Leo

Bruce being out of Gotham on a mission and leaving the manor to his kids while Alfred accompanied him just gave them an open opportunity. Not that Bruce minded or they’d even listen if he did.

The martinis you had been sipping on –that Barbara had prepared for herself, Cass, Steph and you– were beginning to make your eyes feel heavy.

You took a sip and leaned back against Jason, resting your head in the crook of his neck where you could smell his cologne that you got him for christmas.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let his head rest on top of yours as he took another lazy drag.

“Pizza’s here, who’s getting it?” Tim asked, glancing at his phone.

All of them said Damian’s name in unison.

“You’re the youngest that’s the rule,” Dick chuckled and held his hand out for Jason to pass the blunt to him.

Damian huffed and stood up, making his way inside the manor to get the pizza.

“Jay, I wanna try,” you said, watching Dick smoke a drag and pass the joint to Roy.

He looked at you for a beat too long as you stared back into his blue-green eyes, perfectly framed with long black lashes and currently shaded with redness.

“Let’s try something,” he murmured, “Come here.”

He cupped your cheek with one large hand and took a long drag with another, holding it in while rubbing his thumb on your lower lip as a gesture for you to open your mouth.

You had seen and read about shotgun kisses multiple times in your life but had never tried it and the thought of an audience being present around you while he transferred smoke in your mouth was enough to make you blush and rethink your proposal.

But one look around the circle made you realise that no one was looking at your way.

You obliged and opened your mouth, letting Jason lean down and blow the smoke directly into your mouth and before you had the chance to cough, he sealed his lips against yours.

His other hand traveled to your waist as he sucked in a harsh breath and pulled you even closer to him until your chest was pressed against his.

The weed was already getting to his head because he always got just a bit more clingy and horny every time he got high.

You were guessing the joint was now in someone else’s hand because Jason was holding you with one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head, pulling you in. Like he would combust if he didn’t have a death grip on your whole body.

He let out a shaky breath as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, making them part. He took the opportunity and shoved his tongue in your mouth, rubbing against your own and your lower lip, making you let out quiet whimpers.

You felt his sharp teeth tug at your bottom lip and bite enough to draw blood before he licked it clean. You gasped and felt Jason’s lips curl into the kiss like he was enjoying this way too much. You grasped his bicep, digging your nails as if to ground yourself while he devoured your mouth like he would die if he stopped.

Behind Jason, you heard Dick let out a whistle. “It’s those damn shotgun kisses I’m telling you,” he commented, making Steph laugh loudly before you felt something soft hit the side of your head.

“Jason let the poor girl breathe,” Roy huffed out a laugh but Jason didn’t budge, only kissing you harder as if to prove a point.

“Jay!” Cass snickered as you felt yet another marshmallow hit your head.

You pulled away from Jason but he leaned forward as if he could catch your lips with his again but you put a finger on his lips, backing him away. His mouth red, swollen and glistening. His cheeks flushed red while his hair looked tousled like he had just gotten out of bed.

“Thanks for the free porn Jason,” Tim commented, throwing more marshmallows at Jason’s head.

“Thought I’d do you service since you don’t get any,” Jason replied, giving Tim a tight smile.

Beside him, you were still flustered. You were doing your best to hide your face in his shoulder because Jason wasn’t big on pda, he barely even kissed you when out in public so this surprised you to say the least.

“What’s wrong?” Jason checked, looking down at you when everyone else once again got busy with their conversation.

“Nothing,” you replied.

He put his finger under your chin, making you look up into his eyes that were filled with amusement. “Are you blushing?”

“Stop,” you huffed, pushing his face away, making him snicker.

“Babe it’s okay, I’ve walked in on Dick and Babs multiple times. He really doesn’t care where he is it’s horrible.”

“I’m fine promise,” you replied. “I just wish we were alone right now,” you murmured, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“We can go upstairs, my childhood bedroom has a really sturdy bed believe me,” he offered with a wink that shouldn’t have been as attractive as he made it look.

“No you freak,” you giggled, flicking his forehead.

“I have a situation, help me out here,” he groaned lightly and shifted in his seat to make you feel the situation he was talking about.

“Jason!” You hushed, covering his mouth with your palm.

He chucked again as you felt him kiss the palm of your hand before you pulled away and another joint miraculously made its way into Jason’s hand.

You rested your head ln his shoulder while he held your waist with one hand and brought the joint up to his lips with the other, taking a drag.

You stared at his perfect side profile, his button nose, his rose coloured lips, his deep eyes that you could drown in, his beautiful tuft of white hair that you brushed away from his face every morning because it had got long enough for him to scrunch up his nose as the strands tickled him.

You wanted to groan at how pretty he was.

You looked even closely at the freckles dusting his nose and cheekbones. You loved tracing them with your eyes, drawing constellations out of them every time he fell asleep with his head on your lap. You loved pressing light kisses on the little heart shaped freckle that was right below his lower lip.

You let out a sigh, making Jason look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you want more?” He asked.

“No,” you replied, still feeling flushed.

He kissed your forehead and went back to the conversation he was having with his brothers.

“On second thought,” you began and he looked at you again.

“Let’s go see how sturdy your twin bed really is.”

You did not have to tell him twice.

made some changes in this one so if you’ve read it before, shhhh

The mattress shifted again beneath you, the movement subtle enough that it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else, but after dating Bart Allen for as long as you had, you had become unusually sensitive to disturbances. Mainly because, when they were coming from him, they felt less like ordinary movement, and more like someone attempting to contain a small electrical storm inside a human body.

Your eyes remained closed as you curled deeper beneath the blankets, one arm tucked beneath your pillow while warm morning sunlight slipped through the gaps in the curtains and painted soft bars of gold across the bedroom floor. The apartment was quiet apart from the distant hum of traffic outside and the occasional creak of old pipes somewhere in the building, and for a few precious seconds you thought you might be able to drift back into sleep.

Then a hand smoothed across your back.

The touch was gentle enough that it barely registered at first, warm fingers gliding carefully along your back before disappearing again. A moment later it returned, lingering slightly longer this time, and despite yourself you felt your shoulders relax beneath the blankets.

"Babe." Bart's voice was low, though not because he was tired. He sounded like someone making an enormous effort to remain calm in the face of extreme adversity.

You responded by pulling the comforter a little higher around your shoulders.

The mattress dipped as he shifted positions. Then it dipped again. Then again. Even with your eyes closed you could practically picture him, unable to settle into a single spot for longer than a few seconds as restless energy buzzed beneath his skin.

"Babe," he tried again.

A groan escaped you before you could stop it.

For a moment there was silence, and you thought perhaps he had finally accepted defeat.

Then you felt his forehead press against your shoulder.

You cracked one eye open.

Bart was half draped across the bed beside you, his cheek squished against the blanket and his arms folded beneath his chin as he stared at you with the expression of a man who had been stranded on a deserted island for several years. His hair stuck out in every direction, still messy from sleep, and there was a faint flush in his cheeks that always appeared whenever he had been sitting still for longer than his body considered reasonable.

"How long have you been awake?" you mumbled.

His expression darkened and became almost solemn, "Thirty-two minutes."

You stared at him. Bart stared back.

The sheer seriousness with which he delivered the statement made it difficult to determine whether he genuinely considered this a crisis.

"Thirty-two whole minutes?" you asked.

"I know."

The words left him with such heartfelt suffering that you almost laughed.

"That's terrible." You played along with his anguish, shaking your head slightly before a hand came up to rub your eyes.

"It is terrible," he agreed immediately. "I've already reorganized the kitchen cabinets twice."

You blinked. "What?"

"The spices are alphabetical now." His lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes on you and much wider (and more awake) than just seconds before.. like he knew to fake being sleepy while waking you up.

"You alphabetized the spices before eight in the morning?" You questioned, shifting slightly under the blankets and his weight, readjusting so now his cheek was squished against your arm.

"I ran out of spices." The room fell quiet at that, Bart's eyes flicked toward the window. Then toward the bedroom door. Then toward the window again.

The look was familiar enough that you immediately knew where this conversation was heading.

"No." You narrowed your eyes in a way that should have served as a warning, but you knew he wouldn't take it as such.

"I didn't even ask yet!" Bart defended helplessly.

"You were about to."

His entire face brightened at that, "So you do know me."

You groaned, flipped, and buried your face back into the pillow.

A second later his weight settled carefully across your back, not enough to crush you, just enough to make it impossible to escape while he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Babe," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"No."

"I just need to run a few laps."

"No."

"It'll take like ten minutes."

You turned your head a bit and raised an eyebrow at that, "You said that last time."

"Okay, but that one accidentally became forty-five."

"Because you ended up in California."

"In my defense, California was already there."

You could hear the grin in his voice after your face had already buried itself back into the pillow.

The worst part about dating Bart Allen was that he could say genuinely ridiculous things with such complete sincerity that arguing with him often felt impossible.

The second worst part was that he was currently warm and comfortable and wrapped around you like an oversized blanket despite being physically incapable of relaxing for more than five consecutive minutes.

"I just need to get some energy out," he continued, his voice softening as his face tucked into the side of your neck. "Just a few laps up and down the East Coast. Maybe stop in Maine. Maybe Florida. Grab a bagel somewhere. I'll be right back, I swear."

"You are describing a road trip." And as if he knew you would logically protest, he peppered your neck in gentle kisses before you could even start talking.

"It's not a road trip if I don't use roads." He mumbled against your skin, this time, you could feel the grin.

"You are not running to Florida for breakfast, we can literally go down the street."

"I could be back before your next sentence."

You turned your head enough to look at him.

The hopeful expression waiting for you was almost painful to witness.

Bart wasn't trying to leave because he was bored of being here. If anything, that was what made the situation so ridiculous. He loved mornings like this. Loved staying tangled together beneath blankets, loved the quiet intimacy of waking up beside someone he adored.

His body just, unfortunately, happened to contain enough energy to power several small cities.

For a long moment he simply looked at you, trying very hard to appear patient despite the fact that every muscle in his body seemed ready to launch him through the nearest wall.

Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

"Babe," he whispered softly, and a little pathetically. "Please."

You sighed, causing his eyes to widen, and the grin arrived before you'd even spoken.

And somehow, despite knowing exactly how this would end, you found yourself laughing into your pillow as Bart celebrated a victory he technically hadn't won yet.

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