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wraithvault- Rating: T
- Categories: M/M, Gen
- Fandom: DCU
- Relationship: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne
- Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne
- Additional Tags: Ficlet, Fluff, Royalty AU
- Status: Complete
- Wordcount: 1190
- Published on AO3: 2022-03-27
Notes: For BruJay Weekend 2022: Day 1 - Sex Worker!Jason · Royalty AU
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any associated trademarks.
It wasn’t like Jason didn’t vet his clients—he wasn’t fucking stupid. He had the leverage now, the position, security and money that allowed him to reject clients as he pleased, shoving them along to somebody else. He no longer even really needed to do this anymore; theoretically, he had enough to get out. He could move somewhere he won’t run the risk of running into old clients, maybe. Could go somewhere else and have a fresh start.
He didn’t really see the point, though. He was Gotham born and bred, and he wasn’t sorry about that.
So, having established that he wasn’t an idiot, he did go digging before he accepted B as a client. He asked around his usual people, he searched online; he used all the avenues available to him, basically. And nothing really came up. B wasn’t suspicious, and he didn’t have a track record of beating up sex workers, or whatever. So Jason, who’d maybe been a little too interested for a perspective client, had accepted him.
And now here he was.
In a fucking a castle.
(No, it really was an actual, honest-to-god castle.)
He flopped down on the bed, splaying out like a starfish on the comfy covers and the unfairly fluffy pillows. Staring up at the white ceiling, with not a single crack on it, too, he finally turned on his side and stretched out. He was in the middle of the bed, and he yet he couldn’t even reach the bed’s edge with his hand, that was how ridiculous this whole thing was.
He sighed, then sat up. His body was still pleasantly sore and tingly from their night of debauchery, and yeah, he hadn’t fought when B said he wanted to take him home. It had been... okay, he had been maybe just a little interested to know what kind of place B lived in. And they’d done stuff in the car the whole way over, too, so by the time they’d arrived, he hadn’t cared that it was a castle. He’d just wanted to fuck.
The fucking was good, though. Quite worth it, if no other complications arose as he figured out the way out of here.
He snagged a bathrobe as he walked out of the bedroom, throwing it over himself. Tying it loosely, he sauntered through the long, complicated hallways, absentmindedly eyeing the clearly expensive as fuck decorations and old paintings. At one point, he saw a hint of bookshelf peeking through a doorway and his fingers itched. But he kept control, throwing forlorn looks at it as he left it behind.
It took him awhile to see someone else, and when he did, he sped up. “Hey,” he called to the old man, probably a butler, walking that properly and all. “Hey, where’s B?” he asked, as the old man turned to him.
“Master Bruce is collecting breakfast for you,” the old man said. He didn’t appear perturbed at all that Jason was walking around with half his chest out, the bathrobe way too loose.
Jason blinked. “For me?” he asked, pointing at himself.
“Yes,” the old man said. “I’ll lead you to Master Bruce’s favorite terrace; it’s the best place to eat breakfast on a beautiful day like this.”
“Oh,” Jason blinked again. He switched which foot he was leaning his weight on, pondering if he should stay or just... skedaddle before he got pulled into whatever this was supposed to be. But—breakfast? He was fucking hungry. So he finally nodded, “Yeah, sure, breakfast.”
The old man looked at him with a disturbingly clear gaze for a moment, then smiled softly and began to walk. Jason, shrugging, followed him.
He was lead part of the way back from whence he’d come, but then they abruptly veered in another direction and the map he was drawing of this place in his head suddenly got some new sections. It was a pretty long walk, all things considered, too, but this was a castle. Castles were just all too big to make sense, so he’d be magnanimous and not complain about it.
At the castle, Jason flopped down on the first chair he found, then winced when his body disagreed with that motion. He glanced out at the garden the terrace overlooked as the old man vanished somewhere, and then he looked up at the empty, blue sky. It was plenty late in the morning, almost midday, and he felt sleep still clinging to his bones. He sank into the chair as time passed, basking in the bright sunlight.
He heard the footsteps first, then felt somebody approaching. Eyes opening, he stretched his neck out, displaying the hickeys in the process, and glanced over his equally mangled shoulder. B was carrying a tray, and looked at him with uncertainty for the barest seconds before he stepped closer.
“You met Alfred?” was what B eventually ended up saying, after he’d put the tray down and sat down on the chair beside Jason.
Jason rose an eyebrow. “You mean the old butler guy?”
“Yes,” Bruce nodded. He looked Jason over from head-to-toe, eyes lingering on the many marks he’d made, and then asked, “Did the bath help?”
Jason laughed, almost snorting. He picked up a cup of steaming coffee, taking a large sip and sighing as it went down his throat. He smacked his lips and finally deigned to answer B. “It was lovely,” he said, raising a judgmental eyebrow. He eyed B’s tense frame, the way he sat on the edge of the seat. Sighing, he rolled his eyes and asked, “Are you going to die of awkwardness now?”
B tensed momentarily, then seemed to relax all at once. He dragged a hand through his hair, and slumped against the chair. “No,” he said, beginning to smile. His eyes were kinder when he smiled, Jason noted.
Still, he couldn’t not add, “Even though you’re a king who paid for sex?”
Bruce Wayne’s, King of Gotham, eyes widened. He opened his mouth, closed it, and frowned. Finally, he said, “So you know.” Jason just snorted, rolling his eyes again. He wasn’t stupid, and he did actually have some good contacts. More importantly, Bruce’s face was always in the gossip mags; Jason liked reading those for the melodrama, sometimes. So obviously, he would recognize his own king.
Bruce was silent for a second, then he grimaced vaguely and said, “I apologize for trying to deceive you.”
Jason sipped at his coffee again, dragging out the time and visibly making B uncomfortable. Then, he obnoxiously smacked his lips and stretched out his body, drawing B’s eyes exactly where he wanted them. Cracking his neck, he grinned. “Wanna go again?”
Bruce stilled, eyes darkening, and said, “I assume you’re doubling your fee.”
“Oh, baby... I'm quadrupling it,” Jason drawled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. B’s answering huff was soft, too, so he called it a win. And really, this seemed like a pretty good deal to him. He was sure he could get lots of more out of B before the man came to his senses and really... why not?
