An hour later, Peter jogged back to the apartment with Dog. He was running a little behind (what a surprise) but felt very pleased with himself regardless.
By no measure had he perfected anything. He still had to concentrate fully to connect. Slips in his attention left him dropping out. But he'd managed to trace other links on the web. All kinds: the steadfast and sombre glow of the trees lining the park; shivering shoals of insects and the brighter sparks of animals — mice, squirrels, birds and even some surprise lizards; the vibrant, pulsating beacons of two teenagers cutting school and exchanging a cigarette on the swings. It was… thrilling. Fascinating. Even a Peter salty over nonconsensual changes could acknowledge and appreciate that.
So far, his grasp of the web could only extend as far as the other side of the park without his head feeling like it was about to explode, but Peter thought that was still pretty damn cool. He was excited to get to work and test it out with more humans around. Hopefully with practice, he could get to a point where he could tap in and out at-will while his connection ran in the background. It all seemed far-fetched at that moment, but with enough work he hoped he'd find a way to make it work.
They made it back to the apartment in record time. Inside was quiet and dark, the blinds drawn. With Jason sleeping off the night shift, Peter took care to be as quiet as possible, but a fine-tuning of his hearing caught the hitch of Jason's breathing anyway. The man slept lightly. Peter breathed a voiceless 'sorry' at Jason's closed door.
Hurriedly, he changed into his work polo and made sure Dog's bowl was filled with fresh water, then he was off. He took the stairs three or five at a time: the last thing Peter needed was a strike against his name for tardiness, less than two weeks into his new job. Peter liked working at NRE, even if he did find Sandra kind of overbearing and distracting (Sandra liked to talk), and Conrado was hot and cold.
To make up for lost time, Peter jogged half the way there, then walked the last part to cool down. His initial assessment of a 'grey day' had been wrong. While he was inside, the light breeze had temporarily cleared off the clouds, though the sun bore little heat. Even so, Peter felt bright and full of energy by the time he reached the store. He skipped inside, smiling broadly. Kyla, who was working the register, did a double take at his appearance.
"Gross," she sneered without heat. "Your New Yorker is showing."
"Ah, sorry." Peter tried to school his face into an angsty frown, but he felt too pleased with his discovery of the web to manage. "Is that better?"
"Somehow, it's worse. Thank fuck you're a tech grunt, or you'd scare away all the customers."
Peter glanced pointedly around the store. There was a single woman with short blue hair browsing the music corner. She'd glanced his way when he'd first entered, but otherwise ignored them. "I feel like the sun's already done that. You Gothamites are something else. What? Afraid of a little vitamin D?"
"I hear it gives you rickets," Kyla said sagely. Peter rolled his eyes. She nodded to the back room and tapped at the watch on her wrist. "Conrado's not here today, by the way. Sandra asked me to send you up ASAP, so hop to it."
Peter laughed and left her to it, passing through the back door and taking the steps two at a time. Alerted by his footsteps, Sandra met him at the top of the stairs with a broad smile.
"Peter! Just the person I wanted to see!"
"Hey, I'm not late, am I? I heard Conrado's not in, but no one asked me to come in earlier."
"No, no!" Sandra waved off his concerns and ushered him through into their usual workspace. It felt brighter than usual with the sunny weather. "You're fine. But I do want to know… how good are you with coding and operating systems?"
"About as good as I am with hardware." Maybe even better. He figured he probably shouldn't explain that he'd been slowly reverse engineering a real AI, though.
Sandra clapped her hands with delight. "Fantastic! I'm going to get you completing Conrado's work then. It's a time sensitive job and Connie's off tomorrow too, apparently—" Sandra's expression twisted with what Peter thought might have been resentment, but it was smoothed away so fast he couldn't be sure, "but I can't just leave it until Monday."
"If you show me what to do, I can get it done," he hedged.
Sandra's smile this time felt a little cold, but maybe that was just her eyebrows. They were particularly pointy today.
He hung his backpack on the back of his whirly chair and followed Sandra to one of the locked cabinets by the kitchenette. The locks needed a bit of a jimmy but Sandra managed fine, used to their eccentricities. Inside was a cornucopia of tech: phones, tablets, digital cameras, laptops and external hard drives. None were in their original boxes, quite a few lacked chargers, and all showed evidence of having been used in the past. Scratches, dings, a few shattered screens or the remnants of stickers. Each one was in a baggie and neatly labelled with a date and code that matched with NRE's database.
"Grab a crate, Petey. It'll be easier."
Peter did as he was told while Sandra pulled out a little notebook and began selecting items from the shelves that matched the numbers she'd scrawled across. Three laptops, five phones and a hefty digital camera. She placed them all into Peter's crate, then gave him a look of sympathy when she picked up the DSLR.
"That's not too heavy, is it?"
Peter grinned. "It's fine."
No need to tell her he could pick up the whole cabinet with one hand.
He took the items back to his workspace and set the crate down. Sandra joined him with a work laptop and a handful of cables. She stood close enough he could smell her perfume: a powdery floral that burned the back of his nose. Hopefully, he wouldn't sneeze all over the electronics.
"It's a fairly simple task," Sandra explained as she powered up the laptop. She picked out a phone to start with and plugged it in. "Mostly just restoring it to factory reset, but we have a special program to run first. Make sure there's nothing dangerous lurking on the device that might escape that." She gave him a sardonic look. "This is Gotham, after all."
He raised a brow. "It's that… common?"
"You'd be surprised. One time, we attempted to reset a tablet and it bricked the whole PC." She motioned to the taskbar on the laptop. "We keep this air gapped, just in case."
Peter kept his expression carefully neutral. He didn't really see why they needed to run their own custom program for that, but maybe it was a quirk of technology here.
Sandra walked him through the process of starting up the program and clearing out the phone. It was a time-consuming but simple task. The laptop chugged away, the program ploughed through the phone's OS and occasionally paused for manual input from him. It took a good forty minutes to finish the reset. He didn't see why Sandra thought it was an important task; in that time, Peter had already removed a cracked screen on a tablet and started on the fiddlier task of repairing its speakers. It looked like the poor thing had been run over then dumped in a river.
"Where's all this stuff even come from?" Peter asked as he disconnected the phone and exchanged it with another. Sandra, who'd been making them both coffee ( 'I bought decaf, just for you!' Peter didn't have the heart to say no), paused in her pouring.
"We-ell…" she said and resumed her coffee-making. "We're an electronics store on the edge of Crime Alley… when people hit hard times, they come to us and sell what they don't need or can't afford to keep anymore." Sandra chuckled wryly as she grabbed the creamer from the bar fridge. "When you're the only electronics business that's managed to stay afloat this end of Gotham, you find there's a hell of a lot of things people want to sell."
Peter glanced at the laptop on the top of his pile. It still had a few stickers left on the outside. They were all symbols he recognised from the Justice League roster, though there was a conspicuous absence of the Batman. He would have thought someone would peel them off before selling it.
It also didn't have a charger.
He sensed Sandra's approach and didn't flinch when she put his mug down on his bench (Peter had been intermittently dipping into the web on the theory that frequent exposure would make the connection more instinctual).
"We always check the provenance of the things we buy," she said firmly, having picked up on Peter's unvoiced misgivings. "It's all above board. Promise."
"Yeah," he said, nodding his head and smiling ruefully. "It's just… Gotham, right?"
"Gotham," Sandra agreed, and patted Peter on the shoulder. She tapped a blunt nail on the laptops. "Let me know when you get to those."
"Sure."
Sandra left him to it, and Peter shoved aside his suspicions. Things were probably fine: Jason had been the one to hook him up with this job, after all. It wasn't as if he was going to throw Peter to the wolves when he'd already warned Peter about the number of fronts that ran in the city.
Everything was fine.
— + —
Click [HERE] for text only
— + —
Jason had prepared for this moment. He knew it was only a matter of time. But as Peter's stay had turned from days to weeks, he'd unintentionally lulled himself into a false sense of security.
Rookie error.
In hindsight, that was probably the entire reason behind their conspicuous silence. And like a mook, Jason fell for it.
Like a mook, Jason picked up the call without thought, not even pausing in his stride. Dog kept pace beside him, alert and watching the street.
"Yo."
"Good afternoon, Master Jason."
He didn't stumble at the familiar voice. He didn't. But it might have been a close thing. So it wasn't Peter calling. Damn.
Then again, it wasn't like Jason would have notpicked up. But he would have been better prepared.
"Alfred. Not like you to call."
"Well, I do what I must when no one thinks to call."
It was fine. Alfred was safely ensconced in the manor. He couldn't see Jason's guilty wince. "It's not even been a month."
"On the contrary, it has been thirty-three days. And yet, only today did I learn that you now have a paramour."
The blood drained from his face. This was definitely Timberly's petty revenge for last night.
He glanced down at Dog, blissfully unaware of his minor crisis. It was one thing to fuck with his idiot siblings. They had no concept of boundaries and could do with some humbling (and yes, Jason absolutely recognised the hypocrisy of that statement. He just didn't care, Your Honour). But it was another thing to pull the wool over the man who may as well be his grandfather. Jason had not thought the whole fake dating ruse through as much as he should have. Dammit Peter.
"Ah." He contemplated spilling all. But while Alfred could appreciate a good subterfuge, Jason wasn't convinced he'd agree to lying to Bruce about it. And there was no way Jason would ever be ready to share any kind of in-joke with Bruce any time between now and near infinity, so… "It's… kinda new."
"New enough to live together? You must be serious about them."
It took all his considerable self-control to keep walking at a standard pace instead of stalking with agitation. Meanwhile, Dog continued to keep up a merry trot at his side, smiling her doggy grin at anyone fortunate enough to pass them by.
"It's been… intense?"
"Master Timothy said he was quite the character."
"Well, he definitely knows how to keep me on my toes." Literally.
"Does he know of your—"
"Night life? Sure, he's plenty supportive of the night shifts I pull at the club."
Alfred's silence could have been anything from disapproval at having been interrupted, to an acknowledgement that Jason was out in public. Jason decided to offer a touch more clarification.
"He's not part of the family business. But I don't know if it'll stay that way."
That was about as transparent as Jason was willing to be. Peter was a meta (probably) from an alternate universe and Jason was growing increasingly certain that he'd been using his powers in some capacity. Based on how cagey he was — and it was a practiced cageyness, not one borne out of necessity from his impromptu transplant — Jason was confident in thinking it was an unofficial capacity. Of the vigilante kind. He suspected it was only a matter of time until Peter tried out whatever he'd been doing on Gotham.
And Jason would be ready to either shut him down or bring him into the fold, based on how competent Peter proved himself to be.
Starting with that bargain bin Radio Shack.
"I see," Alfred said, entirely opaque. No one could master perfect neutrality in their voice like Alfred. "Family dinner is from five on Sunday. I will be setting a plate for you and your Peter."
"Eh? What? Alf—"
"As much as I regret needing to specify, Master Bruce has been in Metropolis for a scheduled business meeting the past week."
Jason grimaced. "Alfie, I don't think it's the best—"
"I would like to meet the man who has grabbed your attention so. Give an old man his pleasures, Master Jason."
He scrubbed at his eyes beneath his sunglasses. Saying no was option but it would only prolong the inevitable. Too many people forgot that Alfred Pennyworth was the man who had raised Bruce and the rest of them into the lunatics they'd become. But not Jason. Alfred might back down temporarily if he said no. But he'd merely take another route to get his way.
Bruce's absence did sweeten the deal. Jason wasn't ready to debride the festering wound of anger and grief as the rooftop flashed before his eyes. His cheek throbbed with phantom pain, chest constricting with the remembered fear that this time Batman might actually toss him off the building, adoptive son be damned.
He smothered the memories. While Jason would rather avoid the family meal entirely, it might actually do Pete some good. Just because Jason was the family pariah didn't mean Peter had to suffer the same. Besides work, Jason and Dog, Peter didn't exactly have anyone to speak to. He could do with some more people in his life, even if they were all secret vigilantes. Not to mention, Peter pulled off the kicked puppy look almost as good as Dog. It was the exact kind of heart-wrenching, mournful gaze that'd have Alfred doting on him in seconds. The guy could use some smothering and heaven knew Jason was not the man for that.
Damn Alfred and his shameless exploitation of Jason's pressure points. Who did he think he was? The butler of the Bats? Geez.
"Does he have any allergies?" The question cut through Jason's thoughts with Alfred's usual surgical precision.
Jason sighed heavily. "He's got a caffeine intolerance."
"I shall ensure our supply of caffeine-free drinks are plentiful, then."
"Sure. Fair warning: he eats a lot. More than you'd think from the look of him."
"Oh dear. Another to eat us out of house and home. However shall we survive."
Jason bit back a surprised laugh.
"There is never a risk of running out of food on a Sunday."
"I wouldn't hold your breath," Jason said under his breath. He'd not actually tracked how much Peter could eat, but it seemed he was always snacking or grazing in between meals. If he took Pete to one of those dumb eating competitions, he'd probably make good money betting on him.
'Fast metabolism,' Peter had shrugged when Jason asked. It explained why he'd been so underweight when he first fell into Jason's living room. With a regular diet and income, Peter had been slowly gaining weight. The hollows beneath his cheekbones were filling out nicely.
"So, I shall see you and your Peter, Sunday evening? Come earlier and I shall make you an afternoon tea."
He frowned. "Alfie, I didn't say—"
"Humour an old man, Master Jason."
Ugh. Jason was weak. "Don't wait up for us."
"Very well." As unflappable as Alfred usually was, Jason was sure he could detect a trace of smugness in his response. "Oh. I do hope the mattress has been serving you well, by the way."
Jason was still choking on that response when Alfred said his goodbyes and promptly hung up.
Somewhere through his conversation, Jason had stopped walking without noticing. He blinked down dumbly at Dog, who ignored him in favour of a good scratch.
Well. The whole fake dating thing was Peter's fault in the first place. No time like the present to see just how far his new houseguest was willing to take a joke. Because there was no doubt that his siblings were about to be as trying as they could possibly be. Heaven forbid if Jason ever did have an actual partner.
His phone pinged in his hand and Jason cursed at the message that popped up. It was from Peter: yo, u did say u were picking me up, rite?
Jason didn't bother responding. He was less than a block away. With a heavy sigh, he pocketed his phone, and they took off at a leisurely jog to NRE.
— + —
Peter was chatting with the girl working the counter at NRE when Jason arrived. He'd slung his backpack over a shoulder, already clocked off for the day, and grinned when he saw Jason stroll in with Dog.
"There's my favourite girl!" he cooed and dropped into a squat to greet Dog. "Who's my best daughter? It's you! Yes it is!"
Jason shared a look of mutual understanding with the girl. It was a 'this guy's an idiot, but it's somehow endearing, don't tell anyone' Look. The kind of Look Gothamites had for an elite group of outsiders. And Peter screamed outsider. In fact, the only thing that could have remotely suggested Peter belonged in the city was the semi-frequent haunted stare that crept in when he wasn't paying attention.
She coughed and glanced down at Peter, flicking her long braid over her shoulder. Dog's tail was wagging so hard it'd practically vibrated out of existence, and Peter had his face buried in her neck while she attempted to lick at every inch of exposed skin. It had quickly become Peter's standard greeting for Dog and absolutely had not become the source of the Look.
"Has he been a good boy?" Jason asked the girl — her badge said her name was Kyla.
Kyla rolled her eyes. "He was late."
"By a minute!" Peter protested, popping his head up in defence. He was immediately assaulted by Dog's licking. "Oh ew — stop, girl! I didn't even get in trouble!"
"That's 'cause Sandra likes you," Kyla scoffed. "Consider yourself lucky: if that was me, she'd have been on my case the next three weeks."
Jason assumed she was talking about Sandra Cowell. In her late 30s. Divorced — something to do with her husband's less than savoury past. She managed repairs and refurb. Played favourites. Just as well she'd taken a shine to Peter. Peter looked like he needed a few wins.
"She's not that bad, is she?" Peter asked, straightening from his crouch. He scrubbed at his face with the collar of his shirt, exposing a thin strip of pale gold skin above his jeans.
"She's whatever," Kyla said, warily noncommital. Jason added her hesitant judgement to Cowell's dossier.
"Read to go?" he asked.
"Yup." Peter slung his arms through both straps of his backpack and waved to Kyla. "See you tomorrow."
"Sure," she drawled. "Don't get shot on the way home."
Peter's face spasmed. "You Gothamites are weird as hell."
"And yet, look who's willingly living here."
"I wouldn't say it was willing," Peter muttered lowly as they left, then winced when he realised what he'd said. He looked up at Jason guiltily. "Not that I'm not grateful or anything."
"It's fine." Jason wasn't offended. And it wasn't like it was untrue. Whatever his origins, Peter certainly hadn't come here willingly, and even if he'd been friendly about it, Jason could see that he'd more or less pressured Peter into living with him. But it was just a practical choice: until he knew for sure that Peter was safe (for others or himself), he didn't want the guy wandering around alone. After… yeah. Peter could go his own way after.
His bruised throat ached beneath his collared shirt. Jason ignored it.
"Good day?" he asked once they were outside. There was a pleasant warmth in the air that left Jason regretting his choice of jacket. Should've gone for the denim. Oh well.
Peter shrugged. "It was fine."
"Just fine?"
"Mhmm."
Jason wondered if this was what Bruce felt like, trying to squeeze a conversation from the many teens who'd passed through his manor. Then again, Peter was legally an adult who now had gainful employment… could be, there was something on his mind.
When he snuck a glance at Peter, his suspicions were confirmed. Peter was staring absently at the street with a preoccupied, troubled look. And yet somehow, he didn't make a single misstep. Peter moved with uncanny grace, twisting thoughtlessly out of the way of anyone who passed too close.
His absent eye also meant he missed their tag-along.
"Well," Jason hummed, and nudged Peter's hand with Dog's lead. He took it from Jason without comment. "If you end up with a problem, come to me."
"Sure," Peter drawled, snapping out of his daze. He smirked up at Jason like the shit he was. "Though I'm not sure how many problems I'm going to come across that'll need all guns blazing."
"In Gotham? You'd be surprised."
Peter snorted with laughter and Jason's chest flushed with pleased warmth. Then he remembered the conversation he'd had on the way here and the feeling dissipated. Fuck.
"Speaking of problems…" He grimaced. How the hell was he meant to phrase this?
"What?" Peter glanced up at him sharply. "What's wrong?"
Just get it out. You're freaking him out. "We've been invited to family dinner. Sunday."
"Oh." Peter's laughter was soft and mocking. "Is that all?"
"You don't understand Pete. My family isn't… normal. They're a bunch of hypercompetent dumbasses with a compulsive need to know everything—"
"Well that's a fun contradiction—"
"And they will be subjecting you to the third degree. You won't even notice they're doing it."
Peter's brows jumped high. His dark eyes twitched to something across the street, then back to Jason. "I can handle an interrogation or three. Or we could just say no?"
"Mm… No dice."
"Eh. Then it's a good thing I'm not working Sunday. Oh. Also, I'll be working earlier tomorrow. Staff absence."
It figured Peter would roll with the punches. Despite the few rough patches early on (and last night) he'd proven himself to be… concerningly adaptable and resilient. As in, Jason was concerned about what must've happened in Peter's life to make him so hardy. You didn't just roll over and accept the crazy unless that was all you'd ever known. At some point, crazy wasn't crazy. It was just your normal.
"Are they friendly, at least? Dick seemed fine to me. If allergic to doors."
"Yeah, they'll probably be fine." Jason frowned in thought. "Maybe not Damian… He's a prickly kid. Bribing him with Dog should do the trick."
"See! We already have a game plan," Peter said sweetly. His tone immediately had Jason on edge. "We take your family for a wild ride, while they think they're pulling the wool over my eyes."
Jason bit back a grin. "You're a cheeky fuck." Without thought he reached up and mussed Peter's hair, laughing as the younger man squawked with outrage.
"I'll be getting you back for that," Peter warned him, eyes glinting dangerously. Jason was suitably intimidated (not intimidated at all).
"I'm sure… There's something else to consider," Jason said slowly, thinking back to Babs' note about Peter's conspicuously empty social media history.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Your shit awareness of current events."
"Oh!" Peter looked up at him smugly. "I've got a solution for that."
"Yeah?"
"Yup! My parents were doomsday preppers."
Despite his best wishes, Jason's mouth fell open. "Eh?"
"Doomsday preppers! Y'know, the crazy folk who think everything's a conspiracy and the world's gonna end any second now. Most of them live off the grid. Try to be self-sufficient." Peter was grinning like he knew exactly how ridiculous his backstory was. "It could explain why there's so little documentation of me or my family… if they thought to go looking. Will they go looking?" He carried on without waiting for Jason to reply. "Doesn't matter. I'll fix it. Anyway, story is, I ran away from home and have been slowly rehabilitating myself."
"What the fuck, Peter."
"It's a great excuse!"
"It's the story of a madman. How you gonna explain your fluency in pop culture? 'Cause you can't tell me you're gonna manage to behave yourself around my folks."
Peter's face fell, but he quickly mustered himself. "Ah… I've been working hard to fit into modern society. And I watch a lot of TikTok?"
"The fuck is TikTok?"
Peter actually stumbled with shock. Jason shot out his arm to steady him.
"They don't have TikTok yet," he caught Peter whisper, which… huh. Was there actually time travel involved with Peter after all? Was he wrong after all? "What's the point of living?"
Drama queen.
"Is this a future thing?" he asked, because fucking with Peter was fun. Peter's attempts at subterfuge were adorable.
"Yep!" Peter said, falsely bright. "Totally a future thing. That's it… Maybe I could invent it anyway?"
"Sure, if you wanna be unmade or whatever."
Peter didn't look particularly alarmed. Further confirmation he was less a time traveller and more a dimension jumper. He settled his earlier doubts. Maybe it was a bit of both. Not like that was any less believable than Peter falling though his universe into Jason's.
Jason chose to return to the original topic. The whole off-grid thing could explain why Peter's identity was so sparsely furnished. Still… "How're your survival skills?"
"Oh. Terrible."
Jason snorted. This guy.
"But, it's not like we're gonna go camping on your crazy rich dad's land, are we?"
That was true. The most incriminating thing to happen would be Damian taking Peter out to meet that damn cow. "You ever met a cow before?"
"A… cow?"
"Why do you say that like you've never heard the word before?" He nudged Peter in the ribs and was nudged right back. "What? They don't have cows in the future?"
"None." Peter said, so seriously, and with such earnestness that Jason might have been fooled if he didn't know him better. "Cows… they're the animals that eat grass, right?"
"And make milk."
"M—ilk?" He said the word slowly, like he was trying it on for size. Maybe they'd get through Sunday dinner in one piece after all. Jason huffed and ruffled Peter's hair again. The strands were disarmingly soft.
Peter slapped his hand away, scowling. "I will dye that skunk patch pink, mister. So help me God."
"Oh no. I'm quakin' in my boots."
"You're not even wearing any boots!"
"Exactly."
"I can be terrifying!"
"Uh huh."
"I can!"
"Sure you can."
"I don't appreciate you patronising me."
In all fairness, Peter last night had been kinda freaky. Not enough to scare Jason, but it was a forcible reminder that Peter was a meta with super strength. One stuck in a nightmare. He withheld the urge to touch the bruises, hidden behind makeup and the collared shirt. No need to send Peter spiralling into guilt all over again.
The banter flowed between them like water. The easy ribbing had become a mainstay of Peter's residence and Jason was surprised by how much he enjoyed it. It wasn't the big brotherly tone between him and Bizz, or the sharper and condescending riffing with Artemis or Roy. But it turned their evenings — before Peter went to bed and Jason went out for his 'security job' — into something he looked forward to. Jason hadn't been sure he'd find that sense of companionship again — not after the Outlaws collapsed for a third time — but there he was, sharing a meal with Peter; or destroying him when they watched reruns of Jeopardy after dinner; or watching Peter attempt to make a grilled cheese without burning it.
It seemed too, that the companionship did Peter some good. In the past week, Peter had begun to open like a Jericho rose[2], unfurling beneath Jason and Dog's not so tender attentions. He'd become more present, less likely to tumble away the moment Jason turned his back. He smiled more, became a little less self-conscious, more adventurous. Jason was certain now that Peter had been in a very bad place before he came here. He shuddered to think what might've happened had Peter turned up anywhere else in Gotham.
They were dangerous thoughts to have. Jason was a lone wolf: past experience fought hard to remind him of that. Not even love could let him keep someone, as Artemis had kindly demonstrated for him.
Sure, he worked well enough in a team, but the permanent camaraderie the rest of his family had just wasn't there. Partly, that was Jason's fault. He wasn't around enough. When he had been, in those earlier years, he'd been… volatile. Unpleasant.
Even now, years after he'd blown back into Gotham, angry and hurting and demanding justice from someone incapable of providing it, there was an impenetrable wall between Jason and his siblings. And he didn't think it had been built by only himself.
But… it was mostly built by him…
Sooner or later, Peter would find his way back home. Jason would be alone again. That was fine. It was the way things were meant to be.
But until then… he'd take the companionship where he could get it.
They stopped into the little supermarket a couple of blocks away from the apartment — the entire reason Jason had even picked Peter up from work. It was grimy, the ceiling was water stained, the employees appropriately surly, and buying anything on special was a surefire way to end up puking your guts out, but it served them well enough.
They scoured the shelves for enough foods to keep them fed for the next few days; a tall order, given Peter's metabolism. Which ice-cream to buy elicited a minor argument ('Neopolitan is the best of all worlds'; 'But the salted caramel's on sale!'), and the superiority of chicken thigh over breast meat in a quesadilla brought up another (as if Peter I-Burn-Everything-I-Cook Parker was allowed any form of opinion on the matter), but they came to a compromise on each with no blood spilled. Peter tried to take more than his fair share of the bags afterwards, but Jason refused, citing it was still his turn to hold Dog's leash.
Peter gave in quickly, but he was smiling as he did so.
And yet, despite their good mood, Peter grew increasingly twitchy as they walked back, laden with groceries. Finally, Jason had enough. He tossed all his bags over one arm and grabbed Peter's sleeve and pulled him and Dog to a stop.
"Alright, what's got your panties in a twist?"
Peter pulled a face at the idiom and went to glance behind only to abort the gesture. Ah. His grimace deepened. It was kind of adorable with his baby face. "You… might not believe me."
"Humour me."
"Fine." The sigh that escaped his mouth could have felled a super. "I think there's someone following us."
Jason laughed, though he wasn't surprised to find Peter had noticed. Observant little shit. "Oh. That. Yeah, there is."
Peter's dishevelled brows jerked up. "You knew?"
"Yeah." He leaned close, curling his mouth in the way Roy had once told him gave people the wrong idea. Predictably, Peter's breath hitched at Jason's sudden proximity. "Don't turn around. But it's my sister. Or, one of them. Maybe. Things move too fast sometimes to keep track."
Peter straightened. Jason grabbed his shoulder before he could turn around anyway. "Sister?"
"She's shy." A bald-faced lie. One Jason made sure she could read straight from his lips before leaning in again, so Peter shielded his mouth from view. "You're the family's hot topic. It's been a slow coupl'a weeks."
Peter's shock morphed into that sly, chaotic look that would have looked right at home on any of the Robins. He took a step closer to Jason, hesitated, then rested the hand with the leash on Jason's chest. To the casual observer, they would have looked like they were sharing a little intimacy, but Peter's touch was so light Jason didn't even feel it until he breathed in. "So, Operation Tomfoolery is a go?"
Jason couldn't stop the wolfish grin. He mimicked Peter with a deceptive hand to his waist as he leaned in to speak direct into Peter's ear. "It's a go. But we will talk boundaries when we get home."
"Sir, yes sir," Peter said mockingly and pulled away. His cheeks were faintly pink. Jason should probably get them out of the sun. It was uncharacteristically warm for October.
— + —
Click [HERE] for text only
[CLICK TO RETURN] Gotham Girlies 11:28AM
11:12AM Harpy: Big surprise. Just saw J's boyfy. Adorable nerd. Needs a haircut.
11:13AM (C)Ass: [eyes emoji]
11:13AM Steph Infection: WHERE. HOW. TELL ME ALL
11:14AM Steph Infection: PICS OR IT DIDN'T HAPPEN
11:16AM Harpy: No can do. Not a stalker like ur ex. Some of us have principles yannow.
11:16AM Harpy: But.
11:18AM Harpy: happened to be at NRE, Burnley. He works there apparently.
11:19AM Steph Infection: Verdict?
11:21AM Harpy: 100% out of J's league. He's happy, for one.
11:23AM Steph Infection: yeah? Tim met him last nite. Said he looked rough. Like he'd been thinking abt taking a long swim. In Gotham. He covered it well once Tim arrived tho
11:24AM Harpy: oh god. Not another one. Why can't any of these men be well adjusted?!
11:26AM Barbie girl: [picture of Peter eating a dorito on the streets]
11:26AM Barbie girl: behold. The cold, dead eyes of a killer. He and J are made for each other.
11:27AM Steph Infection: GIRL DID YOU HUNT THROUGH CCTV FOR THAT YOU ABSOLUTE BEAST
[2] A plant that can survive almost complete dessication but opens up with water.
[CLICK TO RETURN] Gotham Girlies 5:45PM
5:34PM Steph Infection: [partially cut off image of two men walking a pitbull. Only their lower torsos are visible]
5:35PM Steph Infection: Okay first of all. When TF was sum1 gonna tell me J had a dog
5:36PM (C)Ass: :O
5:39PM Steph Infection: I cannot. They're too cute. @Harpy ur rite though, he's way out of J's league
5:41PM Steph Infection: Theory: Peter is only with J for the dog. And J's crime empire. But mostly the dog
5:44PM Barbie girl: he'll be stealing her in the divorce