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The night had dragged on for far too long.
Jason’s whole body hurt, and he knew there were things he would need to do in the morning like talk to his gang about upcoming plans. Raids and shit on drugs that were definitely not welcome in his city, for example. Why he still didn’t let kids in his operation…
All he wanted to do was pass out on his couch and not move until morning. Not that he could do that until he’d done the responsible things like take a shower and eat.
But someone was knocking at his door.
Again.
He was going to kill whoever had thought that now was the time to disrupt his peace. He wanted a few minutes to himself to breathe…
Snagging a gun off the table, tucking it carefully into the side that would be visible when he opened the door, he went to answer. Heaven and hell help him if it was Dick showing up again or something equally ridiculous.
“I swear to fucking-“
“That is no way to answer the door, Master Jason,” a familiar voice scolded softly.
The breath rushed out of him as he was greeted with silver hair and a face that he always remembered fondly. A man like a grandfather to him, that had always been there to take care of him and taught him how to really cook and-
“Alfred?”
It came out like more of a question than he meant it to. Like he was dreaming. Couldn’t believe his eyes.
Only intense training kept him from dropping the gun.
“There you are…” It was more of a gentle breath than true words. Like the elder was taking him, stepping inside carefully, reaching to gently turn his chin and get a better look at him. “How you’ve grown…”
Jason could feel the lump in his throat as he stared back at him. Most often, this was the person he thought of when he thought of home. Bruce’s room. Alfred’s kitchen. The kind of memories that sat at the edges of his mind, taunting him with calm and now standing before him as he stepped back to let Alfred inside his admittedly small, sparsely furnished apartment.
He wished he’d known the man was coming. At least it was clean, even if it wasn’t anything interesting. The bare minimum, an old quilt someone had given him that he hadn’t had the heart to turn down, and piles of books. A crappy TV he could watch DVDs on because he wasn’t fucking paying for cable. A semi-stocked kitchen. The important things outside of the massive number of weapons and general day to day shit that he kept around.
Alfred strolled in as if none of that mattered, going to set a bag that looked suspiciously like it was full of Tupperware on a free spot on the coffee table. Jason only had time to close the door before he was letting Alfred take the gun from him and then pulling him into the carefullest hug.
“I nearly didn’t believe it when I heard. I had to come see you for myself,” Alfred murmured into his hair, as Jason let himself be pulled in. Let the gun be taken away and wrapped his arms tightly around Alfred, burying his head against the other. Familiarity wrapped into one person so much it made him ache. Except that now he had to lean his head down to touch Alfred’s shoulder when he used to be so much shorter than him.
Wrong.
He wasn’t supposed to be this tall… Alfred was supposed to be a giant. A man that always held it together even when Bruce and Dick were at it again. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to push the thought away. Even the laundry detergent hadn’t changed. Only Jason had.
A hand rubbed his back when Jason tightened his hold. And if a few tears escaped his eyes, that was between him and the butler.
Silence settled comfortably between them, Jason’s hands fisting in Alfred’s jacket as he tried to pull himself together. An impossible task while he was faced with a man that had made him feel at home first by letting him make his own food. Given him the tools that he needed to be more than just a vigilante in a way that Bruce never could.
With the familiar smell of his kitchen clinging to him and a hand that never left his hair. Comforting him like it was all just another bad dream that would disappear when the sun came out in a few hours.
Fuck, he wished it were true.
For a brief moment, Jason wished that he would pull away and be back in his bed at home. That the idea of a Lazarus Pit was only for villains and nothing bad would ever happen to him. That teenagers didn’t wake up in a body three sizes too big one day with shaky memories at best in the League of Assassins.
That Robin was actually magic and magic didn’t die.
Jason finally managed to pull back, forcing a deep breath. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, Alf, but why are you here exactly?” he finally said, steeling himself for whatever was to come.
“Master Bruce would like to see you back in the house but-“
“Master Bruce can go fuck himself,” Jason grumbled under his breath, earning a look from Alfred for his language. The butler had never approved of his swearing, but he continued on a moment later like Jason hadn’t said anything for once.
“But. I will not force your hand, and I am not here on his behalf. I only wanted to see my boy,” Alfred finished quietly.
Jason drew up short, staring at the older man before him. That Alfred was not asking for him to come home. That Alfred had only shown up to see him, not to convince him to come back to the manor.
A hand gently rested on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “I am so glad to see you,” Alfred murmured, causing him to look up to see those familiar eyes misty before him. Perhaps they had both teared up earlier… A look on his face that Jason couldn’t place except for the fact that it was incredibly fond.
“Right. Yeah,” Jason breathed, unsure how that worked out. But it did. Alfred had come here with no intention of trying to make him come home to the manor. Just to see him.
“How about I make us some tea?”
Alfred’s smile in answer was all he needed. “I brought you some cookies. We can sit and chat over those. Though, I do hope that means you’ll be cleaning your coffee table up first,” the butler answer, lightly chiding the mess that was apparent.
Curses fell from Jason’s lips as he realized that he had been in the middle of something. Busy nights meant that he had been working on cleaning up and-
“Language, Master Jason. Let me help.”
Earning Alfred a familiar huff and halfhearted glare before going to pick up his mess. That first and then tea. “Fine,” he grumbled with no real heat. It wasn’t like he would trust anyone else to rifle through his guns but the man that had taught him how to use one.
Besides, it meant Alfred planned to make himself at home even on his raggedly old couch that he’d found somewhere cheap when he made it back to the Alley. And denied Bruce’s money after the other had found out he was alive. But Alfred… Alfred would always be welcome in his home. There was no one he had wanted to see more. Besides his father.
The guns were all carefully reassembled after ensuring they were clean, unable to pass up the task at hand. Alfred, ever the butler, wouldn’t let the task go unfinished. Especially not one so important to proper weapon maintenance, something that he had instilled in Jason when he said that he wanted to learn how to use more weapons. That he wanted to be stronger, even if Bruce wouldn’t let him use guns in the field. Or let him have a gun in the house. Only Alfred could get away with that.
It was so familiar, even if the setting was wrong, that Jason fell into the old habit with ease. Carefully cleaning and reassembling each weapon until they could be put back into proper storage, away from accidents. Only the small one remained.
Alfred held it out to him, aware that it was better to have a weapon than not in this part of town. Even at home.
“There we go, dear boy. Now why don’t you show me where your tea and such is kept and set the table for us?”
He never could get away with making Alfred tea…