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Bruce brought the corvette to a sudden stop with a screech of brakes and a spray of gravel. He knew he was getting old, and when he was distracted he had the tendency to tune unnecessary details out...but he knew for a fact that the oak tree he'd planted with his parents had been there this morning, because he had noticed that its leaves were changing color when he left for the office. He clambered out of the car, staring down at the stump where the 60 foot oak had been. He supposed it really hadn't been much; it was just a tree that was part of his parents' landscaping project for the rest of the grounds. It wasn't really even visible from the house. But he'd been six or so when they planted it, and his dad had shown him how to shovel dirt and pat it down over the newly-transplanted tree, and his mother had helped him water it. And every once in a while he'd glance at it and smile to see how much it had grown.
With a sigh, Bruce turned and headed back to the still-running car. He drove the rest of the way down the driveway, and parked outside the side door, too tired to bother with putting the car away at the moment. He did lock it behind him as he climbed out, trudging wearily up the stairs.
Alfred was in the kitchen when Bruce slipped in the side door, elbow deep in a mass of dough that looked like prep for cinnamon rolls.
"Evening, Alfred," Bruce said tiredly, fumbling at his tie, desperate to be rid of the thing.
"Good evening, Master Bruce. Long day, I take it?" Alfred asked over his shoulder.
"Yep." Bruce sighed, snatching an apple from the tray of fruit. He paused, turning back towards Alfred. "Alfred, would you happen to know what--"
A distant buzz of a power tool cut off Bruce's question, and he froze. "Alfred," he said.
"Yes, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked serenely.
"There are power tools. Being used. And you're not using them. Or....supervising." Bruce said, a bit dumbly.
"That would be Master Jason, Master Bruce." Alfred said calmly.
"Jason?" Bruce repeated. He hadn't seen or spoken to the boy in....now that he thought about it, at least in a month, maybe two. "What is he doing?"
"A project, sir. They're in the garage."
"I see." Bruce said. He glanced around the kitchen once. "Thank you, Alfred."
"Of course, sir."
Bruce ducked out of the kitchen...then ducked back in a second later. "Alfred?"
Alfred paused. "Yes, sir?"
Bruce stifled the urge to cower, feeling oddly small. "Um. Which garage?"
Alfred paused in his kneading, and turned to face Bruce, a completely unimpressed expression on his face. "The one attached to the house, sir."
"Yes." Bruce awkwardly tapped his foot on the floor. "Of course. Uh. Thanks, Alfred." He crossed the kitchen and headed through the mudroom to the door to the garage. He hesitated for a moment outside the door, then quietly eased it open, glancing inside.
From the angle at the top of the stairs, he could see Tim lounging on the staircase, a tray of food on the step above his head. He didn't hear power tools anymore, only a repetitive, grating sound. He pushed the door open a bit further, stepping silently down the staircase.
Tim glanced up when he heard him, offering a smile, and Bruce managed to smile back even as he glanced down at the floor. The cars that had been stored in the garage had apparently been moved out at some point, because the floor was cleared out and empty except for a stack of logs of various sizes a few feet away from a larger chunk of wood. All he could see of Jason was the top of his head, sawdust sprinkled over his black hair as he sawed away at the long log.
"Uh." Bruce said eloquently.
"Yep, it's something else," Tim said brightly.
"What...." Bruce felt a little lost.
Tim shrugged. "It's my turn to watch him, so I've just been hanging out since early afternoon."
Bruce blinked, and Tim seemed to realize he needed further explanation. "Jason got stabbed in his lower leg last week, and the guy was high so he tugged the knife around, did a lot of damage. Tore the muscle...and the anterior tibial artery. Dick and I got him back to the Cave and we managed to slow it down, but he was in bad shape for the first couple days. He's better now, but his leg's still healing so Alfred won't let him out of our sights. He got sick of lying around and couldn't train, so he's moved on to furniture."
Bruce arched an eyebrow.
"He's on a looooot of percocet." Tim said dryly.
"I'm perfectly sober, you dipstick." Jason said without looking up, and Bruce did a double-take at his voice---he sounded off, a weird mix between bright and simultaneously dull and a little bit unstable.
"He's eaten nothing but jerky the past three days," Tim stage-whispered to Bruce.
"Meat." Jason hummed lovingly.
Bruce blinked. "Why...furniture, though?"
"Your couch is shitty," Jason said. "I'm making you a better one."
Bruce was beginning to feel a bit helpless. "It's an Ethan Allen."
"It's expensive and shitty. I could do better high. And I will."
Tim shrugged up at Bruce. "You can't win." He patted the stair beside him. "Might as well get comfy."
Bruce drifted over and sat down on the stairs next to his third son, watching Jason work. "Where did he even learn to do this?" He wondered out loud to Tim.
"Don't talk about me behind my back," Jason said, leaning down and sawing away at another piece. "I'm right here."
"Um," Bruce said after a moment. "Where did you learn?"
"At the community college?" Jason said, as if it was obvious. "You signed me up and paid for it?"
"I didn't know you went to community college, Jay," Tim said, glancing up at Bruce in surprise.
Bruce shrugged. "He wasn't enjoying any extracurricular stuff at Gotham Academy, so once I figured it out I signed him up for woodworking and various other trade classes."
"By 'figured it out' he means 'Alfred told him I hated pointless schoolwork and had a knack for working with my hands.'" Jason helpfully added. He whistled. "This is some nice wood."
"Yeah," Bruce said quietly. "My, um. My parents and I planted that tree. When I was six."
Tim looked startled. "Hell, I'm sorry, Bruce. If Alfred had said something..."
"It lived a good long life," Jason said absently, tossing his head a bit to loosen some of the sawdust.
"That it did," Bruce said with a nod. "Besides, I'm sure my parents would be proud to know that their grandson was making something out of it."
Jason glanced up at Bruce for the first time in the conversation with a shy smile that made him look so much younger that it made something in Bruce's chest warm. He went back to work fairly quickly, but Bruce kept smiling for a long while afterwards.
"I think I'm going to take a break for a while," Tim said, standing up. "Unless you guys would rather I..."
"Nah," Jason said, at the same time Bruce said, "We'll be fine, Tim." Tim nodded and snatched up the tray to bring it back inside.
Bruce shifted into Tim's empty spot and leaned over, resting his elbows on his thighs. Jason continued methodically carving away, cutting a long, thin plank and stacking it to the side, and then repeating the process. Bruce was tired, so he wound up dozing off, leaning up against the railing on the stairs to the quiet scratching from Jason's saw. He woke up when the door clicked open an uncertain amount of time later. Golden sunlight was streaming in through the windows, and there were soft footfalls on the steps behind him. The slender, bare feet paused next to him and an arm draped lightly around his shoulder as the familiar face curtained with black hair leaned down to his level.
"Cassie!" He said, surprised and pleased. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple, and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek in return. "Home for cinnamon rolls," she said impishly, and he smiled.
"Hi, Cass," Jason called over his shoulder, and Cass glanced over at him. She hugged Bruce gently once more before climbing to her feet and sliding down the bannister, landing lightly on her feet at the bottom. She trailed over next to Jason and tousled his hair. "When did you rest?" She asked.
Jason glanced up sheepishly. "This morning?"
Cass frowned slightly, and Jason wilted. "I'm making good progress, Cassie," he whined.
"Hmm," Cass hummed in agreement, still rubbing his head. "Alfred says eat. And rest."
Jason slouched. "Fine."
Cass nodded in satisfaction, then waved up at Bruce. Confused, Bruce stood up, and jogged down the stairs. "What is it?" He asked.
"Help," Cass said simply, stepping aside. Bruce saw that Jason had been perched on a flat rolling cart which he'd been pushing himself around on with his good foot. The other one was in a light plastic brace to keep it stable, wrapped thickly in bandages. Up close, Bruce was startled to notice Jason's washed-out pallor and the dark circles under his eyes. There was a bruise standing out on his cheek, and a taped cut above one of his eyebrows, nearly covered by his drooping bangs.
Jason held a hand up with a grunt. "Gimme a sec," he said quietly, setting his saw on the floor and placing one hand to the concrete to brace himself. He slowly pushed himself up, planting his good foot to stand, albeit unsteadily.
"Alrighty," he said tiredly, raising his arm to allow Bruce to help him. "Climbing the Mount Everest of stairs, here we go."
Bruce blinked. Then he ducked beneath Jason's arm and scooped up his legs as well, which startled Jason, if his yelp was anything to go by.
"I'm not an invalid," he grumbled into Bruce's shoulder when he'd recovered from his surprise.
"I'm getting a free couch," Bruce said simply, trailing after Cassandra as she headed up the stairs. "It's a small price to pay."
Jason didn't smile, but he tucked his chin over Bruce's shoulder, so Bruce took the win.
___
Four days later, the brand new couch was placed in a shaft of sunlight in the living room, and the other Robins were admiring it (on Dick's invitation.)
"This is impressive, Jay," Steph said, sprawled over the cushions, with Cass' legs draped over hers and Damian on top of both of them. "Are you for hire? I want one for my dorm room. And my bedroom."
Jason shrugged lightly, perched in the new chair he'd made. "How much you offering?"
"A pie?" Steph asked hopefully.
Jason laughed. "Maybe. If it's a damn good pie."
"Oh, you're on, Jason Todd," Steph said, propping herself up on her elbow. "I will make you a pie so good that when you eat it, you'll cry and have a religious experience and see heaven."
"S'overrated," Jason snarked with a grin, climbing to his feet. Steph laughed behind him. Jason smirked and turned away, but paused when he saw Bruce standing in the doorway, the smile falling off his face in surprise.
Bruce tilted his chin in the direction of the couch. "It looks good," he said.
"Yeah," Jason said quietly, glancing around uncomfortably and shrugging. "I think it turned out okay." The slight tinge of pink on his cheeks gave away his pleasure at the compliment, and Bruce smiled. "I'm glad you got some use out of those classes. And enjoyed them."
"Yeah." Jason traced the toe of his good foot across the floorboards. He glanced up at Bruce once, then dropped his gaze again. "You're heading out."
Bruce nodded. "In a bit."
Jason nodded silently, swallowing. Bruce reached out and squeezed his forearm gently. "You'll be back at it soon enough, Jay."
Jason glanced up, managed a small smile. Bruce released him after a final stroke with his thumb, turning to head towards the Cave entrance.
"Uh, B?" Jason asked hesitantly behind him.
Bruce turned around, brows raised. "Yes?"
Jason blushed. "I, uh. I made something else, if you wanted to...see it."
"Sure," Bruce said, uncertain of what Jason was up to.
Jason bit his lip and limped past Bruce, heading toward the office. Bruce trailed after him, simultaneously curious and trying to resist the urge to hover while Jason hopped down the hall.
Jason ducked into Bruce's office, and Bruce waited at the doorway, unconsciously giving Jason space as he reached back into a box that hadn't been there this morning. His son turned and hopped a couple steps closer, holding out a shiny wooden frame.
"Alfred found this the other day, so I made this for you." Jason was avoiding his gaze, eyes flitting from the frame to the floor. "I hope you like it."
He pressed the frame into Bruce's hands, and hurried from the room. Bruce would have followed him, but he was too busy staring. It was a photo from the day they'd planted the tree. He hadn't even known Alfred had a camera, let alone that he'd been taking pictures. His father was pushing a wheelbarrow over towards the newly-transplanted tree, and his mother was crouching down in front of him and lightly scrubbing dirt from his cheeks with the back of her hand while he beamed.
He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. Jason was long-fled by the time he emerged from his office. Bruce headed down to the cave.
But as soon as he came back from patrol, he went straight to where Jason was slumped on his couch in the living room and pressed a kiss to his forehead. And he hung the picture up across from his desk.