summary: tending to a hurt red hood's injuries
note: this concept/scene is kinda repetitive, especially in this fandom, but idc i'll eat it up every time. wrote this in a bit of a rush, sorry!!
red hood–or todd, just todd, as you also know him–had made a bad habit of coming in through your window.
no matter how many times you've invited him to just use the door, he always enters by sliding your fire-escape window open and scaring the fuck out of you.
tonight was no different. only now, you'd grown accustomed to those loud combat boots on your fire escape before his breaking and entering.
you were slumped over the kitchen counter, half-awake, half-nursing a cup of chamomile tea for the late night insomnia, when you heard the familiar sound of your window sliding open. you sighed as the pit-patter of the rain outside became increasingly louder.
"i wish you'd just use the door, todd." you said, continuing to stir your tea. you weren't in any rush to turn around.
"next time." a distant yet familiarly gruff voice scoffed back. his words were dripping with sarcasm, you both knew it.
"you said that last time."
instead of a response from him, the sound of your couch groaning under weight answered back.
"could you not," you turned towards him, tea momentarily forgotten. "you're going to get it we–"
you trailed off at the scene on your couch: red hood's signature jacket, damp with something other than just rain, thrown hastily across it. not far from it's owner, who was kicking off his boots with one hand while the other clutched a rather gnarly injury at his side.
"what the fuck, todd!" you gasped, moving towards him immediately. "are you okay?!!? what happened??"
he waved you off, "minor setback."
"minor!? you're bleeding out on my fucking couch!!!"
"and i'll pay for it's cleaning. again." jason groaned as he threw his last boot slightly across the room. "fuck–just get me the first aid kit. please."
"first aid kit?? you need a hospital–"
you stared at the limp figure in front of you for no longer than another moment before turning on your heel and disappearing into the bathroom.
when you returned with the requested kit, you found jason with his head thrown back, slumped more carelessly across the couch.
"give it," he demanded, holding out his free hand towards you without moving his gaze.
you pushed his hand away as he made an attempt to grab the first aid kit, setting it beside him. "i've got the medical license. take off your shirt."
he scoffed, shifting his head slightly, "wow. not even going to take me out for dinner first?" he winced. "ow. shit. okay. fine. fuck. hurry."
jason straightened up a bit, only enough to pull his shirt over his head and slump back against the couch again. he discarded the shirt somewhere on your floor. very considerate.
you blinked at the view: muscle lathered with bruises and scars upon more muscles. you knew he was built, it came with the perks of being a vigilante, but this part always caught you off guard.
you swallowed–much harder than intended.
then you sunk to your knees on the floor in front of him. jason's eyes definitely flickered at that.
"this'll hurt," you warned, grabbing a clean cloth from your kit. "i'd offer you my hand but i kind of need both."
"ha ha, you're very funny."
jason's words died in his throat as you pressed the cloth against his bleeding wound with too much pressure.
a gasp escaped him before he could stop it, followed by a series of curses.
you held your hand firmly against the injury despite the crippling sense of guilt. "sorry."
jason tilted his head towards you. his eyes were blown wide, those unintentional puppy eyes glossed over. "could you be any gentler?"
"sorry." you repeated, moving your hand slightly. "is this better?"
you moved to shift your hand again, trying to find a position comfortable for him.
"just stop." jason grabbed your wrist keeping your hand firm against his side. "moving makes it worse." he nearly panted. "just give me a fucking minute."
you looked up at him–really looked. the heaving chest, the labored breath. the obvious pain he was trying to mask.
jason let out another breath, one a bit steadier. "okay."
the both of you sat in a few moments worth of silence, jason's hand still warm against your wrist. your wrist still sturdy against his wound.
"i can get you some pain killers?" you offered.
"no. i don't need them." jason released your wrist. you each tried not to miss the other's skin. "just hurry up."
once the bleeding had subsided, you pulled back to set the cloth on the floor next to his bloody shirt.
jason whimpered at the sudden movement. neither of you pointed it out.
you ignored the feeling it sent straight to your stomach, instead focusing on locating your disinfectant.
you readjusted yourself when you did, leaning slightly over him for a better angle.
jason's gaze was fixed on you now, watching every move you made. his hand subconsciously closed and opened around a pillow. he grimaced at the sight of the little bottle.
jason whimpered again as the cold liquid touched his warm injury. you ignored the heat in your own cheeks.
he instinctively moved away from your hands, trying to seek relief from the increased pain.
"hold still.." you muttered, eyes fixated anywhere on the wound and not his face.
"i'm trying." he grinded out, voice thin and strained, "be careful–mmph–y/n."
your hands stuttered, nearly dropping the disinfectant spray at the sound. him whimpering and then saying your name shouldn't have been as attractive as you found it in that moment. the poor guy was in pain.
his lips were quivering and his eyes were watery and you were caught up in how erotic his voice sounded while suffering.
you lifted the spray again, only to pause once more when he grunted again.
"jason. i can't focus if you keep whimpering in my ear."
jason looked at you with raised eyebrows and a slightly agape mouth. "oh, i'm so sorry. the next time I'm sliced open, i'll just stay quiet and stoic like a good boy, yeah?"
"i did not say all of that."
you rolled your eyes at his intentional misinterpretation. he rolled his eyes at your eye roll.
you gave jason a small break after you'd finished cleaning and dressing his original wound. then, you moved onto applying cream on the smaller bruises littered across his body, beginning with his arms and ending at his torso.
"is this really necessary?" jason asked uncomfortably, constantly moving and shifting around as you massaged the cream into his lower torso.
"yes." you focused on the strokes of your finger, careful in being gentle, to keep yourself from focusing on other things like how firm his stomach was or how red his ears were. "so stop moving, jason."
jason let out an unsteady breath. "you keep calling me that."
you raised your eyebrows at nothing, "your name?"
"don't start with the attitude, you know what i mean."
"i mean, if you prefer todd–"
he cringed at the speed in which he answered.
a few moments later, you sighed, leaning back on your heels. "all done?"
you met jason's gaze, "what?"
jason's hips bucked forward a bit. not in an exaggerated way, but one which made his point clear. in a way that felt almost unintentional, though you knew better than that.
your throat dried, the words in your mouth dying of dehydration on your tongue.
jason took the opportunity to cup the back of your neck, pushing your head closer. a few of his fingers tangled into the small hairs along your neck, twirling.
you could try to ignore the strain in his pants all you wanted–convince yourself it was an optical illusion. but you couldn't ignore the intensity in his gaze–the natural yearn. the raw hunger.
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