Chapter Text
It takes Harvey a minute to place what's awoken him. He fumbles in the dark for the alarm clock on his nightstand, and slaps it a handful of fruitless times before he realises it's not the alarm clock yelling at him.
His ringing phone tumbles to the floor, Harvey's fingers slipping on the cracked glass. He rolls over in bed with a curse and outstretches to reach it, lifting the phone to his ear with a bleary, “Hello?”
“Uncle Harv!” the voice at the other end of the line says, sounding dangerously relieved.
Harvey resists the urge to pinch his nose. “It's 3am, Jason.”
“I know, I know, sorry. I need to ask a favour.”
Harvey sits up, groaning. It's not that he's not fond of calls from his godson, but Harvey's learnt to be suspicious of Bruce's brood. “What kind of favour?”
“Can you bail me out of jail?”
It takes a few sleep-addled moments for Harvey's brain to process the entirety of that loaded question. “Why are you in jail?”
“Unlicensed driving.”
Not the worst offence Harvey knows Jason has committed. Relatively minor on the rungs of the criminal justice system. Traffic offences register even lower than misdemeanors.
He swings his legs out from under the covers, and winces at the chill that laces up his bare feet. “What happened to your licence?”
To his credit, Jason has the decency to sound sheepish. “Never got one.”
Harvey frowns. “You've bought liquor.”
“I have a fake ID. Had,” Jason corrects himself.
“You're of legal age,” Harvey reminds him. “You could get a genuine licence.”
He can picture Jason now, head tilted towards the wall phone, palm scrubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to get around to it eventually,” he lies, and Harvey sighs.
He still pushes to his feet, trudging towards his closet in search of something more professional than pajama pants. “Which precinct are you in?”
“34th,” Jason answers, to a grunt from Harvey. He's closer than Harvey expected; apparently the kid isn't straying too far from home these days.
“What's your bail set at?”
“Three thousand.”
Harvey doesn't ask why Jason didn't just ask Bruce for the pocket change. But then, if he's calling Harvey in the middle of the night, he evidently doesn't want to give his guardian reason to be overprotective. Harvey doesn't need a law degree to deduce that.
“I'll be there in half an hour. Sit tight and don't talk to anyone else until I'm there. Don't antagonize any cops either. If I have to leverage my name to get additional charges dropped, I'll be pissed.”
“Um,” Jason says, and Harvey pauses.
“Yes?” he prompts warily, when the silence persists.
“Can the T-man pick me up? Please?”
Harvey glares at the wall.
Jason must sense his irritation from miles away, because he hurriedly explains, “There's a bunch of rat fucks from my college in the holding cell with me. Done for DUIs. They've been harassing me lately — don't tell Bruce — and I just thought, if they see me getting bailed out and think I have mob connections to Two-Face they might back off a bit.”
He sighs, scrubbing his palm into his eye socket as he pads barefooted across the timber. “I'll see if he's amenable.”
“Thanks, Uncle Harvey, I owe you one.”
“I charge in six minute increments,” Harvey says bluntly, and stabs his thumb at the red icon before Jason can finish drawing in a responding breath.