raises a small, shaky fist to rap on the door.

Bruce’s answer is near-immediate. “Come in, Jason.” He's already in bed when Jason enters, but he moves to sit at the edge of the bed as Jason approaches him. Jason shifts and tugs awkwardly at his own pajamas. Jay is a bit shorter and wider than Jason, so the pajamas are too small and too big all at once. The spots on his wrists and ankles bared by the too-short sleeves and pants feel horribly vulnerable.

“Hi,” Jason says quietly.

Bruce smiles at him—dad’s smile. “Hi, chum.”

Jason stares at the ground and tugs at the hem of his pajama shirt. “I-I want, um… I want to-to spend the night. With you.”

The expression Bruce gives him is sickeningly paternal. “Can you ask nicely?”

Jason hesitates. He awkwardly climbs into Bruce’s lap. It’s something he’s done with dad a thousand times at home, but it’s never—it’s never felt like this before. He’s never been so repulsed or so desperate.

Awkwardly, uncertainly, Jason presses his mouth against Bruce’s.

He tries to remember how Bruce did it, but he thinks he’s still not very good. Bruce doesn’t seem to mind. Jason pulls back after a minute and asks in a choked whisper, “Can I please stay in your bed tonight?”

Bruce puts a hand on the back of Jason’s neck and pulls him into another kiss. This one is longer, deeper, guided by Bruce’s experience instead of Jason’s near-virginity. When he pushes his tongue into Jason’s mouth, he tastes like whiskey and tobacco and cinnamon breath mints. “Good boy,” he mutters against Jason’s mouth. “Very good boy.” Jason begins to tremble. A humiliating little whimper escapes his mouth. Bruce frowns. “Is something wrong, lad?”

“I’m scared,” Jason whispers.

“What are you scared of?”

Even if honesty was safe, it’s too large a question to give a single honest answer to. Jason settles on the easiest to identity: “It hurt last time. Really, really bad.”

Bruce’s expression turns genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry, Jason. That’s my fault—I went too hard and too fast on you. I’ll be gentle.”

Jason compounds his own humiliation by asking in a small and shaky voice, “Promise?”

“I promise, son. I won’t hurt you again.”

Bruce lays Jason down in bed with all the tenderness of a groom laying his bride in their wedding bed. The next kiss he gives Jason is still firm, but gentle, too. His large tongue prods into Jason’s small mouth. It’s already less forceful than the first kiss he’d ever given Jason—the first kiss Jason ever had. “This was very good of you,” Bruce mutters into his ear. “Asking for me, giving me such a sweet kiss. Very good. Now I’m going to show you what good boys get, alright?”

Jason swallows. “Can I have—can I have some of the stuff again? Whatever it was you gave me last time, that got me all floaty and made it stop hurting?”

“Of course. Whatever you want, kiddo.”

Bruce gets out a little vial of whatever and loads up a syringe. Jason stares numbly at the needle as Bruce pushes it into his skin. He wonders, if he lets Bruce do this often enough, if his arm will start to look like his mom’s did.

During the twenty or thirty minutes it takes for the drugs to kick in, Bruce holds Jason, and it almost reminds him of home. He’s spent more nights than he’d ever admit in dad’s bed, curled up all little-kid-like in a tight ball against his chest. It’s the only way he can reliably sleep without nightmares. It almost feels the same. If Jason ignores Bruce’s wandering hands, it almost feels the same.

Jason feels the drugs creep into his body first, then his head. He relaxes against Bruce. Bruce’s large hands continue to wander. He can grab Jason’s entire hip with one hand. Bruce’s hand dips down to Jason’s pelvis and palm at the slight bulge in his pajama pants. Jason gasps and ruts up into his touch.

Bruce must have given him a different drug or a higher dose or something. Because the first time, Jason felt floaty and out of it, but he was also chatty and still felt mostly like himself. This is—this is too much. His mind is too light and his body too heavy, he can hardly move his limbs, and he’s—

He’s horny. Insatiably, stupidly horny.

Jason’s entire body feels hot, and he’s already starting to get a little hard, and he’s never in his entire life been more turned on than he is right now. His dad is palming his cock and he’s getting turned on. Jason chokes out a half-moan, half-sob and gasps, “What—what did you give me?”

“Exactly what I gave you last time, Jason. Maybe you’re just letting yourself enjoy it more. Or perhaps you’ve realized how much you want this.” Bruce shifts them so that he’s on top of Jason again. He starts pressing hot, wet kisses all over Jason’s neck, dragging his tongue across Jason’s hypersensitive skin. Jason lets out some pathetic little mewling noises and bucks his hips up into Bruce’s again.

A wave of—of something hits him, something indescribable to a boy who’d never used any kind of drug before he met this Bruce. He’s melting into the bed, melting into Bruce, and the terrified part of him is drowning in the part of him that’s desperate for more.

“Bruce,” he whimpers, “I need… I need…”

Bruce chuckles against Jason’s skin. It reverberates through his throat. “What do you need, lad?”

“I don’t know,” Jason whines. “I just—I just need.”

Somehow, all of Jason’s clothes are removed and Bruce’s hand finds its way to Jason’s cock. Jason gasps and jerks into his hand. “Is this what you need, Jay?” Bruce asks quietly. Jason nods, too overcome with need to speak. He doesn’t think he could possibly get more aroused. And then Bruce smiles and says, “Good boy,” and Jason is cumming all over Bruce’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispers tearfully. He doesn’t know who he’s apologizing to.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Bruce says. Jason is pretty confident he wasn’t the one he’d intended the apologize for. But then Bruce licks up the tears starting to spill down Jason’s cheeks, and the disturbing mix of arousal and disgust that inspires in him clears away any thoughts he’d had.

Bruce pulls a bottle of lube out of his bedside table. Jason tenses up. “It’s not going to hurt this time,” Bruce assures him. “I’m going to make it feel good. I’ll make you feel good.”

Jason, in all honesty, doesn’t believe him. He doesn’t have any problems with queers, right—he gets it, in an abstract way; he’s certainly found boys cute before. But his first experience with Bruce left him wondering who in their right mind would ever wanna have sex like that if it hurts so fucking bad.

Bruce presses a lubed finger against Jason’s entrance. “Breathe,” he says. “A deep breath in, then a deep breath out.”

Jason inhales. On the exhale, Bruce slowly pushes his finger in. And at first, Jason is just even more convinced that he’s right—this doesn’t hurt exactly, at least not as bad as the first time, but it’s weird and uncomfortable and not pleasurable at all. Bruce guides him through more steady, even breathing as he pushes his finger further in, crooks it up, and—

Oh.

Bruce’s finger does—is—it strokes something, and all of a sudden Jason is having to desperately restrain himself from cumming again right there. Whatever expression he’s making prompts a chuckle from Bruce. Jason nearly swears at him, but then he does that thing again and Jason can’t talk, can’t think, can’t even see. “Again,” he gasps, “Please—Bruce, please—”

“Beg a little more, lad. Just like that.”

“Please, please, please—Bruce, please, I need—please, need more, never felt—Bruce!”

The last word dissolves into a high, keening, drawn-out whine that makes Bruce moan. He keeps fucking Jason’s ass with his finger, and God, Mary, Jesus, forgive him, please, but nothing in his entire life has ever felt so good. Bruce pushes a few more fingers in, one at a time, and the discomfort of the extra stretch is quickly replaced by the euphoria of Bruce doing whatever the hell he’s doing that’s making Jason lose his entire mind.

The drugs are messing with him—leaving him horny, insatiable. Jason decides they’re entirely to blame for what happens next. It’s the drugs, he tells himself, only the drugs that make him gasp and push his hips forward when Bruce pulls his fingers out and lines his cock up with Jason’s entrance. It’s the drugs that make Jason whine, “Please, Bruce—I need it, I need it, please, please—”

Bruce’s cock tore him open the first time. And this time, it—well, it still does tear him open, just a little. But fuck, fuck, it makes him feel so good, too. Someone in the room is making pathetic, desperate little mewling sounds. He hopes it’s not him. He doesn’t know who else it could be. He doesn’t know who else it could be bucking his hips back into Bruce or asking for more, either, but he’d like to pretend it isn’t him. He’d like to pretend that no part of his body is enjoying what’s happening to him.

He’d like to go home.

He’d like the door to burst open right now. He’d like Dick and dad to rush in, to pull this man off of him, to—to kill him. They wouldn’t, probably. But maybe they would. Then Bruce couldn’t hurt him or the other Jason again. Maybe both Jasons could live with dad.

Jason doesn’t even realize he’d left his body until he comes back into it to find himself straddling Bruce, bouncing up and down on him while Bruce strokes Jason’s small cock. The moans spilling out of Jason’s mouth are disgusting, wanton, wanting, and he hates every single part of himself when his ears catch up to his throat enough for him to realize he’s moaning, “Dad, dad, dad!”

“Good boy,” Bruce gasps. Jason moans and thrusts into his hand. “Good boy. So glad you understand. So glad you’re letting it happen. Took Jay a while to understand, too—fuck, good boy, just like that. This is what you’re made for. You and every other Crime Alley whore. Made to serve men like me. Made to take my cock. You understand, I’m helping you? I’m doing this for you. If I’d left you there, you’d just end up another criminal. Another killer. I’m saving you, Jay. I saved you.”

“Saved me,” Jason gasps, and he meant it to come out like a question, but it comes out like agreement instead.

“Good boy, good boy, that’s right,” Bruce praises—and god, Jason doesn’t want to think that it is right, but the shock of pleasure that Bruce’s praise sends to his cock has him doubting himself. “You’re bred to be a whore. Bred to be a criminal. Could’ve ended up just another mugger in another dirty alley.” He grips Jason’s hip, hard enough to bruise. Jason puts his hand on top of Bruce’s to press Bruce’s fingers in even harder. “Tell me how old your mother was when she had you.”

This is the last situation in which Jason ever wanted to think about his mother, but he obediently replies, “Seventeen.”

“Tell me how your father died.”

“He—he got involved in crime. He was—” Bruce thrusts up and squeezes Jason’s cock at the same time. Jason’s words are lost in a loud moan.

“You see, Jason? You understand? Your only two options in that hellhole. A whore or a criminal. You were already on your way to becoming both—stealing tires, letting men fuck you for pocket change.”

“Didn’t let them fuck me,” Jason manages to slur out.

“What was that, lad?”

“Sucked their cocks. Touched them. Never let them fuck me. You were—you were my…”

Bruce’s thrusts slow. He holds Jason still on his cock. “Your first?” Bruce says, and Jason only has a second to hope that the emotion in Bruce’s voice is horror before he realizes it’s arousal. “I was the first one to fuck you, Jason?” Jason nods. Bruce thrusts up into Jason even faster, even harder, half the movement coming from his hips and half coming from him moving Jason up and down like a fucking sex toy that’s just there to stroke his cock. “Oh—oh, Jason, my perfect boy. My perfect boy. Saving yourself for me—just for me. Jason. My Jason. I saved you. What do you say?”

“Thank you,” Jason chokes out, and he desperately, fitfully tries to assure himself he’s saying it because it’s what Bruce wants to hear and not because he means it. “Thank you for saving me.”

Bruce groans and cums inside of Jason. As he’s still coming, he strokes Jason’s cock again and says, “Good boy—so good, Jason, so good for me, always so good, my perfect boy, my son,” and then Jason is coming, too.

Jason might fall asleep. He’s not totally sure. But everything goes really hazy for a while, and when he stirs back to a foggy half-awareness, he’s curled up against Bruce’s chest again and there’s nothing inside of him anymore. He can’t remember entirely which Bruce this is. He’s not totally certain which Jason he is, either; not certain which universe he’s in, how he got here, where his brother is. Jason wants to ask who he is, exactly. Wants to get some kind of clarity in the middle of the awful blur he’s experiencing. What comes out of his mouth instead is, “Where’s Dick?”

“With the Titans,” Bruce answers evenly. He sighs. “I’d hoped he wouldn’t do this, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Do what?”

“It’s not exactly uncommon for him to run off with the Titans and go silent on us for weeks or even months at a time. They’re important to him, I suppose—more important than anything here. He may return at some point. He may not. If he does, you won’t tell him about this, will you, lad?” Jason can hear the friendly smile in his voice. “Our secret.”

“Our secret,” Jason whispers back.

They lapse into silence. Bruce wraps a sleepy arm around Jason’s waist and pulls him close. Kisses his bare shoulder. A long time ago, Jason and his parents all slept in the same room, and Jason is brought back now to hazy, happy memories of waking up before his parents and watching them as they slept in the bed across from his. His favorite moment was always when daddy stirred just a little—not enough to open his eyes and get self-conscious that his son was watching, just enough to pull mama against him and kiss her shoulder. Mama would smile, even in her sleep, and press back against him.

Jason isn’t important to Dick. But as he presses back against Bruce, he thinks, At least I’m important to someone.

Jay Todd

Universe A - Aug. 16th

Jay can’t remember the last time he felt so important to so many people.

Bruce and Dick and Alfred—mostly Alfred, really, in terms of the actual planning—throw him a real, actual birthday party. There’s more people in the house than Jay has ever seen at once: all the Titans, a sizable chunk of the Justice League, Clark and Lois.

They all know who he is—who he isn’t. They still came out to celebrate with him.

When he asks later that night if he’s going out on patrol with Batman, Bruce says no, and Jay fights back his disappointment. Then Dick announces with a wide grin that Jay will be going on patrol with Nightwing. Jay’s heart does a few flips in his chest as he grins back at Dick.

Jason Todd-Wayne

Universe B - Aug. 16th

The next day is Jason’s birthday. Bruce takes him out for lunch, takes him to a bookstore and lets him get whatever he wants—but the best part comes at night, when Bruce presents him with his Robin costume and allows him to join him on patrol for the first time since his arrival. It’s a reward, some distant part of his mind calls out. This is the carrot. He wonders what the stick will be.

But he shoves that part of his mind away to focus on the joy of sailing through the air, of being Robin, of being magic. Even if he spends the whole night hoping Dick will call to wish him a happy birthday. Even if the way that Bruce stares at his uniform makes him wish for the first time that he had pants instead of a leotard.

Even if Bruce pushes him to his knees as soon as they return to the Batcave.

Jay Todd

Universe A - Aug. 20th

They get one last heatwave before the end of summer break. Bruce and Dick have wrapped up what they were doing with the JLA, at least temporarily, and Jay and Bruce are outside getting the sprinkler set up. A middle-aged man and a young boy emerge from the house next door, both wearing swimsuits and carrying beach bags. Jay recognizes them from his own world’s Bristol, but he can’t remember their names off the top of his head.

The boy gives him a wave and a cheerful, “Hi, Jason!” Jay waves back. Some idea sparks in the boy’s eyes, and he talks in a hushed voice with his dad for a second. His dad smiles and nods. The boy starts to walk over to Jay and Bruce.

“His name is Tim Drake,” Bruce mutters to Jay. “Neighbor’s kid. Two years younger than you. You two don’t hang out much, but you’re friendly with each other, and you’ll play together in the yard sometimes.”

As the kid approaches them, Jay mimics the smile he saw on the boy in the pictures and greets, “Hey, Tim! How’s it going?”

“Good! My dad and I are going to the waterpark.” Tim’s eyes twinkle with excitement. “Do you wanna come with us? Dad says it’s okay!”

Jay looks at Bruce. “Is that okay with you?”

“I don’t see why not.” Bruce smiles. “Go get your swimsuit. Dick and I can hold down the fort here.”

“You and Dick can come with us if you want, Mr. Wayne!” Tim says. “Do you like waterslides?”

“Oh, boy, does he,” Tim’s dad calls over. “Bruce, remember when you’d just come back from college, and Kitty Hayworth threw that pool party—”

Bruce laughs. “I will go wherever you want if you end that story right there, Jack.”

All five of them end up at the waterpark together. And Jay—look, he just really wants to have a good, normal, fun time with his age-appropriate friend and the dad and brother he has normal relationships with.

But Bruce is shirtless.

Bruce is shirtless, and Jay wishes he could say that makes him uncomfortable or disgusted or something, but it kind of just makes him really, really horny.

Seeing Dick is almost worse—Bruce, at least, he’s used to seeing naked. But he’s never seen Dick in any state of dress besides fully clothed before, and he’s slammed with the horrifying knowledge that Dick is extraordinarily attractive. His hair is longer than the Dick back in Jay’s universe, just long enough to pull into a small half-pony, and the few pieces of brown hair that fall forward frame his face and make him look like a freaking supermodel.

Then there’s Bruce again—Bruce beside him, Bruce and Dick talking and laughing all casually while they both look so stupidly attractive, and then they Dick catches Jay looking over at him and grins at him—

And that’s how Jay ends up in one of the stalls of the men’s bathroom, furiously jerking off while fighting back angry, humiliated tears. It’s not his fault, he tells himself. Just a biological instinct from his body. He just needs to fucking take care of it. Make it go away, before anyone sees the tent in his swim shorts and realizes how horrible he is.

He’s gotten himself even harder than when he came in here. But he still hasn’t cum.

Jay closes his eyes. Begrudgingly, he lets his mind wander to Bruce. Bruce’s hands on his cock. Bruce’s cock in his mouth. Bruce’s cock in his ass.

The thing is, he’s not sure which Bruce he’s fantasizing about anymore.

Right as he cums into the toilet, Tim calls from outside the stall, “Jason, you okay? You’ve been in there a while.”

Jay bites his tongue to stifle his last moan. He clears his throat and says, “Yeah, fine! Uh, I think eating that funnel cake right before a water slide was a bad idea. Be out in a sec.” He waits for Tim to leave before he comes out.

Jay tries to wash his hands in the sink. It doesn’t feel like enough. He rushes into the shower and scrubs his arms off as fast and thoroughly as he can before he goes out to join Tim and act like nothing is wrong with him.

Jason Todd-Wayne

Universe B - Sept. 2nd

Bruce informs Jason that they’ve figured out how to open the portal again. He just lets that hang in the air for a moment, lets Jason begin to feel joy.

And then he informs Jason that they can’t open it until the solstice.

December 21st.

Sixteen weeks away.

School is starting up again soon. Bruce tells Jason that he’s going to have to go to school—says they don’t want CPS poking around and winks at Jason like that’s a hysterical joke. Jason uses every bit of self-restraint he has to stop himself from punching Bruce.

The last vestiges of self-restraint leave him when Bruce pulls out a box of black hair dye and says that they need to make Jason look more like his alternate self.

Jason couldn’t really explain why that, of all things, is what makes him fly off the handle. Not the rape. Not the manipulation. Not the drugs. A box of hair dye. Bruce tells Jason to come to the bathroom so he can dye his hair and suddenly Jason is kicking, screaming, using every bit of Robin training he can remember to try to land a blow on Bruce’s stupid, evil, smug—

Jason punches Bruce in the nose.

Silence falls in the hall. Jason isn’t even breathing. He’s seen his dad get upset, frustrated, even angry with him before. Every time he does, he always does the same thing: he steps outside for a few minutes, calms himself down, and then comes back to talk to Jason. If Jason is freaked out—which he often is—they’ll have the conversation sitting down together, Jason curled up against dad’s side or in his lap, dad offering him the kind of physical affection and reassurance that Jason needs to make his body understand that they aren’t in danger and no one’s gonna hit them.

Bruce punches Jason back.

Jason can hit much harder than the average thirteen-year-old can. He’s also barely over 5’ tall and struggles with building muscles, in a way that Dr. Thompkins says is common after childhood malnutrition. He hits pretty hard, but against someone who can take a hit as well as Bruce can, he figures Bruce must’ve barely felt it.

Jason really, really feels the punch Bruce lands on his cheek.

It stuns him into a silent, dazed submission. He doesn’t say another word while Bruce takes him to the bathroom and works the foul-smelling dye into his hair. He doesn’t say another word when the dye starts to burn his scalp. He doesn’t say another word when Bruce washes the dye out and proudly presents Jason his own reflection. Jason stares at the stranger reflected back at him.

“My mom’s hair was red,” Jason whispers.

“My hair is black,” Bruce answers.

Jason doesn’t say another word.

Late that night, when Bruce is settled into working on the Batcomputer and Alfred has retired to bed, Jason wanders the halls of the manor like a ghost in his own skin.

The boy in the pictures on the walls looks like him now. Now, he looks like the boy in the pictures on the walls.

Bruce’s office door is cracked open. That catches his eye—Bruce has been studious about closing and locking the door every single time he leaves. Jason flits inside the room before he even realizes what he’s doing.

He snoops, obviously. He’s Robin. He loves to snoop. It’s recreational, really; more a way to pass the time than anything else. He’s not really expecting to find anything.

Under the desk, he finds a small, crumpled piece of paper behind the wastebasket—like Bruce had tried to throw it away and not realized he missed. Jason carefully unfurls it.

(973) 027-1939
Call me if you need me

Seconds later, Jason is downstairs pounding the number into the landline. It rings—rings—rings—

Someone picks up.

“Dick?” Jason says quietly. “It’s Jason. I—”

Dick hangs up.

Universe B - Sept. 3rd

Jason stays in bed until nearly two in the afternoon the next day. He wakes up earlier than that, but—he doesn’t really see a point in getting up. Eventually, he climbs out of bed, showers and scrubs his skin raw, gets dressed in another boy’s clothes. He still has the piece of paper from Dick tucked into his pocket. He doesn’t know why. Whatever issues Dick has with Jay have clearly translated to Jason, too. Whatever. Whatever. He doesn’t need Dick. He’ll be fine. He just has to make it through a few more months. He’ll be fine.

After shoving the small amount of food he can stomach into his mouth, he wanders out to the front yard and lays in the grass. It’ll be too cold to do this soon. For now, at least, the sky is blue and the grass is warm beneath him.

Jason’s mind has been spending a lot of time away from his body lately. That’s the only explanation he can give for how, despite all of his Robin training and all that dad has drilled awareness and alertness into his head, he doesn’t hear anyone approach him until a soft voice says “Um, hi.”

Jason jumps and looks at the boy beside him. For just a second, he thinks he’s back in his own universe; that maybe he drifted off to sleep in the grass, all Alice-like, and now his next door neighbor is waking him up to inform him that he never really went to Wonderland. But this Tim is different, too: his eyes are blue, not green, and his posture and nervous expression tell Jason that this version of Tim sees him as a stranger. Jason clears his throat and says, “Hi.”

“You’re Jason, right? I’m Tim.”

Jason has to stop himself from replying I know. Instead he says, “Nice to meet you, Tim. You live next door, right?”

“Yeah. I saw you laying out here through my window, and…” Tim trails off.

Jason sits up and raises his eyebrows. “And?”

Tim smiles, a little awkward and a little apologetic, but still sincere. Not like Bruce’s smile. “I thought you looked lonely. I never see you have friends over. I thought… maybe you’d wanna play? I know you’re a little older than me, but—I’m not, like, a baby or anything. I play violent video games. Sometimes.”

Jason snorts. “Honestly, kid, I could use less violence right about now.”

That makes worry rise up in Tim’s face. His gaze flicks to the large, dark bruise on Jason’s cheek. “How’d you get that?”

“Baseball practice. Hit myself in the face with my own bat. Dumb, I know.”

He’d figured that if Tim didn’t accept that excuse, it’d only be because—well, because it was kind of a cliche. But Tim’s brow furrows, and the look in his eyes as he traces over Jason’s face is more analytical than Jason was expecting. Tim’s cute little baby face always makes Jason forget how uncannily smart the kid is. “How?” he asks.

“What do you mean, how?” Jason shoots back. “It was a big wooden bat. It hit my face hard. It left a bruise.”

“The angle isn’t right,” Tim argues. “Whichever way you were swinging, if you were the one holding the bat, it couldn’t have hit like that. And the shape is wrong, too; it should be more oblong, like—” He reaches out to touch Jason’s cheek.

Jason recoils and shouts, “Don’t touch me!” Tim flinches. Jason blinks back tears and stutters out, “Sorry, I-I shouldn’t have yelled. I-I should go. I should go back inside, Bruce doesn’t want me talking to…” He shakes his head and sniffs. “I should go.” Jason shoves himself to his feet and sprints towards the door.

“Jason, wait!” Tim calls, and there’s something worried and desperate in his voice that almost makes Jason turn around. But then he thinks about what Bruce will do to him if he catches him telling Tim anything—thinks about what Bruce could do to Tim—and he slams the door shut before he can do anything else stupid.

Universe B - Sept. 5th

Someone from CPS comes by a few days later. One of their neighbors called, she said; wanted to report that his son had a worrying conversation with Jason.

The lady doesn’t even talk to Jason—she talks to Bruce, and Bruce pulls out his checkbook, and she leaves not long after. Jason prays that she didn’t tell Bruce exactly which neighbor called. A few minutes later, though, he realizes that she didn’t need to. The Drakes are the only family on this road with a son around Jason’s age.

The mental image of Tim’s face with a bruise that matches Jason’s own is enough to kill Jason’s appetite for the rest of the day.

That night, as Jason is laying naked in bed under Bruce, he kisses a line up the older man’s neck and whispers into his ear, “Please don’t hurt Tim Drake.”

“Don’t tell anyone about our relationship,” Bruce replies, “And I won’t have to.”

Jay Todd

Universe A - September 10th

The hair color is the only thing he needs to explain at school—a few people ask, and Jay just tells them he wanted to try dyeing it, and no one really asks after that.

Jason’s friends are nice. Jay wonders if it’s okay for him to consider them his friends, too.

Jason Todd-Wayne

Universe B - Oct. 29th

Jason has lost track of how many times Bruce has touched him. It’s started to feel natural at this point; instinctive, even. One afternoon, Bruce is working in his home office, and Jason wanders in and curls up on Bruce’s lap while Bruce continues to work. He manages to drift off for a nap.

When Jason wakes up, Bruce is hard beneath him. Jason, without even thinking about it, starts grinding down onto Bruce’s cock. Bruce lets out a low, pleased moan and grins his hips into Jason.

A few minutes later, Jason finds himself kneeling on a pillow under Bruce’s desk, blanket around him, curled up against Bruce’s legs with the man’s cock in his mouth. Bruce cums maybe fifteen minutes later. Jason swallows. He tries to pull back, but Bruce’s hand on his head stops him. He gets comfortable there with Bruce’s softened cock still in his mouth.

This world’s Bruce is sick. And whatever sickness has rotted away the goodness in him must be spreading to Jason, too, because all Jason can think about as he drifts back off to sleep is how cozy and safe he feels.

Jay Todd

Universe A - Nov. 3rd

The Drakes come over for dinner. After they’re done eating, Bruce and Jack talk about whatever boring business stuff boring business guys talk about, and Jay takes Tim to the rec room to play video games.

Partway through a round of Mario Kart, Tim huffs, “I can never figure out how to drift right.”

An idea occurs to Jay—a kind of bad idea, he has to admit, in the moral sense. But his curiosity gets the better of him. “Here,” he says. “Let me help.” He pulls up one of the solo time trials. Then he moves to sit behind Tim on the floor, wraps his arms around him, and puts his hands over his. “I’m gonna show you what to do, okay?”

Jay can actually feel how hot Tim’s face is getting. Tim squeaks out, “Okay.”

Well, his “Tim has a crush” theory seems to be getting confirmed.

The right thing to do, Jay thinks, would be to discourage the crush. To tell Tim that hey, actually, he’s fucking poison, and Tim should probably run for the hills before whatever sickness Bruce gave Jay manages to spread to Tim, too. Instead, he guides Tim through an unnecessarily intimate drifting tutorial, and a very bad part of him relishes in how flustered Tim is.

As Jack and Tim leave a few hours later, Jay leans out a second-story window to watch them. He can just make out Tim eagerly asking Jack if they can go back over for dinner soon.

Jason Todd-Wayne

Universe B - Nov. 3rd

Mr. Drake comes over. Bruce sends Jason up to his room, but Jason can hear even from upstairs that they’re shouting at each other. Most of their conversation is muffled by the heavy wood walls and floors of the manor, but Jason manages to catch the words abuse, isolation, and CPS. He wants to run downstairs and beg Mr. Drake to stop, explain that he’s only putting his own kid in danger, explain that he can take whatever Bruce wants him to take but he doesn’t know if Tim can and he doesn’t wanna find out.

Finally, eventually, Mr. Drake leaves with a slam of the heavy front door behind him. Jason lets out a soft, relieved sigh.

Bruce fucks him particularly roughly that night. Jason lets him. Better him than the baby-faced little kid next door.

Universe B - Nov. 5th

A different social worker comes over this time. She’s apparently just as easy to bribe as the last one was. As she leaves with a check for an obscene amount of money tucked into her purse, Jason can only feel relief. It’s just because he wants to go back home, he tells himself; it’s just because he needs to be here when the portal opens back up.

It’s not because he doesn’t wanna be taken away from Bruce. It’s not.

(The hungry way he pulls Bruce into a kiss later that night says otherwise.)

Universe B - Dec. 19th

School gets released early on the final day before winter break, and Jason gets to enjoy a few peaceful hours alone at home while Bruce is at work and Alfred is running errands. He’s sitting on a couch in the library with his nose buried in a copy of Shelley’s Mathilda when the door opens and someone approaches him. Bruce or Alfred must’ve gotten home early. “One sec,” he says, not looking up. “Almost done with this part.”

A voice that isn’t Bruce or Alfred says, “I can wait, kid.”

Jason startles and looks up. “Oh,” he says awkwardly. “Um—hi, Dick.”

Dick looks exhausted, like he’s been going nonstop since the last time he saw Jason. His obvious fatigue leaves Jason even more surprised when Dick smiles at him—tired, worried, but still a smile. “Thought I might find you in here,” he says. “Mind if I sit?” Jason nods and puts his book down. Dick sits on the opposite end of the couch. “It’s been a while,” Dick starts.

“Yeah,” Jason says. “I didn’t know you were coming here.”

“Bruce doesn’t know, either. He’s not expecting me ‘til Sunday. He’s at work, right? And Alfred is running his Friday errands?” Jason nods again. “Good. Okay. I wanted to talk to you.” He hesitates, clears his throat, and says, “Kid, I wanted to say—I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, last summer. Stuff between me and Jay hasn’t always been great. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you, though, and I’m sorry.”

Jason furrows his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“You never called,” Dick says. Jason sits straight up. “And every time I tried to call you, Bruce said you didn’t wanna talk to me. I figured maybe everything was just going fine here, and maybe you had too much going on hanging out with friends and going out as Robin to wanna spend time talking to a guy you don’t really know. But a few days ago, I got this call from Jack Drake, the guy next door. He said his son found my number—which is kind of crazy, ‘cuz I’m pretty sure his son is like, nine or something—”

“Eleven,” Jason corrects quietly. “He’s just short.”

Dick looks surprised that Jason knew that, but he continues, “Either way, weird. But the weirdest part is the questions he was asking and the things he was telling me. He said CPS has been here twice. He said he’s seen you with—with bruises. He said that when his son reached for you, you flinched back and told him not to touch you, which is the same thing you did when—last summer, when I woke you up on the couch…” Dick trails off and looks away for a moment. It’s a gesture Jason recognizes from his brother. He does it when he’s trying to collect himself. Trying to make sure he doesn’t cry or yell or lose his cool. Dick clears his throat again and continues, “Jason, I am so sorry if something bad’s been happening to you and I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me.”

“I tried to tell you,” Jason says, and he feels so fucking stupid for the way his voice cracks like he’s a kid or something. “You hung up on me.”

Jason had expected Dick to look guilty. He didn’t expect Dick to look suspicious. “I hung up on you?” Dick says. He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through his call history. “When did you call me?”

“Um… early September, I think? Before I went back to school.”

Dick holds his phone out to Jason. The early days of September show a few calls from Kory, a missed call from Wally, an outgoing call to Roy—but nothing from the manor. “Do you still have the note I gave you?” Dick asks.

Jason, a little sheepish, fishes it out from his pocket where he’s been carrying it around like a security blanket. “You have the same handwriting as my brother,” he mumbles. He hands the paper to Dick. “I liked looking at it, I guess.”

Dick looks at it. Jason can tell by his face that he sees something wrong it immediately, but he doesn’t speak yet. Jason waits. “That’s not my number,” he finally says.

“... What?”

“Look, 973—that’s a Gotham City area code. I have a Manhattan area code.” So does his brother, Jason remembers, and he suddenly feels very stupid for not realizing sooner that the number was wrong. “Are you sure this is the same paper I gave you?”

“No,” Jason admits. “Bruce took it from me right after you gave it to me.” The worry in Dick’s face grows even more. “A few weeks later, I found that next to the wastebasket in his office. I thought he just missed when he was throwing it way.”

“He normally leaves his office locked, doesn’t he? Did you sneak in, or was it unlocked that night?”

“It was unlocked,” Jason whispers. “The door was cracked open.” He feels even stupider now. He pushes past that to say, “You said that Bruce told you I didn’t wanna talk to you?” Dick nods. “Dickie—Dick—he never even told me you called. He said you were too busy with the Titans.”

“The Titans?” Dick echoes. “I haven’t been with the Titans. I took care of everything with the Titans in maybe a week. The JLA’s been dealing with some weird bullshit—bullcrap, sorry—”

“I’m thirteen, you can swear in front of me.”

“The JLA’s been dealing with some weird bullshit, and they tried to call Bruce in, but he said he was too busy dealing with getting you home. He asked me to go instead.” Dick’s face falls. “You thought I’ve just been ignoring you for months?”

Jason can’t respond to that without crying, so he doesn’t respond. Dick starts to reach for him, then pulls his hand back. “Please,” Jason gasps, voice ragged, awful tears threatening to spill. “Please touch me.”

Dick moves next to him and gathers Jason in his arms. He smells like my brother, Jason thinks, and suddenly he’s fallen into incoherent sobs against Dick’s chest.

He’s not sure how long Dick holds him like that, but God, it’s everything he’s been craving for months. Jason has finally started to calm down when the library door opens again. Jason and Dick scramble to move apart. Dick places a firm hand on Jason’s shoulder and stares at Bruce as he approaches. “Dick?” Bruce says, and Jason gets a thrill from the note of hidden fear in his voice. “I wasn’t expecting you until Sunday.”

“Hey, Bruce,” Dick greets. “Wrapped up early, so I figured I’d just come on over. You don’t mind, right?”

“No,” Bruce replies, doing a slightly worse job than Dick of acting casual. “No, of course not, Dick. You’re always welcome here.”

“Thanks.” Dick’s smile is laced with poison. “I can always count on you.”

Jay Todd

Universe A - Dec. 19th

Two days before he’s supposed to go home, Jay wakes up already having a panic attack. Bruce is there in an instant—just like he’s been there every time Jay has cried, every time he’s had a nightmare, every time Jay has needed him. When Bruce pulls him into a hug, Jay leans against his chest and doesn’t feel any fear. “Are you okay, Jay?” Bruce asks.

Jay squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think about the other Bruce’s hands on him, mouth on him, cock in him. He swallows hard and says, “I-I feel really weird, B. Can I stay home from school? Please?”

“Of course,” Bruce says. “I’m sure you won’t be missing much on a half-day before winter break, anyway. I’ll be busy most of tonight making some last-minute adjustments to the portal device—but before that, what do you say we spend the day together?”

“Please. Please, B.”

It’s a really good day. They go to the bookstore, the boardwalk, the theatre. Bruce is kind and loving and there, and he hugs Jay as much as he wants, and he doesn’t even expect a single kiss.

Dick comes over in the early afternoon and spends the rest of the day with Jay. He’d never thought in all his life that any version of Dick could be this kind to him. His own Dick is just a single step below full-on hating him. Maybe not even a full step. For years now, he hasn’t breathed a single word to his world’s Dick about everything Bruce does to him. He’s always told himself it’s because it’d be pointless; he already knows Dick would never believe him. Beneath that, another reason lingers. Another fear: that Dick would believe him, but he’d just tell Jay he deserves it.

This Dick wouldn’t do that. Jay is almost sure he wouldn’t do that.

But still, every time Jay opens his mouth to try to tell Dick, nothing comes out.

He can’t tell Dick. He can’t tell Bruce. He can’t tell Alfred or Kory or Donna or Babs or Clark or Lois or anyone, because he really fucking likes these people and the idea of any of them knowing how disgusting he is makes him wanna hurl.

But he can’t go back to his world, either.

So that night, after Dick and Bruce are both huddled down in the Batcave together, Jay dumps everything out of his school backpack and quietly packs it up with as much as he can fit in it. A few sets of the clothes Bruce bought him. Some food he’s spent the past few days sneaking up from the kitchen. Water bottle. Extra pair of sneakers. Some first aid stuff shoved into a little Ziploc bag. As many pairs of socks as he can shove in there. A Polaroid of himself, Bruce, and Dick. A paperback from the library, flimsy enough that he can roll it up to make it more compact. A throw blanket from the living room—that plus his heavy winter coat and wool hat should at least make sure he doesn’t freeze right away. Maybe he’ll even make it to spring.

The last thing he grabs is all of the cash from Bruce’s wallet and the emergency stash in his bedroom. Several hundred dollars, between the two. He feels guilty for it. But he will, undeniably, need this a lot more than Bruce will. For Bruce, it’s basically pocket change. For Jay, it means he might be able to go a few months before he has to start finding other ways to make money.

He debates whether or not to bring the cell phone Bruce bought him and ultimately decides against it. Cell phones are too easy to track. And whatever happens, he can’t let Bruce and Dick find him. If he wants to survive to see adulthood, he can’t go back to his own world—and if he doesn’t want to go back to his own world, he needs to disappear.

Universe A - Dec. 20th

It takes less than twenty-four hours for Jay to get a harsh reminder of why he’s never tried running away from Bruce Wayne.

Jay is squatting in an abandoned building in Crime Alley. There’s no heat or lights, obviously, but the walls are mostly intact, and he was even able to find a room with a door that still locked. It’s not perfect, but it gives him enough security to rest that first night, albeit fitfully.

It’s a decent room, all things considered. If he can get some bedding, he could make it pretty cozy. The room a few doors down has a big hole in the side of the wall, which isn’t ideal for sleeping, but would probably provide enough ventilation that he could use a camp stove without killing himself. He should wait a few days for all of that—he’ll need to take the bus to get to the nearest department store, and he wants to lay low until the solstice is over and the portal is closed again—but he can make this a decent place to live.

He’d take it over that stupid manor any day.

Jay is sitting on top of the throw blanket and reading his severely-bent paperback when there’s a soft knock on the door. He freezes and sits as silently as possible.

“Jay, lad?” Bruce’s voice calls gently through the door. “I know you’re in there. Can I please come in?”

Oh, no.

Jay squeezes his eyes shut and draws his knees up to his chest. “Go away! Please!”

“I can’t do that, lad. Let me in; I just want to talk.”

“... Fine.” Jay wipes some stupid, hot tears off of his face and unlocks the door. Bruce—or, rather, Batman—stands on the other side. “If you’re here for your money, I’ll give it back. I spent $2.19 on a hot dog earlier today, but I have the rest.”

“Money?” Bruce looks bewildered. “What money?”

“The money I stole from you. Sorry.”

“Jay, I don’t care about that. I hadn’t even noticed—we’ve been looking for you since last night.” He puts a hand on Jay’s shoulder, just paternal enough to make him ache. “Are you okay? Has anyone hurt you since you left?”

“Not since I left,” Jay says.

Bruce slowly closes the door. He kneels and pulls his cowl back so Jay can see his face. “Jay. Can you tell me why you left?” Jay tries to respond, but he can’t make the words come out. He shakes his head. “Okay. Did you run away because you don’t want to go back to your original dimension?” Beat. Jay nods. “Are you scared to go back there?” Another beat. Another nod. “Is it because somebody in your universe hurts you?” Nod. “Somebody at the manor?” Nod. This time, the pause is from Bruce. “Is it… your world’s version of Bruce?” Jay squeezes his eyes shut and nods. Bruce lets out a long, steady exhale. “Has he ever hit you, Jay?” Nod. The next pause is long and heavy, and Jay can’t entirely tell which of them it comes from. “Has he ever touched you sexually?”

Jay can’t answer that. It’s not just the shame, he realizes, or the fear that he won’t be believed—it’s the fear that once this Bruce knows, he’ll realize Jay is open season and start touching him, too. This Bruce has never touched his Jason; Jay’s very nearly positive of that now. But maybe that has nothing to do with Bruce and everything to do with Jason. Maybe this Jason never had to do the shit that Jay did to survive on the streets. Maybe Jason had arrived to Bruce clean and untouched, and Bruce didn’t want to soil him. Maybe Bruce really did have no choice to touch Jay. Maybe Jay is just so disgusting, he makes adult men want to touch him.

It takes him a second to realize he’s started crying. Bruce reaches out, stops himself, says, “Jay, do you want a hug?” Jay gives him one last nod, and then Bruce is sweeping him into his arms and wrapping his cape protectively around him.

“I’m sorry,” Jay sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“What for, Jay?”

“Your Jason—you asked if he’d be okay there—I, I said yes—I lied. He’s not. There’s no way he is. There’s no way my Bruce wouldn’t—that he hasn’t started—” Jay sobs harder and buries his face in Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce is silent. Collecting himself, Jay realizes, but trying to do it without leaving. He’s terrified that Bruce is furious with him now. But all Bruce says when he does speak is, “You’re a child, Jay. You’re just a child.”

Jay nearly manages to get his tears under control. Then he says, “Please don’t make me go back,” and he’s already sobbing again by the time the sentence is out.

“I won’t,” Bruce says. “We’re going to get Jason back here. But I am not, under any circumstances, letting you return to that man.”

Jason Todd-Wayne

Universe B - Dec. 21st

Bruce doesn’t come to Jason’s room the next two nights. A few hours before Jason’s return flight back home is scheduled for takeoff, Dick and Jason have a few last moments alone.

“He’s hurting the other Jay, too,” Jason says quietly. “He’s told me. You have to protect him, Dick—and you have to protect Tim, too.”

“I will,” Dick says. “Jason, I-I’m so sorry—”

“Save it for Jay.”

Dick nods. He hesitates, then quietly asks, “What… exactly has he done to you? I’m guessing he’s hit you, based on the bruises in the pictures that Jack sent me—but has there been anything… else?”

Bruce picks that moment to enter the room, and Jason is almost relieved that he doesn’t have to answer Dick’s question. “Alright,” Bruce says brusquely. “We’ll be able to get the portal open for about a 90-second window at some point tonight, but we won’t know until a few minutes beforehand when that window will begin. From this point on, Jason, you need to stay right next to the portal with me and Dick.” He smiles. “Almost time for you to go home, lad. Will you miss me?”

Jason wishes he was lying when he answers, “Yes.”

The more that Jason thinks about leaving Jay here with Bruce, the worse he feels about it.

Yes, Dick said he’d protect Jay now—but how much can he really do? CPS has already been bought off twice. He could just take Jay and run, but Bruce would find them and he would bring Jay back.

The interdimensional comm patches them through shortly before midnight. That’s supposed to be one of the signs that their window is imminent. Jason stares at the two small metal boxes on the ground, both wired to the Batcave and both precisely placed to exactly match their placement in the other universe. In a few minutes, those will open the portal to take Jason home.

To bring Jay back here.

The Bruces of both worlds connect and start discussing logistics. Jason waits to make sure they’ve already said everything critical before he rushes to the mic and screams, “Dad! Don’t let Jay—!”

Bruce shoves his hand over Jason’s mouth, drags him back, and slams him hard into the cave wall all before Jason has a chance to blink. Dick is there almost as fast, prying Jason from Bruce’s arms. He gets Jason away and retreats maybe ten or twenty feet back with him. “Bruce!” Dick shouts. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Dick,” Bruce says, with a nervous glance back to the portal. “I don’t have time to explain everything right now—I just need you to trust me.”

Dick doesn’t answer. He just maneuvers Jason behind him and glares at Bruce. Jason clutches the edge of Dick’s shirt.

“Batcave, do you read me?” dad’s voice comes tinny through the speakers. “Our window is almost here—are you prepared to open the portal?”

Bruce returns to the Batcomputer. “We’re prepared, Batcave. Jason, come.”

Dick remains firmly beside Jason the entire walk across the room. Back at the Batcomputer, he puts a hand on Jason’s shoulder again and glares at Bruce. “Dad—” Jason tries to say again, but the dangerous look that Bruce gives him scares his voice away.

“Jason?” dad—his dad, his Bruce—says through the speakers. Jason nearly cries at the sound of his voice. “Come through the portal as soon as it opens. I promise, everything is going to be okay. Trust me, son.”

“Activating the portal now,” Bruce says. He presses a few buttons and flips a switch.

The small metal boxes vibrate and buzz against the ground. It grows louder, louder, almost deafening; as it reaches its crescendo, bright blue light flashes across the room and the portal springs into existence. Under the cacophony of noise, Jason whispers, “I trust you, dad.”

Jason picks up the trash bag that Bruce gave him to put his few personal effects in. He exhales. Inhales. And, with only one last glance back towards Bruce, he steps into the portal.

Blue light surrounds him—a thrumming sound like a mechanical heartbeat—a suffocating pressure crushing his chest. His body is weightless, like that sensory deprivation tank dad has done with him a few times. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. And all he can think is, Oh my god, I’m finally going home.

Universe A - Dec. 21st

Jason is deposited on a metal floor hard enough to leave him winded. Everything is spinning. He squeezes his eyes shut and grabs his head. Through the ringing in his ears, he can just make out dad shouting, “Dick, now!” The portal closes with a weird shwoop sound. As Jason lays there, shaking like a freaking chihuahua, familiar warm hands grasp him and a familiar voice says, “I’m here, Jason. Breathe.” Jason leans against dad’s chest and tries to sync their breathing together.

“The—the other—” Jason tries to force out, but he still kind of feels like he’s suffocating, and all of his words drown in his throat.

A familiar face—his own face—pops into view. “Holy crap,” Jay says. “We really do look the same.”

All Jason can get out is, “Huh?”

Dick strolls into view a second later, looking equally exhausted and pleased with himself. “Got the portal shut down. No way that guy’s getting over here. You’re safe.” He looks at Jason. “Both of you.”

“Dickie,” Jason says—and he really does mean to say something else after that, but he can’t figure out what. He doesn’t need to. Dick kneels down and draws Jason into a long, tight hug.

Dad wants Jason to get a full medical screening immediately. Whatever expression falls on Jason’s face makes dad rush to add that Dick can be the one to do it.

Alone in the medical bay, Jason asks Dick what dad wants to screen for. Dick grabs a clipboard—because of course dad prepared for this—and starts scanning down a checklist. “Toxicology screening. Check for physical injuries. Check for implanted devices.” He pauses, but puts on his Nightwing voice and manages to keep his tone remarkably even as he says, “STD screening. Jay came back totally negative, so you’re probably fine there—but we wanna check, just to be safe.”

As Dick starts bustling around to check Jason over, Jason quietly asks, “Do you hate me?”

“There is nothing you could ever do that would make me hate you,” Dick replies evenly.

“Do you think I’m gross?”

“No, kiddo. I know you’re not. A very bad man did very bad things to you. That doesn’t make you gross.”

Jason lets it drop there, because he doesn’t know how to tell him. How to explain that he knows that the act of being touched by Bruce doesn’t make him gross—it’s his longing for it that makes him worry. He’s relieved to be home. He never wants to go back to that universe again. But even still, some sick, awful part of him locked deep within his chest is crying out for Bruce’s touch.

Jason is given a mostly-clean bill of health. He showers after, scrubs his skin raw, changes into his own familiar pajamas.

He finds dad waiting for him in one of the living rooms, sitting on the couch. Even dad’s choice of sitting location is strategic—he’s positioned himself in the corner of one of the couches, allowing Jason a range of options from sitting in another chair to sitting on the opposite end of the couch to sitting directly beside him. Jason chooses the latter. Dad lifts his arm. Jason snuggles up against his side and holds back a fresh wave of tears. “It’s okay, lad,” dad said quietly. “I’m here. You’re safe now.” Jason looks up at dad. Then dad turns his face to angle it more towards Jason, and Jason—

Jason tries to kiss him.

It’s an instinctive movement. A habit. By the time Jason’s horrified mind catches up to his body, dad is placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Jason,” he says, not unkindly. “I don’t want to do that with you.”

Hot, humiliated tears well up in Jason’s eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t… he liked when I…”

“I know. But you don’t have to do that anymore, son. You’re safe now. I’m here.”

Jason just silently nods. He can’t bring himself to say anything else to dad for the rest of the hour they spend together. When Jason rises and excuses himself for bed, dad starts to say, “Do you want a goodnight k—”, but he cuts himself off abruptly.

“Yes,” Jason whispers. “Please.”

Dad stands and presses a long, sweet kiss to the top of Jason’s head. “Goodnight, Jason. I love you.”

Jason sniffs. “I love you, too.”

Outside the door, Jay is lingering in the hallway. He looks up as Jason approaches. “Hey,” Jay greets. “Can we talk?”

Jason and Jay both end up in the queen-sized bed in Jason’s room—Jay’s head at the foot of the bed, Jason’s feet by Jay’s head. In the dark and heady silence of the room, Jason quietly says, “Do you miss him?”

“Yes,” Jay whispers back. “Oh my god, yes.”

“Yeah. Me, too. Would you ever go back?”

“No. Never.”

“Yeah. Me, neither.”

Another half hour of quiet stilted conversation leads to Jay flipping around, laying with his head beside Jason’s. They’ve been trying to bring the conversation to anything besides Bruce. Somehow, inevitably, it always winds its way back to him. “Him being the first one to fuck me isn’t the worst part,” Jason admits. “It’s that he’s the first—the only—person I’ve ever kissed.”

“Me, too,” Jay says. “I hate that I miss it. I don’t want to miss it.”

“I don’t wanna miss it, either.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

Jay swallows. Looks at Jason. And he doesn’t ask, before he leans in—but he goes slow, and Jason doesn’t stop him. Anticipation builds in Jason’s chest, alongside a slurry of excitement and fear and arousal and dread.

Jay presses their mouths together. Jason closes his eyes and leans into it. Relief soars through his chest. The kiss is like a balm, soothing both the ache of missing Bruce and the embarrassment of being gently rejected by dad.

Jason thought it would be strange, kissing his own mouth. It’s not. Jay is firm the way that Bruce was, but a little gentler, too. Jay pulls back and pants into Jason’s ear, “I need to know—this world’s Bruce, your dad—has he ever touched you? Kissed you? Fucked you?”

“No,” Jason says. “No, never.”

“Okay. Good.” Jay hesitates. “Don’t tell him about this. Our secret.”

As Jay’s hand starts to travel down towards his pajama pants, Jason nods and responds in a breathless, eager whisper: “Our secret.”