earlybird: (Default)
Damian Wayne | Robin ([personal profile] earlybird) wrote in [community profile] dreamsanddisasters2014-09-17 01:09 am
Entry tags:

Dad!Jason AU (For Sarah)

Where are we going, Mama?

To see your father, my darling.

[ Her hand squeezes his, and his attention is drawn away from his small window to the outside world. Away from the wing, where he's been staring in endless fascination at the flap check, the heat and air boiling from the engines as the sound picks up, how the covers slide into place and the wheels begin eating up pavement.

He squeezes back, unafraid even as the carriage shakes and the nose tips up and the landing gear retracts with a thunk. He can feel gravity sliding down his shoulders, to his stomach; his ears pop, unevenly. ]


To see Father? But, I thought--

[ His mother runs her hand through his hair in a wordless command for him to hush, smoothing the stubborn, curling whorls down, and her thumb brushes over one of his growing collection of scars - a small notch in his tan skin, hidden just behind his ear. His fault; he hadn't been quick enough. He's learned better, since. ]

It isn't safe for you with me anymore, Damian. He'll care for you in my stead, until you can be returned to my side.

[ A simple explanation, devoid of details. His nose wrinkles, lips turning down in a pout, because that's hardly a satisfactory answer, but Damian doesn't question his mother, and he knows better than to argue against her. He bites his tongue, and turns his unhappy stare back out the window; watching the unbroken field of clouds and wishing, quietly, for something more, though he can't say what for sure. ]



[ She's gone, and, after mutely watching the door for a few minutes, he slowly begins to come to terms with the fact that she's not coming back anytime soon. The small carry-on bag of his things (the emergency bag, the one they always kept ready) is leaning against the wall, and he spends every effort to look around the place--

--without actually looking at Jason.

The apartment is smaller than he's used to. The architecture is different, closed and cramped compared to the open halls and classical touches of his mother's compound. The safehouse is buried in Gotham, and really isn't much to look at, though his sharp, observant stare seems to easily pick out and focus on the hidden nooks and crannies scattered about that hold Jason's store of weapons. The bookshelf catches his gaze for a minute, and he appears to be looking over the titles.

An ugly couch.

Scuffed hardwood.

A small, but well-stocked, clean kitchen.

A hallway, leading off into shadows.

Finally, grudgingly, he darts a glance at Jason, haughty and sullen as it is. The kid is damnably, almost unnaturally precocious for a three-year-old, and handles himself as if he's years older. His voice is soft and posh, a strange mix of British and Arabic dialectical accents that blends together for an odd cadence. But when he looks at Jason, it's too easy to see the similarities in their facial features, and the blue of his eyes matches what Jason's used to be, before the Pit stained him green, however faint (or imagined) the glow is now. ]


So where do you actually live?

[ This must surely be the servants' quarters. Clearly. ]
waywardbird: (Default)

MUCH PUMPKIN!!!

[personal profile] waywardbird 2014-10-08 05:36 am (UTC)(link)
[ Jason looks over at his kid with an unimpressed expression. ]

Damian, we talked about hanging onto the doors.

[ AKA: don't do it. Climb on top of things meant to be climbed on, not the interior of their apartment. ]

And since did I have pagan gods? Where did you even hear this stuff? [ He was fairly certain they didn't cover paganism in preschool. Pretty sure, anyway. Maybe he should ask one of the other parents. Jason walks over, scooping Damian out of the air and takes him back to the table, depositing him in a chair. ] No, this is for fun. Think of it like an art project.

[ Jason pulls some nearby paper and pens over in front of Damian. ] You carve faces on them and put candles inside so they glow. You can put whatever you want, we just gotta be careful that the whole thing doesn't collapse. Like-- a cat face. That would be nice.
waywardbird: (тσ ρяσνє уσυ'яє яιgнт؟)

[personal profile] waywardbird 2014-10-11 07:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ He should really find a way to block Fox News on his television. ]

You're probably right. Harry Potter is a good book, why'd they want to ruin that--? You liked the first one, right? [ They had read it together, actually. He would read Damian a few chapters before bed because apparently, that helps your kids sleep. And Jason wasn't sure it necessarily worked, but they had a good time anyway.

Jason grabs a knife from the block and pulls a pumpkin towards himself, carefully cutting away a big enough hole at the top that he could get inside the thing easily enough. In all honesty, Jason had only carved pumpkins twice before (both with Alfred), but the steps were easy enough to remember. It didn't take a genius, really. Jason starts scooping the guts into a nearby bowl while Damian works. ]


They are. You could also do a monster or a different animal or, y'know, whatever. No real limit, in all honesty.

[ Just had to be careful that the whole thing wouldn't fall down. ]
waywardbird: (Default)

[personal profile] waywardbird 2014-10-26 09:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Jason might squish his handful of pumpkin innards a little too hard at that comment. He stares slightly incredulous at his kid, still elbow deep in pumpkin. How had he managed to create this precocious child. It was a truly ridiculous amount of sass for a kid that size. ]

Well buddy that sounds-- [ He plops that handful in his discard bowl, a little lost for words. ] Great. Creative.

[ Probably none of the other kids in the entire apartment complex carved their dad's face onto a pumpkin this year. ]
waywardbird: (Default)

[personal profile] waywardbird 2014-12-05 05:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ As Damian carefully draws, Jason smiles a little to himself and continues his task. Honestly, gutting the pumpkin was oddly satisfying. It appealed to some disgusting 10 year old he had inside who loved slime and squishy things. He pulls out another handful and shrugs. ]

Someone with more faith than us, I guess. [ Jason filters through some of it with his fingers. ] I think I'd give up on the spot.
waywardbird: (001)

[personal profile] waywardbird 2015-02-06 06:08 am (UTC)(link)
[ Jason is scooping the last of the innards and beginning to scrape the sides of the gourd by the time Damian is finished. Jason looks up from his task and smiles a little. That dorky little part of him inside, the one he did his best not to show too much so he wouldn't seem like one of those dads, crowed about how talented his kid was. It wasn't Da Vinci, but it sure was better than anything the other kids at the preschool could draw.

(He was gonna rub it in that asshole Johnson's face, thinking his kid is so high and mighty just cause he's started piano lessons--

Ahem.) ]


This one, huh? You sure? I've been told I got a pretty big head.
Edited 2015-02-06 06:08 (UTC)
waywardbird: (013)

[personal profile] waywardbird 2015-03-30 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
Ha.

[ Did Damian even know he was being a smart ass? Jason can't tell. But genetics said 'probably'. A trait he'd gotten from his mother and Jason. ]

Nah, kiddo, it's all you. You're the artist in this family and I'd hate to cramp your style.

[ Jason busies himself by getting ready to gut the second pumpkin. That way Damian will have plenty of 'canvases' to put his masterpieces on. ]