"I don't see why we have to do this, anyway," Jason grumbled, reflexively leaning away from Bruce's fretting hands.

Bruce frowned, reaching out to still his son by the shoulders before resuming his manipulation of the boy's bow tie. Jason, in the same destructive manner of most toddlers, has somehow managed to twist the article of clothing into horrid knots. It now resembles a wrinkled, convoluted ascot instead of the elegant accessory it's supposed to be–and they haven't even bought it yet.

"Because," Bruce reminds him absently, for the hundredth time, "your brother is getting married–a celebration of love and family–and you, hopeless child, will honor his wishes as one of his groomsmen."

Jason rolls his eyes, wiggling again. "I meant, I don't see why we have to be so upper crust. The media isn't even attending this one."

"It's still a wedding–not yours–and as such, you will dress as the bride and groom decree. Besides, the colors look very handsome on you," Bruce finishes, patting the tie straight and stepping back to survey his work.

The salesperson, quiet until now in awe of the honor of servicing the Wayne name, pipes up. "That blue is just lovely. Very complimentary with your eyes, sir."

Bruce grins at his son's grimace. "See?"

He has to admit that Dick–with Barbara's guidance, of course–had chosen well. The midnight blue tie goes nicely with the gray suit each of the boys will be wearing. All of his boys, with their various shades of blue irises and their dark hair, dressed in tandem–well, they make a nice picture. One Bruce wasn't sure he'd get to see.

Jason grunts, and Bruce notices that the fine lines around his eyes are a bit more defined than they were an hour ago.

"You want to sit for a few? Take a breather?" he asks, trying to be casual about it. It's hard to tell, when coddling will be accepted and when it will cause a scene.

Jason shrugs, twisting the crutches where they circle his cufflink-ed wrists.

"Nah, I'm good for a little while. Besides, you've still gotta try on your monkey suit, father-in-law. I'm gonna get changed, get out of the stiff."

"Alright," Bruce answers carefully, struggling not to hover. He retreats to allow Jason room to maneuver past him into the dressing room.

It's been two years since the accident that shattered Jason's right leg, leaving him reluctantly in the care of his sort-of-estranged family. He's healed now, as much he can be. On the good days he walks with a cane, or even on his own for short distances. On the bad days he pops a Vicodin, loops the crutches on his wrists, and hopes for the best.

Today is a good day, but Jason uses the crutches anyway in deference of their shopping spree/last fitting before the big event.

Bruce keeps quiet, discretely nudges a chair into place for when Jason returns, and lets the clerk ease him into his own jacket and tie. He pretends that he doesn't listen for any telltale thumps from the dressing room. Jason is fine. He's perfectly capable of dressing himself.

Jason emerges just as Bruce buttons the jacket, waving away the salesperson.

He whistles. "Lookin' good, old man. You know, there's still time to snag a date for the big to-do. A certain feline comes to mind…" he trails off, grinning crookedly.

Bruce scowls. "I aim not to mix business and pleasure. What's your excuse?"

"Oh, I already have a date," the boy assures him, chameleon eyes now shaded an alluring glass green with humor.

Bruce raises his brows questioningly.

In answer, Jason raises one wrist, jiggles the walking aid tellingly. "I think you two've met. We'll be holding each other close all night, but don't worry, Dad, we're totally safe."

"Jason," Bruce protests helplessly, though there is no bitterness in the comment.

Jason waves a hand airily. "It's cool, B. I like to work the room anyway. No need to tie myself down, huh?"

Bruce smiles, a little sadly. "Now where'd you learn a trick like that," he murmurs.

The boy smirks. "My old man taught me a thing or two."

"You might've picked up a bit more from your brother, in terms of relationships," Bruce says, ignoring the squeeze on his heart. "Dick has the right of it, you know."

"How's that?" Jason asks.

Bruce turns from the mirror, stepping forward to brush ineffectually at Jason's cowlick. They'll have to do something about that for the ceremony. He'll ask Alfred.

"Your brother," he sighs, "ridiculous though he may be in other areas of his life, has far outstripped me in matters of the heart. He knows that when you find a good thing, you hold on and you don't let go." Bruce pauses, meets his son's eyes pointedly. "Me? I didn't really learn that 'til I'd already lost it. Love is not one of my areas of expertise."

Do you understand? Bruce asks with his eyes. Do you know how much I love you? How much I almost lost, over and over again, and still I didn't see.

Jason shifts, uncomfortable. "I dunno, B. You seem pretty good at love to me. Hell, how can you not be after adopting half of Gotham City?" He nudges the man with a bony elbow. "Don't sell yourself short."

Bruce's lips quirk, eyes stinging a little, and he hooks an arm around his son's neck in affection.

"When did you get so much smarter than me, huh?"

Jason laughs. "Always have been, old man. You just didn't notice."

"Is that so," Bruce begins threateningly, jabbing his fingers playfully into Jason's side as the boy squirms and shoves him back, careful to balance him with the other hand.

"Alright, alright," his son gasps, laughingly. "I give."

"Good. Since you're so damned wise," Bruce leads humorously, "I guess you won't have any trouble finding a real dancing partner for the wedding."

"Now, just a minute–"

"I hear Donna Troy is coming," Bruce says casually, shrugging out of the jacket.

Jason pretend scowls. "Stop trying to marry me off. I'm only twenty-four," he snaps, but there's an almost hopeful glint in his eyes. Bruce can see the dust of an old, boyish crush stirring, not quite as dead as previously thought.

"You never know," he continues, walking side by side with his son towards the exit. "Love can surprise you sometimes."

Jason laughs, the lines in his face a little less, and Bruce makes a note to, erm, arrange a meeting between his son and the Amazon sometime on the big night, an accident of course.

It only makes sense, they're old friends. They should catch up.

It couldn't hurt, after all.