Chapter 20: Appearances

Despite having to pause for several minutes every time they delivered to members of the underworld, Peter and Jason handled more orders in one night than the New Yorker had on his own during his whole two weeks working for the pizzeria. The motorcycle was a lot faster than he could ever hope to be while still looking like an ordinary, but very fit, human.

He didn't feel completely useless, though. Every group of street criminals they had approached had reacted in the same tense way, pulling weapons out once he told them he had brought someone with him. Somehow, his coworker always managed to de-escalate the situation before any shot was fired. He wasn't particularly tactful but he acted and looked like he belonged there, on the streets of Gotham. He was at ease and his confidence affected everyone around him.

Still, he got a lot of suspicious glares every single time he rolled into the delivery spot. His frame was intimidating to Peter, who could probably take him out with both hands tied behind his back if he really tried to. It must be even more impressive to someone who couldn't rely on super strength to fight. Without him there to introduce his new coworker, the situation would likely turn sour very quickly.

But then, once the situation was explained, every thug they encountered accepted it easily. Surely, once they were done with introductions, there wouldn't be much use in him going out to deliver at night. He couldn't compete with a bike.

Other than a few words every time they arrived at a new delivery area, the two of them were mostly silent, the engine covering up any exchange they could have. Peter appreciated it, not because he didn't want to learn more about Jason, who had been nothing but nice to him so far, but because he really had no idea what to say. He never interacted with someone like the older boy before, he didn't know how to act around him.

The young man looked like he liked sports. The only sports he himself was into were parkour, gymnastics and-not that he'd ever admit it to a guy like his coworker- ballet dancing, which he had studied as a kid. Worse than that, he didn't know anything about the teams in this world. He could only pray that he wouldn't be forced to talk about it and reveal his lack of knowledge.

Either way, even if he had wanted to make small talk, the motorcycle and the wind combined were too loud for them to exchange anything other than yells. Of course, Peter was easily able to distinguish between sounds, but by now he was pretty convinced that the new guy was not a meta. If he was, it wasn't a type that affected his body in any way he could notice.

Even Ivy had given out a strange aura with how plants acted around her, and he knew that he could look quite uncanny when he truly let loose powers wise. There was nothing of that sort there. Jason smelled, looked and sounded like a regular human, albeit one who was, at his core, from Gotham.

Like many civilians in the dark city, there was an undercurrent of blood and gunpowder to his scent. Violence was everywhere in the streets, and it was only ramping up, it seemed like even delivery boys were affected by it.

The Clocktower's bells had just rang midnight when they wrapped up their last route. Marco had them stick to North Gotham, which Peter knew a lot better than the rest of town. It was only a short drive to the pizzeria from their last drop point and, soon, they were in front of the restaurant.

The light was on as usual, the only thing cutting through the darkness of the street. 

Their boss was waiting inside of the main room, smoking a custom rolled cigarette and reading something on his phone. He looked up as Peter, who had wasted no time jumping off the bike, making sure to grimace as he landed, pushed the door open.

"Anybody shoot at you?" The man asked, smothering the fire on a dark ashtray. He didn't look particularly concerned about their safety, which was more than understandable. Peter could punch through walls, which he was aware of, and Jason had a small arsenal on him at all times. If the guy could use half of the weapons he carried properly, he was very dangerous indeed.

"No." He replied, handing Marco the pizza bag. "I went ahead."

"Smart choice." His boss nodded.

As they were speaking, the new driver had finished securing his motorcycle and joined them, hands in his pockets. For some reason, he looked extremely surprised when they were handed their pay in cash, as if he hadn't actually expected to be payed. He stared at the bills in his hand for a few seconds in disbelief before putting them away.

"You actually pay, uh." Jason whistled, which made Marco's eyebrow twitch and his teeth grit.

"Of fucking course I pay, you brat." The man snapped, glaring at the teen.

"Can't blame me, old man." Peter's older coworker replied, sounding just as annoyed now that his surprise was gone. Definitely not a fan of authority. "This is Gotham."

The two of them exchanged glares for a while before, abruptly, Jason nodded and held out his hand. To Peter's surprise the two men, who had looked about to jump at each other's throat a second prior, exchanged a firm handshake.

"Thank you. I wasn't actually expecting this to be legit." Jason said with a shrug. "Guess I got lucky."

"What did you think I had him deliver drugs or something?" Marco rolled his eyes, pointing at Peter, who was trying his best to fade into the background.

"Yeah." The young man nodded. "Pretty much. This is better though, I guess. Is the room still free?"

Wait… so he was going to be moving in next to Peter? Why would he even need a place to stay if he could afford a bike, gas and weapons? This was all extremely confusing.

"It is." Marco grumbled, picking up the GPS from the table. "You can go in tonight as long as you pay for it first thing in the morning."

Jason nodded, arms now crossed. He looked pensive and still vaguely surprised, although his shoulders and body were relaxed.

Peter, who was feeling extremely awkward and did not want them to get into an argument again, decided to pipe in, eager to get the two men away from each other:

"I can show you where it is. I live there too."

That earned him another surprised look, Jason obviously not expecting people in Gotham to be so helpful. The older teen frowned slightly, replying:

"I need to grab some stuff first." He drawled out, index tapping on his forearm. "At my old place."

"That's fine." Peter nodded. "I can help you carry it."

Marco's glare reminded him that he was supposed to be injured, something he was forgetting quickly now that he wanted to be helpful. He just really hoped he could get the new guy to like him, especially if they were going to become neighbors.

Them becoming friends would be very unlikely, with how different Jason was from him but, maybe being helpful would help with that. He had to try, at least. Not having anyone to hang out with was weighing on him more and more every day.

"I…" For the first time since they met, the older boy looked openly conflicted, brows furrowed and finger tapping his skin faster. "… okay, sure. You can come."

Their boss nodded at that, visibly pleased at how things were turning out. Apparently, them getting along was something he wanted to happen. Survival by the numbers perhaps?

They were shooed out shortly after that exchange, Peter having to wait for the bike's chains to be unlocked before jumping on. He stayed quiet, hands shoved in his pockets, watching Jason step out and rummage through the large amount of keys he seemed to have on himself at all times.

It would have been more uncomfortable without his new clothes but, thanks to them, only his face and legs felt the bitter cold. The snow had stopped falling once again, but the wind was ever present so close to the coast. He hoped spring would come early, so that he wouldn't have to worry about dressing warmly anymore.

It only took Jason a few dozen seconds to undo the complicated layer of chains and locks he had wrapped around his motorcycle, an impressive feat. He stored the large bundle into a compartment on the back of the vehicle, which Peter hadn't noticed earlier, as it completely blended in with the dark sheets of metal around it.

"That's pretty cool." He forced out, still trying his best to be friendly. He had no idea if this was a normal motorcycle feature, considering how little he knew about them.

The other boy frowned in confusion at that, turning his head to stare at him. Eventually, he gave him a small smile.

"Thanks." He patted the body of the motorcycle, a grin spreading on his face, making him look much younger than he usually did when frowning or glaring. "She's amazing."

Jason looked genuinely happy to talk about his bike, which made Peter feel like he had won a small battle. Unfortunately, he didn't know anything about motorized vehicles, and his knowledge of engineering was more focused on what would help him out on the field.

Then, maybe asking questions could be a way of befriending the older teen. Every time he asked him something, he had gotten an answer after all.

"How did you get her?" He wondered, blurting out the first question that came to his mind.

To his surprise, his question earned him a roguish smile. Jason's eyes sparkled mischievously as he replied, helmet in hand:

"Stole it from my foster father."

Peter sputtered, taken aback by the brutally honest answer. His coworker's amusement turned into outright laughter at his reaction.

"Okay New York, hop on." Jason smirked. "Don't worry, it wasn't even registered."

"It wasn't?" Peter replied weakly, sitting at the back of the apparently twice illegal vehicle.

"Nah. And it was mine in the first place. I just took it back."

The last of the young man's sentence was muffled by his helmet and the rest of their talk ended abruptly, swallowed by the roar of the motorcycle. They left the street in an instant, driving full speed in the night. If the area wasn't already plagued with nighttime disturbance, the noise would have been rude.

Considering this was North Gotham, nobody minded. They drove past several small gatherings of gang members, each drawing weapons as they approached. They were gone to fast for anyone to shoot at them, thankfully.

Jason was an amazing driver, effortlessly avoiding obstacles and somehow managing not to crash the bike despite going faster than what would be allowed on the highway. Peter was as impressed as he was worried by the reckless display. Sure the guy was skilled but still, accidents could happen.

If he was out as Spider-Man, he would definitely ask him to be more careful. As himself he stayed silent, almost biting off his tongue when the bike swerved right in the middle of a road, straight towards a small stairway and…

They lurched in the air, body slightly lifting off of the machine as gravity lost their grip on the two of them for an instant. Peter's hands kept him anchored safely, blessedly, and he managed to keep from crying out when they landed in a lower street, having flown over at least fifty steps on the way.

Jason was almost completely relaxed, only his legs tense and tight against the frame of the motorcycle, accelerating almost immediately after the wheels touched down, sending them racing through the night once more.

Scratch that, this was more than reckless driving, this was downright illegal. Well, even more illegal than speeding.

Peter's heart was still pounding wildly when they left the road, heading down towards the southern shore of the northern Gotham peninsula. There, bridges lead to the richer districts of the city, but it wasn't where they were headed.

Instead they went down a muddy path, driving slower now as they rode past several homeless camps scattered in between broken down buildings and illegal dumping sites. They kept going under several larger bridges, bike effortlessly switching from pavement to dirt, wheels swallowing the grass and easily going over the few ponds they came across.

That thing was an absolute beast, probably able to drive through or across anything. Even a sports bike wouldn't do this good so no wonder it wasn't registered. This bike was custom made for sure, and likely had not been checked to make sure it complied to regulations. Jason's foster dad must have either found it by a pure stroke of luck or commissioned someone extremely talented to modify it.

Still, Peter was now more focused on where they were going that how they had gotten there in the first place. He thought his coworker had an apartment of his own already, but he couldn't see any buildings around, only a small wasteland in the space between the end of the roads and the shore of the river.

He kept his mouth shut as they got closer to what appeared to be another dumping ground, this time featuring several shipping containers, abandoned to rust out there where no one would pick them up again. They slithered in between the dark metal shapes, patches of sky stretching out in between their sheet walls.

Deep in the container labyrinth, Jason stopped the bike, gesturing for him to get down. Once they were both on foot, the young man pushed his motorcycle towards what appeared to be a homemade box, made out of varying materials, going from wood planks to metallic roof sheets.

It was only when he saw him put a lock on a makeshift door, made of a wood panel and metal bars, that Peter realized this was where Jason lived.

Immediately, everything he thought he knew about the other boy collapsed in his mind. He had assumed that the teen had a lot of money due to his bike and his weaponry but he had been completely wrong. This was looking a lot like his own situation, a few weeks prior.

What about his foster family? Did they throw him out? It felt weird to think that this cool, tall and muscular guy could perhaps be struggling just as much as he also was.

"Don't be weird." Jason warned him, noticing his wide eyes. He looked tense, hands tightened into fists, teeth clenching.

"It's fine." Peter hurriedly answered, blushing. "I slept under roofs for a bit."

Blessedly, the darkness hid his cheeks as they reddened even deeper. His coworker had now turned to look at him up and down, tension bleeding out of his frame.

The young man sighed, rubbing the back of his head with his hand, looking somewhere between tired and exasperated.

"You wanna find a good shelter first, if it ever happens again." Jason eventually grumbled. "I can give you some tips."

"That would… actually be pretty helpful." Peter blinked. He had not expected that reaction but it was much better than the anger he thought he was about to be confronted with.

He wasn't lying, too. He needed advice, they both had a roof over their heads thanks to their job, but it seemed they were in the same unstable situation. If they happened to lose employment for whatever situation, they would end up back on the streets.

"Kay. Well first thing is…" Jason bent down, reaching in his jeans pocket for a small key, which he used on several locks along the side of a large container. This unit was bigger than most of the others, its walls covered with more layers of metallic sheets, nailed down every few inches along their edges. "… You've got to expect people to steal. It's just something that happens, you can't stop it. No matter how much you threaten someone, they can always get desperate enough to still go after you."

Peter nodded, watching him pull out more keys and getting more locks, several of which where hidden behind plaques and sheets.

"So one of the thing you can do is to make sure no one else can get in." Jason turned towards him, holding up a finger. "Now this only apply for people like us, who have some money saved up. Priority is grabbing a safe, secure place."

"Wh-What about the bike?" Peter asked, now utterly fascinated by the older teen's confidence. "Won't people try to steal it?"

"They can. A lot of people tried, that box is easy to get in. You can't start it without the key though, and you can't high jack it."

"You stole it though." He pointed out, frowning.

Jason smiled at the reminder, visibly proud of his criminal accomplishment. He turned away from the metal bar he was dislodging from the many chains keeping it locked to the door and replied:

"It used to be mine. Of course I know how to steal it back."

He tinkered in silence for a good more minute before, finally, the door leading inside the container slid open, letting them in. Peter followed in silence, a bit amazed that his coworker was able to make this kind of shelter. To him, it sounded like it was barely a challenge, he only had needed a bit of money.

But to Peter, ending up on the streets had been so shocking that he hadn't even thought about making his own shelter, let alone customize it in such a way. He had been solely focused on getting the bare essentials: food and respite from the cold. He still remembered how fuzzy his mind had been, how hungry and lost he had felt.

It would have taken Jason days to put all this together, let alone find such a good spot in the first place. He had barely been able to keep himself fed. Of course, his meta abilities had allowed him to find a job easily after that, but that wasn't something he had truly earned.

While he thought about the time it must have taken to set up a camp like this, his coworker was crouching in front of him, busy putting down something that smelled like batteries inside of a small box. As soon as they clicked in, a lightbulb slowly ticked into life. Its glow was weak, tinged more yellow than what Peter was used to. It was an old spiral shaped model, the kind that used less electricity.

The inside of the container was very neat, separated in two rooms by what appeared to be a shower curtain, which had been stitched back together and attached to a long wooden pole, itself nailed to the roof. Behind it, a sleeping back as well as a small pile of books were visible.

The side they were standing on was much larger than what Peter assumed was the bedroom. Two large boxes occupied the end of the container, one appearing to be some kind of camping cooler, the other a professional looking military suitcase. On the wall, several different postcards from different countries around the globe reflected some of the flickering light.

Jason had found a rug, which had been scrubbed many times but still smelled distinctly of blood and dirt to his enhanced senses. It appeared to be the main place he sat at, since it was covered with notebooks, half finished electronics projects and even an old bulky laptop.

Nailed on the walls, a few makeshift shelves held pots and bowls, as well as a few spices. Under it, tucked against the wall next to the cooler, was a camp stove, constituting of a gas bottle and small metallic area to put down a pan.

For some reason, on top of the smell of the rug, Peter could detect a strong fuel scent, coming from under it. A hidden compartment? It sure smelled like it.

He didn't have time to think about that, though, he was too busy being impressed. This was one hell of a setup, he hadn't been able to even do half that well before he got his pizzeria job. Jason was more than a bit smart, going by how well he managed to scrap different parts and put it all together to make himself a temporary home.

"Dude." Peter whispered. "You're doing so much better than I was."

"Had some money already." Jason shrugged, picking up some books and handing them to him in a pile. Most of them were about vehicles in some way, but there were some novels among the lot. "It's also not my first time. I know where to go to sell stuff and where people will leave you alone. People move in and out of this place but they don't stick around, it's better for me. If you can't fight, it's generally better to buy a tent, some bribes, and try to join a camp."

He was opening up a lot more now that they had established they were both equally struggling in life. Peter himself felt more at ease, his shyness replaced by fascination with how efficiently the space had been transformed. He could tell the walls were several layers thick from their smell, the door itself had been such a complex system…

They put the books and the less damaged cutlery into a dark sports bag Jason took out of his small bedroom. It smelled like hair and soap, he had probably been using it as a pillow.

"You mind getting the cooler?" His, hopefully, new friend asked him as they wrapped up putting the electronics and computer stuff into the now tightly packed bag. Before Peter could stand up to head over to the kitchen area, the older boy stopped him, adding: "You can dump the ice out."

"Ice? Like snow?"

His question was answered as he opened the cooler to take the items out. There, wrapped in plastic grocery bags, were hundreds and hundreds of ice cubes, as well as a significant quantity of shaved ice.

"Did you get this from a hotel?" Peter wondered aloud, remembering the few times he himself had stayed at one. Ned and him had found it cool how they could just wander around and get their own ice and drinks.

"Yeah." Jason replied, sounding smug. "A lot of the ones up north have permanent residents. It's really easy to blend in and go scoop some for free."

That was a smart and efficient way of getting ice, Peter had to give him that. Now, of course, the inside of the box didn't seem particularly well optimized in his opinion. Half of it was filled with beer, the other half had a whole lot of cheap frozen burger patties and a couple bags of green beans. Food contamination, who?

"Uh… I have a fridge at my place if you wanna borrow it."

"You have a fridge?" Jason repeated, staring at him, sports bag now flung on his back and rolled up sleeping bag tucked under his arm.

"A mini fridge. It's small." Peter corrected himself, elbows deep into the freezing cooler.

"We have electricity?" The teen's voice was more shocked than what he had expected.

"Uh… yeah. And warm water for a few hours a day." Peter took out several bags, setting them down next to him before digging back into ice cube hell. "I think you also have a TV."

"I have a TV." Jason replied. "This deal is too good to be true."

Disbelief was evident in his tone but, other than shaking his head, he didn't add anything else. They finished packing up in silence, leaving the two rooms almost empty, the curtains and the rug the only items left there.

"Alright, stay next to the bike." Jason pointed at Peter, after clearing some snow to put down the military case -probably where he put his weapons at night, it smelled of oil and gunpowder- and the cooler. "I need to get one last thing."

As he has suspected, the rug rolled back to reveal a small trap door, inserted into the container's floor. The smell of fuel reminded Peter of Firefly, of flames and blood. He shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind.

Jason came back holding three red jerry gas cans. Of course, oil would also be something worth stealing, he hadn't even thought about it.

Somehow, the two of them managed to fit everything on the bike, using a copious amount of chains and locks to secure it all. Peter watched, sitting cross-legged with the cooler on his lap, as his coworker expertly closed the doors behind them.

They rode back to the Bowery more carefully than before, sticking to dark areas and shadowed alleyways. Thankfully, the neighborhood was familiar to them both and they easily navigated to their building.

"Damn." Jason noted as he stopped the bike in front of it. "That's in good shape."

Indeed, most of the Bowery was in such a state that this one establishment looked almost like a manor with its electricity and somewhat clean front door. There wasn't even a visible hole on the roof!

Peter waited patiently as Jason walked around the neighborhood to find a spot to anchor his bike at. He must be really confident about how secure it was. Did he not worry about someone towing it… or maybe even his foster father tracking it and claiming it back?

What kind of person even was his former foster parent, to have a motorcycle like this? Even for a racing fan, this kind of power in a vehicle that was being used for deliveries was more than unusual.

"Are you sure it'll be okay?" He asked for the tenth or twentieth time, anxiously looking around, ready for a fight. Jason answered him by shrugging, looking worried but resolute.

"It'll be good for now. I'll find a better spot tomorrow." He mumbled, piling the boxes and items they had recovered from his room into his arms.

He handed Peter the cooler, still full of food and alcohol. The boy remembered to carry it with both hands, pretending to struggle with its weight. He didn't know how convincing he was but at least he was trying.

They made their way to the cramped entrance hall, dimly lit by a single lightbulb this late into the night. The two of them didn't waste time touring the lower floors and, instead, started up towards their apartments.

"I'm pretty sure this is a hideout." Peter whispered as they climbed the steps. "I've seen people with guns and everything."

Jason snorted, turning his head to smirk down at him. "New York, everyone has guns here."

"Not me."

"For now." The older teen pointed out. "You can't lock yourself out of stuff like that, you might not have a choice."

He sounded vaguely exasperated, as if it wasn't the first time he had had this argument. If he had been honest about traveling the world, he had probably met plenty of civilians from other cities than Gotham. Surely, he knew that what was common behavior here was not shared everywhere else in the country, let alone the world.

"There's always a choice." Peter said after a brief silence. He didn't want to antagonize Jason, who he hoped could become a friend, them clashing like this was making him uncomfortable, but he also did not want to let go of his principles, especially in Gotham.

Thankfully, they reached the last floor before they could debate any further. The door to the apartment in front of his, his new coworker's, had been left ajar, with a key dangling from its handle. Through the crack, the apartment looked nearly identical to his, only with a large wooden cupboard opening into the wall, next to where to bathroom was located.

Peter's apartment was slightly smaller than this one, but he was happy with his choices. Now that he had a computer and internet, he wouldn't need a TV and the desk would be useful now that he had to focus on programming and research.

He handed off the items he had helped bring up, backing off silently, still feeling awkward as neither of them had spoken since the gun conversation. He really hoped he hadn't just messed it all up by speaking out, maybe he should just have kept his mouth shut…

"Hey." Jason called out to him as he was about to open his own door. "Uh… thanks." He looked oddly shy, for a man who was usually so confident.

Peter couldn't help but beam at the other boy, his hopes of finding a friend now burning brighter than ever in his mind. Even if they didn't agree on the topic of firearms, it was apparently not enough for the older boy to get tired of him. Good, he loved to debate with people, it would have been sad if his first ever friend in this world wasn't able to take it.

Feeling emboldened, he took a deep breath and asked, anxious despite himself:

"Do you- … want to- uh… use my fridge?"

Something odd passed through Jason's eyes as he heard the question. His pupils dilated abruptly and his nostrils twitched, barely noticeable to the human eyes but blatant to Peter. Surprise, anger or…

Fear?

The emotions disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, barely a flash really, and the young man shook his head.

"Nah, thanks. I'm good."

Disappointment weight heavily on his shoulders. Maybe now was not the right time to ask the older teen to come in, considering how late it was, but helping people was good for making friends and he really wanted to get to know his neighbor better.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah…" Jason awkwardly rubbed his head with his free hand, the other one holding his weapon case tightly. "No offense but uh… it's not really a thing here. People don't uh… share food… stuff." He coughed awkwardly at the end of that last sentence. It was likely an unspoken rule in Gotham, one he probably never had to spell out before.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Don't worry about it."

They started at each other in uncomfortable silence for a few more moments before Jason cleared his throat and thanked him again, retreating into his own apartment. Peter stayed standing there for a few more seconds, staring at the closed door in front of his, listening to the new set of heartbeats in the building, before shaking his head in disappointment and stepping into his room. He would find a way to talk to his neighbor tomorrow, and then hopefully they could be friends.

He had been wrong about Jason. He thought the young man was out of his reach, wealthy and too cool for him, but he had let appearances trick him. The boy was just like him, someone struggling to survive in this city without anyone on their side.

He was from Gotham, born and raised here unlike Peter. He knew things instinctively, walked in this town like he belonged.

But maybe there was a way past the cold, distant air most Gothamites put on.

Peter would do his best to find it because, as he settled into his mattress, hair wet with ice cold water and computer pushed to the ground, he could hear Jason do the same from behind his door and, for what seemed like the first time in an eternity, he didn't feel completely alone anymore.

He wanted that feeling to last.

Notes:

Sike, this Jason is like 18 and just out of Under the Red Hood (6-7 months) he doesn't have a support system, an apartment or really anything except spite and an existential crisis

Tweaked the timeline a little, he stopped trying to kill Bats a few months ago but only talks to a few of them. Definitely on very bad terms with Batman.

He has not met the outlaws yet. We're at the very start of the DC Rebirth timeline with some changes because I wanted drama.

Hahahahahahahaha i love using characters who are going through the most unstable part of their lives

If you're only there for Peter don't worry about it and just enjoy the ride :)

Jason stole his old robin bike from Batman and repurposed it cause I thought it was funny so here you go