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Jason’s heart was thrumming like an engine, and he had to fight to keep his hands steady as he spun the tire iron. Eighteen bolts were already weighing down his pockets, the cold metal stealing what little body heat Jason had, but he couldn’t start shaking yet. He was more than halfway through. If he got the whole set of tires, that was two months of rent and groceries. Two months his mom didn’t have to find clients, and risk being discovered by Sionis’s pimps. Two months for her to heal up from the last guy, and start looking for a job that wouldn’t leave her covered in bruises.
Jason really, really needed to get these tires.
The last bolt fell off into his hand, and he tucked it into his pocket, reaching for the crowbar without looking so he could pry the tire free. He felt the familiar steel, wrapped his fingers around it, picked it—tried to pick it up. What was—
He glanced to the side. A black dress shoe was on top of his crowbar. He followed the sharply creased line of a suit pant leg, up and up—
Jason had thought his dad was tall, but he was pretty sure this stranger would tower over Willis. He was looking up into the face of a man in his late thirties. Rich, dark-haired, frowning at Jason.
Jason took in the black pinstripe suit, the silver watch chain, the rings. Then the pristine black Bentley, the richest thing that the Narrows had ever seen.
God, he was so fucked.
“What’s this, Wayne?”
Jason flinched, because he knew that voice. Sure enough, Roman Sionis walked around the other man’s shoulder, easy smile plastered over his face.
“A thief,” the huge man said. Wait. Had Sionis called him Wayne?
Sionis gasped, dramatically.
“A thief,” he said, and wheeled around Bruce Wayne, as in Prince of Gotham Bruce Wayne, as in his enemies literally are never seen again Bruce Wayne, to crouch down and grin at Jason. “well, you’re not one of mine. What a precocious little scamp.”
Jason flinched back when Roman’s hand landed on his head and roughly mussed his hair. Roman’s hand didn’t leave, though. The gloved fingers just wrapped around Jason’s skull, gripping it tight. If Jason had been stupid enough to think he’d be getting out of this with all his limbs, he’d be realizing differently now. Sparks of white flashed in his vision, and he felt tears welling up behind his eyelids.
“Naughty puppy,” Sionis said with a grin. “let’s teach you some respect.”
“Roman,” Wayne snapped. “let him go.”
Sionis actually bared his teeth.
“It’s still my alley, Wayne.”
Wayne didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow.
“It’s my car.”
Jason blinked at the sudden loss of pressure on his skull. Sionis had let him go. He was breathing harder than usual.
“Well, if you want to do my work for me,” he said, with a laugh. Even in Jason’s ears, it sounded a little strained.
Instead of responding, Wayne knelt down. His foot was still on Jason’s crowbar, but the tire iron was still there. He picked it up, and Jason thought about how it could break his bones with a single swing, and raised up his arms to at least protect his skull.
Something cold was pressed into his hand. He opened his eyes. He was holding the tire iron, and Wayne was looking at him with a faint quirk of his lips, nearly a smile.
“You did a good job taking those off,” he said. “How neatly can you put them back on?”
Jason knew he was being toyed with, and that this was gonna hurt really badly, really soon; but the feel of the tool in his hand still settled him a little. It meant he wasn’t being beaten yet, and it meant that Wayne was giving him a chance to start making it up to him. Both of those were good things, and Jason nodded, eagerly.
“I’ll—I’ll do a really good job, Mr. Wayne. Sir.”
Wayne patted his shoulder with one over-warm hand.
“I’m sure you will, son.”
He stood up, turning around to talk with Sionis some more, and Jason started putting on the first bolt.
“You asked for my protection, Roman,” Wayne said behind him. “You took my money, and you agreed to play by my rules. But you still seem to have trouble taking a simple order.”
Jason’s threading the next bolt when he heard the familiar crunch of bone breaking under a fist. He heard Sionis land on the ground, heard him howl. His own ribs tingled in sympathy as he tightened the bolt down. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting Wayne’s fists for himself.
Sionis was groaning and coughing.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect, I—”
“Next time I give you an order, you obey it.” Wayne said, reasonably enough. Jason didn’t hear any further blows fall. He hoped Wayne would show the same mercy. He doubted it, though. He wasn’t important; Wayne didn’t need him like he probably needed Sionis.
“I will, I will, I promise—”
“Leave.”
Jason heard Sionis scramble out of the alleyway.
Sionis owned the narrows. Jason had learned to live in fear of the man. And now he was alone with someone who’d made Roman Sionis flee with his tail between his legs.
He’d only managed to get the first wheel on. He picked himself up, rushing over to the second. He really, really couldn’t afford the way his hands were shaking. He was trying to lever the wheel back into the wheel well, but it wasn’t going. It wasn’t going, and Wayne was gonna beat him for taking too long and then beat him for stealing from him in the first place, and by then Jason was gonna be dead.
There was a heavy presence over Jason’s shoulder, and he launched away from it on instinct. His shoulder slammed hard into the side of the car, and the tire iron clattered sharply on the cracked asphalt. If Wayne slapped him, those rings were gonna tear Jason’s face up.
Wayne didn’t slap him. He lifted a small leather-wrapped bundle, instead.
“This is easier with a jack.” He said.
Jason watched, perplexed, as Wayne opened the bundle, took out a small scissor jack, and began to settle it in place to lift the car.
He was. Helping?
He was helping.
He was nice about it, too. Quiet, doing most of the heavy lifting but letting Jason handle everything else.
By the time the second tire was on and they’d begun to work on the third, Jason’s breathing had evened out and his hands had stopped shaking. He was still gonna get hurt for this, but at least Wayne seemed fair. Calm. It wouldn’t be like one of Willis’s beatings, he thought, being curled up on the floor, ears full of hateful screaming, not sure if it would end. It’d just be pain, and Jason knew he could handle pain.
By the time the last tire was on, Jason was downright calm. He wiped his dripping nose on the back of his hand, and stood up, keeping his head bowed a little out of respect.
“I’m real sorry I tried to steal from you, Mr. Wayne,” he said. He didn’t say thanks for saving me from Sionis, or please don’t make this hurt too badly, or any of the other stupid things he’s thinking.
“I know you gotta make an example of me, but, uh—can you please not break my legs? I want to be able to get home.”
Wayne was frowning down at him. Shit, Jason should have just sucked up and waited for it to start, he knew running his mouth only ever made everything worse—
“JASON!”
Jason spun around, mouth dropping open, because that was his mom’s voice.
Sure enough, she was there, at the entry to the alleyway, wearing slippers and her worn pink bathrobe, eyes as wide as her bruised face will let them go. She rushed to him, wrapped him up in her arms in the way that always made him feel like nothing in the world can touch him, and then wheeled on Bruce Wayne and starts shouting.
“I don’t care who you are, if you even think about touching my son, I swear I’ll make sure every prostitute this side of Gotham won’t so much as look at you again, you hear me? So get back in that shiny hotwheels toy and get out of here, or—or I’ll go to Sionis, and he’ll throw you out!”
Jason was tugging at her robe, panicking as the words keep coming and they just keep making it all worse, but his mom’s eyes are blazing and she’s holding him like he almost died or something, and she didn’t know she was trying to scare off Bruce fucking Wayne.
Mom couldn’t handle another beating right now, but Jason could. He squirmed out of her arms, getting between her and Wayne.
“She doesn’t know, Mr. Wayne, I’m so sorry!” he yelled, and heard his mom’s sharp intake of breath.
Suddenly, it was silent enough to hear a pin drop. Wayne rubbed a hand over his face
“Apparently, I need to get out more,” he said. Looking at Jason’s mom, he continued, “I’m not going to hurt you. Or your son. He was just helping me put my tires back on.”
He didn’t mention that Jason had been the one to take the tires off in the first place. Mom just wrapped her arms around Jason, hiding him from view.
“I’m real sorry, Mr. Wayne, I should have recognized you,” she said, but Wayne waved it off.
“No harm done. Let me drive you home.”
--
The apartment door closed as Mr.Wayne drove away, and Jason watched his mom lean her back against it. She put her hands over her face, and slid down the door onto the kitchen tile.
“Mom?”
Jason knelt down, and she grabbed him, wrapping him up in a tight hug, carding her fingers through his greasy hair. He pressed into her side, letting all the fear from the encounter with Sionis and the long silence with Wayne shake out in sobs.
“We gotta be real careful, baby,” Mom whispered, rubbing circles on his back. “there’r wolves all over this city. I can’t keep you safe, baby. Lord knows I’m gonna try, but—”
Her hand ran over an odd lump in Jason’s hoodie, and they both froze.
“Baby, what’s—”
But Jason was already digging the weird lump out. It was leafy and soft, like—
Cash. A lot of cash. Jason stared at it, knowing there was only one person it could be from. A quick glance through the folded bills produced a black business card, written on in white ink. Just a few
words.
For the tires. –B
“Jason, this is—this is three thousand dollars,”
Jason looked up from the note, up to where his mom was staring at the cash in her hands, equal parts horror and happiness in her expression. Because Wayne had just bought them time—time for her to heal up, to try some interviews for a real job, time to try and build a life.
But Wayne had also just bought them.
Jason knew how it worked. One of these days, someone from the Waynes would come by and ask for a favor, and Jason would—well, he’d do it. Happily. He owed the man his life.
For now, though, he cuddled up close to his mom, and he cried.