rose

it's a sudden, sharp crack that echoes around the room like a gunshot. his head turns to the side and stays there, because you struck him hard enough for dex to freeze like that for a moment before he blinks once in surprise, tongue moving inside his mouth to poke the inside of his cheek.

you can see it in him, the change that happens when dex registers the sting and the heat that starts spreading across the side of his face, the shape of your fingertips painting his skin a crimson red. his mouth curls then, lips tugging into a smile as his eyes flutter closed to savor the impact.

you make a disgusted sound, and because you're still pissed, even more mad now than before you realized you can't even hurt him without his deranged brain turning it into this, you snarl: "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

dex only laughs in response, seemingly pulled out of his trance by the sound of your voice. it's the first time you've spoken to him in hours, and something inside him hums in satisfaction at finally earning back your attention, even if you're still scowling at him with an intensity that would make a lesser man feel the urge to bolt.

to dex, though, the only thing worth registering is that he has your eyes back on him once more, your touch back where it belongs—on his skin, burning across his cheek as physical proof.

he reaches out to grab your hand, fingers enclosing around your wrist and lifting your arm with enough gentleness to make you hesitate upon the thought of pulling it right back, then guides your palm to lay flat against the other side of his face.

You thank Gwen for setting the bathroom up as you step inside and make quick work of shedding your clothes and stepping into the hot water. It does little to shake the sleep from your body, but with no time to linger in the water, you wash, then step out to dry and slip on the robe that rests on the counter. 

When you step back into your room, you sit at the vanity so Gwen can braid and pin your hair into a style suitable for the dress chosen and Ira can apply just enough makeup to enhance your features. You stare at a spot on the wall and let your mind go blank while they fuss over you. This was always the part of the day you dread–it made you feel like a doll being dressed to appease everyone else but yourself. 

Once dressed into an exquisite dress that leaves you quite literally breathless due to the corset that's cinched to the tightest it could go, you step into the matching ballet flats as Ira and Gwen take their leave while Alice stays behind, like always. 

“Please remember to mind your attitude with His and Her Majesty.” She brushes a curl that rested awkwardly on your shoulder to flow down the expanse of your back.

“I think I know how to handle my own mother and father,” you whisper back with a smile on your face. Alice had spent a lot of time with you growing up and she's become somewhat of a second mother–always doting over you, reminding you, and most importantly: listening, something your own mother chooses not to do at times.  

“I also know how you can be when Her Majesty makes decisions that you don’t agree with.”

“Because they’re always decisions about my life that I don't get a choice in. It's not fair.”

“I know it's not, but it's the price to pay for the castle you live in and the title you have.” 

“I didn’t ask to pay the price. I didn’t choose this bargain,” You say feeling that heat your chest lighting to life like a hearth. 

Alice, always calm as ever, runs a hand down your arm. “I know,” she whispered, “Just please, keep that fiery personality you have to a minimum.”

You relent with a quiet sigh, “Okay, I’ll try.”

She smiles and rushes you out the door to walk through the familiar castle halls and to the study room where your parents await your arrival. After 10 minutes of navigating, you stop in front of the solid wooden door that remains closed, then rasp your knuckles loud enough to catch the attention of your parents. 

“Come in!” 

The door lets out a loud creak as you open it and you step inside the familiar room. The large desk in the middle takes up the expanse of the room, with bookshelves lined with books on the shelves. Your mother and father sit on the opposite side of the desk as you take the plush seat across. 

“Good morning,” You say with as much confidence as you can muster in this moment. It’s not often they call you into formal settings like this. 

“Hello, my dear.” You’ve always been closer with your father even since a young age–your mother always expected so much from you and felt more like a tutor than a mom. “How are you this morning?”

“I’m okay, just mildly tired.”

“Stayed up late reading again?” 

You smile sheepishly, “Yes, maybe a little bit.”

Your father smiles at you from his seat, but when you glance at your mother, she wears an almost bored expression on her face, like she can’t imagine staying up through the night to read words off a page. “We needed to speak to you about what you’ve chosen to put off for years.” 

Her words immediately make the smile drop from your face and every bone in your body want to retreat from this room immediately. “No.”

“You need to marry,” her voice holds the authority as it would if she were making a public announcement to our people, “and you need to do it soon.”

“I don’t want to be forced into a marriage against my will. I am not some pawn to use so you can make your allegiances with neighboring kingdoms!” Desperation is not a powerful enough word to explain how you feel about avoiding this future. You loathe the idea of being forced into a marriage with a suitor you do not know and do not wish to marry. “I’m not even the heir, so why must I marry at your convenience?”

“While you may be last in line for the throne, we need alliances and we need heirs–both of which you can provide.” You look toward your father to silently plead to fight for you, but his face is full of pity. You shake your head and look back at your mother as she continues. “We have given you three years past legal marriage age to come to terms with this. You will not argue with this.” 

“I am sorry sweetie.” Your fathers tone tells you he fought for you while he could, but it's time to accept the reality. 

“We are holding a ball here in a month's time on solstice. We have eligible suitors coming in from different kingdoms to meet you.”

You’re at a loss of words as you stare at the woman who's supposed to care and support you as she betrays you with the sharpest knife she owns. You keep your head down as you stand from the chair, refusing to say a word to either of them and thankfully they don't stop you as you march out of the study and into the hallway. 

You don’t even think, just walk on autopilot through the hallways and out the back doors till you reach the gardens. The flowers are barely in bloom, only few colors outshine the green, but the environment relaxes you as you sit on the grass, looking like a desolate portrait.

“Princess.”

You turn your head at the familiar voice that cuts through the gusts of wind. “Captain Todd.” 

“Is there any particular reason you’re sulking in the gardens?”

“Just a few.” You turn back toward the flora and pat the spot on the grass next to you. “Sit with me.”

You hear the shuffle of his boots walking across and toward where you rest. As he sits down, you can't help but notice how much he sticks out against the soft nature that surrounds him. Captain Jason Todd, our father's best, and tasked with the mission of being your personal guard. He’s quiet, but rose up the ranks quickly due to the multiple skill sets he has. You’ve never asked about his past in the conversations you have forced from him, but you catch glimpses of the scars that linger across his body.

You sigh quietly and pick at the blade of the grass, “I am to marry.”

“This was already expected, no?”

“It was, but it doesn’t mean I was prepared for it. I thought maybe I would meet the love of my life before it would be declared upon me, but it seems that was a foolish dream after all.”

He doesn't say anything for a long moment and neither do you. The wind presses softly against your cheeks and reminds you of the gentle life you wished to have. As the sun starts to make its leave, casting the sky in shades of oranges and pinks, you feel less like a princess and more like a prisoner surrounded in finery.  

You stand and brush the dirt and grass from the skirt of your dress with a new determination to get out if only for a second. “I must retire to my rooms, but I will see you tomorrow?” 

He glances at you with narrowed eyes for a second too long before responding, “Yes, till tomorrow, Princess.” 

You walk off and back into the castle before he can question you further. Making it to your room in record time, you're pulling the pins from your hair then straining your arms to untie the corset by yourself. Finally, once done, you slip out of the recognizable dress and into a mundane dress that sits in the back of your closet–one that won’t draw attention to yourself. 

You pull your hair back into a singular braid to keep it out of your face, and nod in approval as you glance at the mirror. Perfectly simple. You throw your windows open and glance at the now midnight sky, then down at the drop below. You’ve taken this path enough times to know where to step as a makeshift ladder and where to avoid getting spotted by the guards. 

With careful movements, you climb out the window and onto the ledge below you before following the path to keep getting closer and closer to the grass, and when you finally step on the ground, the freedom hits you immediately. You’re not often allowed to go into town, which is why you’re familiar with the path to sneak out. 

However, that victory is short-lived as you hear someone clear their throat from your left. You slowly turn and come face to face with the permanent frown on the Captain's face. “Going somewhere?”

“Uh– just checking the weather, making sure it’s clear skies throughout the night.”

“Mhm.”

“Please don’t say anything about this.”

“I never have before.”

“Okay, goo– wait what?”

“You think I didn't know when you sneak out of the castle?” His arms are crossed and instead of wearing his royal gear, he's wearing casual tunic and trousers. 

“You’ve… known about that?” 

“Every time.”

“And you never said anything?”

“No, I would follow from afar to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid or attract the wrong attention.” He says it so bluntly that you’re not sure if you should be upset or touched. 

“But not tonight?”

He stares at you for a long second. “Not tonight. I don’t want you to be alone tonight.”

You smile up at your guard and loop your arm through his to pull him along with you. “Then come on, we have places to be.” 

The walk into town was quiet, neither of you saying anything significant, but you noticed all the small things he did while walking down the pathway. He’d pull you away strangers who stepped too close, kept his pace slightly in front of yours so he could react quickly to an attacker, and even moved the hood of your cloak on top of your head so you’d be less recognizable.  

Not many shops are open at this hour, but the occasional shop would have their lights on for the people who walk the streets at dawn. You walk past a small bakery with nobody sitting inside, and guide Captain Todd to the entrance. The mouth watering smell hit you immediately, pulling you to the counter to order one of the many sweets. 

As you chat with the lady running the shop, you're thankful she doesn't recognize you as you order two sticky buns and hot chocolates. The cup is warm in your hand as you take it and hand the second one to Jason. He takes the cup and the offered sweet as you make your way out of the shop to sit at the Courtyard.

Finding an empty seat is easy when nobody is in the open expanse, so you sit down and watch the few people walk by completely unaware that their princess is gazing upon them. 

“Why do you sneak out here? There’s nothing special about a late night snack you could get at the castle.”

“It’s not about the snack, it's the fact I’m out of the castle.” You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin upon them. “I don’t get to choose my life there. It reminds me of dreaming at night and knowing you’re dreaming, but being unable to stop it–it feels magical at first, but when you realize there's no escape, it becomes a nightmare.”

You glance at the night sky and wonder if the moon feels trapped in its own cycles as well. Jason doesn’t say anything so you speak again, “I don’t get to choose my dress or my hair for the day. When I asked to be taught swordplay like my brothers, mother denied and assigned me a tutor for ballroom dance. When I wished to learn gardening I was told it was too messy and instead got sat before a piano.” You look back over at Jason and his eyes have softened as he gazes at you while you speak of your feelings. “Coming here is my choice. I get to roam freely and pick what I want, not what is decided for me.”

“Like the marriage,” he offers quietly.

You nod with a sigh, “Like my awaiting marriage.” Turning back to the street, you watch a couple holding hands while laughing freely with each other. Love. Something you may never experience at this point. 

“I will teach you.”

“Marriage?” You ask, confused as to what he is talking about. 

“No. Swordplay.”

You whip your head around to face him again, “You’d do that?”

He nods.

“What if you get caught? You’ll get in trouble for this if my mother finds out.”

“She won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Trust me?” 

“Okay,” you breathe out as the reality of what he’s offering hits you. The smile on your face grows to a full grin before you tackle him in a hug while nodding. “Thank you, thank you!” 

His laugh–something you’ve never heard before–is rough and deep as he lays on the grass where you brought him down. “You're welcome.” 

The following night, dressed in a tunic and pants you found in the bottom of a drawer, you make your way to the now abandoned music room in the castle that Jason requested you meet him at. When you get there you see him resting against the wall with a wooden sword in his hand. You’d seen your brothers use those when they first started training at a young age, but never since then. 

“Captain.” You announce yourself to him in the dark room lit only by the soft glow of the moonlight. “This is your secret spot for us to train?”

“Mhm.”

“And you’re sure we won’t get caught? I cannot risk your title for the sake of an activity I want to learn.”

“They made this room soundproof when it was built and now that it’s not being used, it's a good place to make a lot of noise.”

Your cheeks heat slightly, but thankfully in the dark, he won’t be able to see. “Right,” you whisper, “I assume that's for me?” You walk further into the room whilst looking at the wooden sword. 

He nods, handing it to you. “It’s how every soldier was trained to use a sword in the beginning. We will start with this and work on how to handle and hold it.”

You run your finger along the smooth wood as you analyze it. There's a few blemishes indicating its own use, but it seems fairly new. You hold it up like how you imagine a guard would, but the Captain immediately corrects your form. 

“You want to keep your elbows up and have your feet apart to hold a good base. You don’t want to be knocked over on the first hit.” He goes through the proper stances and techniques with you on his own sword, correcting and making adjustments to your stance as needed. You do your best to mimic each move he shows you, but it’s not as easy as you’d once assumed. 

“No, no like this.” He holsters his sword and walks behind you to adjust your arms. “If you keep them far away from you, you’ll have less control. You always want to keep your arms close.” He pressed your elbow closer to your ribs. 

You turn your head to glance back at him not expecting him to be so close to you. One of his arms rests on your waist and the other on your elbow, and you become hyper aware of the heat radiating from his skin and through your clothes. You can’t help yourself when you glance down at his lips then back at his eyes that you realize shine a muted green under the moonlight. He watches you carefully, before blinking and dropping his hands and stepping back. 

Neither of you speak of the moment that passed as he urges you into the next position to stand. You can help but notice how your waist still tingles from where his hand lingered. 

You’d met Jason every night in the old music room to practice your swordsplay, which you’d even upgraded from the wooden sword to a real one, for the past month. It had been freeing to learn something of your own volition inside the castle walls. Tonight, however, there's no lesson to attend with the Captain because you’re to be paraded around in an overly exquisite gown to find your suitor. 

At your request, Alice is the only handmaiden in the room tonight. The thought of having more than one person in your space right now makes you feel even more sick to your stomach. She finishes the pins to keep your hair in the meticulously designed style while you force to keep the dinner in your stomach. 

“You look beautiful my dear, there's no reason to look horrified.” 

“I’m just… nervous. I don’t want to do this.”

“I’m sure there will be plenty of wine you could sneak.” She smiles at you through the mirror, and while that would normally make you laugh, it does little to ease your nerves.

She sighs and brings another chair to sit in while facing you. “Is this about the Captain?”

That snaps you from your jittery daze. “What? What does the Captain have to do with anything?”

She gives you a knowing look, “I’m not blind, I see the way that boy looks at you and how you look at him. I also know you’ve been sneaking off a night to go somewhere, which I’m assuming he’s been doing the same.”

“I haven’t– How did you know?”

“It’s my job to take care of you and know your whereabouts. Don’t worry, nobody else knows.”

You bring your hand to a bead on your dress to fidget with. “It’s nothing like that okay. He’s just been teaching me to use a sword.”

“And you can say you feel nothing for him?”

“I… I don’t know.” You admit to yourself for the first time that you might have become closer with your guard and you might have developed feelings for him.

“You might want to figure that out before you go out there to all the suitors who came here for you.”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel anyways, Mother would never allow him and I together.” 

“Let me deal with Her Majesty. Aspire for whomever you want.”

She stands back up and finishes with your hair, leaving you to think on her words and your own feelings. There were always little moments with Jason during the late nights and even times during the day where he would escort you to different places. You couldn’t explain it, but when you caught his gaze, you felt a magnetic pull toward him.

With everything finished, Alice helps you up and walks you outside of the ballroom. The doors are shut, and the guards standing by are waiting for your approval to open them and send your arrival announcement to the guests. 

You turn to Alice as she whispers, “You know what you want, do not be afraid to reach for the farthest star.” 

You pull her into a hug as a thank you, and when you step back, you nod at the guards to let you inside. The large double doors swing open and you hear the announcement: “And now please welcome the Princess of Gotham.”

You step into the ballroom and feel everyone's eyes turn to you. You plaster the polite smile onto your face as you walk down the few steps toward the floor where many men of ages similar to yours bow to you as you pass. The walk to get to your throne next to your brothers feels never ending, but when you glance up and see Jason standing by your throne as many of the other guards do, the panic eases slightly. 

Finally making it to your seat and sitting down as your father stands to make the announcement reminding everyone tonight is a night of merriment, but you know that's simply a deception. Everyone in this room knows it’s the night you choose your husband. 

The night drags on as you're pulled from person to person to dance with them. Your feet ache from following the music, you tire of the same conversation with each partner, and you feel nothing for any of these men. 

You take advantage of the small gap between suitors coming and asking for your hand in dance to escape and grab a glass of wine. When you walk to the refreshments and take a sip from your glass, you see a familiar brooding man with that white curl that rests upon his forehead standing by the corner scoping out the room as if waiting for someone to attack. With a smile you walk over to him.

“Captain Todd.” 

“Princess.” 

“What are you doing over here?”

“I’m watching over the room to make sure no harm will come out of tonight.”

You smile up at him. “Always on guard.”

“That is my job.” His tone is clipped as he speaks to you, which usually isn't the case. You were beginning to notice his voice softening each night you would meet with him, becoming so unlike the guard you once knew, but tonight it feels all progress has been reverted. You will not allow that.

“Dance with me.”

He finally meets your gaze. “What?”

“One dance.”

“No. I’m not the one you should be dancing with.”

“I get to decide who I dance with.” You grab his hand and try to pull him along, but he holds firm in his position.

“I will not risk you getting in trouble for something you do not truly wish for.”

You stare at him for a long moment, the self-deprecation in his eyes gleaming enough for you to see. “Please,” you whisper.

You see the hesitation in his eyes followed by the slight dip of his chin before you tug him along, this time with him following after you. Once you come to a stop in the middle of the ballroom floor, he carefully places a hand on your waist like he’s afraid his touch will burn you. “I’m not the best dancer.”

“That's alright, just follow my lead.”

Each step you take he follows along with, and for the first time this night, there is no over the top courting, talks of your partners lists of accomplishments, or even awkward compliments. It’s quiet with the small space between you both filled by the thrums of music. He doesn’t try to impress you or make you feel like an object being auctioned, instead its simply two souls dancing around each other. 

The song ends and he bows while you curtsy, but instead of taking a step away from him to be passed to the next suitor, you loop your arm through his and pull him along with you as you run out of the ballroom. He doesn’t question or try to stop you as you wind through the halls and open the doors to the gardens in the back. 

You stand before the garden that is now bloomed in a full array of colors that are nearly impossible to see with only the light of the moon hitting them. You look up at the stars that litter the night sky. Reach for the furthest star.

“The gardens?”

You just nod.

“Why did we just leave?”

“I don’t want any of those men. I cannot be with any of those men,” you whisper.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice, Princess.”

You turn toward him, your dress is practically glowing in the moonlight, as you stand only inches away from him. “I’m choosing now.”

His eyes drag across every feature on your face and you see the realization dawn on his own. “No. No, we cannot do that. It’s practically forbidden." His hands clench at his sides.

“There is no rule against it,” you counter.

He reaches for the loose strand of hair that had fallen during your dances with suitors you don't remember the name of and tucks it behind your ear. “I cannot put you through that.”

Your hand encircles his wrist to keep it at your cheek. You don’t say anything, you just watch him and hope he understands just how much you feel for him. 

“Your father would never forgive me. I could lose my title,” he says, but he leans down closer to you and his nose brushes yours. 

“I wouldn’t let him do that.”

He inhales sharply, “We can’t.” His voice is barely a rough whisper now. He shakes his head as if trying to pull himself out of it and step away but he stays firmly rooted in his spot. His other hand moves to your waist and pulls you flush against him. 

“Jason,” you whisper, and that's all it takes for his lips to crash against yours. His lips are soft against your own, but his kiss is rough, like he's scared someone will rip you away from his grasp. You move in synchrony, trading breath for breath till your heartbeats align, before he finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours while smiling.

“You might just be my ruin, Princess.”

He hums softly in agreement to your previous statement, continuing to get lost in the scene that is playing.

Both of you are ripped out of your cozy atmosphere by the ringing of your doorbell.

“I’ll get it.” you exclaim energetically, wiggling out from under his arm as you get up. Him and you both know that it must be the food you ordered almost an hour ago. Burgers. Jason’s choice, of course.

As you make your way to the door, you can feel Jason’s gaze following your steps. You know that he’s always as careful as he can be, especially when it comes to you. You never know what kind of people may be showing up at your doorstep, even if it’s just to deliver food.

“Jaylove? Do you have cash for a tip?” you question, turning to face where he’s now sitting facing the door, his shoulders squared broad and his legs spread. You know he would look menacing to whoever would stand at the door and see him behind you, glaring.

“My wallet‘s in my jacket pocket.” he answers, his voice soft in comparison to the way he holds his body.

You huff quietly, rolling your eyes at his antics while your turn to where his jacket is hung up next to the door, reaching into his pocket. Even if you think he’s being dramatic, you love him for it. That’s why you can’t help the smile creeping across your face as you turn back around, now with his wallet clutched in your hand.

Before you can make a teasing remark, the whole interaction is cut off with a knock at the door, and you quickly open it to find your delivery driver holding out the bag of food to you.

You exchange a quick greeting as you take the bag and press a five dollar bill in his hand, and he thank you quietly before he’s already on his way again.

With the bag of food in one hand, and Jason’s wallet in the other, you gently nudge the door closed with your hip, turning to make your way into the kitchen, when a small piece of paper catches your eyes.

Maneuvering his wallet into the same hand holding the bag, you quickly bend down and pick it up.

Now that you can see it up close, you recognize that it’s a receipt. Specificity, the receipt of the first time the two of you went out together.

You still remember how nervous you were, finally crossing the line from friends to something more.

You still remember how nervous Jason was, trying not to let it show but failing miserably as he stumbled over his words and almost knocked over his drink.

You still remember insisting that you could split the bill, but he insisted on paying for you the both of you.

And you still remember how the two of you doodled together on the back of the receipt while waiting for the waiter to come back.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Jason is now getting plates out of the both of you. When he notices you not moving, he looks up, softly calling out to you. “Baby? You coming?”

You’re snapped out of your memories by his voice, and you look up to find him watching you already. Then his eyes drift down to what you’re holding.

He raises a brow. “What‘d you got there?”

Eyes crinkling, a cheesy smile lights up your face as your mouth forms a subtle pout.

Moving towards him, you set the bag and his wallet down on the counter across from him.

“You kept the receipt from our first date?” you question softly, even though you know the answer already. In a split second, you see his face going from confusion, to embarrassment, finally ending up in a sheepish expression.

“That’s so fucking cute, Jason.” you tell him straight up, already knowing he’s searching for the right way to explain himself. But you don’t need him to.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise. “It is? I thought you’d think it would be… weird.” He confesses.

“What?” you exclaim. “No way! Why would that be weird?”

He just shrugs, shyly avoiding your gaze. You round the counter, now taking his face inbetween the palms of your hands, tilting his head so he’s forced to meet your eyes.

Your smile brightens when you notice the flush on his cheeks. God, he looks so cute you just want to squeeze him.

“That’s really sweet of you, baby. I mean it.“ you express.

Jason mirrors your smile, if somewhat smaller. “I‘m glad.” he admits. “I’ve kept it in my wallet since that night. Right next to the picture of you.”

He swallows before he continues. “Sometimes I take it out and just look at it, and I’m reminded of our first date. That was arguably the best day of my life back then, and it always reminds me what I’m coming home to.” he shrugs sheepishly, like he didn’t just made your eyes well up only with words.

You could melt right there and then at his confession. Instead, you move your hands away from his face and place them around his waist, pressing yourself against him in a hug. You squeeze your eyes shut as you nuzzle your face into his chest.

Jason is a little taken aback, but when he realized what you’re doing, he sees no other option but to wrap his arms around you, too.

The two of you stay like this for a while, before Jason hears a small sniff coming from you. He pulls his head back, trying to catch a glimpse of your face. “Are you crying?”

The only response he gets is silence, that’s then interrupted by another small sniff and a quiet “No.” from you.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he presses a long kiss on top of your head. “Come on, let’s eat.”

You pull back, quickly wiping under your eyes. Then you place on hand in the side of his face as you lean up, placing a quick peck on the opposite cheek. “I love you, Jason.” you smile, before turning to finally unbox the food from the bag.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Dean mumbled, grabbing you by the shoulder to give you a light shake. Your eyes fluttered to life, mumbling something incoherent in response, as you rose.

"Whu..?" you mumbled, lifting one hand off of Dean's defined chest to wipe saliva off of your drooling mouth. It was all over his arm, dampening the hem of his dark grey sleeve, stretched taut over the curve of his bicep.

"You were biting me in your sleep. Again," he chuckled, gesturing at the litany of bite marks scattering up and down his upper arm. A couple were deeper than the rest, with two puncture wounds each like straw holes in a juice box, faint streaks of blood dribbling out. How fucking high was his pain tolerance to put up with that for at least a dozen bites?

"Mm, I'm sorry." You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, turning over in bed to check the digital clock on the nightstand. 4:03 PM. You were nocturnal naturally, and whenever Dean didn't have a case, he'd switch around his sleep schedule to be up at the same time as you. But when he can't, he'll take as many naps as possible just to get to cuddle with you.

Ever since you found out how exactly vampires become, well, vampires—you were turned in an unconscious daze, too concussed and battered to remember at the time—you had been biting him non-stop. After all, it wouldn't turn him, right?

He didn't exactly mind being covered in your marks either, needy bastard. He always put up a tough act but deep down, his abandonment issues leapt with joy at your biting kink little quirks.

"I gotta get you a teething ring," he snickered, running a hand over your soft cheek. His salty thumb dipped over your lower lip, wiping his own blood off of it, before lifting up your top lips.

He saw nothing at first, brows pinching, before your slowly ejected your fangs so he could take a little peek. He always liked poking them against the pads of his fingers, feeling the resistance his calluses create.

"Why'dj w'ke me uh?" you mumbled around the tip of his thumb.

"You stole my sweatpants this morning, I'm getting cold. Either give it back or get off of me so I can get changed... either way, y'have to be awake, okay?"

"Okay..." you huffed, rolling over and tangling further into the blankets of your shared bed.

He got up, walking around to grab a pair out of the dresser, as you not so subtly stared at his ass. "Would you let me bite your thighs?" you asked abruptly.

"Huh?" he cocked an eyebrow, head turning to face you. "Oh—" he processed what you said, "—yeah, sure, why not. Uh, why, though?"

"'Cuz I like biting? And you have a lot of meat there," you giggled, feet wiggling with joy under the blanket.

"Right," he scoffed, giving a little laugh before leaving the bedroom.

──────

"De-eannnn," you whined, dragging your feet tiredly through the bunker kitchen towards your chef of a boyfriend. He had four burgers cooking: one for Sam, three for him, and all the blood that drips from the ground beef for you.

"Yeah, baby?" he calls back, not even turning around to face you.

"Couldn't get back ta' sleep." You wrapped both arms around him, face burrowed in his clothed back, his trapezius and deltoids flexing under you. "Too cold without you."

He grinned at your neediness, allowing you to stay wrapped around him. You wiggled to duck your head under his baggy t-shirt, arms now touching bare skin, nose to his back. He squirmed from the cold of your wet lips touched his back after your tongue darted out to wet your lips, burrowing in closer.

"Hey!—" he jerked when he felt the scrape of your fangs against his back. It didn't hurt, you didn't dig in, but that didn't mean it hadn't caught him off guard. He pulled his shirt off of your head, whipping around to face you, folding immediately at the sight of your love-struck and giggly expression. "What was that for??"

"'Cuz I love you, Deanie," you beamed, jumping up with your arms still wrapped around him. He panicked, immediately putting down the spatula to catch you under your thighs, knowing how you'd get if he let you land back on your feet. Your smile widened impossibly, leaning forward, teeth digging into the crux of his neck.

"Ah! Ahh~" he jumped before the shocked noise dissolved into a sighed-out moan. "Fuck," he whimpered in a huff, hoping you wouldn't hear the little pathetic noise. But you did, you always did, and responded only by digging in further.

You shifted your position, adjusting the hold your legs had around him, before his grip tightened to stop you. "Wait—wait, hold on," he grumbled.

"What's wrong? Too hard?" you asked, always eager to ensure you're not really hurting him.

"No, no, I... just, don't move your hips there, okay?" His olive skin flushed a pretty pink.

"Why, what's..? Oh," you blushed back upon feeling the evidence of his enjoyment press against your upper thigh. You stifled a proud giggle, which would've been all well and good if not for the fact it bared your little fangs and aroused him to the nth degree.

He immediately bolted, carrying you off to the bedroom, shouting at Castiel to come take over the burger-cooking-process before they burnt on the now neglected pan.

author's note: idk how i feel abt this one guys i kinda hate it

"I came 'cause y'asked me to," he says, leaning in to talk in your ear, wary of potential eavesdroppers. "Now y'wanna kick me out?"

"No," you say, staring at his exposed tattoo of a phoenix on the underside of his forearm. Rising from the ashes, he'd explained. And I'd know about that, wouldn't I?

He wears long sleeves as Hood. You know what a big deal it is to have him come as a civilian with his sleeves rolled up. Presentable, even though no one wants to see my face, he'd told you tonight. Jason came because you wanted a friend, because you hate these work events, and you especially hate gossipy co-workers who have nothing better to do than talk shit about you and speculate on why you didn't come.

"I don't want to kick you out," you add when Jason says nothing else. "It just feels like you want to shoot everyone here."

"Well, that's nothin' new. Anyway, how would you get home if I left?"

"Nothing gets past you."

Jason taps his temple with a finger. "Nope. Steel trap."

"We'll leave soon. I promise."

Jason smiles a little, amused, and cocks his head. "I didn't even say anything. We can stay as long as you want to. Look, I don't know these people. That's why I've been parked here all night. I think it's a little rude if I ditch ya and go mingle."

That is a good point, you must admit.

You sigh. "So I should go talk to people, right?"

He shrugs. "Beats me. I don't work in an office for a reason."

You rise from the table and gulp the rest of your drink. You don't normally drink at these things, but Jason's here. Jason would never let anything happen to you.

"Okay," you say. "I'm gonna be an adult with a job and do a lap."

"Want me to come?"

You consider that, then shake your head. "Not right away. Otherwise we'll never escape. Come find me when I'm talking to Edgar, my manager. He's over there, in the green shirt. I hate his guts. You can interrupt and save me."

"Sure. Throw you over my shoulder Neanderthal-style and jet?"

"You think you're so funny, Red Hood," you mumble, shoving his shoulder lightly. He doesn't budge. He could throw you over his shoulder, no doubt.

"I think I'm hilarious, yeah." Jason grins. "Okay, I'll save ya."

You set off, very bravely, to talk to your co-workers. They aren't all bad. Jenna from your department is cool, and she shows you pictures of her new kitten. Elsie, an elderly accountant, is in a bird-watching group. But then there's Karina, who likes to act like your manager when she's not. She tells you "not to drink too much" and you barely refrain from throttling her. There's also Geoff who thinks he's smarter than he is, and you almost make eye-contact with Jason to signal him to help!

But you don't. You make it to David, who's the head of marketing. He's about your age, and you haven't talked to him much, since you don't work under him, so you're surprised when he approaches you first.

"Hi," he says, smiling. He says your name. "I got that right, yeah?"

You nod. "You did."

"We met at the Christmas party, I remember," David says. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

You muster up as much false excitement as you can. "Yeah! It's great."

He grins. "That's alright, I don't care much for these things either. I won't tell if you won't."

Your shoulders fall, tension ebbing. "I won't tell, no."

"I go because it's expected of me, but I think we could do without. I can't say that these events do much for the morale of the company, or whatever."

"It kills my morale, to be honest with you."

David laughs. He has perfectly straight, white teeth. You think of Jason's smile, and his fanged canines. You both like to joke that he came back as a vampire.

"That's a lovely necklace," he says.

"Thank you." You touch the chain out of habit. "It was a gift."

Jason, again. For your birthday. You were morose over a sold-out Swarovski charm in the shape of a rose that was a near identical copy of a pendant made of emerald, mother-of-pearl, and gold. The original was also a tidy sum, so you would've settled for the slightly less expensive Swarovski charm.

But when you'd opened the gift box, there lay the original on a delicate gold chain.

Jason had insisted it wasn't a big deal, that he could afford it, and please wear it, don't worry about losing it. You refuse to wear it to work but you wore it tonight, knowing he'd like to see it.

"You wear it well." David touches your arm and you're speechless for a moment, realizing he's flirting with you.

"Oh. I, um—"

He retracts his arm. "I'm sorry. Was that too forward of me?"

You think, then shake your head. "No, it's okay. I was caught off-guard, I guess. I'm not used to people hitting on me. Especially not at work stuff."

"Really? I can't imagine why. You're beautiful and extremely competent and intelligent. I saw that presentation you gave on the new software model."

"You watched my presentation?" you ask, surprised.

David nods. "Yes, of course. And I have to say, I thought yours was the most articulated and researched out of everyone's. You ought to have a more central role in research."

"I want to. I initially took this job for that reason, but..." You shrug. "Things change."

"I understand. I didn't want to do marketing, but it's what was available. Luckily, I'm halfway decent at it."

You smile, leaning into him. He smells nice, light and woody. Nothing like Jason's familiar citrusy-cinnamon smell.

Actually, if you focus, you do smell cinnamon. And oranges. That's weird...

"Hiya." You feel a hand rest between your shoulder blades. "Great party."

Jason's suddenly next to you. He taps your back lightly, never taking his eyes off of David. "I need t'borrow you."

Your mouth forms several shapes, trying to land on a question. What are you doing here? But you can't give it away that you were waiting for Jason to swoop in and save you from tonight. You nudge Jason's arm with your elbow. He drops his hand.

"How y'doing?" Jason says, offering his hand to David, who takes it, ever friendly.

"Hello. Sorry, I don't think we've met before."

"No, we haven't," Jason says.

You know the expression on Jason's face. It's the same one he gets when he perceives a threat. You're instantly irritated.

"David, this is my—" you begin.

"Jason."

"Nice to meet you." David glances at you, then back at Jason. "Which division do you work in?"

"I don't work here. I came as a plus-one."

"I see." David clears his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets. He's angled himself away from you. "Well, perhaps I'll see you at work?"

"Uh, yeah." You feel like you missed a step going down the stairs. "Sure. Good night."

"Good night."

Jason holds your bag out. "Ready to go?"

You frown at him. "Why did you interrupt me?"

"What? Y'told me to."

"No, I told you to save me when I was with my manager."

Jason shrugs. "I thought this guy was your manager."

"I specifically said the man in the green shirt! David's wearing a dark suit."

"Sorry. Must've slipped my mind."

You begrudgingly let Jason put your purse on your shoulder. He lets you lead the way out.

"It slipped your mind? Aren't physical descriptions the core of your job?"

Jason laughs. "Look, 'm sorry. 'M not focusing on what people look like the way I would on a case."

You stop and look at him. You're on the street, a few cars away from where Jason parked.

"That's crap, Jay. You're the smartest, sharpest guy I know. You're telling me you forgot 'green shirt'?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling ya. I thought I was doin' you a favor, like y'wanted. He looked like a boss, and you're always going on 'bout how you hate the bosses, so I cut in."

"He isn't my boss, and he's nice. He was... really nice." You huff, yanking your purse strap over your shoulder tighter. "Whatever. It's late anyway."

You get in the passenger seat. Jason starts the car and pulls out of the parking spot. You lean your head on the window, feeling the effects of the day. You worked and then came to this. You're exhausted.

"Wanna sleep at mine?" Jason asks.

You yawn. "Hmm."

"It's closer than your place."

That's true. The bar the company chose is forty minutes away from your apartment, which sucked big-time. You hate driving in Gotham and avoid it when you can. Jason offers to drive whenever you're together.

"I don't know. You annoyed me."

He scoffs. "I annoyed you?"

"You know David wasn't my manager, Jason."

"How many times can I apologize? Y'want me to drop you back off?"

"No, because it wouldn't matter. He liked me, and I liked him, and now he thinks we're... And you were so... Hood-ish. You acted like we were on a job."

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. You keep staring out the window. It feels stupid to fight about this. You don't want to fight. It isn't even about David. It's the fact that Jason won't own up. Jason's always straight with you, just like you are with him. You've never known him to lie so blatantly to you. It's bizarre. It's offensive.

"Okay," Jason says. "The truth is that I interrupted you 'cause I figured this guy was a boss and I knew he was flirting with you, and I thought it was inappropriate and an abuse of power."

You snap your head to look at him. "Jason, that isn't your decision to make. I can decide that for myself."

He nods. "I know. You're right. Again, 'm sorry. It was dumb."

"Really dumb," you say. "Really, really dumb."

"Point taken." He reaches over the console to put his hand over yours. "You can take care of yourself. I know y'can."

"Yeah, I can. I know you see a lot of bad stuff, but I'm fine. If I need help, I'll ask for it. I know I can count on you."

"Always," Jason says quietly.

You pat his hand and let it sit on yours. "Alright. Let's go to your place."

"Yeah?"

"I wanna just collapse into bed right now. Ugh, but I don't have clothes, do I? I think I took the last set home with me."

"You can wear mine, I don't care."

"'Kay." You pull the lever to recline your seat back and close your eyes. "Wake me up when we're there. Or throw me over your shoulder and carry me in."