
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6592591.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DCU_(Comics), Batman_(Comics)
  Relationship:
      Bruce_Wayne/Jason_Todd
  Character:
      Bruce_Wayne, Matches_Malone, Jason_Todd
  Additional Tags:
      Identity_Porn, implied_personality_disorder
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-04-18 Words: 1325
****** it's hard to keep track of you falling through the sky ******
by ohmcgee
Summary
     Jason hates Brucie.
The first thing Jay learns about Bruce is that he’s kind of fucked up. Which -
- isn’t surprising, the guy dresses up like a freakin’ bat and nearly gets
himself killed every night, but it’s all the little ways that he’s fucked up
that takes Jay a while to pick apart. Like, how he’s not even sure if Bruce has
his own personality anymore.
There’s Batman and Matches Malone, Brucie when he’s at charity events and
galas, the Bruce he gives to Alfred and the Bruce that sits in his study
reading french poetry when it rains, and Jay -- it’s hard to tell if any of
them are actually him or if they’re all just masks that he puts on to serve
whatever purpose he needs at the time.
But Jay figures it makes sense. Everyone in Gotham’s a little fucked up. Why
should Batman be any different?
 
: : :
 
At first it’s hard for him to figure out who Bruce is when he’s talking to him
at any given moment, but just like he trains himself to dodge bullets and find
every exit in any building he’s in within sixty seconds, he eventually trains
himself to figure out which persona Bruce has slipped into as soon as he enters
the room.
“Nope,” Jay says when Brucie swaggers up to him, flinches and squirms away when
Brucie’s thumbs dig into his shoulders and tries to massage them.
“Aw, c’mon, tiger,” Brucie laughs. “Whatcha reading?”
“Nope,” Jay says again, inching down to the other end of the couch. “Not
talking to you.”
Jason can’t stand Brucie.
Brucie wears different cologne that makes Jay feel like he’s suffocating, calls
him tiger and sport and tries to get him to wear shirts with collars too high,
tries to set him up with nice girls. Dick thinks it’s funny, knows Brucie’s a
necessary evil when they need to get information on the dirty rich fucks in
Gotham, but he’s not around all the time. He’s not there when Bruce slips into
that idiot douchebag persona for no reason at all and tries to get Jay to play
tennis with him. He’s not there when Brucie comes home with two blonde bimbos
on his arm and keeps him and Alfred up all night.
“C’mon, Jayboy,” Brucie says, ruffling his hair and Jay glares at him. “Don’t
be like that.”
“Fuck off,” Jay says and takes his book up to his room to wait him out.
 
: : :
 
Dick hates Matches like Jay hates Brucie.
“I hate this,” he says for the fifteenth time as they watch from the shadows as
Bruce -- Matches -- chats up a couple of drug dealers. “I hate watching him act
like...that.”
“Yeah,” Jay says, but after they get the information they need and Dick takes
off, Jay drops down in the alley, soft on his feet, and scares the shit out of
Matches.
Matches jumps out of his skin, fumbles with the cigarette in his mouth. “Christ
jesus, kid,” he grumbles. “Gonna give a old bastard a heart attack.”
“You’re not that old,” Jay says, walks up into Matches space and steals the
cigarette out of his mouth.
“Neither are you, kiddo,” Matches says, smirking, and Jay just rolls his eyes,
puts the heel of his pixie boot against the wall behind him and takes a drag
from Matches’ smoke. “‘Specially not to be walking ‘round the neighborhood in
goddamn panties.”
The way Matches says panties makes Jason’s skin crawl, makes his dick hard.
“Can’t believe the Bat lets you out like that.”
“Maybe he likes it,” Jay says, exhaling a stream of smoke, and Matches leers at
him, takes a step forward and rubs the rough part of his thumb over Jay’s hip
where his tunic doesn’t quite reach.
“I’ll bet he does,” Matches voice rumbles over him, makes him feel dirty in the
best way. “But I bet he don’t do anything about it, does he?”
“He thinks I’m too young,” Jay says, flicking the butt to the side, then licks
his lips as Matches looks him up and down.
Matches hums and grabs Jay by his hips, yanks him forward so he can say next to
his ear, “Good thing I ain’t him, huh?”
Jason moans shamelessly and reaches for Matches zipper. “Can I --?”
“Baby boy, with a mouth like that it’s precious that you think you even have to
ask.” Matches laughs. “Now, get on your knees and suck me.”
Jay moans when he gets Matches in his mouth, whimpers when Matches gets his
hands in his hair and pulls Jason on his cock, fucking his mouth like he knows
exactly what Jason needs.
“That’s it,” Matches growls when Jay chokes around him a little. “You love it
don’t you, baby? Get your hand down your little panties for me, kid.”
Jason shoves his hand down the green Robin panties and pulls his dick out as he
gags around Matches cock, comes all over his hand after barely three strokes.
“Jesus,” Matches mutters, holding Jay’s face between his hands. “The Bat know
how much of a little cockslut you are?”
Jay’s eyes roll back into his head when he moans and Matches’ hand tightens in
his hair, then Jason’s tasting him when he floods his tongue with come, feels
it warm all over his mouth and cheeks when Matches lets his dick slip out and
drags it over his face.
“C’mere, fuck,” Matches growls out in that raspy, two packs a day voice that
drives Jay crazy, hauls Jason up off the ground and licks the come off his
face, brings Jay’s hand to his mouth and licks that clean too. He looks like
he’s about to kiss him when gunshots ring out a few blocks over and he pulls
away.
“Gotta head out, kiddo,” he says. “But you know where to find me when you need
more of this, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jay says as Matches pulls his hat down and heads down the alley. He
knows where to find him.
 
: : :
 
“Good morning, Master Jason,” Alfred says the next morning. “Or rather, good
afternoon.”
“Yeah yeah,” Jay says, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Long night.
There still any breakfast?”
“Of course, though you’ll have to find it in the refrigerator, I’m afraid. Oh
and Master Bruce is waiting for you in the study.”
Jason stops in the middle of pulling out a plate of waffles. “Bruce?” He asks
and Alfred smiles.
“Indeed,” he says. “Who else?”
Jason grabs a cold waffle off the plate and leaves the rest on the counter and
practically runs up the stairs and down the hall to the study. Bruce is sitting
in his chair wearing Jason’s favorite sweater, his hair still wet from his
shower, and he’s reading Baudelaire. He gives Jay a small smile when he sees
him, then pats his leg.
Jason shoves the rest of his waffle in his mouth and goes over to him, crawls
in Bruce’s lap and wraps his arms around him and Bruce slides a bookmark in his
book and sets it aside, rests his hand on the small of Jason’s back.
“I missed you,” Jay says when Bruce kisses his throat and runs his fingers
through Bruce’s hair. There’s no gel, no hairspray, no product added for
greasiness, and it’s perfect. When Bruce kisses him he still doesn’t know if
this is really him, if this is actually Bruce underneath all the layers and
personas and masks he’s gotten so used to putting on that they’ve all become a
permanent part of him, but this is Jason’s favorite one anyway.
“I haven’t gone anywhere,” Bruce says, giving him a curious expression when he
pulls away, and Jason just smiles at him and grabs his book from the table next
to his chair.
“Read to me,” he says, shifting around in the chair to get comfortable, and as
soon as Bruce’s french starts to wash over him, it begins to rain.
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