Chapter Text
Bruce had meetings from eight in the morning to three in the afternoon, but he was finally free. For anyone else, that wouldn’t have been so bad—going home at three would be a treat.
Bruce, on the other hand, had gotten three hours of sleep after a long night taking out a gang that had been selling drugs to teenagers in impoverished neighborhoods. The kids couldn’t afford the drugs, of course, but the gang so generously cut deals for kids willing to do things for them, generally either helping the gang with a dangerous job or giving sexual favors. Six teens had ended up in the hospital before someone broke and told the police.
That particular gang wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone except their fellow inmates for the next several years, but that didn’t stop Bruce’s muscles from protesting every step. He was getting too old to take on two dozen armed men in their twenties by himself.
It was times like this that made him miss Dick even more. Patrols were lonely without a Robin. Training was lonely without Robin. Dinners were lonely without Dick.
Bruce was lonely without Dick.
Dick was happy at college, though, and Bruce was happy for him. Dick texted him every day, and he came home every other weekend. He even tolerated Bruce’s “stalking” to a certain extent, but Bruce calling the school a few twenty-four times to make sure that his son had not been kidnapped was not stalking.
Maybe Dick would be available to call later once Bruce got home. Maybe Dick was lonely too.
That sounded like a good plan, Bruce decided as he walked toward his car. But should he nap before or after the call? It would be easier to hold a conversation if he had rested, but it would be harder to sleep if he was still worried about Dick…
Bruce walked around the corner, still absently weighing the pros and cons when he noticed the small form standing beside his car.
Bruce blinked in confusion, then suspicion. Was this a trap? Was the kid bait? The boy looked far too thin and his clothes didn’t seem to fit right. Regardless of whether it was a trap or not, this kid was in trouble.
“Are you waiting for you parents?” Should Bruce even let this boy go with his parents when they showed up if they were neglecting him so much? Or maybe they needed financial help to take care of their son, and he could set them up with one of the Wayne Foundation’s charities. But where were—
The boy dipped his chin with a flirty smile and wink. “I dunno. Do you want to be my daddy?”
Bruce choked on air so badly he started coughing. What the hell? Was this some kind of joke that kids played nowadays? It could all be a prank, which would explain how ridiculous the situation already was after only twenty seconds.
It took him several seconds to recover and manage to demand, his voice strained, “Where are your parents?”
The boy shrugged. “Heaven and Hell. You might say they’re separated. They’re not going to be a problem.”
The parents were not going to be a problem. Oh.
Bruce was going to be absolutely sick. If the parents weren’t taking care of the child, then someone, maybe a guardian, must have put him up to this.
…that was it, wasn’t it?
“This is a ploy, isn’t it?” Bruce looked around the garage with narrowed eyes, trying to find the telltale flashes of light and glints of light on glass lenses. Raising his voice to whatever sick paparazzi “journalists” were lurking in the shadows, Bruce shouted, “I’m still not a pedophile, and I’m suing you for child endangerment unless you come out this second.”
The boy crossed his arms and looked around too. “Who are you talking to?”
“The news crew, wherever they’re hiding.”
Bruce wasn’t seeing anything. Whoever had set this up was good. He’d have better luck trying to get the boy to crack, most likely. He was probably a poor kid being paid “big bucks” to help the journalist get the big scoop and hadn't considered how dangerous the situation could have been.
The boy stared back at Bruce with wide, scared eyes he was still trying to hide between an alluring façade. The poor thing. Bruce could feel himself softening.
“Go home, kid,” Bruce told him. “Whatever they’re paying you isn’t enough. Imagine that I actually took you up on your offer.”
Hidden fear turned to open panic.
“I don’t have a home!” the boy rushed, desperation dancing wildly in his eyes as his breathing picked up faster and faster until it was near-hyperventilation. “I’m not with anyone. I’m not going to report anything, I promise.”
Bruce’s stomach churned. He really wished Dick was here right now. Dick would know how to handle this much better than Bruce could, but if the boy was telling the truth, and he really was homeless…Bruce couldn’t just take the boy back to his parents and be done with it, and he certainly couldn’t risk the boy escaping and trying to make this same offer to someone who would take him up on it.
The boy’s eyes flitted over Bruce’s face, and something in Bruce’s expression must have frightened him even more. “I haven’t reported anyone else!”
Bruce’s blood turned to ice, then to fire. What?
Before he could even process the full implications of that sentence, the boy dropped to his knees with an audible thud that was sure to have hurt.
“I—" The boy, the child who didn’t look older than ten, stuttered and took in a deep breath before tearing Bruce’s heart into even smaller pieces with every word and every ragged gasp. “I’m really good. I’m not a snitch, either, and I can take…I can take whatever Dick Grayson took, I promise.”
The boy thought Bruce had ever—could ever, would ever—touched Dick like that?
The pieces fell into place, and Bruce hated to admit that the boy’s plan with what he knew did make a sickening amount of sense. Bruce was rich, and he could easily provide for a single child. The boy clearly needed food and shelter, and his experiences with men had apparently been so horrible that he’d assumed that all the rumors about why Bruce had really taken Dick in. With Dick out of the way, he must have hoped to endear himself to Bruce and take Dick’s place. He was so desperate to be safe that he was willing to sell his body to someone he thought would rape him.
Bruce walked slowly, slowly closer. When he noticed a flinch, he decided he was close enough. The boy tensed, then shuddered. His shoulders slumped in defeat.
Bruce crouched down so he wasn’t looming over the boy. The child blinked in surprise, then recoiled slightly with dread obvious in every line of his body.
God, the boy was tiny. How had anyone ever looked at this child and thought that it would be okay to violate him so horrifically? Or maybe the depravity had been the fun for them.
“How old are you?” Wayne finally asked, trying to keep his tone as level and unthreatening as possible.
“I—I’m eleven,” the boy stuttered. His eyes didn’t stop flickering from Bruce’s eyes to his mouth to his fists and back. Watching every tell to protect himself as best as possible.
“Eleven,” Bruce repeated hoarsely. “I see. And your parents?”
He needed to be sure the boy had been telling the truth about that before he made any other decisions.
“Dead,” the boy whispered, blinking rapidly to hold back tears. Bruce’s heart panged in sympathy.
Bruce gave the boy a moment to collect himself before he asked, “What’s your name?”
“Jason,” he answered, sounding a little more hopeful. Like he thought Bruce was genuinely considering…
“And you’re homeless?” Bruce checked.
Jason nodded quickly, a hint of hard determination flickering in the boy’s eyes. “No one will even notice I’m gone.”
Bruce pursed his lips and thought. Leslie might be able to help. He could take Jason to her so Jason would be able to be placed in a safe home where someone would protect him.
“I see. Unfortunately, I’m not a pedophile—” A phrase he’d never thought he would say. “—but I could certainly help you find a nice foster home.”
Bruce wasn’t expecting cheers and adoration, but he also wasn’t expecting Jason to pale and scramble out of Bruce’s easy reach.
“I’m not going to foster care!” Jason snarled with far more defiance than Bruce would have expected from him. “I’m not getting trafficked!”
Bruce blinked at Jason in confusion. “I’m not trying to traffic—”
“The mobs control all the foster homes!” Jason snapped. “If you don’t want me, fine, but I’ll run if you try to throw me in foster care.”
Ice ran down Bruce’s spine. He didn’t doubt Jason for a second, not with how much sense that made. He knew that abusive houses were unfortunately common in Gotham foster care even though he did his best to help as Batman, but surely even physical abuse would be better than prostitution and living on the streets. If traffickers had a foothold in the foster system, though, Jason would have been safer on his own, just like he’d decided to be. Bruce knew what he was doing tonight.
Until tonight, though, he had a child to deal with. “I see.”
“You’d better.”
Bruce wasn’t sending Jason into the foster system now, not even through Leslie. Not till he’d checked things out personally. That only left one option.
Bruce rose slowly, keeping his hands where Jason could see them before crossing his arms and staring back at the terrified child on the ground. “You want to live with me?”
“And go to school,” Jason added with a scowl.
A faint smile tugged at Bruce’s lips. They had a scholar on their hands, apparently. “And go to school. That can be arranged.”
Jason’s eyes widened, and his face lit up. “So—”
Fighting the urge to punch something or track down the nearest pedophile and beat him until his knuckles bled, Bruce jerked his head toward the car as he opened his own door. “We’ll call it a trial period. You can stay with me for a few weeks, and then we’ll see where we go from there.”
Jason grinned and scrambled to his feet, so excited to go home with someone he still thought would rape him.
Jason threw open the door next to Bruce, climbed into the seat, and started to buckle up before he froze and looked up at Bruce.
“Yes, sir?”
Bruce scoffed gently. “You’re not sitting in the passenger seat. It’s not safe.”
Jason hesitated, then let go of the seatbelt and slid down into the footwell like it was just the most natural thing to do. When he was settled, he looked up at Bruce expectantly.
Bruce wanted to be sick. “I meant you’re too short for the airbag. You need to sit in the back.”
Jason’s eyes widened, then he blushed deeply and climbed out of the car. Bruce had a brief flare of panic that Jason might just run, and Bruce would find him on the streets dead, or floating in the harbor after taking the wrong client.
The back door opened, and Jason climbed inside without looking at Bruce. His cheeks were still bright red.
Bruce breathed a silent sigh of relief. Jason was going to be safe, and as soon as the night fell, so would every child the mobs thought they could get away with hurting. Until then, he needed to get Jason settled into the Manor, fed, and he was definitely going to need to call Dick now. Dick would want to help Bruce take these guys out, and he could hardly deprive Dick of meeting his new foster brother.