“You don’t truly think you can beat me, do you?” Jason raised his eyebrows.
“Tt. Yes I do. I am actually quite sure I can beat you,” Damian crossed his arms, glaring up at his supposed brother. Jason gave him a full look down as the boy glared up at him.
“My height does not determine my skill, you ogre,” Damian snapped.
“Big words for a little guy. Want to put some money on it?” He grinned. Jason had been itching to put the little brat in his place as playfully as he can. Alfred would smack him upside the head should anything happen to the littlest Bat.
“Please, I’m a billionaire and heir to an empire,” Damian rolled his eyes before walking off. Still the boy stopped and turned to Jason, “The bed. I want the bed. You take the couch.”
Jason stared the squirt down. He’d been wanting some payback after that whole nightmare schtick. Who did this kid think he was to pull on Jason’s heartstrings and then kick (in a literal sense) out of his own bed. He’d gladly take the brat down a peg.
So Jason didn’t feel bad. He refused to feed bad. It wasn’t his fault, not really, not exactly. The demon started it to begin with. But the bruises are forming and Jason as well as the scrapes, Jason really didn’t hold back on the kid. Maybe he should have. That’s ridiculous. He didn’t beat him up like Ra’s use too.
Comparing himself to Ra’s al Ghul doesn’t do too much for his confidence.
“You cheated,” Damian frowned.
“I think I said something similar when Dick beat me. Although that was back when I was shorter than you,” Jason smirked, “Only he actually did cheat and I didn’t. I have the bitemarks to prove it.”
Jason dabbed the brats scrape with the hydrogen peroxide, the small hiss came from the younger boy. Jason felt just a little bit bad about it as the kid moved to lay down on the couch. A creeping thought went through Jason’s head that he attempted to ignore. Just because he was technically the brat’s sole caretaker at the moment didn’t mean he’d have to give up everything.
He’d already given up his couch.
His private and alone time.
He’d given up sleeping in late to take the kid to school in the morning, despite the brat saying he could drive and/or walk himself there. Jason didn’t trust Damian with a skateboard let alone a car, and his time on the streets made him wary of kids walking alone in the dark.
He didn’t have to do this. It didn’t make him a bad brother if he chose to have the nice warm bed with Alfred style clean sheets for himself.
“Alright, up you go,” Jason groaned, grabbing Damian’s arm.
“Where are we going?” Damian snapped, Jason couldn’t bring himself to answer when he opened the door to his room.
Damian grinned up at him like the turd he is. God, Jason got soft. Is this what happened to Dick? Did he just have to runaway to find his will again because the brat talked him into everything? That can’t happen to the Red Hood. He can’t go soft. Certainly not because Damian Wayne, the heir of the Demon’s Head.
“One night,” Jason growled.
“Tt,” Damian smirked before throwing himself on the bed like Jason hadn’t hurt him at all.