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Jason sits in the sun. He's holding a toy — some little plastic thing, like what used to come in Happy Meals. Dick knows that Bruce would buy him any video game he wanted, but Jason hasn't shown any interest. Instead he sits in the sun on a hot day, the back of his neck burning, and freckles darkening on his nose.
It's weird, having this kid here every time Dick visits. He feels like someone is always waiting for him to misstep, to say the wrong thing. He has, of course. He even made Jason cry once. It wasn't really his fault. The kid is way too sensitive, and Dick doesn't do the whole walking-on-eggshells thing. Jason will toughen up. If Dick doesn't hurt him now, Bruce definitely will later.
"He's been working at that thing all week." Suddenly Bruce is beside him, also looking out the kitchen window to the right of the counter, holding a matching cup of coffee. Dick doesn't like these mugs. The rims are wide and awkward to drink from, but all of his mugs are at his apartment. Alfred had offered to leave a designated space in the cupboard for whatever dishes Dick might like to leave behind and use when he visits, but Dick refused. Dishes belong at home.
"It's one of those ring-toss games," Bruce continues, "with water and springs. He's done it a few times already of course, but he says he's not satisfied with dumb luck, and wants to figure out a strategy."
"Red? With monkeys on it?" Bruce nods, and Dick bristles. "That's mine."
"I thought it might be. He found it in the basement."
"And you didn't think to ask me first?"
Bruce finally looks away from Jason, content in the sun with his ill-gotten goods. "I didn't think you'd mind. It's just some toy from a restaurant."
"McDonald's."
"McDonald's then." Bruce turns back to Jason, his confused expression melting into something so terribly fond that it sets Dick's teeth on edge.
"Whatever." Dick takes a sip of his coffee. It's cold, and sweet, and gross, and he wants to pour it out, but he won't let Bruce drive him away from the window. They watch as Jason gets up, walks about ten feet, and plops down in the shade of a tree. Bruce snorts a laugh, shaking his head.
"One of these days he'll learn to do that before getting sunburned."
Something in Dick finally gives. "You never cared if I got sunburned."
Bruce's stupid confused look is back. "Of course I did."
"Yeah, sure."
Bruce seems to be at a loss for words, and Dick muses on how Bruce is a man of too many words, and too few words, and always at exactly the wrong time. They both return their attention to the yard where Jason is swatting at a bug, and Dick doesn't hope he gets stung by any means, but at least it would distract Bruce and make him go away. And that's what Dick wants, of course. For Bruce to leave him alone. He sips his unpleasant coffee.
"You tan," Bruce says.
"Whatever," Dick says.
Jason is laying in the grass, playing with his stolen toy, unbothered by bugs, or sun, or disappointing not-father figures. Bruce shifts to lean against the counter, facing Dick. "He likes it when you visit, you know."
"Okay."
"I like it, too."
Ha. "Okay."
Bruce clasps him on the shoulder. "I have some calls to make. Will you still be here for lunch?"
Dick shrugs, and nods, and Bruce leaves. Finally. Just like Dick knew he would.