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thejusticelounge2014-11-02 11:06 am
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2014-11-02 11:06 am
those distant bells
[text]: ollie what the fuck is going on? why was the joker tweeting at you? are you okay?
TXT: I got no idea. Don’t worry yourself about it, Quickdraw, he’s just entertaining himself.
After he sends this text, Ollie contemplates for a while, walking around the conference room as employees chat and filter out, the morning meeting over. By the time there’s only two of them left, Ollie’s come to a decision and sends another couple of texts to Jason. No point letting the kid stay by himself fretting.
TXT: Wanna come down to the office? Some Swiss water reps came in and brought a ton of watches and water bottles and backpacks and shit to give us.
TXT: Seriously they brought WATCHES and chocolate, they might as well have brought cheese and Nazi gold to complete the stereotype
[text]: dont worry? you do know my history with the guy right?
It’s kind of physically impossible for him not to worry. Jason’s been pacing the penthouse all morning, stomach tied in knots, checking his phone every five seconds to see if Ollie responded.
[text]: sure i guess
[text]: if theres any security guards who ask who i am what should i tell them? cause i dont think theyll find it as entertaining as the paparazzi do when i say im your pool boy
TXT: You’ve been saying WHAT???!?!?
TXT: No wonder Lex Luthor sent me those swimming trunks and a bottle of Hawaiian Tropic and that weird note
Ollie waves away an employee who gives him an interested look as he’s snickering at Jason’s text and replies:
TXT: They’ll let you in. They know that any mopey boy teenagers who show up here belong to me.
[text]: i figured they wouldnt buy me being your personal assistant and that was the first thing that popped into my head
[text]: still not actually sure if you even own a pool
He’s already feeling a bit more calm thanks to the texts, though the panic is definitely still bubbling away underneath as he heads out of the building. Though Jason doesn’t know Star as well as Gotham, he’s familiarized himself with the important locations.
[text]: alright good
[text]: and im not mopey im a giant ball of issues and rage get it right jolly green
ENC TXT: Yeah yeah, I’ve read the Bat-Manual for Bat-Care of your Bat-Creatures, I know what the preferred terminology is
TXT: I only just realized that access to the pool is in the main half of the double penthouse!! IF you ever feel like a dip just come on through from your side.
TXT: It could use some skimming btw
It had taken about fifteen minutes before Ollie could get back to Jason, and not more that five minutes after the last text, his assistant Candy buzzes in to Ollie’s office. “Your visitor is here,” her voice proclaims, tinny over the old-fashioned intercom that Ollie insisted on installing.
"Send him in!" Ollie intercoms back, booming over the system. Out in the foyer, Candy shakes her head at the intercom and gestures at Ollie’s door with a pen. "You heard him," she tells Jason, and adds with a smirk, "…I think the whole building heard him."
By the time Jason gets the texts, he’s practically at the office, so he only bothers responding to one.
[text]: i hope you know that i charge pure twig when it comes to skimming
He tucks his phone away and heads inside, meandering over to the main desk and trying to make it look as though he’s less out of place than he feels. At least the assistant seems nice. A very slight wince crosses his face when Ollie’s voice seems to rattle the intercom.
"Bet if really works at it, he can get the whole city to hear next time," he replies before heading through the door. Stopping just inside, he glances about the office, posture casual even as he takes in every little detail.
It’s a huge office, big and bright and airy with tons of glass and an incredible view of the city; everything shows the design and branding of Ollie’s mean green empire, sustainability with more than a dash of eccentric ostentatiousness. Clearly, the usual earth tones of eco-friendliness aren’t in Ollie’s palette, since his office is splashed with vibrant jewel-toned colour everywhere.
He rises from his big orange desk chair and comes around to pat Jason’s shoulder, remembering just in time to keep the physical contact brief and non-invasive. "Jay! You made it here in good time, better than I do. But then I like to take the scenic route. Riding the seabus clears my head, all the salt air and that jive.” Ollie gestures around at the dizzying array of drinks and snacks in a cold case. “Wanna grab something as we head over to view the swag? I could use one of those mango juices, myself.”
The office is pretty much exactly what Jason expects after staying in the penthouse, though it almost seems to resemble Ollie more than his living quarters do. Of course, with the latest cause for panic still fresh in his mind, he finds himself eyeing all the glass warily. While the city view is nice, it leaves quite the big opening.
It’s only because of how long he’s been around Ollie that the touch to his shoulder doesn’t make him twitch. “Didn’t really feel like wandering around, still kinda learning how to get where,” he says, finally pulling his eyes away from the office to focus on Ollie. “Sure, always like free food.” He moves over to the case and grabs a drink at random. Glancing back over his shoulder at Ollie, he eyes him critically. “You sure you’re okay?” Because he doesn’t understand how he can be.
It’s on the tip of Ollie’s tongue to say ‘yeah, fine, of course’, but the words catch and trip, sinking back into his mouth. “No. Not exactly,” he tells Jason instead. “But I knew there’d be repercussions to going public as Green Arrow, and consequences to working in Gotham. I’ve never had much of a rogues’ gallery — maybe my gang doesn’t have the attention span or the psychosis for it — but villains over Gothamside? They seem to take special offense to anybody but the Batclan taking them on.” He reaches past Jason to grab a bottle of mango juice from the case, shaking it more than it really needs shaking.
"So I’m not putting any personal stock in the Joker calling me out in public. He’s probably pissed in general that I was there poking my nose into his jolly time baiting B and hunting the Hood—" Ollie throws Jason’s ID out as if the Red Hood really is a separate person from Jason, face unchanging; the habit of safeguarding their identities hasn’t broken yet, "—and wants to rattle me. I doubt it’s a serious threat, even if it’s creepy as all hell." He eyes Jason a bit more closely. "You worried that he might be getting closer to you again? Targeting you through me?"
Even if Ollie had said he was fine, Jason wouldn’t have believed it. At least he’s taking it seriously. “It’s even more than that with him. He’ll do anything he can think of to get to Batman.” And even not knowing about Bruce’s identity, targeting one of Batman’s known allies is still definitely something the Joker would do without batting an eye.
Jason looks at him a little sharply and lightly punches his shoulder. “No, dumbass, I’m worried about you. He doesn’t know or care where I am unless it’s going to help him get to Batman. I’m probably not even on his radar, but you are and he knows exactly where to find you now.” Though he’s not going to berate Ollie for revealing his identity—honestly he sometimes wishes he could do the same—it has made him a lot easier to track down.
"Every threat from him should be taken seriously, Ollie. Even if this is just something to try to catch Batman’s attention, if he gets it into his deranged head that going after you is good for his endgame, he’ll do it. Hell, he might even just come after you for shits and giggles." He pauses, realizing that his voice has been rising, getting more and more panicked. Looking away, he takes a breath, trying to calm himself.
Ollie looks, of all things, faintly embarrassed by Jason’s impassioned plea. Not because of the emotion behind it (emotion was never anything to scare off any of the Arrowclan), but because Jason’s worried about him. “There, there,” he says gruffly, tapping the bottle against the side of his leg. “Don’t you be concerned about that, Jason. I’ve fought Yellow Lanterns and literal demons and managed to make it through. I know the Joker’s nothing to laugh off, but there’s no reason to worry about me.”
Ushering Jason out of his office, Ollie continues as they head the short way down the hall to the conference room, “I’ve kinda got a feel for what’s empty threats and what’s something to ping the Spidey-senses, and this, what he’s doing out in public? It’s definitely just scare tactics. Nothing’ll come of it, honest to god. If anything, he’s hoping that B will focus on that and not pay attention to Gotham, which is the last thing anybody wants.” A pause. “Me included. But if it makes you feel better, I made sure B saw the tweets, and I don’t think he’s falling for it either.”
They take a turn into the conference room and Ollie thankfully announces, “So how ‘bout a watch? How ‘bout two??” He scrutinizes Jason’s body language carefully, trying to gauge just how rattled the young man is about this. The Joker getting up in Ollie’s face has to be hitting close to home, literally.
Defiant look on his face, Jason crosses his arms over his chest. Maybe it’s just because he has an inherent need to be contrary, but nothing Ollie says is going to make him worry any less. Of course, when it comes to the Joker, he probably couldn’t stop being concerned even if he wanted to. “Who you’ve fought before doesn’t make any difference to who you’re dealing with now,” he says with a little huff, but he lets Ollie lead him along out of the office.
Hands shoved in his pockets, he just makes vague noises in response to the reassurances. There’s a part of him that knows Ollie’s probably right, but it’s pretty much impossible for him to be calm about this. “Not really.” A slight frown crosses his face. “Been trying to talk B into taking a break, then this shit happens,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. Even if Bruce didn’t take the bait, there’s a pretty good chance this is just going to make the patrols double, make him tire himself out even more.
His eyes drift over the watches and he shrugs, hands back in his pockets again, shoulders tense. “Don’t really ever wear anything nice enough to go with ‘em.”
"Ahhhhh, that’s nonsense. You can wear a really great watch with a tee-shirt and jeans and it’ll make you look like a million bucks in nickels and dimes, kiddo." Ollie pushes through the assortment, gleaming and proud in their little display cases, and picks up something with half its works exposed and red detailing. “Now, lookit this little number. Not that you have any trouble picking up interested parties, but there’s nothing sexy like a badass watch to look effortlessly put-together. Trust me, I’m a king at looking effortlessly sexy.” He gives Jason a cocky grin.
Unstrapping the watch from its case, Ollie holds it out to Jason and asks, aiming for unconcerned and nonchalant, “…so you think maybe B needs somebody to check up on him and take the pressure off a little?”
When Ollie’s really trying to snowball somebody, he’s good at keeping a poker face. For a certain amount of time. With someone like Jason, someone he feels at ease with, it’s much harder for him to hide what he’s really feeling; it’s an unnatural state. So the alarm ringing the question starts to mirror Jason’s, even though Ollie’s aiming to keep it under control.
"Uh huh." Despite the very strong urge to roll his eyes, he gives the watch Ollie points out a once over before shrugging. "Guess it’s alright. Looking sexy isn’t really one of my priorities." Most of the time, his outfit of choice is whatever happens to be clean. Once in a while, if he’s feeling fancy, he’ll comb his hair, but that’s about the extent of the effort he usually puts into his appearance.
Still, he takes the watch when offered, examining it more close before trying it on. It doesn’t exactly look bad, but he still doesn’t see the point. Letting out a breath, he nods. “Yeah, he does.” His eyes stay fixed on the watch. Despite the level of comfort he feels with Ollie, it’s still easy to talk to an inanimate object than someone’s face.
"Tried talking to him, felt like I was actually getting through for once, but… with this I’m pretty damn sure he’s gonna forget the whole thing ever happened." It takes a tremendous amount of effort for him to look up to try to meet Ollie’s eyes. "Guessing you know how he gets with shit like this. The only endgame he’s got planned is catching the Joker, and he’s gonna work himself to death to do it if he has to."
When Jason explains this, manages to bring his eyes up to look at Ollie when he says this, Ollie takes a long, deep breath.
By the time he lets it all out, he’s come to a decision. “Okay,” he says, simply, letting the word encompass just how worried Jason is about this and the need to do something. “Okay. I’ll take care of it.” He lowers his bearded chin a little, fixing Jason with an intent gaze. “You got that? I won’t tell you not to worry, ‘cause I know you will — and with good reason, too — but I promise you, I’ll handle it.”
The building is well-soundproofed, and there’s only the quiet hum of the lights and the air conditioning in the conference room apart from what noise Jason and Ollie make. But Ollie stays quiet, lets that hum fill up the space they’re in to add weight to his statement. Jason’s hasn’t been staying with him that long, in the big picture of things, but Ollie’s grown fond of the legendary prodigal son, the lost and tragic baby bird. “You know,” he says in a measured voice, “I’m glad we had this opportunity to get to know each other. Even with all the craziness going around. It makes some things make more sense.”
"Got it." Honestly, Jason’s not sure Ollie’s luck will with Bruce will be any better, but having someone else try can’t hurt. Probably. Of course, with Bruce it seems like there’s always a chance for things to simply go one getting worse. "Just take care of him, okay?" Because Bruce has made it pretty clear that Jason’s not allowed to do that unless he’s basically bleeding to death.
His expression shifts, brows knitting together as it turns quizzical and he tips his head to one side. “What kinda things?” he asks, though he’s not entirely sure he wants the answer to that question. In his experience, people learning more about him generally doesn’t make things end well for him. Even with the time he’s stayed at Ollie’s, Jason’s still sure that at any moment it might all turn on him, that the older man will suddenly grow tired of his company.
Everyone always does.
"It’s …" Ollie looks down at the table, spread with all sorts of luxe items from the Swiss representatives. He glances up at Jason, who’s holding himself a little bit away from the table with a reserve caught somewhere between discomfort and high alert. It’s a posture Ollie knows well. He’s seen it on Roy before, once Ollie’d realized that being the ward of a moneyed white guy didn’t mean anything when it came to the suspicions of people who’d always see Roy as a potential criminal.
"When you died," Ollie began instead, "Bruce was doing something for me. Even in the middle of his grief, he remembered that he’d made me a promise about /my/ son, and he kept working on it. Maybe it was therapy of a kind. I don’t know. But when he told he he’d found my son — Connor — told me Connor was in the same ashram where I’d gone, that had been part of me becoming Green Arrow, I decided not to go get Connor." Ollie dashed his palm against his chin. “I didn’t want to ever go through what Bruce was going through. I didn’t want to lose a son like that, seeing how it was tearing him inside out and all he could do was just go on. As if everything hadn’t changed.” He shook his head, and said, softer, “I’m not that kind of man. I’m too selfish for that. I didn’t go get Connor.”
Jason being tense around Ollie is something that’s become rarer and rarer, even now it’s due to the clown more than anything else. It’s not what he expects to hear. Slowly he reaches out to drum his fingers on the edge of the table. “I don’t know if it would’ve been therapy, more… something to focus on. He’s always been pretty good at compartmentalizing. It probably gave him something else to focus on, something to keep him going.”
Eyes going back to Ollie, he pauses for a moment. “Pretty sure I read somewhere that it’s one of the worst things when a parent has to bury their kid. Maybe it was a little selfish, but being afraid of that… I’m pretty damn sure it’s a normal thing. People die and the world keeps on going and it fucking sucks, but that’s just how it works. And… if people come back, it seems like the world kept going too far and there’s no room to fit back into it,” he says slowly, looking away once more, his eyes a little distant.
"Did you ever tell Connor why you didn’t go get him? I think he’d get it. It’s hard to let people in if the whole time you just think you’re gonna lose ‘em." He’s well aware of the fact given that’s why he holds most people an arm’s length away.
"He’d get it." Of that, Ollie has no doubt. "Connor’s a Buddhist, forgiveness is kinda his thing. But that’s not the point." Ollie put his hand down on the table. "The point is that I was wrong. I’m no stranger to making the wrong decision, but that one? That one, Jason, I was confident in. Because, like you say, I didn’t want to bury a child, and I didn’t want to bring another kid into this job only to lose him the way Bruce lost you. It seemed like the sensible thing to do, the only decision to make, but I was /wrong/."
Ollie thumped the table, his hand in a fist that he’d curled without realizing it. “My point is,” he said, voice raising, “is that you’re a great kid. You’re fucking great. You staying with me has been — look, Jason, not to put pressure on you in any way, but I’ve been going through a lot of shit for the past month or so. Nothing’s been good except that you’re there.” Ollie stopped, but only for a breath before he went on, “You’re excellent company, you’re thoughtful and you’re funny sometimes and you make the most amazing pancakes, and you make me feel less alone. I like having you around. And to think that I could’ve had that with Connor, what Bruce had with you before he lost you?”
Rubbing his hand through his hair in agitation, Ollie made a loping half-circuit around the table before coming back to Jason. “I was an idiot,” he says, savagely. “I saw Bruce’s pain and that’s all I thought about. I should’ve thought about all the /life/ that came in front of it. That’s why he was so upset, that’s why he was finding every possible way to fill his time so he couldn’t feel his heart shredding. Not just because you died, but because he knew what a wonderful person you’d /been/.”
Now that was even more of a surprise. Jason watches, stunned into silence as Ollie goes on to explain himself. He bites hard at his lower lip, staying put as Ollie rounds the table. There’s a slight twitch to his fingers and all of a sudden it’s very hard to look at the older man and his eyes feel unpleasantly wet.
When it comes to things like this, words aren’t always Jason’s strong suit, so he doesn’t say anything. He just moves forward, one step hesitant, the next a bit quicker as he approaches Ollie and wraps both arms around him, pulling him in for a hug with almost bruising force.
Affection is something that he’s always had difficulties with. He rarely trusts anyone enough to allow them close enough to try, but at the same time, he’s almost painfully starved for it. His embraces are few and far between, and every time, he does it as though it might be the last time he has a chance to. Arms tight around Ollie’s frame, he presses his face into his shoulder as he tries to swallow the lump that’s formed in his throat. There still aren’t words, because he just can’t think of a thing to say.
When ever his death comes up, it’s always about Bruce. Every time, without fail. And he understands that. Really he does. It’s a terrible thing for a father to lose a son, but no one’s ever had much to say about the son that he lost beyond his anger or his knack for getting himself into trouble.
"Oh," Ollie says. Then it clicks over in his mind and it catches up to what’s happening and what Jason’s doing, and he realizes that physically, his body already understands; his arms are around Jason, one big hand rubbing soothingly up the young man’s back, the other patting his shoulder blade. "Oh, hey, Jason. It’s all right, son. You’re okay. Everything’s okay now."
If Ollie’d been loquacious a moment before, laying it all out for Jason how he felt, all those words have receded now and come back up soft and rounded, comfort words as he holds Jason tight. The kid’s almost shaking, he’s hugging so hard with every muscle in him, and he isn’t saying anything at all, just making that slight gulping noise that every parent recognizes and wants to make better.
So the words stop being structured and instead heap together as Ollie lets them tumble out in a low, steady murmur as he embraces Jason, breathes slow. “It’s okay now,” he says again. “And maybe it won’t always be. But I’m glad you’re here, Jason, and for right now, everything’s gonna be okay.”
Jason’s not crying. Well, not exactly. His breath is doing that unpleasant almost hiccuping thing and his face feels warm, but the tears aren’t running down his face. But that’s probably mostly because he’s got it pressed up against Ollie’s shoulder.
And this is why the Joker’s little tease had him so panicked. Because Ollie’s managed to work his way in close and chip away at the walls he’s tried so hard to keep up. He’s not Jason’s father, not even his step-father, but he’s been there when he’s needed someone—when Bruce hasn’t been there.
The thought of losing him is more terrifying than the clown.
He wants to insist that he’s fine, but if he tries to talk, the shakiness of his voice is going to prove otherwise. Instead, he takes a few long breaths, trying to force himself calm. “Jus’ need a sec,” he manages to mumble. In a moment, he’ll get a grip on himself again, but he just needs to hold onto Ollie a little longer then he’ll be fine.
"You take all the time you need."
The truth is, Ollie never knew that much about Jason. Nobody had, outside of Bruce and Dick and Alfred, really; the boy had been in the Robin costume a painfully brief amount of time, and the idea of a sidekick mantle being passed was still new enough that the rest of the League, Bruce’s friends and colleagues, hadn’t sure how to interact with Jason. They’d all known Dick, watched him grow up.
And then they never got a chance to know Jason.
Sure, Ollie’d gotten bits and pieces over the years, some from Dick and most from Bruce. Jagged memories that sounded like confessions. Not enough to create a coherent picture of a living creature, and he lifts one hand to cup the base of Jason’s skull. His hair’s dark, slightly cold, and the feel of those strands tickling Ollie’s palm make the young man so much more solid and real than the tragically murdered Robin had ever been.
Four years with Bruce hadn’t felt short to Jason, but that’s probably because they were the four best years of his life. He wanted to hold onto them, but at the same time, he almost wanted to forget them, because it made everything else so much more painful. Things were better now, better than they had been in a long time, but there was still a feeling that he would never get back that feeling that he’d had staying with Bruce.
The feel of Ollie’s hand on his hair helped him slow his breathing, getting it back under control. Though he can feel himself calming, there’s a part of him, that scared lonely child that he never really stopped being, that doesn’t want to let go.
Eyes dry, he gives Ollie one final squeeze before pulling away, gaze drifting to the floor almost sheepishly. “Thanks,” he says softly, idly toying with the watch he still has on, though that’s not what the gratitude in his voice is for.
"You uh—you got coffee anywhere here? Could use some caffeine." Dealing with emotions isn’t really Jason’s forte, so veering off into more casual territory seems like the best idea.
"Do we have coffee!!" Ollie proclaims, slightly too cheerfully. He doesn’t want Jason to feel embarrassed about his spate of emotional behaviour, so he points at a couple of the fancy travel coffee mugs on the table. "Grab one’a those and we’ll get you coffee the likes of which you’ve never /seen/, padawan."
This is not hyperbole. When Ollie takes Jason down to the employee coffee bar — separate from the employee cafeteria, it seems — he’s faced with a dizzying array of varieties and forms in which to get his coffee, all manner of flavours and strengths. “You can even get plain ol’ boring drip coffee if you want it,” Ollie promises, gesturing towards a bank of self-serve coffee carafes, each with a sheet of information about the type of coffee contained within. “I’m gonna get a pumpkin spice latte. Nothing better than drinking pumpkin pie for the three months it’s allowed.”
As Ollie moves over to the barista station, an employee comes up near Jason. “The great Green Arrow,” he says bitterly. “You’d better be careful, whoever you are, now that he’s come clean for the sake of his own conscience and put the rest of us in danger.” The man leans in a little, his eyes narrowed. “You ever heard of the Joker? He’s this fruitcake from Gotham City, out East? They’re overrun with insane criminals from what I’ve heard, and this Joker is the worst one. And now our intrepid leader,” he jerks his chin in Ollie’s direction, “is Twitter friends with this Joker. Mark my words, we’ll all be targets.”
At least Ollie picks up on his slight discomfort easily enough. It’s not exactly that he’s embarrassed, but the openness and vulnerability thing isn’t really something that he finds all that easy to deal with. He does as instructed and grabs a travel mug before following along after him.
The amount of coffee actually seems a little ridiculous, so Jason just has to stand there for a second to take it all in. Why hasn’t he come to Ollie’s office before? “You’ve been holding out on me, Jolly Green,” he says, shaking his head, a faint smile creeping back onto his face.
When the employee approaches him, Jason goes still, almost as if expecting an attack. His eyebrows rise as he stares at the man and considers his options. There’s an incredibly strong urge to reveal to the hapless employee just who he is and just how well he knows that particular brand of fruitcake. And there’s another very tempting desire to simply punch the man in the face and simply walk away. Instead, he flashes the man a charming smile, the kind he’d perfected for the Wayne galas years before.”Oh goodness gracious, I had no idea. And you wanna know why I didn’t? Cause I don’t let G. Gordon write all the little thoughts that buzz around my head.” He speaks carefully, calmly, the smile never leaving his face.
"And I also know that no hero in their right mind would be any kind of friend with the Joker, and if you stopped thinking about anyone but yourself, you’d realize that someone like the Joker doesn’t care about little people like you and me. He only targets us if it’s to hurt someone bigger, and I’m gonna guess that you’re not really all that important to Mister Queen, so you’re probably safe. You’re safe to go home and whine and moan about how terrible superheroes are when Mister Queen’s company is the reason you’ve got a job, when he goes out on patrol almost every night to make sure your city doesn’t get destroyed, when he risks his life every fucking day for you. He does that so you can be alive to trash him behind his back the next day." Jason’s smile is still warm, though his eyes are icy cold as he pats the man on the shoulder.
"Have a nice day," he says and turns to go find the coffee with the highest amount of caffeine.
TXT: I got no idea. Don’t worry yourself about it, Quickdraw, he’s just entertaining himself.
After he sends this text, Ollie contemplates for a while, walking around the conference room as employees chat and filter out, the morning meeting over. By the time there’s only two of them left, Ollie’s come to a decision and sends another couple of texts to Jason. No point letting the kid stay by himself fretting.
TXT: Wanna come down to the office? Some Swiss water reps came in and brought a ton of watches and water bottles and backpacks and shit to give us.
TXT: Seriously they brought WATCHES and chocolate, they might as well have brought cheese and Nazi gold to complete the stereotype
[text]: dont worry? you do know my history with the guy right?
It’s kind of physically impossible for him not to worry. Jason’s been pacing the penthouse all morning, stomach tied in knots, checking his phone every five seconds to see if Ollie responded.
[text]: sure i guess
[text]: if theres any security guards who ask who i am what should i tell them? cause i dont think theyll find it as entertaining as the paparazzi do when i say im your pool boy
TXT: You’ve been saying WHAT???!?!?
TXT: No wonder Lex Luthor sent me those swimming trunks and a bottle of Hawaiian Tropic and that weird note
Ollie waves away an employee who gives him an interested look as he’s snickering at Jason’s text and replies:
TXT: They’ll let you in. They know that any mopey boy teenagers who show up here belong to me.
[text]: i figured they wouldnt buy me being your personal assistant and that was the first thing that popped into my head
[text]: still not actually sure if you even own a pool
He’s already feeling a bit more calm thanks to the texts, though the panic is definitely still bubbling away underneath as he heads out of the building. Though Jason doesn’t know Star as well as Gotham, he’s familiarized himself with the important locations.
[text]: alright good
[text]: and im not mopey im a giant ball of issues and rage get it right jolly green
ENC TXT: Yeah yeah, I’ve read the Bat-Manual for Bat-Care of your Bat-Creatures, I know what the preferred terminology is
TXT: I only just realized that access to the pool is in the main half of the double penthouse!! IF you ever feel like a dip just come on through from your side.
TXT: It could use some skimming btw
It had taken about fifteen minutes before Ollie could get back to Jason, and not more that five minutes after the last text, his assistant Candy buzzes in to Ollie’s office. “Your visitor is here,” her voice proclaims, tinny over the old-fashioned intercom that Ollie insisted on installing.
"Send him in!" Ollie intercoms back, booming over the system. Out in the foyer, Candy shakes her head at the intercom and gestures at Ollie’s door with a pen. "You heard him," she tells Jason, and adds with a smirk, "…I think the whole building heard him."
By the time Jason gets the texts, he’s practically at the office, so he only bothers responding to one.
[text]: i hope you know that i charge pure twig when it comes to skimming
He tucks his phone away and heads inside, meandering over to the main desk and trying to make it look as though he’s less out of place than he feels. At least the assistant seems nice. A very slight wince crosses his face when Ollie’s voice seems to rattle the intercom.
"Bet if really works at it, he can get the whole city to hear next time," he replies before heading through the door. Stopping just inside, he glances about the office, posture casual even as he takes in every little detail.
It’s a huge office, big and bright and airy with tons of glass and an incredible view of the city; everything shows the design and branding of Ollie’s mean green empire, sustainability with more than a dash of eccentric ostentatiousness. Clearly, the usual earth tones of eco-friendliness aren’t in Ollie’s palette, since his office is splashed with vibrant jewel-toned colour everywhere.
He rises from his big orange desk chair and comes around to pat Jason’s shoulder, remembering just in time to keep the physical contact brief and non-invasive. "Jay! You made it here in good time, better than I do. But then I like to take the scenic route. Riding the seabus clears my head, all the salt air and that jive.” Ollie gestures around at the dizzying array of drinks and snacks in a cold case. “Wanna grab something as we head over to view the swag? I could use one of those mango juices, myself.”
The office is pretty much exactly what Jason expects after staying in the penthouse, though it almost seems to resemble Ollie more than his living quarters do. Of course, with the latest cause for panic still fresh in his mind, he finds himself eyeing all the glass warily. While the city view is nice, it leaves quite the big opening.
It’s only because of how long he’s been around Ollie that the touch to his shoulder doesn’t make him twitch. “Didn’t really feel like wandering around, still kinda learning how to get where,” he says, finally pulling his eyes away from the office to focus on Ollie. “Sure, always like free food.” He moves over to the case and grabs a drink at random. Glancing back over his shoulder at Ollie, he eyes him critically. “You sure you’re okay?” Because he doesn’t understand how he can be.
It’s on the tip of Ollie’s tongue to say ‘yeah, fine, of course’, but the words catch and trip, sinking back into his mouth. “No. Not exactly,” he tells Jason instead. “But I knew there’d be repercussions to going public as Green Arrow, and consequences to working in Gotham. I’ve never had much of a rogues’ gallery — maybe my gang doesn’t have the attention span or the psychosis for it — but villains over Gothamside? They seem to take special offense to anybody but the Batclan taking them on.” He reaches past Jason to grab a bottle of mango juice from the case, shaking it more than it really needs shaking.
"So I’m not putting any personal stock in the Joker calling me out in public. He’s probably pissed in general that I was there poking my nose into his jolly time baiting B and hunting the Hood—" Ollie throws Jason’s ID out as if the Red Hood really is a separate person from Jason, face unchanging; the habit of safeguarding their identities hasn’t broken yet, "—and wants to rattle me. I doubt it’s a serious threat, even if it’s creepy as all hell." He eyes Jason a bit more closely. "You worried that he might be getting closer to you again? Targeting you through me?"
Even if Ollie had said he was fine, Jason wouldn’t have believed it. At least he’s taking it seriously. “It’s even more than that with him. He’ll do anything he can think of to get to Batman.” And even not knowing about Bruce’s identity, targeting one of Batman’s known allies is still definitely something the Joker would do without batting an eye.
Jason looks at him a little sharply and lightly punches his shoulder. “No, dumbass, I’m worried about you. He doesn’t know or care where I am unless it’s going to help him get to Batman. I’m probably not even on his radar, but you are and he knows exactly where to find you now.” Though he’s not going to berate Ollie for revealing his identity—honestly he sometimes wishes he could do the same—it has made him a lot easier to track down.
"Every threat from him should be taken seriously, Ollie. Even if this is just something to try to catch Batman’s attention, if he gets it into his deranged head that going after you is good for his endgame, he’ll do it. Hell, he might even just come after you for shits and giggles." He pauses, realizing that his voice has been rising, getting more and more panicked. Looking away, he takes a breath, trying to calm himself.
Ollie looks, of all things, faintly embarrassed by Jason’s impassioned plea. Not because of the emotion behind it (emotion was never anything to scare off any of the Arrowclan), but because Jason’s worried about him. “There, there,” he says gruffly, tapping the bottle against the side of his leg. “Don’t you be concerned about that, Jason. I’ve fought Yellow Lanterns and literal demons and managed to make it through. I know the Joker’s nothing to laugh off, but there’s no reason to worry about me.”
Ushering Jason out of his office, Ollie continues as they head the short way down the hall to the conference room, “I’ve kinda got a feel for what’s empty threats and what’s something to ping the Spidey-senses, and this, what he’s doing out in public? It’s definitely just scare tactics. Nothing’ll come of it, honest to god. If anything, he’s hoping that B will focus on that and not pay attention to Gotham, which is the last thing anybody wants.” A pause. “Me included. But if it makes you feel better, I made sure B saw the tweets, and I don’t think he’s falling for it either.”
They take a turn into the conference room and Ollie thankfully announces, “So how ‘bout a watch? How ‘bout two??” He scrutinizes Jason’s body language carefully, trying to gauge just how rattled the young man is about this. The Joker getting up in Ollie’s face has to be hitting close to home, literally.
Defiant look on his face, Jason crosses his arms over his chest. Maybe it’s just because he has an inherent need to be contrary, but nothing Ollie says is going to make him worry any less. Of course, when it comes to the Joker, he probably couldn’t stop being concerned even if he wanted to. “Who you’ve fought before doesn’t make any difference to who you’re dealing with now,” he says with a little huff, but he lets Ollie lead him along out of the office.
Hands shoved in his pockets, he just makes vague noises in response to the reassurances. There’s a part of him that knows Ollie’s probably right, but it’s pretty much impossible for him to be calm about this. “Not really.” A slight frown crosses his face. “Been trying to talk B into taking a break, then this shit happens,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. Even if Bruce didn’t take the bait, there’s a pretty good chance this is just going to make the patrols double, make him tire himself out even more.
His eyes drift over the watches and he shrugs, hands back in his pockets again, shoulders tense. “Don’t really ever wear anything nice enough to go with ‘em.”
"Ahhhhh, that’s nonsense. You can wear a really great watch with a tee-shirt and jeans and it’ll make you look like a million bucks in nickels and dimes, kiddo." Ollie pushes through the assortment, gleaming and proud in their little display cases, and picks up something with half its works exposed and red detailing. “Now, lookit this little number. Not that you have any trouble picking up interested parties, but there’s nothing sexy like a badass watch to look effortlessly put-together. Trust me, I’m a king at looking effortlessly sexy.” He gives Jason a cocky grin.
Unstrapping the watch from its case, Ollie holds it out to Jason and asks, aiming for unconcerned and nonchalant, “…so you think maybe B needs somebody to check up on him and take the pressure off a little?”
When Ollie’s really trying to snowball somebody, he’s good at keeping a poker face. For a certain amount of time. With someone like Jason, someone he feels at ease with, it’s much harder for him to hide what he’s really feeling; it’s an unnatural state. So the alarm ringing the question starts to mirror Jason’s, even though Ollie’s aiming to keep it under control.
"Uh huh." Despite the very strong urge to roll his eyes, he gives the watch Ollie points out a once over before shrugging. "Guess it’s alright. Looking sexy isn’t really one of my priorities." Most of the time, his outfit of choice is whatever happens to be clean. Once in a while, if he’s feeling fancy, he’ll comb his hair, but that’s about the extent of the effort he usually puts into his appearance.
Still, he takes the watch when offered, examining it more close before trying it on. It doesn’t exactly look bad, but he still doesn’t see the point. Letting out a breath, he nods. “Yeah, he does.” His eyes stay fixed on the watch. Despite the level of comfort he feels with Ollie, it’s still easy to talk to an inanimate object than someone’s face.
"Tried talking to him, felt like I was actually getting through for once, but… with this I’m pretty damn sure he’s gonna forget the whole thing ever happened." It takes a tremendous amount of effort for him to look up to try to meet Ollie’s eyes. "Guessing you know how he gets with shit like this. The only endgame he’s got planned is catching the Joker, and he’s gonna work himself to death to do it if he has to."
When Jason explains this, manages to bring his eyes up to look at Ollie when he says this, Ollie takes a long, deep breath.
By the time he lets it all out, he’s come to a decision. “Okay,” he says, simply, letting the word encompass just how worried Jason is about this and the need to do something. “Okay. I’ll take care of it.” He lowers his bearded chin a little, fixing Jason with an intent gaze. “You got that? I won’t tell you not to worry, ‘cause I know you will — and with good reason, too — but I promise you, I’ll handle it.”
The building is well-soundproofed, and there’s only the quiet hum of the lights and the air conditioning in the conference room apart from what noise Jason and Ollie make. But Ollie stays quiet, lets that hum fill up the space they’re in to add weight to his statement. Jason’s hasn’t been staying with him that long, in the big picture of things, but Ollie’s grown fond of the legendary prodigal son, the lost and tragic baby bird. “You know,” he says in a measured voice, “I’m glad we had this opportunity to get to know each other. Even with all the craziness going around. It makes some things make more sense.”
"Got it." Honestly, Jason’s not sure Ollie’s luck will with Bruce will be any better, but having someone else try can’t hurt. Probably. Of course, with Bruce it seems like there’s always a chance for things to simply go one getting worse. "Just take care of him, okay?" Because Bruce has made it pretty clear that Jason’s not allowed to do that unless he’s basically bleeding to death.
His expression shifts, brows knitting together as it turns quizzical and he tips his head to one side. “What kinda things?” he asks, though he’s not entirely sure he wants the answer to that question. In his experience, people learning more about him generally doesn’t make things end well for him. Even with the time he’s stayed at Ollie’s, Jason’s still sure that at any moment it might all turn on him, that the older man will suddenly grow tired of his company.
Everyone always does.
"It’s …" Ollie looks down at the table, spread with all sorts of luxe items from the Swiss representatives. He glances up at Jason, who’s holding himself a little bit away from the table with a reserve caught somewhere between discomfort and high alert. It’s a posture Ollie knows well. He’s seen it on Roy before, once Ollie’d realized that being the ward of a moneyed white guy didn’t mean anything when it came to the suspicions of people who’d always see Roy as a potential criminal.
"When you died," Ollie began instead, "Bruce was doing something for me. Even in the middle of his grief, he remembered that he’d made me a promise about /my/ son, and he kept working on it. Maybe it was therapy of a kind. I don’t know. But when he told he he’d found my son — Connor — told me Connor was in the same ashram where I’d gone, that had been part of me becoming Green Arrow, I decided not to go get Connor." Ollie dashed his palm against his chin. “I didn’t want to ever go through what Bruce was going through. I didn’t want to lose a son like that, seeing how it was tearing him inside out and all he could do was just go on. As if everything hadn’t changed.” He shook his head, and said, softer, “I’m not that kind of man. I’m too selfish for that. I didn’t go get Connor.”
Jason being tense around Ollie is something that’s become rarer and rarer, even now it’s due to the clown more than anything else. It’s not what he expects to hear. Slowly he reaches out to drum his fingers on the edge of the table. “I don’t know if it would’ve been therapy, more… something to focus on. He’s always been pretty good at compartmentalizing. It probably gave him something else to focus on, something to keep him going.”
Eyes going back to Ollie, he pauses for a moment. “Pretty sure I read somewhere that it’s one of the worst things when a parent has to bury their kid. Maybe it was a little selfish, but being afraid of that… I’m pretty damn sure it’s a normal thing. People die and the world keeps on going and it fucking sucks, but that’s just how it works. And… if people come back, it seems like the world kept going too far and there’s no room to fit back into it,” he says slowly, looking away once more, his eyes a little distant.
"Did you ever tell Connor why you didn’t go get him? I think he’d get it. It’s hard to let people in if the whole time you just think you’re gonna lose ‘em." He’s well aware of the fact given that’s why he holds most people an arm’s length away.
"He’d get it." Of that, Ollie has no doubt. "Connor’s a Buddhist, forgiveness is kinda his thing. But that’s not the point." Ollie put his hand down on the table. "The point is that I was wrong. I’m no stranger to making the wrong decision, but that one? That one, Jason, I was confident in. Because, like you say, I didn’t want to bury a child, and I didn’t want to bring another kid into this job only to lose him the way Bruce lost you. It seemed like the sensible thing to do, the only decision to make, but I was /wrong/."
Ollie thumped the table, his hand in a fist that he’d curled without realizing it. “My point is,” he said, voice raising, “is that you’re a great kid. You’re fucking great. You staying with me has been — look, Jason, not to put pressure on you in any way, but I’ve been going through a lot of shit for the past month or so. Nothing’s been good except that you’re there.” Ollie stopped, but only for a breath before he went on, “You’re excellent company, you’re thoughtful and you’re funny sometimes and you make the most amazing pancakes, and you make me feel less alone. I like having you around. And to think that I could’ve had that with Connor, what Bruce had with you before he lost you?”
Rubbing his hand through his hair in agitation, Ollie made a loping half-circuit around the table before coming back to Jason. “I was an idiot,” he says, savagely. “I saw Bruce’s pain and that’s all I thought about. I should’ve thought about all the /life/ that came in front of it. That’s why he was so upset, that’s why he was finding every possible way to fill his time so he couldn’t feel his heart shredding. Not just because you died, but because he knew what a wonderful person you’d /been/.”
Now that was even more of a surprise. Jason watches, stunned into silence as Ollie goes on to explain himself. He bites hard at his lower lip, staying put as Ollie rounds the table. There’s a slight twitch to his fingers and all of a sudden it’s very hard to look at the older man and his eyes feel unpleasantly wet.
When it comes to things like this, words aren’t always Jason’s strong suit, so he doesn’t say anything. He just moves forward, one step hesitant, the next a bit quicker as he approaches Ollie and wraps both arms around him, pulling him in for a hug with almost bruising force.
Affection is something that he’s always had difficulties with. He rarely trusts anyone enough to allow them close enough to try, but at the same time, he’s almost painfully starved for it. His embraces are few and far between, and every time, he does it as though it might be the last time he has a chance to. Arms tight around Ollie’s frame, he presses his face into his shoulder as he tries to swallow the lump that’s formed in his throat. There still aren’t words, because he just can’t think of a thing to say.
When ever his death comes up, it’s always about Bruce. Every time, without fail. And he understands that. Really he does. It’s a terrible thing for a father to lose a son, but no one’s ever had much to say about the son that he lost beyond his anger or his knack for getting himself into trouble.
"Oh," Ollie says. Then it clicks over in his mind and it catches up to what’s happening and what Jason’s doing, and he realizes that physically, his body already understands; his arms are around Jason, one big hand rubbing soothingly up the young man’s back, the other patting his shoulder blade. "Oh, hey, Jason. It’s all right, son. You’re okay. Everything’s okay now."
If Ollie’d been loquacious a moment before, laying it all out for Jason how he felt, all those words have receded now and come back up soft and rounded, comfort words as he holds Jason tight. The kid’s almost shaking, he’s hugging so hard with every muscle in him, and he isn’t saying anything at all, just making that slight gulping noise that every parent recognizes and wants to make better.
So the words stop being structured and instead heap together as Ollie lets them tumble out in a low, steady murmur as he embraces Jason, breathes slow. “It’s okay now,” he says again. “And maybe it won’t always be. But I’m glad you’re here, Jason, and for right now, everything’s gonna be okay.”
Jason’s not crying. Well, not exactly. His breath is doing that unpleasant almost hiccuping thing and his face feels warm, but the tears aren’t running down his face. But that’s probably mostly because he’s got it pressed up against Ollie’s shoulder.
And this is why the Joker’s little tease had him so panicked. Because Ollie’s managed to work his way in close and chip away at the walls he’s tried so hard to keep up. He’s not Jason’s father, not even his step-father, but he’s been there when he’s needed someone—when Bruce hasn’t been there.
The thought of losing him is more terrifying than the clown.
He wants to insist that he’s fine, but if he tries to talk, the shakiness of his voice is going to prove otherwise. Instead, he takes a few long breaths, trying to force himself calm. “Jus’ need a sec,” he manages to mumble. In a moment, he’ll get a grip on himself again, but he just needs to hold onto Ollie a little longer then he’ll be fine.
"You take all the time you need."
The truth is, Ollie never knew that much about Jason. Nobody had, outside of Bruce and Dick and Alfred, really; the boy had been in the Robin costume a painfully brief amount of time, and the idea of a sidekick mantle being passed was still new enough that the rest of the League, Bruce’s friends and colleagues, hadn’t sure how to interact with Jason. They’d all known Dick, watched him grow up.
And then they never got a chance to know Jason.
Sure, Ollie’d gotten bits and pieces over the years, some from Dick and most from Bruce. Jagged memories that sounded like confessions. Not enough to create a coherent picture of a living creature, and he lifts one hand to cup the base of Jason’s skull. His hair’s dark, slightly cold, and the feel of those strands tickling Ollie’s palm make the young man so much more solid and real than the tragically murdered Robin had ever been.
Four years with Bruce hadn’t felt short to Jason, but that’s probably because they were the four best years of his life. He wanted to hold onto them, but at the same time, he almost wanted to forget them, because it made everything else so much more painful. Things were better now, better than they had been in a long time, but there was still a feeling that he would never get back that feeling that he’d had staying with Bruce.
The feel of Ollie’s hand on his hair helped him slow his breathing, getting it back under control. Though he can feel himself calming, there’s a part of him, that scared lonely child that he never really stopped being, that doesn’t want to let go.
Eyes dry, he gives Ollie one final squeeze before pulling away, gaze drifting to the floor almost sheepishly. “Thanks,” he says softly, idly toying with the watch he still has on, though that’s not what the gratitude in his voice is for.
"You uh—you got coffee anywhere here? Could use some caffeine." Dealing with emotions isn’t really Jason’s forte, so veering off into more casual territory seems like the best idea.
"Do we have coffee!!" Ollie proclaims, slightly too cheerfully. He doesn’t want Jason to feel embarrassed about his spate of emotional behaviour, so he points at a couple of the fancy travel coffee mugs on the table. "Grab one’a those and we’ll get you coffee the likes of which you’ve never /seen/, padawan."
This is not hyperbole. When Ollie takes Jason down to the employee coffee bar — separate from the employee cafeteria, it seems — he’s faced with a dizzying array of varieties and forms in which to get his coffee, all manner of flavours and strengths. “You can even get plain ol’ boring drip coffee if you want it,” Ollie promises, gesturing towards a bank of self-serve coffee carafes, each with a sheet of information about the type of coffee contained within. “I’m gonna get a pumpkin spice latte. Nothing better than drinking pumpkin pie for the three months it’s allowed.”
As Ollie moves over to the barista station, an employee comes up near Jason. “The great Green Arrow,” he says bitterly. “You’d better be careful, whoever you are, now that he’s come clean for the sake of his own conscience and put the rest of us in danger.” The man leans in a little, his eyes narrowed. “You ever heard of the Joker? He’s this fruitcake from Gotham City, out East? They’re overrun with insane criminals from what I’ve heard, and this Joker is the worst one. And now our intrepid leader,” he jerks his chin in Ollie’s direction, “is Twitter friends with this Joker. Mark my words, we’ll all be targets.”
At least Ollie picks up on his slight discomfort easily enough. It’s not exactly that he’s embarrassed, but the openness and vulnerability thing isn’t really something that he finds all that easy to deal with. He does as instructed and grabs a travel mug before following along after him.
The amount of coffee actually seems a little ridiculous, so Jason just has to stand there for a second to take it all in. Why hasn’t he come to Ollie’s office before? “You’ve been holding out on me, Jolly Green,” he says, shaking his head, a faint smile creeping back onto his face.
When the employee approaches him, Jason goes still, almost as if expecting an attack. His eyebrows rise as he stares at the man and considers his options. There’s an incredibly strong urge to reveal to the hapless employee just who he is and just how well he knows that particular brand of fruitcake. And there’s another very tempting desire to simply punch the man in the face and simply walk away. Instead, he flashes the man a charming smile, the kind he’d perfected for the Wayne galas years before.”Oh goodness gracious, I had no idea. And you wanna know why I didn’t? Cause I don’t let G. Gordon write all the little thoughts that buzz around my head.” He speaks carefully, calmly, the smile never leaving his face.
"And I also know that no hero in their right mind would be any kind of friend with the Joker, and if you stopped thinking about anyone but yourself, you’d realize that someone like the Joker doesn’t care about little people like you and me. He only targets us if it’s to hurt someone bigger, and I’m gonna guess that you’re not really all that important to Mister Queen, so you’re probably safe. You’re safe to go home and whine and moan about how terrible superheroes are when Mister Queen’s company is the reason you’ve got a job, when he goes out on patrol almost every night to make sure your city doesn’t get destroyed, when he risks his life every fucking day for you. He does that so you can be alive to trash him behind his back the next day." Jason’s smile is still warm, though his eyes are icy cold as he pats the man on the shoulder.
"Have a nice day," he says and turns to go find the coffee with the highest amount of caffeine.