Characters: Jason, Damian
Genre: Friendship fic, teenage crush.
Summary: Young Robin gets a facefull of cocaine, and Jason gets a facefull of horny Damian. But Damian is 13, so it’s not sexy, it’s terrifying.
Warnings: Underaged boy making advances. Themes that are totally not funny >.>
Notes: I saw this post about people creeping on poor little Damian, and it made me feel bad for him. So I wanted to write something where someone is a gentleman to him. And then I made it Jason ‘cause I’m a total shipper. Also, I think Jason might be a decent buddy to have when your drug trip goes South.
(The “bounce me like a ball” line is from “Orphan Black”, but it’s such a hilarious come-on that I really wanted to use it, sorry. XD)
Jason Todd knows at once that it’s not gonna be a regular night when a colorful little bird comes crashing through his window, gets up, barks “I TOOK COCAINE,” then proceeds to take his clothes off.
"Whoa!" Jason leaps out of his chair, dropping his bag of nachos along with the dip. Robin does not seem aware of how loud his voice is. He doesn’t even seem aware that he’s covered in glass right now. It’s twinkling all over his body, and in his cropped black hair. Good thing he’s wearing gloves, since he’s tugging on his vest pretty hard.
His break-in must’ve alerted the entire apartment complex. Which … Jason realizes, doesn’t really matter, because he’s camping out in a really bad neighborhood, and no-one’s gonna bat an eye unless there’s the sounds of gunfire and people leaping out of windows. So; should be fine.
This here is not fine, however.
"How d’you know where I live?" He growls, narrowing his eyes. "Again?”
Granted, it’s hard to even buy a stick of gum in Gotham without the Bats knowing, but still. He’d forged at least three separate IDs to get this joint, some of which had been very creative, and that he’d been quite proud of.
”Tt,” the youth sneers, while he’s struggling to get his vest to open (yeah, he’s definitely on drugs), tongue slitting in and out of his mouth in concentration. “I found you for my scrapbook. Irrelevant, Todd. I came to give you something, so be quiet, and be grateful.”
No, scratch that; that’s not even the weird part.
It now hits him that there’s a wigged-out thirteen year old boy attempting to strip in his apartment, and a terrible suspicion arises in the back of his head.
"Want to give me something, huh?" He says cautiously. "Is it … inside your clothes?"
Hey, maybe it’s a USB-stick.
Please let it be a USB-stick.
Damian’s head shoots up at that. A feral, weirdly greedy grin flits across his rough face, and his cheeks are darkening when he gasps, “…Yes.”
And Jason knows that he’s been right. Also, that this is gonna get horribly uncomfortable in the next couple seconds.
"Okay," he runs his fingers through his thick dark hair, while sweat forms on his brow. "Okay, no. No. Stop – stop that. I said stop.”
He walks over and reaches for Damian’s arms in an effort to keep him from peeling off his suit; which is not exactly easy with someone who’s been trained to dodge people from age two. But this time, the kid doesn’t seem to mind. He downright purrs as Jason puts his large hands around his small, delicate wrists, and only a quick evading move keeps him from rubbing himself on the older man. The deranged grin is still in place, and Jason can feel the adrenaline practically thrumming through the boy’s body. He can’t see his eyes, but he knows they’re large and glassy, the pupils dark and wide.
He knows all about it. He’d grown up with it. The people around him had never really had the means to afford precious cocaine, of course, but really, the differences were only in the details. And apart from that, accidental exposure to drugs was pretty much part of the Robin experience. A natural side effect of working with a man who’s convinced he always has everything under control, but has basically no awareness of how easily a boy will walk into a cloud of aphrodisiac, or get a facefull of liquid LSD when things get choppy. Which they always do.
Jason feels bad for the kid. And a little awkward, on a personal level; but mostly bad.
"Hey, okay, shh, easy," he keeps him at arms’ length, eager to prevent further attempts at crotch-brushing. Damian mewls like a frustrated cat, still pushing against him to close the distance. Well, at least he has his total attention, which is not an easy thing to get from Damian Wayne.
"Listen – argh, listen to me!" Fuck, that kid is strong. "How did this happen, Robin?" Jason’s eyes are darkening. "Where’s Batman?"
Damian stares at his face, nostrils flaring, obviously thrilled that Jason wants something from him, even if it’s only a recap of his night. “He’s away on League business,” he states breathlessly, “But I’m fine on my own. There was a minor altercation with some drug peddlers in a ship yard, but I prevailed.” His chest swells with pride, and Jason realizes that he’s reporting to him like he would to his father, eager little trooper that he is.
"Oh, one of them threw me into a bag full of cocaine before I took him out, and some got in my mouth. But it’s okay. I am barely affected," he claims.
And then he follows it up with, “Your mouth looks exquisite.”
Yep. Sounds legit.
"Yeah…" Jason tries to give him a soothing smile, maybe, but all he can muster is a terrified rigor mortis grimace. "We gotta get you to a hospital, kid. And by that, I mean St Pennyworth’s Detox Ward For Wayward Robi – mmmm!"
He’s been so mortified by Damian’s words that he’s stopped paying attention to his limbs for a moment, which is more than enough for a nimble baby assassin. Damian practically leaps at his face, drags him down by his ears, and plants a full, wet, kiss on him.
His mouth his soaring hot and his tongue is … entrepreneurial.
He tastes fresh.
He took a mint for this.
He took a mint for this.
Jason roars, arms flailing, but manages to pry himself off Damian’s lips, anyway. However, the kid’s weight combined with his bafflement throws them both off balance, and lands them on the couch. Nacho crumbs fly everywhere, and then he can hear Damian grunt with excitement when he falls on top of him, hard.
"Yes," he hisses, deliberately mistaking Jason’s agitated movements for passion, "I always knew you’d be rough with me -"
For a single, chilling moment, his codpiece collides with the taller man’s thigh, and Jason can feel the heat beneath it.
"No," Jason gasps, but really, there ain’t enough Nos in the world for this.
"Don’t hold back," the boy whispers to him, unperturbed, and Jason can feel his freakishly strong legs cross over his ass, "You may take me any way you want, I’ll allow it. Use me. Teach me. I’ve awaited this mo- … what are you doing?”
Damian’s head shoots up with an irritated, unsatisfied frown as Jason breaks free from his grip, effectively bringing the porno playing out in his head to a stop.
He gets back on his feet, shaking, and glowers at him while he wipes his mouth. Sure, Damian can’t help it, and sure, he’s just a kid (oh god, he’s just a kid), but still. It’s never too early to learn that you don’t just jump people and then put your mouth on them.
As someone who’s been a target for unwanted attention more than once in his life, Jason has a strict zero-tolerance policy on that crap. Yeah, so it’s not the brat’s fault, but seriously.
"Okay, first: not cool," he growls, pointing his finger like he would at a misbehaving cat, "And second: you’re high."
The current Robin gives him an arrogant laugh, which confirms that despite his altered state, his personality is still very much intact.
"I’m an expert at crime. I think I would know if I was high, Todd,” he says dismissively. But he sits right up, apparently attracted by Jason’s stern tone. “Kiss me again,” he suggests, licking his lips.
"I didn’t kiss you!” Jason throws his arms up in desperation. “And no, you don’t! That’s how it works!”
Damian crosses his arms over his chest with a dark, petulant pout that underlines how freaking young he is.
"You’re being unreasonable, Todd, I am NOT high."
"Yes, you are!"
"I am mature enough to make these decisions."
"No, you’re not!"
Damian looks deeply offended by this assessment at first; then, he starts looking sneaky. He tugs on his vest again, slightly more successfully this time.
"I have hair on my body," he declares eagerly. "Want to feel it?"
You can tell he really wants to show it to someone.
”Hell no!” Jason quickly moves out of the way before Damian can dive for his hand, and shove it down his top. “I –uh, congrats, but no thanks.”
Damian slinks back into the couch, still pouting. His bright red vest his hanging open, revealing a bony, scarred left shoulder and a sliver of chest. The tiny, black swirl of hair looks kinda pathetic, which makes Damian’s pride in it weirdly endearing.
"Do you have hair on your body?" He suddenly blurts out, positively vibrating on the couch with excess energy, "My research on it was inconclusive, because you always put your blinds down. Do you … do you like it when men have hair?" His cheeks get tinted even darker. "Or do you prefer them without? This is important."
Jason’s ears are very nearly melting off his head. He’s certain that he’s not supposed to hear this, no-one is supposed to hear this. Damian probably never meant to say any of that out loud, if it hadn’t been for that rat bastard kicking him into a sack of coke. Man, how he hates people that combine drugs and children.
He can’t quite bring himself to fault the kid for the voyeurism habit, though. That pretty much runs in the family. And he’d even be a little flattered by his lil’ crush, if the situation was even tangentially less creepy. Jason has had a ton of miserable, unrequited crushes as a teen. He’s somehow never pictured himself at the receiving end of one.
He wonders what Damian Wayne sees in him.
In any case, it makes him even more determined to try and take good care of him now … somehow.
"You’re getting a big glass of water, that’s what you get," he huffs, striding over to the kitchen to fetch it. When he turns back around, Damian’s edged forward on the couch, and he awkwardly realizes that the teenager has been studying his ass while he was bending over the sink.
The kid watches him with newly sparked intensity. “Do I get a reward for drinking it?”
"No." Jason slams it down in front of him, trying to stay stern. Which, he knows, is probably not helping matters along, but anyway. "You take it, and then you fucking drink it, that’s all."
"Bossy," Damian purrs, legs dangling, but at least he takes a big gulp of water, too. "You look handsome," he then remarks with wet lips.
Jason looks down at his baggy gym sweater and the worn-out training pants with the nacho dip stain on it. “Wow, exactly how much of that shit did you ingest?!”
"Please." Damian snorts, and then starts babbling with the conviction of someone whose mind is completely unfiltered by way of drugs, or who’s an oblivious asshole, or in his case, both. "I mean, yes, you dress like an extra in a gang scene from an 80’s film, and your apartment is a sorry exercise in mediocre taste, but underneath all that I think you’re formidable –”
He shuts up as fast as he started, with a panicked look on his face, obviously startled that he said that last part. Well, at least it makes him drink water again. He downs the whole glass in large, needy gulps, presumably because it keeps his mouth from moving.
"Really…?" Jason says, before he can help it, because he’s weak and not used to approval, "How d’you think I’m formidab - no. Wait." He shuts his eyes and shakes his head. "Don’t wanna know. Don’t care."
Too late. Damian leans forward again, and if his eyes were visible, they’d be glinting. “You don’t listen to anybody, not even Father, not even when it’d be good for you,” he purrs, hooking his claws into that sliver of interest like a tiny panther, “You’re big and strong and mean.”
“‘m not that mean,” Jason grumbles, unable to resist. Boy, his low self-esteem really is a problem. He needs to do something about that.
"Bet you could put me across your knee," Damian growls on. His voice is low and fiery; it’d be sexy if he was a few years older, which he’s not. "Bet you could bounce me like a ball."
Jason stares at him, considers his options, and lets out a deep sigh.
He approaches him again – cautious, like you would a caged alleycat – crouches down in front of him so that their faces are on the same level, and tries to give him a soothing, authoritative look, which isn’t exactly his specialty, but he tries.
He kinda wants to take his hand, but he has a feeling that’d turn weird quick.
"Kid," he says patiently. "That’s all well and good. But I’m gonna call Alfred now."
Damian looks stunned for a moment. Then, his face slowly changes; something breaks, and Jason can see confusion, disappointment and shame flit across it in quick succession, until it settles on fear.
When he reaches for Jason’s hand, it’s not a come-on this time.
"No," he whispers, and now he fully starts looking like a little boy again, "I can’t – I can’t go home like this! Nobody can see me like this, nobody but you, because, you see, I … I chose you. Please –”
He feels kinda grody doing it, but Jason decides to take advantage of the spell he apparently holds over the boy, gently putting his finger on his lips to calm him down. Damian instantly falls still, and Jason can feel him draw deep, powerful breaths against the tip of his finger. He remembers what it’s like, being a kid and having a crush, when even staring at that person’s hands could mesmerize you for a full day, forget about touching them. He didn’t exactly want to utilize that, but he had to keep the kid from doing something else crazy between now and when the drugs wore off.
"You need to listen to me," he intones in a stern voice, "Listen to me, and do exactly as I say. Are you listening?"
Damian nods stiffly, lips firmly pressed against Jason’s finger.
"Good." He gazes deeply into the shiny white puddles that hide Damian’s eyes, grimly determined. "I’ve been where you are, all right? I know how it is. You don’t want Alfred to know, fine. He doesn’t have to. ‘cause truth be told, he can’t help you, anyway. You’ve gotten got. You’re on coke. You’ll have to ride it the fuck out."
The boy shudders softly, and Jason regrets his wording immediately. Anyway –
"Damian, did you ever have an encounter with a truly repulsive villain?"
Damian doesn’t have to think at all, obviously. He nods vigorously right away. Dumb question; he probably has a whole menagerie to choose from.
"All right. Here’s what you do. I’ll drive you home. And right before you walk in, you’ll imagine that gross encounter as hard as you possibly can. It’ll kill your boner for a while. The codpiece helps, too. Trust me. I’ve …"
Some heat creeps into his cheeks. “I’ve first-hand experience. Then, you tell Alfred you’re really beat, and you’re heading straight to bed. You grab a bottle of water, a sock and some hand cream, you lock your door, and then you take care of it, for as long as you need to. You’ll be safe. You’ll be fine. And they’ll never know.”
"And uh, remember to stay hydrated," he then adds awkwardly. "That’s what the water bottle is for …"
He trails off when he sees the look on Damian’s rugged little face. He’d seemed very interested at first, hearing him talk about sex, even if it was in the most unfortunate context possible. But the longer he listened, the more crushed and humiliated he’d started to look.
When he talks, it comes out as a broken whisper.
"I will never have sexual relations," he mumbles, like he’s having a horrible revelation.
"What?! No," Jason hurries to protest. The kid’s devastation is hard to watch, even if he’s talking nonsense. "That’s bullshit. You know that."
"After this?!" Damian hisses at him, his mouth distorted in disgust. Obviously, he’s turned to anger to get away from the fear. "No, I am done. I will never even touch myself again after this! I will never again think of – “
He stops when he realizes what he’s been about to say, and then all color leaves his face when another thing dawns on him. “I’ve revealed the existence of my scrapbook earlier, didn’t I,” he whispers in a pinched, horrified voice, gloved hands twitching.
Jason briefly considers lying for his benefit, but he can’t bring himself to do it; if Damian remembers it by himself later, it’ll just make him feel shittier.
"Yeah. You did," he says sheepishly, and Damian shrinks even deeper into the couch.
Jason tries to pat his knee out of reflex, but Damian squirms away from him; apparently, he’s gone from wanting to be touched really badly to never wanting to be touched again in his life, which, all things considered, is understandable.
He lowers his hand, blinking. “Look. Kid. It’s gonna be okay …”
It sounds kinda weak. Jason doesn’t really doubt that he’ll be okay – he’s a tough little fucker, and if Dick, Jason and Tim can somehow shake off the terrors of being tied up and fondled by multiple villains, he can hopefully get over this - but he knows that Damian will not see it that way, probably not for a while. Puberty is harrowing enough without having to go through this crap.
"Oh, uh, hey!" He snaps his fingers. "You know what’s cool, though? Cocaine causes memory loss, so chances are, you won’t even remember most of this! How’s that?" He pauses, shooting him a cautious look. "I mean, that’s not really … cool … in itself. Coke’s not cool. Remember that."
"It’s true." Damian perks up for a second, re-invigorated. "I might not remember. However … you will.”
He falls silent, and then Jason notices him staring at him intently, but it’s not the same horny stare as before.
He clicks his tongue. “You’re … considering knocking me out cold, don’cha,” he says dryly. “Conk me on the head so you can sneak out, and hopefully create a hematoma large enough so I forget about this thing, too?”
Damian smiles weakly, sadly – Jason realizes that it’s this kind of understanding that he probably likes about him – but then, he lets his face sink into his hands.
"No," he grumbles. "That would make me a bad person."
He sounds like he really resents that fact. And Jason gets that.
"I’m not gonna tell anyone," he says quietly. "If you promise me to stay away from big sacks of drugs from now on."
”You’ll still know,” Damian groans, and his voice sounds a little choked-up.
"Well. Yeah, but …" Damian is still clutching his face, but Jason smiles at him, anyway. "For what it’s worth, I don’t think any less of you now."
"How could you not?”
"Because …" Jason shrugs. "It makes you … human. You always stomp around in your little boots like you don’t give a fuck, like nothing can touch you, like you think you’re invulnerable …"
That makes Damian surface from behind his hands with a furious frown. “That’s not true, I know I’m not invulnerable, that’s like, rule one of the battlefield. Do you think me a fool, Todd?!”
"No, I d- calm down." Jason rolls his eyes at him. "You know what I mean. But this? It’s … well, it’s human, and being human is not a weakness, you know that, right? ‘cause there was a time when you didn’t know that, like there was a time when I didn’t know that, and it was one of the most important things I’ve ever learned.”
Damian ponders that for a moment. Then, he nods.
"Good." Jason winces, and his face turns red again. "And … please trust when I say that it’s happened to all of us, all right?"
It sure did. Jason is still grateful to this day that nobody was around to witness what he’d done to Commissioner Gordon’s birthday cake after that night he’d trailed Poison Ivy on his own. That was something he’d take to his grave. A second time.
"Oh?" Damian cocks his head, curious. "Do tell."
"Nah. That’s a story for another day, and that day is never.” He gets to his feet, offering the son of the Bat his hand. “Ready to go home?”
Damian scrunches up his little pug nose for a moment, then he takes Jason’s hand, and gets up.
"This is going to be a rough night," he mumbles, as they get ready to go. "Father has turned on Safe Search on all my devices."
They don’t talk much until they reach the steely gates of Wayne Manor in Jason’s car. The lights are still on, which means Alfred is still up (wouldn’t be like him to punch out before the Young Master is home, really). But Jason trusts that, if he utilizes the advice he’s been given, Damian would be fine.
It’s when Damian undoes the safety belt that he suddenly mutters, “Thanks.”
Jason gives him the only response that’s appropriate for when you hear Damian Wayne say Thanks. “Whoa.” And then: “Don’t mention it.”
He cringes in the driver’s seat. “I mean, seriously, don’t mention it, to anyone, I think we’re both better off that way.”
To his relief, Damian grins at that. But before he gets out, he quietly goes, “Todd?”
"I was w-wondering." He bites his lip, looking down at his gloved fist. "If I wasn’t … if I would’ve been … older. Would this, um…"
Jason briefly considers lying –
Ah, screw it.
The kid’s mouth drops open, and Jason can see the life creep back into his cheeks in real time. “Ex … excuse me?!”
His face grows hot as he shrinks in his seat. “You heard me,” he growls, and then reaches past Damian to bust open the passenger door. “And now, out with you, you little … rapscallion …”
Damian obeys, but Jason can see a wide, uncharacteristic, doofy smile spread across his face right before he slams the door shut and skips away. And really, that’s okay.
He can have that one for his scrapbook.