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[SCA] Babysitting
Title: Babysitting
Fandom: DC Comics + Digimon 02/Adventure crossover (with mentions of High School Musical)
Universe: Sharpay's Crossover Adventure
Relationship: platonic Tom+Jason, platonic Jason+Jensen, implied Tompay, implied Jaymi
Summary: Tom's babysitting this kid, Jensen, tonight, but Jensen's much more interested in Jason as a babysitter.
Notes: Written for Father's Day! Honestly, this fic's been on the backburner for six months now, so it wasn't pulled out of nowhere. However, because of the way life turned out, it doesn't quite end here.
Over the years, Tom's brownstone had hosted so many people that you barely noticed the newer guests. Sure, as you quietly slipped in through the back door, you noticed some differences. You saw more recent pictures scattered between older family portraits; you could smell Sharpay's pungent perfume on the staircase; and occasionally you even heard a rousing duet or two, complete with perfectly arranged backing music. Tonight, though, you could hear a kid eagerly talking to Tom.
"See, if you play this card, you'll get a hundred points..."
Children didn't often wander into Tom's brownstone. Between the booze and the guns you occasionally stashed here (without Tom's knowledge), you didn't know how to feel. Should you be proud that Tom got along with just about everyone? Or should you have found a better hiding place for your .22? Or probably both?
"Huh." Tom was whistling softly, taking another sip of his tea as you watched the kid eagerly explain this card game. You weren't exactly keen on disturbing Tom's babysitting duty, and yet, some part of you longed to make your presence known. You'd never seen the kid before, and you knew Tom didn't regularly babysit like he once had.
Only when you took another step did the kid look over in your direction. He furrowed his brow, before quietly muttering something unintelligible. Okay, it was unintelligible to you, but Tom must've heard it loud and clear, because he nearly choked on his cup of tea.
The kid blushed, ducking his head. "Uh, I mean... this is your friend, right?"
"Y-yeah," Tom said, running to get himself a glass of water. Once he'd gulped down a whole glass and then some, he added from the kitchen counter, "This is Jason. Jason, this is Jensen. He's explaining Mythomagic to me, but I swear, D&D still makes more sense."
With a face that pale, Tom wasn't telling the whole story. You folded your arms, scrutinizing the kid for every single detail. The kid was probably ten or eleven years old; he had scruffy, light brown hair and blue eyes, which typically didn't occur in Asian kids, and he was wearing a red sweatshirt and black jeans. You hadn't thought much of the rolled-up sleeves or his intense grip on his card game, but when the kid shifted nervously to the side, you could see a crest necklace underneath.
The kid was a Digidestined? He didn't even have a Digimon with him, but why else would he wear that thing around? It was even weirder than Tom's gunblade necklace, and Tom was a giant nerd.
"Mythomagic, huh?" you said after a moment, tearing your gaze away from the kid to look at your best friend better. "Sounds like fun. But uh, Tom, have you checked in with Meems yet?"
Tom blinked, leaning against the counter to see you better. "No. Why would I?"
"'Cause the kid's a Digidestined." You sighed, flopping down on the chair across from the kid.
The kid warily looked up at you, and you weren't sure if it was because of your words or your blood-stained bodysuit. At least you weren't in full costume; the kid would've probably been terrified of it.
Tom stared blankly at the kid. "Uh..."
The (stupid) kid just buried his head in his hands. "It was that obvious?"
"Kid, you're wearing one of those crest-things." You sighed, gesturing to his necklace. "Mimi never takes hers off." Well, except for sex, but you weren't about to admit that to a little one.
"You noticed that?" Tom said quietly, in a hushed tone you knew you weren't supposed to hear. To the kid, he said, "I guess I'll text her right now. Where did you say you were from, again?"
"Gotham."
A kid from Gotham, here in Brooklyn? You leaned forward in your seat, resting your elbows against your knees. "Long way from Gotham, kid."
"I know." He sighed, staring back down at his cards and shuffling his desk. "Stuff happened, so I kinda ended up here by accident, and um, Uncle--"
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Uncle? I'm too young for that."
"Sorry." The kid bit on his lower lip. "Well, you found me and offered to help me get back to my parents. I'm sorry about crashing at your place, but I swear, I have enough money to pay for a hotel or something."
Typical Tom. You swore, that man suffered more from Chronic Hero Syndrome than the rest of your whole family combined, and your family lived for situations like these. Judging from that money comment, the kid was no stranger to wealth. Huh. The kids were getting more financially responsible by the year.
"Since you're a Digidestined, I'm guessing there was a problem with one of the Digiport-things, and you ended up here instead of wherever you were supposed to be."
Taking the kid's unusually pale face as a silent confirmation, you allowed your guard to relax ever so slightly. "Sorry, Mimi talks about it sometimes. We're kind of her only non-Digi friends that know about her powers."
"Yeah, your secret's safe with us, Jensen." Tom grinned, grabbing a glass of milk for the kid and bringing it back for him. He leaned in conspiratorially, allowing the kid to briefly see his eyes flash yellow. (Showoff.) "So don't worry so much. I've texted Mimi and Justin, since his cousin's also an Digidestined. We'll get you back home soon, okay?"
"Okay." The kid released a breath that he wasn't even aware he was holding in. "You're... you're completely okay with this?"
Tom exchanged confused glances with you. It wasn't as if overnight guests were a new concept; hell, you tended to be the guest that hopped in and out, depending on your job that week. Plus, knowing Sharpay, as long as this kid expressed no interest in musical theater, he was probably a safe bet.
Before you could say anything of the sort, Tom's phone buzzed. "Good news," he said, skimming the text he'd received, "Mimi said Koushiro can get you home, as long as you're willing to make an early-morning excursion to her place."
"Anything," The kid said a little too quickly.
You idly glanced down at your phone's clock. While you weren't amused at the hour - it was far too late for any kid to be up - you also knew the time zone difference was vast between here and Odiaba. "You're sure he'll be up then?"
"He said he'd stay up late for us. Apparently, Jensen's not the only kid who's recently gotten a Digimon of his own."
You wanted to ask, because this sounded like a hell of a story, but you didn't exactly have the energy for it. You figured you'd hear about it tomorrow, once the kid cleared out and you had reclaimed your space. In the meantime, you stared down at your dried blood stains and rose to your feet. "Got it. Where's the kid staying?"
"I was gonna say my room, but that doesn't leave a whole lot of options..." He frowned, folding his arms as he looked at the both of you. "I know Shar's out of town tonight, but I don't feel good giving up her room like this. Jay, you okay with him staying in your room?"
Not exactly. You still had some guns under the bed, and you weren't looking forward to the kid accidentally discovering them. "Gimme a minute to clean up," you said slowly, knowing better than to outright deny Tom's request. "Gotta make the space respectable, right?"
"Right." Tom narrowed his eyes at you, but said nothing else as he headed for the linen closet. "Jensen, you'll be in Jason's room, and Jason and I'll camp out togeth..."
"Um, would it... would it be possible if Jason stayed with me?"
"What?" You stared blankly at him. Why on earth would this kid trust you more than Mr. Hero over there? Tom always knew the right thing to say and the right tone in which to say it. Hell, you were pretty sure that if more people liked the JSA, Tom would regularly top popularity charts. There was absolutely no reason for a kid to trust someone caked in blood.
Tom's expression softened. "Only if it's okay with him."
There he went, being all paternal and essentially being the perfect father none of them had. It would have made you sick, if you didn't admire his natural instinct to treat this kid as one of his own. (Even Bruce's biological bioweapon liked him, and that kid hated practically everyone.)
"Um..." You darted up towards your room. "Are you sure, kid? I'm not the quietest sleeper."
The kid actually rolled his eyes at you. "You snore in your sleep, right? Half my family does."
Tom barely hid his guffaw, turning to the side so that you couldn't quite make out his laughter. "He sleep talks too sometimes. If he swears, you can make him pay for your swear jar."
"In what language?" The kid grinned. "I might pick up some new vocab."
"You're definitely not learning any new words," you said with some finality as you headed upstairs, turning around to look at him better. "Trust me, kid. This brownstone knows how to be appropriate."
They were better about it when Sharpay was over, but she and her hat-obsessed brother had arranged for some weird 'sibling retreat' type-deal this weekend. In her absence, you and Tom definitely let the swears fly without much concern or care. In this kid's presence, though, you weren't willing to lower your guard.
Honestly, you were still wondering why he'd choose to sleep with you. Sure, half his family may snore, but you didn't exactly look cute and cuddly (or, you know, normal). Scrambling to get back in your room - the guest room - you peeled off the rest of your costume, changed into more suitable pajamas, and stored every single piece of artillery as carefully as possible. While you kept most of your guns unlocked and unloaded when they weren't in use, you didn't quite trust a kid to know the difference. Thanking your inner foresight for only bringing a couple of guns to Tom's place - the .22 you used for self-defense and a .44 for other occasions - you zipped your lined duffel tight and hid it underneath a stash of clothing in the closet.
You kept the bedroom neat otherwise. Last time you left the bed unmade, you'd returned to one of Maxine's stress cleans - and normally, that girl didn't give a damn about the state of your room, so you didn't want to ask (or know) what triggered it.
There was a light knocked on your door before the kid swung it open.
"Hey!" You called as he entered. "I could've been naked, kid."
He didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. "You really have no shame."
"Nope," you cheekily called, tugging down on one of your old band t-shirts. Sometimes you slept in the nude, but the kid kind of prevented you from continuing that lifestyle tonight. "Again, you should go sleep with Tommy. He's pretty decent at this babysitting thing."
"You don't think you are?"
His attitude was starting to annoy you. You knew damn well that you were no role model. Every night, you cleansed yourself of newly-earned blood stains, of the lives you regularly ended on these streets. You weren't anywhere near role model material. Why couldn't this damn kid wake up and realize that?
"Of course I'm not," you said through gritted teeth, resisting every urge to pull out every swear you knew. "I'm not good with kids. I terrify the living shi--shittake mushrooms out of them."
The kid smothered a laugh, reaching for one of your old t-shirts and heading into the bathroom to change. "You don't scare me."
"Yeah, well, I should."
Even you knew that sounded lame, and yet, what else could you do? You weren't Tom. You didn't know why the comparisons returned to haunt you, because you two had agreed years ago that your paths had veered. Sure, you shared similar vices from your shared childhoods, but the similarities weren't quite there anymore.
"No you shouldn't," The kid countered, coming out of the bathroom in a shirt four-sizes-too-big for him.
Now it was your turn to hide your smile, because honestly, the kid was kinda cute. "How come?"
"'Cause." The kid flopped onto the bed beside you and pulled up the covers around him. "You're just saying that 'cause Uncle Tom's naturally more patient."
"Why do you keep calling him Uncle?" You shook your head fondly at him. "He's only ten years older than you, you know. Not exactly an old man yet by anyone's standards."
He shrugged. "He reminds me of my Uncle, I guess."
"You have an uncle that lives in Brooklyn, plays D&D, and smells like cigarette smoke?"
"Not quite." The kid wrinkled his nose. "He lives in Manhattan and he smells like oranges and tea, but he loves D&D and Mythomagic."
Oranges...? Tommy smelt like oranges sometimes, when he tried to mask the stench of his smoke through very unnatural means. You often didn't hear of guys with citrus-y colognes; most preferred traditional colognes.
You must've been staring at him, because the kid burrowed under the covers. "I-I'm sorry. I know I'm being really forward."
"You sure are... but you know, I'm not sure I mind it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." You brushed back some of his stray bangs, only now just noticing the crest necklace's design. You knew that teardrop anywhere - it was a perfect match with Mimi's. Making a mental note to tell her in the morning, you reached for your phone and sent her a good-night text.
The kid sat up a little straighter, clutching his necklace tightly. "Who're you texting?"
"My girlfriend."
"Is her name Mimi...?"
The hesitance in his voice made you turn to look at him better. "Actually, yeah."
"Good." The kid smiled widely. "I was worried she was dating--"
"And why do you care?" Now you were just confused. "You thought she was Tommy's girl? Cause his girl's out of town this weekend."
"Oh, I know. Aunt Sharpay kinda does her own thing."
You squinted. "I never told you her name."
The kid's face grew so red that it almost perfectly matched your helmet. "O-oh."
The pieces were slowly falling in place. The kid said he was from Gotham, he knew you, he was a Digidestined, and now he was constantly referring to Uncle Tom and Aunt Sharpay...
"Jensen?" You said quietly, surprised at how hoarse your voice had gotten. "What year was it for you back home?"
Silence was your only reply. He pulled his arm over his face, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a swear word.
"Hey! I said no swearing--"
Only when you leaned over, daring to push his arm down, did you realize that the poor kid was tearing up.
"I goofed up big time, Dad."
Dad.
He just... he actually just...
No. You couldn't be a father. You weren't cut out for this gig. Your life was a complete disgrace; you didn't have a legal identity of your own; and your girlfriend wasn't exactly your most important priority some nights. You didn't have your act together. You weren't going to be some deadbeat dad, because you had one and it sucked.
"I'm not your father," you said nervously, trying not to focus on the tears. "Come on, I'll grab Tom and you can spill out all your feelings to him there."
"Uncle Tom's not you," he insisted, sniffling just a bit. "I'm glad I found him, 'cause Mom said you and he used to be together all the time, but uh.. but you're normally the one that knows what to do."
In what sick, demented parallel universe? Because it sure wasn't this one. Was he from one of those other fifty-two Earths you had visited? You were racking your brains, trying to recall any parallel universes that might be remotely similar to this one. Briefly, you remembered a universe where Sharpay and Peyton had been the heroes and Tom and Maxine the fledgling film students...
"Um, cause I'm a Digidestined?" You joked, testing the waters for that scenario.
Jensen raised an eyebrow at you. "No, cause that's Mom's job. You're... Dad."
Parallel universes effectively ruled out, you rubbed the back of your neck. Pep talks really, really weren't your thing. You didn't think you could craft a decent one even if you were given the rest of eternity.
"Not right now, I'm not," you lightly insisted. "Why do you say you goofed up? Cause you're some fifteen years in the past?"
"You figured it out really fast..." Jensen quietly protested. "I didn't know how to work your phones, but Uncle Tom just thought it was 'cause I was half-Japanese."
As if you didn't need additional confirmation that he was Mimi's son. As if you needed to tell Mimi that your relationship apparently worked out, because here was living, breathing proof that you two had had sex. You took a breath, trying to keep your heartbeat steady.
You could face mafia underlords without breaking a sweat, but your own son - your actual flesh and blood - was making your heart race a mile a minute, and you hated every moment of it. You couldn't parent. Your examples were your frigging deadbeat dad and Bruce; you weren't exactly destined for parental greatness here.
"I'm also a Bat," you admitted, allowing the gravity of such a confession to sink into Jensen's brain. "We're kind of trained to pick up the pieces fast."
"Not me! Granddad said I didn't have to hero if I didn't want to."
Now that didn't sound like Bruce. You half-wondered if old age had affected his sanity more than you would've guessed. "Point is, it wasn't hard to figure out you weren't from here. So how'd you even come...?"
"I don't know." Jensen pulled the covers over his neck; it would've covered his face, had you not burrowed underneath to comfort him. "I just remember trying to hurry up and go home, 'cause you and Mom were expecting me, and then bam! I'm in this brownstone."
"What was Tom's reaction?"
"He asked if I was a Boy Scout, and if I were, that he was sorry but he already had too much popcorn."
You chuckled softly. "Sounds like my Tommy."
Jensen - you couldn't think of him as some kid anymore - looked up at you with awe. "He was really nice. I was so worried, 'cause I didn't even have Palmon with me, and..."
Palmon. Jensen's frigging Digimon partner was a Palmon. History sure loved to repeat itself, didn't it?
"Get some sleep, kid," you said, ruffling his hair lightly. "You've got a long day ahead of you."
"Okay. G'night, Dad."
The second he closed his eyes, you reached for your phone again. Your fingers trembled with each letter you typed out, until you finally pressed 'send' to Mimi:
Fandom: DC Comics + Digimon 02/Adventure crossover (with mentions of High School Musical)
Universe: Sharpay's Crossover Adventure
Relationship: platonic Tom+Jason, platonic Jason+Jensen, implied Tompay, implied Jaymi
Summary: Tom's babysitting this kid, Jensen, tonight, but Jensen's much more interested in Jason as a babysitter.
Notes: Written for Father's Day! Honestly, this fic's been on the backburner for six months now, so it wasn't pulled out of nowhere. However, because of the way life turned out, it doesn't quite end here.
Over the years, Tom's brownstone had hosted so many people that you barely noticed the newer guests. Sure, as you quietly slipped in through the back door, you noticed some differences. You saw more recent pictures scattered between older family portraits; you could smell Sharpay's pungent perfume on the staircase; and occasionally you even heard a rousing duet or two, complete with perfectly arranged backing music. Tonight, though, you could hear a kid eagerly talking to Tom.
"See, if you play this card, you'll get a hundred points..."
Children didn't often wander into Tom's brownstone. Between the booze and the guns you occasionally stashed here (without Tom's knowledge), you didn't know how to feel. Should you be proud that Tom got along with just about everyone? Or should you have found a better hiding place for your .22? Or probably both?
"Huh." Tom was whistling softly, taking another sip of his tea as you watched the kid eagerly explain this card game. You weren't exactly keen on disturbing Tom's babysitting duty, and yet, some part of you longed to make your presence known. You'd never seen the kid before, and you knew Tom didn't regularly babysit like he once had.
Only when you took another step did the kid look over in your direction. He furrowed his brow, before quietly muttering something unintelligible. Okay, it was unintelligible to you, but Tom must've heard it loud and clear, because he nearly choked on his cup of tea.
The kid blushed, ducking his head. "Uh, I mean... this is your friend, right?"
"Y-yeah," Tom said, running to get himself a glass of water. Once he'd gulped down a whole glass and then some, he added from the kitchen counter, "This is Jason. Jason, this is Jensen. He's explaining Mythomagic to me, but I swear, D&D still makes more sense."
With a face that pale, Tom wasn't telling the whole story. You folded your arms, scrutinizing the kid for every single detail. The kid was probably ten or eleven years old; he had scruffy, light brown hair and blue eyes, which typically didn't occur in Asian kids, and he was wearing a red sweatshirt and black jeans. You hadn't thought much of the rolled-up sleeves or his intense grip on his card game, but when the kid shifted nervously to the side, you could see a crest necklace underneath.
The kid was a Digidestined? He didn't even have a Digimon with him, but why else would he wear that thing around? It was even weirder than Tom's gunblade necklace, and Tom was a giant nerd.
"Mythomagic, huh?" you said after a moment, tearing your gaze away from the kid to look at your best friend better. "Sounds like fun. But uh, Tom, have you checked in with Meems yet?"
Tom blinked, leaning against the counter to see you better. "No. Why would I?"
"'Cause the kid's a Digidestined." You sighed, flopping down on the chair across from the kid.
The kid warily looked up at you, and you weren't sure if it was because of your words or your blood-stained bodysuit. At least you weren't in full costume; the kid would've probably been terrified of it.
Tom stared blankly at the kid. "Uh..."
The (stupid) kid just buried his head in his hands. "It was that obvious?"
"Kid, you're wearing one of those crest-things." You sighed, gesturing to his necklace. "Mimi never takes hers off." Well, except for sex, but you weren't about to admit that to a little one.
"You noticed that?" Tom said quietly, in a hushed tone you knew you weren't supposed to hear. To the kid, he said, "I guess I'll text her right now. Where did you say you were from, again?"
"Gotham."
A kid from Gotham, here in Brooklyn? You leaned forward in your seat, resting your elbows against your knees. "Long way from Gotham, kid."
"I know." He sighed, staring back down at his cards and shuffling his desk. "Stuff happened, so I kinda ended up here by accident, and um, Uncle--"
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Uncle? I'm too young for that."
"Sorry." The kid bit on his lower lip. "Well, you found me and offered to help me get back to my parents. I'm sorry about crashing at your place, but I swear, I have enough money to pay for a hotel or something."
Typical Tom. You swore, that man suffered more from Chronic Hero Syndrome than the rest of your whole family combined, and your family lived for situations like these. Judging from that money comment, the kid was no stranger to wealth. Huh. The kids were getting more financially responsible by the year.
"Since you're a Digidestined, I'm guessing there was a problem with one of the Digiport-things, and you ended up here instead of wherever you were supposed to be."
Taking the kid's unusually pale face as a silent confirmation, you allowed your guard to relax ever so slightly. "Sorry, Mimi talks about it sometimes. We're kind of her only non-Digi friends that know about her powers."
"Yeah, your secret's safe with us, Jensen." Tom grinned, grabbing a glass of milk for the kid and bringing it back for him. He leaned in conspiratorially, allowing the kid to briefly see his eyes flash yellow. (Showoff.) "So don't worry so much. I've texted Mimi and Justin, since his cousin's also an Digidestined. We'll get you back home soon, okay?"
"Okay." The kid released a breath that he wasn't even aware he was holding in. "You're... you're completely okay with this?"
Tom exchanged confused glances with you. It wasn't as if overnight guests were a new concept; hell, you tended to be the guest that hopped in and out, depending on your job that week. Plus, knowing Sharpay, as long as this kid expressed no interest in musical theater, he was probably a safe bet.
Before you could say anything of the sort, Tom's phone buzzed. "Good news," he said, skimming the text he'd received, "Mimi said Koushiro can get you home, as long as you're willing to make an early-morning excursion to her place."
"Anything," The kid said a little too quickly.
You idly glanced down at your phone's clock. While you weren't amused at the hour - it was far too late for any kid to be up - you also knew the time zone difference was vast between here and Odiaba. "You're sure he'll be up then?"
"He said he'd stay up late for us. Apparently, Jensen's not the only kid who's recently gotten a Digimon of his own."
You wanted to ask, because this sounded like a hell of a story, but you didn't exactly have the energy for it. You figured you'd hear about it tomorrow, once the kid cleared out and you had reclaimed your space. In the meantime, you stared down at your dried blood stains and rose to your feet. "Got it. Where's the kid staying?"
"I was gonna say my room, but that doesn't leave a whole lot of options..." He frowned, folding his arms as he looked at the both of you. "I know Shar's out of town tonight, but I don't feel good giving up her room like this. Jay, you okay with him staying in your room?"
Not exactly. You still had some guns under the bed, and you weren't looking forward to the kid accidentally discovering them. "Gimme a minute to clean up," you said slowly, knowing better than to outright deny Tom's request. "Gotta make the space respectable, right?"
"Right." Tom narrowed his eyes at you, but said nothing else as he headed for the linen closet. "Jensen, you'll be in Jason's room, and Jason and I'll camp out togeth..."
"Um, would it... would it be possible if Jason stayed with me?"
"What?" You stared blankly at him. Why on earth would this kid trust you more than Mr. Hero over there? Tom always knew the right thing to say and the right tone in which to say it. Hell, you were pretty sure that if more people liked the JSA, Tom would regularly top popularity charts. There was absolutely no reason for a kid to trust someone caked in blood.
Tom's expression softened. "Only if it's okay with him."
There he went, being all paternal and essentially being the perfect father none of them had. It would have made you sick, if you didn't admire his natural instinct to treat this kid as one of his own. (Even Bruce's biological bioweapon liked him, and that kid hated practically everyone.)
"Um..." You darted up towards your room. "Are you sure, kid? I'm not the quietest sleeper."
The kid actually rolled his eyes at you. "You snore in your sleep, right? Half my family does."
Tom barely hid his guffaw, turning to the side so that you couldn't quite make out his laughter. "He sleep talks too sometimes. If he swears, you can make him pay for your swear jar."
"In what language?" The kid grinned. "I might pick up some new vocab."
"You're definitely not learning any new words," you said with some finality as you headed upstairs, turning around to look at him better. "Trust me, kid. This brownstone knows how to be appropriate."
They were better about it when Sharpay was over, but she and her hat-obsessed brother had arranged for some weird 'sibling retreat' type-deal this weekend. In her absence, you and Tom definitely let the swears fly without much concern or care. In this kid's presence, though, you weren't willing to lower your guard.
Honestly, you were still wondering why he'd choose to sleep with you. Sure, half his family may snore, but you didn't exactly look cute and cuddly (or, you know, normal). Scrambling to get back in your room - the guest room - you peeled off the rest of your costume, changed into more suitable pajamas, and stored every single piece of artillery as carefully as possible. While you kept most of your guns unlocked and unloaded when they weren't in use, you didn't quite trust a kid to know the difference. Thanking your inner foresight for only bringing a couple of guns to Tom's place - the .22 you used for self-defense and a .44 for other occasions - you zipped your lined duffel tight and hid it underneath a stash of clothing in the closet.
You kept the bedroom neat otherwise. Last time you left the bed unmade, you'd returned to one of Maxine's stress cleans - and normally, that girl didn't give a damn about the state of your room, so you didn't want to ask (or know) what triggered it.
There was a light knocked on your door before the kid swung it open.
"Hey!" You called as he entered. "I could've been naked, kid."
He didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. "You really have no shame."
"Nope," you cheekily called, tugging down on one of your old band t-shirts. Sometimes you slept in the nude, but the kid kind of prevented you from continuing that lifestyle tonight. "Again, you should go sleep with Tommy. He's pretty decent at this babysitting thing."
"You don't think you are?"
His attitude was starting to annoy you. You knew damn well that you were no role model. Every night, you cleansed yourself of newly-earned blood stains, of the lives you regularly ended on these streets. You weren't anywhere near role model material. Why couldn't this damn kid wake up and realize that?
"Of course I'm not," you said through gritted teeth, resisting every urge to pull out every swear you knew. "I'm not good with kids. I terrify the living shi--shittake mushrooms out of them."
The kid smothered a laugh, reaching for one of your old t-shirts and heading into the bathroom to change. "You don't scare me."
"Yeah, well, I should."
Even you knew that sounded lame, and yet, what else could you do? You weren't Tom. You didn't know why the comparisons returned to haunt you, because you two had agreed years ago that your paths had veered. Sure, you shared similar vices from your shared childhoods, but the similarities weren't quite there anymore.
"No you shouldn't," The kid countered, coming out of the bathroom in a shirt four-sizes-too-big for him.
Now it was your turn to hide your smile, because honestly, the kid was kinda cute. "How come?"
"'Cause." The kid flopped onto the bed beside you and pulled up the covers around him. "You're just saying that 'cause Uncle Tom's naturally more patient."
"Why do you keep calling him Uncle?" You shook your head fondly at him. "He's only ten years older than you, you know. Not exactly an old man yet by anyone's standards."
He shrugged. "He reminds me of my Uncle, I guess."
"You have an uncle that lives in Brooklyn, plays D&D, and smells like cigarette smoke?"
"Not quite." The kid wrinkled his nose. "He lives in Manhattan and he smells like oranges and tea, but he loves D&D and Mythomagic."
Oranges...? Tommy smelt like oranges sometimes, when he tried to mask the stench of his smoke through very unnatural means. You often didn't hear of guys with citrus-y colognes; most preferred traditional colognes.
You must've been staring at him, because the kid burrowed under the covers. "I-I'm sorry. I know I'm being really forward."
"You sure are... but you know, I'm not sure I mind it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." You brushed back some of his stray bangs, only now just noticing the crest necklace's design. You knew that teardrop anywhere - it was a perfect match with Mimi's. Making a mental note to tell her in the morning, you reached for your phone and sent her a good-night text.
The kid sat up a little straighter, clutching his necklace tightly. "Who're you texting?"
"My girlfriend."
"Is her name Mimi...?"
The hesitance in his voice made you turn to look at him better. "Actually, yeah."
"Good." The kid smiled widely. "I was worried she was dating--"
"And why do you care?" Now you were just confused. "You thought she was Tommy's girl? Cause his girl's out of town this weekend."
"Oh, I know. Aunt Sharpay kinda does her own thing."
You squinted. "I never told you her name."
The kid's face grew so red that it almost perfectly matched your helmet. "O-oh."
The pieces were slowly falling in place. The kid said he was from Gotham, he knew you, he was a Digidestined, and now he was constantly referring to Uncle Tom and Aunt Sharpay...
"Jensen?" You said quietly, surprised at how hoarse your voice had gotten. "What year was it for you back home?"
Silence was your only reply. He pulled his arm over his face, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a swear word.
"Hey! I said no swearing--"
Only when you leaned over, daring to push his arm down, did you realize that the poor kid was tearing up.
"I goofed up big time, Dad."
Dad.
He just... he actually just...
No. You couldn't be a father. You weren't cut out for this gig. Your life was a complete disgrace; you didn't have a legal identity of your own; and your girlfriend wasn't exactly your most important priority some nights. You didn't have your act together. You weren't going to be some deadbeat dad, because you had one and it sucked.
"I'm not your father," you said nervously, trying not to focus on the tears. "Come on, I'll grab Tom and you can spill out all your feelings to him there."
"Uncle Tom's not you," he insisted, sniffling just a bit. "I'm glad I found him, 'cause Mom said you and he used to be together all the time, but uh.. but you're normally the one that knows what to do."
In what sick, demented parallel universe? Because it sure wasn't this one. Was he from one of those other fifty-two Earths you had visited? You were racking your brains, trying to recall any parallel universes that might be remotely similar to this one. Briefly, you remembered a universe where Sharpay and Peyton had been the heroes and Tom and Maxine the fledgling film students...
"Um, cause I'm a Digidestined?" You joked, testing the waters for that scenario.
Jensen raised an eyebrow at you. "No, cause that's Mom's job. You're... Dad."
Parallel universes effectively ruled out, you rubbed the back of your neck. Pep talks really, really weren't your thing. You didn't think you could craft a decent one even if you were given the rest of eternity.
"Not right now, I'm not," you lightly insisted. "Why do you say you goofed up? Cause you're some fifteen years in the past?"
"You figured it out really fast..." Jensen quietly protested. "I didn't know how to work your phones, but Uncle Tom just thought it was 'cause I was half-Japanese."
As if you didn't need additional confirmation that he was Mimi's son. As if you needed to tell Mimi that your relationship apparently worked out, because here was living, breathing proof that you two had had sex. You took a breath, trying to keep your heartbeat steady.
You could face mafia underlords without breaking a sweat, but your own son - your actual flesh and blood - was making your heart race a mile a minute, and you hated every moment of it. You couldn't parent. Your examples were your frigging deadbeat dad and Bruce; you weren't exactly destined for parental greatness here.
"I'm also a Bat," you admitted, allowing the gravity of such a confession to sink into Jensen's brain. "We're kind of trained to pick up the pieces fast."
"Not me! Granddad said I didn't have to hero if I didn't want to."
Now that didn't sound like Bruce. You half-wondered if old age had affected his sanity more than you would've guessed. "Point is, it wasn't hard to figure out you weren't from here. So how'd you even come...?"
"I don't know." Jensen pulled the covers over his neck; it would've covered his face, had you not burrowed underneath to comfort him. "I just remember trying to hurry up and go home, 'cause you and Mom were expecting me, and then bam! I'm in this brownstone."
"What was Tom's reaction?"
"He asked if I was a Boy Scout, and if I were, that he was sorry but he already had too much popcorn."
You chuckled softly. "Sounds like my Tommy."
Jensen - you couldn't think of him as some kid anymore - looked up at you with awe. "He was really nice. I was so worried, 'cause I didn't even have Palmon with me, and..."
Palmon. Jensen's frigging Digimon partner was a Palmon. History sure loved to repeat itself, didn't it?
"Get some sleep, kid," you said, ruffling his hair lightly. "You've got a long day ahead of you."
"Okay. G'night, Dad."
The second he closed his eyes, you reached for your phone again. Your fingers trembled with each letter you typed out, until you finally pressed 'send' to Mimi:
maybe you're right, meems. i don't suck at babysitting.
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I love Tom's place as some halfway home for heroes.
:'D Oh Jason, this is what your buddy's life has become.
On first read, this had me thinking this was a kid from PJO/HoO, but then the physical description totally threw me. You can tell I skipped past the fandoms straight to the fic :'D
Considering the kids gave them up between Adventure and 02, I really enjoy the idea of Mimi getting a replica made and then always wearing it and then eventually passing it down to her son.
Too young? Tom doesn't want to be a great-uncle, does he?
I'm with Jason on this one - what happened?
Haha oh dear, unpopular even in-universe :')
Yuuuup, Jason's kid.
I love that not only have the powers switched but so have the majors! Oh no, I'm thinking about how Tom and Maxine would be as film kids now... (Tom's that guy in my class who just wanted to blow shit up.)
Okay, I know Girl Scouts sell cookies, so do Boy Scouts sell popcorn? Is this a thing? My parents Scouted in the Philippines where they don't seem to sell anything as an organization.
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TBH I'm not sure if Jason pops in and out that often! (The canonicity of this is debatable; I mainly wrote Sharpay out because I know how she feels about kids, and it was probs for the best that she missed this.)
Pffft, re: Mythomagic. I WANTED to introduce Leo Valdez down the line, but I have no clue which PJO kids we'd bring in (besides Percy) and I figured the game itself was a nice cameo.
I had actually forgotten about them giving the crests up - I am a terrible Digifan - so I am just going to roll with the replica idea :')
I MEANT TOO YOUNG, this is what I get for typing fic and then not proof-reading it fully, my attention span has gone drastically downhill as of late.
re: multiple kids getting Digimon, it's mainly a timeline reference! You said a bunch of kids would get Digimon partners, to the point where most of the world would have one, so the explosion's starting to slowlyyyy trickle in :|b Jensen just got mistaken for one of those batches of kids with new partners.
Tom was that film kid who switched into music supervision/journalism because while blowing up shit is THE BEST, he could not sustain it for long.
Yes, the American Boy Scouts sell popcorn to support their outdoor activities! They're not as popular as the cookies for semi-obvious reasons, but I've had them in years past (and they're better than store-bought).