Noah

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Jason wasn't stupid, far from it. After that night for patrol, you weren't the same, he noticed it early on, wondering why you were suddenly withdrawing. He understood that sometimes people just need space, he tended to need it himself just to recuperate. You though? You barely needed alone time, hell you were practically glued to him all times of the day. So what could've happened to make you do this?

The first few days were... Odd, in your shared apartment, you often stay confined to your own room. That in itself wasn't too bad, you both kept separate rooms for a reason, often slipping into the other's bed sometime at night. Even then you barely let him in, that was the second time he got suspicious of your activity. He just wanted to slip into bed with you, to hold you from behind and get a decent night's sleep.

Instead he's left dejected outside your door like a dog that got denied a bone.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Jason finally barked the question out one night when he caught you in the kitchen, trying to get a late night snack.

You jumped, nearly dropping the damned sweet you were sneakily trying to get back to your room, but unfortunately the fates hated you. “Nothing— shit, can't you make your presence known?” You huffed, lips pressed into a thin line as you carefully kept your weight on your other leg. It still wasn't healed yet, not after a week— realistically, you knew you probably had a hairline fracture, but like hell you'd tell him that.

Not willingly at least.

“You’ve been avoiding me like the plague” Jason scoffed, walking over to put himself in front of you. He was right— unfortunately, and the proximity made your heart warm. You'd be lying if you said you didn't miss having him close to you, that you didn't miss having him curled up in your sheets.

“C’mon baby—” Jason breathed out, carefully caging you in between him and the counter. His hair fell in front of his eyes, one hand reaching up to cup your jaw, “Did I do something wrong?” He asked quietly, his piercing gaze searching yours for any hint of what was going on. Your heart ached— he looked so tired, not with you, never with you— but tired in a way that told stories of restless nights.

You felt it too, not having him in your bed made the nightmares stir, but you didn't want to risk it. Didn't want him knowing about the injury— you didn't want to be manhandled to a hospital, he knew you hated them, but he hated seeing you hurt even more. “Nah— You didn't do nothin’ handsome” You reached up, hand covering his as you pressed a soft kiss to his wrist.

“You’re lying to me” He whispered, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. His gaze bore into yours, and you hated how it felt as if he could see right through you. “No I'm—” Your words cut off when his lips pressed to yours, everything else fading out as you fucking melted. The past week was only full of quick kisses, quick touches— you missed when he would kiss you like this, deep and loving, his hands on your waist.

This was always Jason's tactic with you when you were wound up. He'd unravel you, slow and steady, kiss after kiss, followed by the slow move of his hands along your skin. It wasn't heated, it wasn't a rush towards something hotter, something more sexual— it was just him. Just Jason trying to ease whatever you had racing through your head, just trying to calm you down and bring you back to reality, a reality you often detached from.

It was so sweet. The heat of his lips on yours, molding perfectly against your own, slow and steady, so sure about everything. His hands moved to your hips, firm but careful as he started to lift you onto the counter— And then your knee dumped his thigh, and pain fucking exploded.

“Fuck—!” Your head snapped back, rolling to the side as you gasped, hissing through your teeth. Jason's hands left you so fast that it was almost like he was never there to begin with. “The fuck was that—?” Jason asked breathlessly, his gaze dropping to your leg, watching your hand grip your thigh. The pain in your expression was all he needed to finally understand your recent attitude.

Something nasty twisted in his chest, something dark and dangerous, “Show me”.

“Jason—”

“Show. Me.”

You knew that tone, the one where he wouldn't take no for an answer, one where he had no patience for anything but compliance. “Hurts too much” You whispered, gaze shifting away in shame as you kept your hand on your leg. So Jason fell to his knees, not caring about the ache from the tile he just smacked them against. His hands were careful and steady as he slowly pushed your pant leg up. When he saw the damage, he sucked in a harsh breath, “Shit—” His hands hovered in the air, looking at the angry red and purple bruising that practically engulfed your leg.

“Baby, what the fuck—” He breathed out, his attention never leaving the damage in front of him. His fingers just barely traced over your calf, the bruising was worse around your knee, fading the lower it got.

“We need to get this checked—”

“No—”

Your reply was quick, and much sharper than you meant it to be. “I can't— I can't go to the hospital” Your lungs burned at the thought, heart pounding against your ribs as if the very thought of stepping into those barren rooms with insanity inducing white walls would send you into a spiral. Jason knew this, he knew you hated hospitals from the moment you two met, it wasn't much of a secret— this life you both lived often left you both in dire situations, but he needed you healthy.

“Then let's go to Bruce” The suggestion even shocked himself. Your eyes widened, staring down at him in disbelief. Jason didn't necessarily have the best relationship with his father, and despite it not being hostile anymore, that didn't mean he wanted to hang around the mansion or the batcave. He swallowed thickly, “The batcave has a medical station, designed to look over shit like this— he'll take care of you” He didn't care about his pride, about his feud with his father, none of it mattered when it came to you.

“It’ll just be us, and those musty cave walls” You cracked a small smile at that, Jason wasn't the best at jokes, but he tried. Anything was worth seeing you smile, seeing you okay. “Yeah” You sighed, breath shaky as you slowly nodded, “Okay— Yeah, that sounds good”.

When Jason rose to his knees, he pressed a kiss to your head, his hand resting on the back of your neck. “You can't hide these things from me” He sighed, pressing a lighter kiss below your eye, easing your worries once more. “I’ll take care of you, always“ He murmured softly against your skin, taking a deep breath before pulling back.

Damian blinked slowly, then scowled. “Disgusting,” he said flatly. “I didn’t need to see Todd reduced to a cuddle pillow.”

“Say that again, demon spawn. I dare you.”

Damian smirked, clearly pushing buttons. “Cuddle. Pillow.”

Jason started to push himself up, muscles coiling like a spring. But your palm slid down from his shoulder to his waist, fingers curling just enough to anchor him. You leaned down, your lips close to his ear, and whispered something low enough for only him to hear:

“Don’t waste your breath. They’re just jealous.”

Jason’s scowl faltered, his jaw flexing once before softening. For a heartbeat, the entire room went still as the Red Hood—the guy who fought tooth and nail to never look weak—melted under your touch. He exhaled, let his weight settle back onto you, and buried his face against your chest.

Tim nearly dropped his phone. “Did you just tame him?!"

Jason groaned into your chest. “You people are insufferable.”

“Insufferable?” Tim echoed, half laughing, half horrified. “You’re the one purring like a cat—”

Jason’s head snapped up. “Replacement—”

“Shhh,” you murmured, brushing your thumb over the back of his neck. “Don’t give them the satisfaction.” Jason muttered something profane under his breath but stayed put, chest rising and falling against yours.

Dick leaned on the doorframe, eyes wide. “I think I just watched Jason Todd obey a command. Like, actual obedience. From a person who’s not Bruce.”

Jason flipped him off without lifting his head. “Keep talking, Golden Boy. See what happens.”

Bruce’s voice floated in from the kitchen, sounding suspiciously amused. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

You gave Jason’s hip a squeeze. “C’mon. Let’s go eat before it really does.” Jason sighed like a man being asked to scale Everest, but when you shifted, he followed—still pressed to your side, still shooting glares at his brothers.

Tim shook his head slowly. “I’m telling you, we need to get photographic evidence of this.”