#champagnesbiggestproblem

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“It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my to-”

The shake of your doorknob sobers you completely. No longer immersed in the book, but staring doom in the face. You weren’t expecting anyone. No one was supposed to be here, not at this time anyway. It was a little after one in the morning, which only meant one thing in Gotham.

Trouble.

The handle on your front door kept jangling, and you could hear the lot of them outside messing with the lock. Practically shooting off the sage couch, you dart toward your bedroom. The door shuts behind you as quickly and quietly as possible. Flipping the silver notch to lock you inside, adrenaline starts pumping through your veins. Your eyes are frantically examining all your furniture to fins the most feasible piece to block the door. In a desperate attempt at survival, you muster all the strength you can manage at 1 a.m. to push your dresser.

The dresser was ancient and colored with a faded spruce stain. Your brother had gifted it to you as one of his legendary Facebook marketplace finds.

He loved to play this game to see how much he could lowball the sellers and get away with it. After each buy, he would call you to tell you how much he managed to get discounted off. You could always hear the smirk in his voice, proud of himself and his bargaining skills. As you reminisce on the memory while pathetically shoving the dresser, you think of him.

This is exactly why he didn’t want you to get your masters at GothamU.

There was a whispering voice in your head that wanted to put off telling him about this as long as you could. You knew exactly what the phone call would sound like. The first thing he would do would be to tell you “I told you so” and the next would be him packing your bags to move you back to Central City.

The ricochet of your front door off the wall halts you in your tracks. The vibrations of the insane  force are felt through the foundations of your shitty apartment. You say a silent prayer to any deity listening when you finally manage to get your dresser to block some of the door. Your lamp next to the couch was still on and you hope their stupid enough to think that you didn’t really acre about your electric bill.

It’s only a matter of time until they realize that someone was in fact home.

Your phone lights up from your nightstand with a notification from your brother highlighting the lockscreen. That development springs you into action, finally making an attempt to ask for help. From what you could hear, there were about three of them out there. The drawers in your kitchen were being pulled off the rails, cabinets were being thrown open, books were being fanned out for extra cash.

It was a lost cause really, you were a broke master’s student who worked at the campus bookstore. They weren’t going to find much except frozen meals and too many annotations in between pages.

Tip-toeing to your phone, you hear them outside talking to themselves. What saves you is that you have a million little containers and trinkets that they’ll busy themselves with. It’ll take them at least ten minutes to rifle through and guess how valuable each of them are.

“Of course” you can’t help but mumble with shaking hands when you see the notification from him. Only Wally West would be up at 12:14 a.m. (Central City time) sending you an Instagram reel of Zuko in the leaked Avatar movie with a message that says “I can take him.”

I’ll take him in between the legs, you think to yourself as the edit plays.

Your guardian angel must have been tired of working overtime because something shatters in your kitchen, which catalyzes your self-preservation to kick in again. In spite of the fact you’re about to drop the phone with how much you’re shaking, your fingers manage to type out a message.

As much as I’d love to discuss how you cannot in fact “take him” I need your help

I totally can thank you very much But what’s up?

Someone broke into my apartment and I’m hiding out in my room

WHAT!?!?!?!

He instantly starts calling you. In any other circumstance an Instagram call would make you laugh, but right now you hit the decline button as fast as you can. The second it ends, another call comes through and you decline that one too.

Pick up the phone right now.

I can’t They’ll hear me talking Can you call 911 for me?

I mean I would love too but they’re not going to do anything You’re in GOTHAM. They’re probably dealing with a psychotic lion or something.

Your head falls back after reading the text. He’s not exactly wrong, but a very small part of you is trying to overpower the stressed one and stay calm. Tears are threatening your water line from terror, you’re positive that your heart is about to beat out of your chest. One of them keeps walking past the door as they tear apart your bookshelf and entertainment center, each footstep feels like a countdown.

You stare at your door with your heart in your throat when another text form Wally comes through.

I just texted Dick, someone’s going to be there soon For now go to your bathroom and barricade yourself inside This time when I call, you ARE going to PICK UP and sit with me in silence until someone gets there okay?

You barely finish reading the text when the green and red buttons appear on the screen again.

Instantly, your fingers go to the side of the phone to lower the volume. The only sound coming from either of you are heavy anxious breaths.

If it wasn’t for the no meta rule, you know he would already be halfway here. He’d threatened to break it multiple times on the grounds of you just having a bad day. You knew him not being here right now with this absolute disaster happening was killing him.

The quiet padding of your feet on the way to your bathroom sounded like bombs dropping to your ears.

Realistically, you knew they couldn’t hear it, but all your senses were at 110%. Every noise that came from outside of your bedroom felt like a crescendo to the climax of your worst nightmare. In a really strange and fucked up way, you were lucky. You’d been living in Gotham for a year and a half without having any real problems. It was about time to pay the piper.

Entering the bathroom, you delicately place your phone on the counter and shut the door behind you. The lights remain off while you slide down the wall. The timer of your call with Wally was the only source of light in the claustrophobic wash room. When it hits 2:07, they start trying your bedroom door. Wally hears it, the hitch in his breath obvious even on the lowest volume setting.

It’s going to be okay, I promise. They’ll be there soon.

His text only causes the tears to fall faster on your face. You just wanted tonight to be over.

Then you hear it.

The shatter of your living room window. It’s followed by a heavy set of footsteps that land on the floor. A few punches are thrown, some gunshots, and then you count three bodies falling to the floor.

The ringing in your ear is louder than you’re comfortable with and Wally speaks for the first time.

“Are you okay?”

It’s a miracle that you heard or even understood him. The broken speaker of your phone paired with his small whisper was almost impossible to make out.

“I think.” Is all you can say back.

Then there are three knock on your bedroom door that sends you flying to your feet. Phone in one hand and white-knuckling the counter with the other, every limb is shaking and your breathing hadn’t been coming out evenly for minutes. The room is spinning, and the aftershock is starting to sink in.

“Hey it’s me,” the voice comes out slightly awkward and you freeze. Recognition travels with a chill down your spine. “I took care of the them, you uh- you can come out now.”

There was like a million of the bats and bat-adjacent vigilantes in Gotham, and they sent him. Deep down when you heard the gunshots, you knew who it was. There was only one vigilante in that family that dared to go against the Batman’s gun ban. You were hoping that fate was going to give you a break, but that didn’t seem like it was in the cards tonight.

Once upon a time, this would’ve had relief washing over your body.

Wally used to bring you to some of the get togethers that the Titans held when you were younger. Then, thinking like a true older brother, Dick used to drag Jason along with him.

Safe to say, you both became fast friends.

You would talk about everything that came to your mind. Books, games, shoes, stuff going on in your lives, anything you could think of. Sometimes when you both got bored, you would sneak away to play video games in Wally’s room at the tower. Jason would always help you beat the levels you were stuck on in your latest save.

But, nothing perfect lasts forever.

Everything dampened when he died. It was awful to put it plainly. When he came back, it was almost worse. He changed so drastically, you almost didn’t believe that this was the same boy who gave you a forty five minute rant on why Jo was never meant for Laurie.

You couldn’t blame him for what he became, the experience was horrifyingly unique. Yet, you don’t think you’ll ever forget the last time you spoke.

It was a stupid argument in hindsight.

Dick had come to you one night, begging for you to try to get through to him. Apparently they all had given their best efforts into attempting to talk to him, and you were the last line of offense.

That was a year and a half ago.

A hesitant call of your name through the door takes you out of the memory flashing behind your eyes.

“Yeah,” your voice squeaks out with a cringe following. You didn’t realize how small it was going to sound. “I-I’ll be out, just give me a sec.”

Turning back to your phone, your throat bobs with a heavy swallow. “I’m all good Wall,” there’s a sound of relief coming through the speakers. It was almost as if he had been holding his breath for the entire three minutes of the phone call.

“Who’s with you?” The question was immediate. He heard the gunshots, he knew as well as you did who was here.

“Um,” your eyes dart up from his horrific contact photo to the door and then back down to the picture again, “Jason’s here.”

The silence from the other end of the phone was palpable. Wally knew how bad the last argument you and Jason had stung. He was the one who sat on the phone with you after. Blinking back the emotions, you steel yourself for what’s awaiting in your apartment.

You’re a big girl, you can handle this. You’ve handled worse than a shitty ex-best friend.

“I’m going to hang up now, okay?” Your hands are starting to shake again. “I gotta figure out how bad the damage is, I’ll text you with the updates.”

He could hear the words rushing to leave your mouth, a pathetic attempt at convincing yourself this was fine.

“Do you want me to come? I will, give me like ten minutes- fifteen tops, and I’ll be there. All you have to do is ask.”

You knew he would do it too, the reassurance was unnecessary. The gravity in his tone almost made you fall into the temptation. There was nothing you wanted more right now than for your brother to be here. He would know how to handle this. He would know how to wrangle Gotham vigilante’s and tell them to go to Hell.

Your strive for independence was going to be the death of you one day.

“I think I’m okay for now, but I’ll call if I need backup.”

“Okay,” a hint of defeat is mixed in with the sigh. “Well I doubt I’ll be sleeping much after this, so please just text me with what ends up happening.”

“I promise,” and because you know he’ll lose his mind all night you ask him for a different type of help. “If you want to make yourself useful, go back to scrolling on reels and send me some that I can watch later.”

“Aye Aye boss,” You can almost hear his smug grin when he gets a snort out of you. “I love you, I’ll talk to you later.”

“I love you too Wally.” When the line goes dead you hold the phone to your chest for a moment. Even with the levels of annoying you’re sure only Wally could reach, you truly could not have asked for a better brother. He always dropped whatever he was doing if you needed him.

Savoring the last moment of peace you had from the rest of the world, you lean against the counter and try to catch your breath. You were going to have to confront the disaster that was your apartment. The devil on your shoulder was contemplating to just leave it for tomorrow, but the angel reminded you that your book was out there.

Mustering up the final ounces of courage left in your stomach, you unlock the door to the bathroom. Thankfully the sanctuary that was your bedroom remained untouched, except for the dresser propped against your door.

The dresser was heavier than you remember it being a few minutes ago. Adrenaline strength truly unlocks a version of potential you didn’t know you had. The effort it takes to give you a clearing, leaves red imprints of the design on your palms. Your hand hovers over the doorknob, hesitation plain on your fingers. You were going to have to see him, you were going to have to confront him after seventeen months of no contact.

Left hand at your side, you crack each knuckle with your thumb before opening the door. Not letting yourself think too hard, it swings wide open. And there he is.

He was on one knee flipping the coffee table back over. His hands were filled with a bunch of the trinkets that made their home on it. When he hears the door open, his head whips in your direction. The air in the room depletes when the white slits of the mask meet your eyes. Both of you frozen, staring at each other with a decade of history lingering in a glance.

Uncomfortable with the silence, you start cracking the knuckles of your right hand.

You might as well have activated a sleeper agent with the movement. He suddenly remembers where he is, and shoots to his feet. Carefully cupping his hands, he moves to drop your belongings back on the table.

Peeling your eyes off his devastatingly gorgeous frame, you find the three robbers tied together hanging off your fire escape.

“I’m waiting on Dick.” His voice is gravelly and a bit panicked. In the back of your mind, you note that he turned off the modulator. “He’s on his way to pick them up and take them to the station.”

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you hum in reply.

Examining your apartment, it wasn’t as bad as you expected. Despite the few broken pieces of decor, the glass littered all over your living room from where Jason made his dramatically grand entrance, and your stuff being thrown everywhere, you were pretty lucky.

Noticing the way your eyes caught on the glimmering pieces of glass off the floor, he starts anxiously adjusting the cuffs of his jacket.

“I’m sorry about the window.” He’s rolled and unrolled the cuff of his left sleeve three times by the time he manages to speal. “I was in a rush and it seemed the fastest way in, I’ll pay for someone to fix it tomorrow.”

“I would hope so.” The answer came out like a reflex. You bite back the grimace fighting your features. You hadn’t even thanked him for the help before pouring gasoline on the fire.

He doesn’t say anything, yet his shoulders tense. Somewhere deep in places his pride won’t let him admit, he knew he deserved it, and that was enough of a punishment for you. He had to live with himself at the end of the day, what more could you ask for?

A clang on your fire escape steals your attention. Next thing you know, you’re being tackled in a bone crushing hug. If the blur of blue and black spandex didn’t’ give it away, the hints of Tom Ford cologne certainly did.

The hug is merely a second long before he pulls back and holds you at your shoulders.

“Good to see that you’re doing alright kid.” A grin is pulling at his face, but you can see the tension in his build. Wally had trusted Dick with this- with his family. That wasn’t an easy thing for anyone to do. He wouldn’t have forgiven himself if something happened.

“Yeah I’m fine,” You try to laugh but it comes out weak. “I was overdue on my Gotham initiation anyway.”

 The dominos mask hides it, but by the subtle shake of his head you can tell there was an eyeroll that went along with it.

He lets go of your shoulders and you look back at the dump that was now your apartment. Jason and Dick hold each other’s gazes silently. They were speaking in the silence with movements you pretended to ignore.

You’re scratching your eyebrow when Dick starts, “Hey um, where are you staying tonight?”

Hand falling from your face, you turn to him. “What do you mean?”

Confused, he looks from you to Jason, then back to you.

“You know you can’t stay here for a few days right?” His head cocks to the side. “The cops have to come, investigate, tape it off, and we need to get someone to fix your window.”

Your eyelids blink slowly. You weren’t tired by any means, but tonight just got a hell of a lot longer. None of your friends were going to be awake and you would rather sleep under the bridge than try a hotel in Gotham you could afford.

“Fuck.” The curse barely audible when it leaves falls off your tongue.

“I mean,” Dick starts with a shrug of the shoulders. “You’re more than welcome to stay at the manor. Bruce won’t mind”

Jason’s neck snaps to Dick, the white slits of the hood widen a bit before narrowing again.

“I mean this with the upmost respect.” Your hand lays flat against your heart. “I would rather chew rocks.”

You weren’t sure how long you would need to try and find somewhere to stay, but you wanted to avoid the manor at all costs. You’d had the luxury of visiting a few times, but it always felt awkward. It was too big for you, and you really didn’t want to feel like an imposition.

Dick and Jason both snort at your reply. Both of them knew how you felt about the manor. It was breath taking, but it wasn’t somewhere you wanted to sleep in, especially for multiple nights.

“I’ll figure something out,” you sound unsure even to yourself. “I’ll just find some couches to surf for a while.”

“Yeah no, try again West.” Jason finally decides to speak for the first time since his brother’s arrival.

Your neck snaps in his direction and a fire lights behind your eyes, daring him to repeat himself. He had no right to tell you what you could, and couldn’t do. His opinions meant jack shit to you.

“Sorry kiddo,” Dick’s domino mask expands a miniscule amount, but still enough to notice. He looks like he’s been tasked to negotiate the terms of a peace treaty before World War 3 breaks out. “Wally entrusted us with your safety, which means we have to know that where you’re staying is at least somewhat protected.”

Understanding dawns on you in a cruel shiver up your spine. The second option about to be presented to you was dangling like a rotten carrot on a stick.

“It’s the manor or Jason’s place.”

Your jaw drops and you meet the latter’s gaze. The damn mask betraying no emotion, you however, don’t miss the little fidget of his foot. Your eyes narrow in between the boys.

“So what? My choices are the fourth or fifth circle of Hell?”

“C’mon the manor’s not that bad.” Dick tries to reason with you.

“Jason’s place is.”

He doesn’t deny it. No one does.

You should’ve chosen the manor, every nerve in your body was telling you that was the reasonable choice. Dick would be there for a few days, there was other life there. Yet, It was just too much and it was too far. Your commute to class would double and you liked your alone time too much to give it up.

Swallowing your pride, you turn to the boy you longer knew with a deadpan. “When do we leave?”

•───────•°•𓄧•°•───────•

Jason’s apartment was surprisingly clean.

His apartment was embracing the minimalist aesthetic. He had never been one for many material goods because of how he was raised. That never changed, even after all the years he lived with Bruce.

The living room, where you were currently sitting, had barely anything inhabiting the space. The couch was dark and worn with some cracks in the leather, the entertainment center was a simple stand made of oak with a glass cabinet on the bottom, the TV was rested on top of it, a floor lamp next to the couch, and the last piece was by far the liveliest- his bookshelf.

It took up about half the wall. Every shelf littered with different genres. It was almost too personal to examine. Some books you recognized and some you didn’t. An odd wave of sadness washes over you when you see some books you’d never heard him talk about. It was still strange to you on some days that you were no longer in each other’s lives.

You knew he was out and about in Gotham, but your paths never crossed. Whether that was by design or some level of mercy, you never knew.

He was on the news at least once a week. It felt like cheating no contact, but you couldn’t help yourself. It was the one indulgence you allowed yourself, to know that he was still alive and working with the bats. This way you didn’t feel guilty about holding the grudge for as long as you did.

You’d been staring at the same page for fifteen minutes. The first line of the chapter was permanently engraved in your mind because of how many times you’d read it.

“Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why, in that instant did I not extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly bestowed?”

For your Women in Literature class, you chose Frankenstein as the novel you were going to be analyzing in your paper. The assignment was to find a topic from a book and write fifteen pages about it in MLA format. It was an interesting class, but fifteen pages felt like overkill, it was double-spaced at the very least.

This was your third reread of the book this semester.

The first read was to familiarize yourself with the novel, the second was to piece together the paper, and this one was to find the evidence after you’d started the rough draft. It felt fitting that you were using a green highlighter for the evidence.

Sleep never came easy to you, and you had tried essentially everything. All the medicines, the teas, a warm glass of milk, counting sheep, all of it. At one point your doctors and family members suggested reading, which was probably the worst thing they could’ve said.

The last suggestion ended up with you staying awake all night with a book in hand.

Which is exactly what you were doing now. It was around four in the morning, Jason had brought you back to his apartment and then went back on patrol. He still hadn’t returned, but you weren’t complaining.

The less you had to interact with him the better.

In a pathetic attempt to finally turn the page, you start to read again. Making it to the third sentence on the page, you start to finally get immersed in the story again when-

The window slides open.

Your hands drop the book in shock and it clatters on the floor. Alarmed, Jason turns to you already prepared for a fight, forgetting that you were staying with him.

“What’re you doing awake?” He sounds truly baffled that you hadn’t managed to fall asleep. His hands move to the back of his mask and there’s a quiet hissing sound before it unlatches. He examines it for a second, checking for damage. Then his fingers slowly uncurl from the edge and it falls to the floor.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You answer with a bite that didn’t fit your current state. You had stolen one of his mugs and warmed up some milk, bundled in a blanket on the couch, and had been reading under the lamp. “What the hell is it with you and the damn window?”

“It’s my place, I can use whatever entrance I want.” He turns to you with an annoyed look now. Your attitude seemed to finally start pricking at him. “I also didn’t think you’d be waiting up on me.”

“I wasn’t waiting up on you.” The answer comes out way too defensive for your liking.

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself sweetheart,” he mumbles and you scoff at him. You were starting to miss the quiet Jason that found you in your apartment.

He bends down to pick up your copy of Frankenstein and flips it around in his hands a few times. Looking back up at you, he raises a brow and you cross your arms.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs and tosses the book back in your lap.

“You obviously got something you wanna say Todd.” Rolling your eyes, you flick your left hand at him. “Go on, spit it out.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes at you and you want to pluck them out of their eye sockets. “It’s nothing, I’m just surprised you’re reading Frankenstein.”

“Why? Because I’m ordinary, because I’m not one of you?”

The words land right where you wanted them too, right in the center of his chest. His lips thin and you can see the flex of his jaw as it tightens. It was a terrible echo of the fight you’d had all those months ago. It was petty, but you’d been waiting to throw it back in his face one day.

“No,” his voice comes out softer than you were expecting, and his throat bobs while he tries to swallow his guilt. “I was just surprised because you didn’t read classics before. You used to ask me about them because you didn’t like the writing style.”

“Yeah, well things change Jason.” Your gaze doesn’t waver from his, even when he momentarily breaks away to look at his boots in shame. “People change.”

He knew that better than anyone.

With that, he glances back up to you. All the tension, all the anger, it was bleeding into the few feet between you.

“I’m going to go shower.” The sentence sounds distant from his body, as if he was just speaking into a void instead of ending the conversation.

You nod and purse your lips before picking up your phone. He stays there for a moment watching you as you attempt to look busy with swiping through the weather and notes app.

When he finally steps away into his room to head to the bathroom, you throw your head back on the armrest of the couch.

This was going to be a long week.

Dread takes over you, when the shower shuts off. You’d been trying to watch the five million Instagram reels that Wally sent you, but there was no hope in being able to focus enough to really watch them. Your brain was hyper focused on where Jason was in the apartment. He left the door to his bedroom open, so you see him pass from the bathroom to his dresser in nothing but a towel.

Your eyes may have been on your phone, but your concentration was on him.

There’s some shuffling in his room, movement of blankets you think, before he appears in the doorframe. You refused to look up until he cleared his throat awkwardly.

By some miracle you were able to hide the way your breath caught in your throat. It was unfair how he could be such an asshole and still look like that. His hair was damp, curling at the ends in a beautiful frame of his face. He had thin rimmed glasses that hung on the bridge of his nose, highlighting the piercing green of his eyes. He was in plaid pajama pants that were a smidge too tight around his thighs and ass. There was a cotton white t-shirt on that left little room for imagination as it clung to his arms and torso from where he hadn’t dried himself off completely.

The crush you had on him at fourteen was slowly becoming more valid in this light, but you would rather die than admit that out loud.

The most damning part about the whole scene was what he was holding. Tucked under his left arm was a pillow and a blanket under the right one.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other before finally admitting. “The bed’s been made.”

Your eyebrows furrow together. What the hell was he on about? Did he think you were going to sleep in the bed with him.

“Um- okay? Do you want me to congratulate you for making your bed at the ripe age of- what 22? 23?” Your phone drops face down onto the blanket you were covering yourself with. “I mean I know Alfred used to make it for you. I’m not sure how big of a feat this is.”

“I’m 23.” His expression falls to an unimpressed expression. He licks his lips slowly for a moment as if he’s using it to ground himself, and you hate that you catch it. You were learning things you didn’t want to know about yourself tonight. When his eyes shut in that annoyed manner and his tongue swept across his lower lip, the way your stomach coiled terrified you.

“I’ve made my bed before West,” The heat in your stomach only intensified at him calling you by your last name, leading your heart to sink a second later. “I was telling you, so you could get in it.”

“And why would I do that?”

His eyebrow is mirroring yours now, raised with confusion at a lack of communication. “Because I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You blink once, twice, then, “this is your place, you remember that right?”

Frustrated with the fact you would do anything just to fight him, he tosses the blanket and pillow to the unoccupied side of the couch.

“Oh my god-” He runs a hand through his hair and your eyes linger on every line of every muscle in his bicep. Thankfully, you manage to break away from the distraction before he realizes. “I’m trying to be nice and give you the bed. Did you think I was going to offer you a place to stay and make you sleep on this shitty couch?”

“The couch isn’t shitty.”

His hand drops from his hair, and while he doesn’t say it, you can hear the deadpanned “really?” that he was defiantly thinking.

The couch was old and thoroughly used. You could feel every spring in it on the bone of your ass, the cushion was flat, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the type of sofa that would be at your grandparent house because they refused to throw it out. You’d been subjected to worse sleeping arrangements than Jason’s thrift find.

“It’s not that bad Jason.”

“I wouldn’t even subject Tim to sleeping on this couch.”

That earns him a snort. He seems to celebrate the small win as something like a bridge between you two. Noticing the crease disappearing in his eyebrows and his shoulder relaxing, you catch yourself. It was always too easy for Jason to undo you, he knew the exact weak points to hit in order to break down your walls.

It flipped a switch in you, immediately tensing up again, and he noticed. He always did. He gives up trying to fight you on getting to the bed and takes his place on the other end of the couch.

“What’re you doing…?” The sentence is dragged out of you, exhaustion from the day slowly overtaking the anxiety that was keeping you up.

“Putting on the TV.” He said it so simply while picking up the remote from the coffee table, it was as if this was normal for the both of you.

“Why?” The question escapes you before you can swallow it. A flush creeps over your face, suddenly self-aware of all the questions you’d been asking.

He doesn’t seem to notice the pink now dusting the tips of your ears- well, if he does he doesn’t comment on it. He only shrugs and logs into Dick’s streaming services that he has a profile on. “It helps me unwind after the night. Having something on in the background distracts me enough that it makes it easier to fall asleep.”

He starts scrolling through his account while you nod at his response.

“Jason?”

“Mhm.”

“Why is Sex and the City in your recently watched?”

His cheeks deepen to a color dangerously similar to the hood he dons every night, his freckles disappearing under the blush. He coughs to hide the fluster and pushes his glasses back up his nose.

“It was part of a deal I made with Steph,” he mumbles, skipping right over it. “When I started talking to them all again, she made me start watching it with her. Every Friday night I would come over after patrol and watch two episodes together. It was nicknamed as my “anger management” work for me to try and survive two episodes without getting frustrated with one of them.”

“Uh huh,” every thing you learned about his new life was more shocking than the last. “And how’d that go?”

“About as well as you’d expect.”

Who was this and what did they do with Jason Todd.

“That doesn’t explain why it’s still in your recently watched, though. You said you watched this with Steph, why are you on season three on your profile?”

He grumbles something unintelligible while looking through the other show options he has.

“Objectively… it’s an okay show.”

It takes all your strength not to break out in a laugh. “Just okay?”

He hears you smothering the giggle and meets your gaze. Despite his face drowning in pink, he still puts on a brave face. “I put it on after patrol sometimes. Is that what you wanted to hear? It doesn’t matter what fucked shit is happening to me, Carrie somehow always manages to take the cake in the shit show competition.”

“Well then, don’t let me stop you from your routine.”

His lips press together when the words leave your mouth. “I’ll pass thanks.”

“Why?” Your response came out more lighthearted than you’d planned on. This situation felt like an old normal you were no longer familiar with.

“You’re laughing at me that’s why.”

“I’m going to laugh either way.” You tease. “Might as well commit to the bit now.”

He stares at you for a few seconds. You don’t think anything of it, but he’s drinking in this version of you. A version that he thought no longer existed anymore. The version of you that trusted him.

He knows it’s not completely there, but this brought him hope. He didn’t think you were going to be doing much speaking through the week. Just this interaction was more than he could’ve dreamed for. He knew now that there was something he could work toward, that maybe there could be a light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe the sun would shine on you both again.

So, not taking advantage of the smile pulling at your lips, he turns on the show. He’d turn himself into the biggest idiot if it meant you would look at him like that again. He would embarrass himself in every lifetime, every universe, every dimension if it meant he got to witness your smile one more time.

And with Carrie talking about how Big is leaving his wife, your eye lids begin to flutter. Jason, acting as a protective presence opposite of you, allows you the comfort you’d been looking for. Finally, you’re able to drift into a world that wasn’t so haunted.

Once your breathing evened out, Jason acted quickly. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bed you seemed determined to not sleep in. He tucks you in with the blankets cascading around you. Standing up to his full height, he takes one last look at you and makes a promise.

A promise that he’ll work every day to become someone worth trusting again.

•───────•°•𓄧•°•───────•

Most nights were like the first one.

You would come home from class or work and then make a home on the squeaky couch. Jason would be out and about running on errands or at the auto shop he picked shifts up at. Neither of you spoke much through the day, he left you to have your much needed alone time.

Then at night, after patrol he’d crawl in through the window and you would sit on the couch together. Some nights it was awkward with not much talking, other nights it was a weird in-between of what normal used to mean for you two.

You hadn’t forgotten the fight, it still stung most days.

You knew it wasn’t easy for him to come back. You weren’t so naïve. He had crawled out of his grave, was dunked in the Lazarus pit, fought in the league of assassins, and was still trying to find a place in the world.

It didn’t erase all the hurt however.

On the fourth night he looked at you over the rim of his glasses.

“How’d you like it?”

Glancing up from your laptop, your eyebrows threaded together.

“How’d I like what?”

“Frankenstein,” he closes the book he was reading, Six of Crows- a recommendation from you. “You finished it the other day right?”

“Oh,” It sounded dumb but you hadn’t realized he was paying that much attention. “Yeah, I did. That’s not the first time I’ve read it though.”

“Oh,” he repeats. The vowel comes out in a breath from his mouth. “What’d ya think of it?”

“I liked it, I always liked the story. I’m reading it for a paper I’m writing for my Women in Literature class.”

He nods, accepting the answer. Still wanting specifics on your opinion, he continues to press. “What’s the paper on?”

“Basically,” you start out ready to summarize the topic in the same way you did for everyone. “It’s about how Frankenstein can be interpreted as autobiographical for Mary Shelley, and an expression of her experience as a child bleeding into the challenges she faced with motherhood.”

Your voice was robotic as you explained it to him. Countless of your classmates had asked you about your paper trying to get an idea for their own, and they all dismissed it. Despite it being a Women in Literature’s class it was a required elective, and unfortunately, you got stuck with one too many men who pitied the unreliable narrator.

Jason, however, surprised you.

He cocked his head to the side, barely shifting it to a thirty degree angle. “I… I hadn’t thought about it that way.” His face contorted together, the small dimple on his chin making an appearance as he actually thought about your analysis. “I’ll admit I don’t know much about Mary Shelley, despite that her husband seemed to be somewhat decent since he let her publish the novel, which is more than you can say for most men those days.”

“Somewhat decent is pushing it,” your tone was laced with disgust. “He was a cheater. He cheated on his first wife with Mary, and then cheated on her with her cousin.”

Jason’s eyes were wide and he shut his mouth as fast as he could. Biting his cheeks, he’s making his best effort to avoid saying something that would inadvertently piss you off. he had just managed to get civil with you and he didn’t want to waste it.

“What parts of the book are you using for the paper?” He was giving it his best effort to redirect the conversation so you would be in a good mood again.

“It’s a lot of the inner monologue for both the Creature and Victor.” You shrugged, going back to typing the outline. “In spite of there not being a lot of notable female characters, with the exception of Elizabeth, it had a lot of underlying feminine issues. Victor essentially goes through postpartum depression and rejects the creature. A lot of people also believe that the Creature remains nameless because she had a miscarriage at the time and didn’t name the baby. So the creature can be seen kind of like the child she lost, but also as herself. Since Victor went through life with a rejected creator, essentially on his own, it can be loosely interpreted as a mirror of her childhood. Her mother died when she was young and she was generally depressed like the Creature.”  

You hadn’t realized how long you had been rambling for until you finished. Your lips pressed together, almost biting them in the wake of your words running from you. Jason’s face remained a carefully crafted neutral expression, but he wasn’t as successful as he wanted to be. You didn’t miss the subtle twitches in his jaw, the way the last part cut deeper into him than anyone you knew.

Jason Todd who had an addict as a mother.

Jason Todd who gave his everything into being Robin.

Jason Todd who was failed by the world.

And in spite of it all, came back.

He could relate to this monster of a being more than anyone knew. So, when he listens to you talk about it as an innocent thing, as something who was a victim of the world that created him, something broke in him. Because now, there was hope you would look past all his wrongs, to see him as a man trying his best, instead of the monster fate was determined to make him to be.

He nods and by some miracle, makes more conversation with you about the paper and then you shift into a comfortable silence. A couple hours later when he’s transitioning to the nighttime routine, he takes you in.

He knew the week would be over soon. You would go back to your apartment and probably never look in his direction again. He wouldn’t take advantage of this- of you looking at him like the past few years hadn’t happened. That he hadn’t destroyed the only good thing in his life.

Eventually, Sex and the City comes on. It’s as if the universe finally took pity on him and gave him another miracle, letting you got comfortable in his presence. You started talking through the show, shitting on something- he wasn’t sure what.

His heart stopped when he heard the same scoff you used to do when you both watched Mission Impossible. He could practically hear the mumble, ingrained in his memory.

“There’s no way they would get away with this in real life.”

He didn’t move a muscle as you spoke, save for the few encouraging grunts or hums of agreement.

Jason Todd hated when people spoke through movies. He liked to sit, digest it, then talk about after, but he never minded it when it was you.

That’s actually how Dick discovered his crush on you when you were teenagers. He walked by his room and peaked in through the door frame. You were watching some romcom and you had spoken more dialogue through the scene then the film had in general. He was expecting Jason to blow a fuse, but it never came.

Dick teased him relentlessly for days.

He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed, or care though. He would listen to you talk about anything and everything. Jason Todd would spend every night bleeding dry on the Gotham streets if it meant he got to come home and listen to the harmony of your voice. In those dying seconds he had left in that warehouse, his last thought was of every voicemail he’d never receive.

So now, here on this couch, he absorbs every word, carving it into stone. Every syllable from your mouth was like a recitation of the Bible to him, you were holy.

He didn’t think he’d ever be granted this luxury again. For now, he’ll take what he can get and maybe one day this could be his normal again.

•───────•°•𓄧•°•───────•

As if the past three nights were on replay, you fell asleep before him. He sighs in relief when he notices your eyes close and breath even out. Like every other night, he takes you back to the bed even if you’re determined to take the couch.

The next few nights are also the same. Small domestic moments highlighted by his flickering light bulb and uncharacteristic pleasure of 90s chick flicks.

It had become habit to wait for him to come through the window. You usually were up until this time anyway. Whether it was nightmares, small anxieties that kept you up, or just your general inability to fall asleep, you were up at all hours of the night.

It was weird. You weren’t expecting to feel any comfort in this apartment, you were prepared for the exact opposite actually. Yet, in his stupidly charming Jason way, he managed to make you smile. He got you to laugh. He cooked enough for two even when you said you weren’t hungry.

It was surprisingly peaceful.

Until the last night.

All the butterflies dropped to the pit of your stomach in seconds when he barreled in through the window.

Covered in blood.

His breath was coming out heavy and jagged. He was flat on his ass, arms and legs spread out as if he was cosplaying a starfish who had just gone to war.

“Jason-”

You’re not exactly sure how the words leave your mouth. Laptop forgotten, shoved off your lap onto the couch. Your legs carry you just far enough until you can drop to your knees next to him.

“I-” he coughs. “I’m alright.” His arm wraps around his midsection trying to press on the giant wound that went straight down from his left pectoral to waistline.

“Alright?” He winces at your incredulous tone. “Jason please, you can barely hold your head up.”

The clock had barely struck two, which was never a good sign. If he ever came home early, it was due to some catastrophic injury.

“You shouldn’t be up at this time anyway.” He somehow manages to get out in one breath, wincing again when his hand presses on his torso.

Pointedly ignoring the comment, you help him to his feet. Silence overtakes you two when you help him to the bathroom. He sits on the lid of the toilet. His head leaning against the wall behind it.

Deep, slow breaths are coming from his nose and mouth. A part of you hopes that it’s to calm himself and that he’s not fighting for his consciousness.

That is not a phone call you want to be making tonight.

He sheds the jacket, then the shirt. You’re left with a bloody bruised Jason whose red in the face. He’s staring at you with no hope, ready for you to walk away, to decide that it’s too much.

It’s quiet when you step out the bathroom to the little half closet. It’s quiet when you grab a hand towel and walk back in. The only sound now echoing through the apartment being the water pouring from the faucet onto the grey towel when you wet it.

You finally break the silence, when you sit on the edge of the bathtub. The wound getting uglier by the second, your hand hovers it, right before contact.

“This is going to hurt.” It’s barely a whisper, yet in this room, it could’ve been a scream.

He chuckles and it’s half concerning, half reassuring. “Do your worst darlin’”

The nickname does something to you, and your face flushes.

The towel makes contact with his skin and he hisses. Your hand doesn’t move, letting him adjust to the sting. Then with a small nod, you continue the first cleaning. Once all the grime is scrubbed away, you find the first aid kit in the cabinet under the sink. The antiseptic is next, then the gauze, then the tape.

It took a little longer than thirty minutes to get him patched up. He’d have to see someone to get it properly looked at tomorrow, but this would be okay for now.

You couldn’t ignore the way he was looking at you the whole time. His eyes were swimming with guilt, pain, and something else you weren’t sure you wanted to name.

When you’re finally done, you stand to your full height. He’s looking up at you now from where he’s sitting. Both of you don’t pay mind to the biohazard on the floor next to you, just simply getting lost in each other again.

So much more was said in the quiet of the bathroom than in the past week you’ve been here. It feels like you’re seeing each other again for the first time in the fluorescent bathroom light. It was as if something clicked for you two.

“You’re not fourteen anymore you know that right?” You’re still looking in between his emerald green irises when you start to mumble. “You can’t jump straight into a fight and crash through my window expecting me to patch you up.”

His eyes are half lidded, squinting in disbelief, like he isn’t sure if this is real. That you’re here and teasing him.

“But you patch me up so well.” His voice is a low rumble, words meshing together out of delirium and exhaustion. “It’s also technically my window.”

A snort comes out of your nose along with a roll of your eyes.

“Let’s get you to bed big guy.” You start to hook his arm over your shoulder and he breaks into a sly smile.

“You think I’m big?”

“Yes.”

A small pout appears on his face when you won’t play this game with him. As much as you loved a good round of teasing, you were far too stressed to try and keep up with it right now. Your goal for the evening was to get him to the bed alive and make sure he doesn’t die.

Again.

After he lies down, you sit next to him on the bed with your legs crossed. He’s bound to fall asleep any moment now, but you want to keep his eyes open a little longer. It was part in worry and part selfishness. This way you could make sure he was actually okay by the time he drifted off while also getting to stare into the eyes that you used to feel like home.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology snaps you out of your daze. It’s the first coherent sentence he’s managed since busting through the window.

“It’s alright.” Your hands shake while you try to wave it off. “This is hardly the first time you’ve shown up beaten and bruised needing a cleanup.”

He came to you as much as he could to patch him up when you were younger. You’d had enough practice patching Wally up that he trusted you.

“No, I’m sorry about what I said to you that night.” Your veins turn to ice. “I was an asshole. You were trying to be nice and I pushed you away. That wasn’t fair to you.”

He takes a deep breath.

“I was a mess when I crawled out of my grave, the pit wasn’t a big help either. I was so angry with the world, upset that it brought me back.” His eyes lay on the popcorned roof now. “I was even more pissed that the world hadn’t changed while I was gone, it was still the same shit. I was horrible to everything and everyone. I… I lost my way.”

“You were the only good thing left here.” His eyes are back on you now. “When you came to see me, it scared me. It was like you saw right through me and everything I didn’t want to deal with was rising in my chest. I couldn’t handle it. So, I said some nasty shit to get you to go away. It was disgusting of me and it’s my biggest regret in this and every life I’ll ever live. I’ll never forgive myself for it. In a way, it felt easier to stay in that angry hole than to grow.”

You weren’t sure how you kept your breath even, it was like every time you managed some oxygen, it was robbed from you.

“Eventually though, I finally started getting help and wanted to get better. I’ve been trying every day to be better than who I was. To be someone who could be something. I don’t want you to think that these are excuses, they’re not.” His eyes are so conflicted, he can’t read your reaction and it’s terrifying him. “I just wanted you to know, I guess. If you never want to talk to me again, I completely understand. I’ll never bother you and I’ll leave you to your life.”

There’s a pause and your heart sinks.

“But if there’s a chance you’d be willing to try again, I had to give it a shot. I’ll spend every day making sure you know I’m serious about this. I’ll do it all this time. I’ll take you to dinner, I’ll give you your space, I’ll bake you cookies every Sunday night just like you always wanted.” His breathing pattern is broken and it shudders when he tries to breathe in.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Your hands begun tracing the web of scars on his chest. A fingernail along the constellation he had over his heart. He shuddered, the intimacy of seeing him like this was almost as difficult as the vulnerability in the apology.

Eventually your hand lays flat on his chest, feeling the warmth. Your palm was right over his heart, it was beating a little quicker than normal but it was your favorite rhythm. His thumb and pointer finger wrap around your wrist. It was a loose grip, you could break out whenever and he kept it that way, but it was still strong enough that you could feel the hope behind it when he says,

“Stay.”

Your head whips back to him and desperation is written across his forehead.

There was still so much you had to talk about, so much you needed to get through. But right now, when he’s looking at you like you’re the most important person on the planet, you can’t stop yourself from indulging.

He watches you walk to the other side of the bed. His breath catches in his throat when you pull back the covers. He starts to believe in love again when you scoot closer to him.  

His eyes are on yours when you make eye contact again, mere centimeters apart.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats again. And this time, you know it.

You know he’ll spend the rest of his life making up for seventeen months.

Your hand rests on his cheek and he leans into it. His eyes close and he breathes in the feeling. You’re not entirely shocked when his arms are pulling you into him. The rest of the night passes with him whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

And for the first time all week, you both fall asleep together.

•───────•°•𓄧•°•───────•

Bonus:

Once he’s finished his own patrol, Dick Grayson appears at his little brother’s window.

Jason had disappeared after the fight in the middle of patrol. They knew he had gotten hurt but he said he would patch himself up at home. Bruce was fighting an aneurysm, trying to keep him safe but not push him out of his comfort zone. When Jason cut his comms, Bruce almost tore the apartment door from its hinges, but Dick convinced him that he would drop by and check on him.

What he finds however, renders him speechless.

Jason was in bed with the one person he thought was going to buy him a one way ticket to his grave again. His arm was wrapped protectively around your waist, almost in fear of letting you go. Even in a state of crippling pain, you were always his priority.

At the heartwarming scene, Dick has one thought that turns his body to ice.

Wally is going to kill him.

•───────•°•𓄧•°•───────•

A/N: Sorry guys I got kind of lazy with the ending but I hope you like it anyway! I’m really tired and wanted to finally get this out lol

•───────•°•𝓙•°•───────•

Jason swore that he would never let himself be indebted to a favor from Bruce ever again.

Three months ago, he told him off handedly that he “owed him one” for something so small, he couldn’t even remember what it was for, he didn’t even remember those words leaving his mouth.

Unfortunately, Bruce did.

Being Batman often meant that he got called away last minute on some League business, and yesterday morning he did. They needed him for some disaster happening in Coastal City. Ine the rush of heading over, he called Jason lacking his usual stoicism to cash in said favor. Jason, being the only one of his sons that was available and in Gotham as of now, meant he’d have to save the day.

And what did that entail exactly?

Jason being signed up as a chaperone on Damian’s school field trip to the zoo.

There was nothing that sounded worse to the twenty-three-year-old. He would take another night in that fuckass warehouse if it meant that he wasn’t in charge of seven middle schoolers. One of the few luxuries he’d been granted since… well everything, was that he didn’t have to go back to Gotham Academy.

He hated it, like actually hated it. Jason, who came from nothing, a boy who was essentially on his own, jacking tires to try and get by, dumpster diving for small broken pieces of decor he could use for his room, nicking small candy bars at the corner store to try and find some joy in his little life, was put in a school with boys who had everything. They were all stuck up, entitled, and acted like they knew everything there was to know about the world.

The only reason he never got in a fight- or for lack of better words- caught winning fights, was because he wanted to prove to Bruce that he wasn’t violent. That he wasn’t as dangerous as the world believed him to be, that he wasn’t this rabid dog who bites all the time.

He’d taken the small win of not returning to the haunted school save for the few art shows and orchestra performances Damian was apart of.

His luck, however, ran short; because now he’s standing in the middle of the gymnasium in a matching glacier blue shirt that all the other chaperones were instructed to wear. His arms are crossed over his chest and the only reason he agreed to these ridiculous shirts was because he was allowed to layer his leather jacket over it. It didn’t matter that it was March and the sun would be beaming down to make him regret his choice, Jason would not be caught dead in matching shirts.

And right now, he was currently in an intense staring contest with his youngest brother from across the gymnasium where he waited for the group assignments.

The little bird was in a position that almost mirrored his own. Arms crossed, scowl painting various feelings of disapproval across his features, perfect posture, and the same shirt he had to be wrestled into this morning.

Most people didn’t believe it when they found out that Jason and Damian were adopted brothers. When he was younger, Damian was a mirror image of Bruce with the exception of his green eyes and olive complexion. Jason, though not related by blood, could have been shat out by Bruce and everyone would have believed it. The press certainly speculated it when he was first taken in that he was biologically Bruce’s. They’d even gone as far to make headlines that maybe Bruce had gotten a surrogate and a donated egg. No one could deny that it was a tad suspicious how similar in appearance he was to Bruce sometimes with the same sickly pale skin, similar builds, the dark hair that curled when exposed to the wrenching Gotham humidity for too long, even down to the shade of their eyes. Well, at least they used to share the same eye color, before the Lazarus pit. After Ra’s had given him what he would call a generous dip in the pit. He’d emerged with deep emerald, green eyes. His new eye color and the jagged J carved into his cheek were a constant reminder of the life that had been taken from him, a life he was trying to reclaim.

He supposes that’s one of the reasons he agreed to this God-awful field trip. He didn’t do it because Bruce asked, or because he owed him a favor. He did it because after years of drowning in his anger, he owed himself a chance at life. A chance at being a part of a family. And well, there was also you.

He’s taken out of his thoughts when he hears a hesitant call of his name. Resigning to lose the starring contest he was having with Damian he turns his head and sees you. And like the biggest idiot in the world, his brain decides it’s a good time to short circuit. There was once a time when Damian had the gall to click his tongue and tell him that he’d seen Clark hold himself together better with kryptonite strapped to his chest than Jason could manage when he was in front of you.

You’d been seeing each other for about a month or two. Neither of you had said anything to anyone, it was still new after all, but you had known each other for quite a while. Jason had seen you hosting the art shows for the kids and helping out at the concerts he’d gone too. It was actually at the most recent Spring Orchestra concert that Jason had finally stomped on his nerves and asked for your number.

Damian had claimed you as his favorite teacher. One day he’d been talking to Jason and explained that it was because you didn’t bother with frivolous compliments and offered substantial feedback. And though he’d never admit it to anyone, it was the kindness you showed him that meant more than anything. When you allowed him to sit in the art room during lunch or when he got to school too early, to paint or just escape from the world for a bit, were the moments that slowly began healing the young Wayne. He respected you, and that was further than most people got with him.

Jason wasn’t exactly sure how to break the news to Damian that he was going out with you. He was… territorial to say the least. Jason was sure that the preteen had suspected something was going on, he was Robin after all, but he didn’t know how far the suspicion went. The most that Damian knew was that there was attraction. He’d seen Jason stumble over himself enough times at school functions to know that there was some form of tension between you both.

“Hey beautiful” Jason’s brain finally catching up to him.

The blush on your face was enough of a reward that made whatever nightmare today was going to be, completely worth it.

After hanging up with Bruce and agreeing to go on the field trip, he’d sent you a quick text asking if you were also going to be one of the chaperones. And for once in his life, the universe took mercy on him when you answered with a yes and a few too many exclamation points.

“Hey handsome,” you greet him back, failing miserably to hide your smile. “Looks like it’s your lucky day.”

Jason doesn’t stop himself from glancing around the bustling gymnasium full of teachers and parents running around trying to get the last groups organized before leaving, and a bunch of hormonal preteens excited to leave school for the day, trying to decipher how this was lucky.

“Oh? And why’s that?” He raises an eyebrow with the question and while his face softens looking down at you, his glasses begin to slide down his nose.

“Well,” you start, before one of your arms mindlessly leaves the clipboard you were hugging to your chest and push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Jason’s face darkens to a deep red at the small action and at the stark change in shade of his face, you catch yourself. Your blush from earlier deepening enough to match his when you remember where you are, after briefly forgetting.

Flusteredly clearing your throat before continuing, “You’ll be chaperoning with me.”

He’s about to open his mouth to answer when the intercom goes off overhead and asks all chaperones to meet with their groups. Both of you awkwardly turn away at each other with faces blazing to meet the group.

Before he even got the chance to read the names of any of the kids, Damian’s eyes meet his across the gymnasium while he marches over. Considering the look of unabashed disgust telling a thousand stories on his face, he can already tell it’s going to be a long day.

•───────•°•𝓙•°•───────•

“Your name is Jason?”

They’d made it to the zoo a little under an hour ago. You and Jason were given a group of seven middle school boys to wrangle through the zoo. Damian was one of them. He had been quiet most of the day after seeing both of you this morning, which did unsettle Jason a little bit, although he’d never admit that the youngest bat’s silence unnerves him.

Right now, the boys were trying to decide where to go next, and this one- Mark he thinks his name was, wasn’t too interested in the decision. He seemed just excited to be here and didn’t really care what they were doing as long as it wasn’t school.

Jason had to take multiple deep breaths before answering. Sarcasm and quick wit were threatening to spill off his tongue at the obvious question. It was almost as if there wasn’t a chaperone sticker printed with his face and name on it stuck right onto his jacket.  

“Um, yeah” he answers and because he can’t help himself, he points his index finger to the sticker.

“Is that why you have a J on your cheek?”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot over the rims of his glasses at the kid’s question. He often forgot that kids don’t have filters and will just say the first thing that comes to their mind. His mouth dropped slightly while trying to formulate an answer. It wasn’t often someone asked about his scars so openly, and without any warning.

“Um-” Jason starts to try and think of a way to answer this without traumatizing the poor middle schooler. He didn’t miss the way your head snapped over at the question.

“Mack” eh close enough, Jason thinks to himself when you start scolding him. “What have we talked about?” Jason tries his best to muffle the snort, in thinking over the fact that Mack blurting out semi-insensitive questions is a common occurrence to the point that you’ve had to talk to him about it- and taking in your exasperation- multiple times.

“Oh sorry.” He rushes out, as he just now realizes it might have been offensive to ask. “Um- you don’t have to answer that, you can if you want, butyoudonthaveto” The last couple of words were rushed out in one breath, that he almost didn’t understand it.

Jason huffs out a small laugh while you pinch the bridge of your nose, and Mack tries to take his foot out of his mouth.

“It’s okay, kid.” Jason puts his hand up knowing he was just curious and had the Richard Grayson Syndrome: not thinking before you speak. He clears his throat and decides to just lie to him, there’s really no need to traumatize him. “But yeah, it’s ‘cause my name’s Jason.”

“Cool.” Mack says with a wicked smile and nodding his head. He looks like he was about to ask something else before one of the kids calls him over so they can begin their vote on which animals they want to see next.

When the boys begin conducting their poll and raise their hands to vote for the next exhibit, you shuffle over to Jason’s side. He side eyes you with a sprinkle of amusement before you start sighing and turning to him.

“I’m sorry about Mack, he’s a good kid I swear. He’s just… not good at wording his curiosity sometimes.”

“It’s fine, I promise.” Jason’s face softens before turning to meet your eyes, and he’s almost blown away. It was disgustingly humid out, he’d sweat gallons in the hour that he’d been here, yet here you were, beautiful as ever. “It just took me off guard, I know he didn’t mean any harm by asking.”

“I know, I just didn’t want it to upset you.” The sudden frown and distant look in your eyes betrays you. In that moment, he notices that you’re hiding something by the lack of color on your fingers while gripping onto the clipboard like it’s life or death.

“What aren’t you telling me?” his voice is low when he asked, but it doesn’t matter. The kids were screaming over themselves as Damian was supposed to be the tie breaker between the lion and tiger, but he chose the Giraffes. They were trying to sway him to one side, and the innocence of the situation almost makes him smile. To see Damian trying to decide which animal to see instead of which person to save was something Jason had begged for once upon a time.

“I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it.” You answered with a shrug and poorly hidden tension. Maybe it wasn’t poorly hidden to the average person, but Jason was anything but that, he was trained for this.

“I mean I don’t usually want to talk about it, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. That’s the first time I’ve seen you close to snapping about something, and I’m just wondering why that’s what upset you.” He’s looking right through you, and you can’t hide the shiver that runs down your spine with the intensity of his gaze.

You move your eyes back to the kids for a moment. Making sure there they were still trying to convince Damian to choose their side and satisfied that they were absorbed in their moment with Luke begging on his knees, you turn back to Jason.

He’s confused at the sudden apprehension in your frame, and his lips press into a thin line with something similar to concern. Then one of your hands lets go of the clipboard before you can snap it in half and grabs the neckline of the matching blue shirts. Pulling it to the back of your left shoulder, Jason’s breath catches in his throat when he sees the top of the familiar jagged letter carved into your shoulder blade.

The solemn accepting smile on your face breaks something in him, and after a second or two, you drop your hand fixing the neckline of your shirt. He loved your dimples, but it felt wrong to see them right now.

“I was seventeen and thought I was invincible, decided to go against every warning I’d ever heard about not going out alone at night. You never think it’s going to happen to you, and well, didn’t that come back to bite me in the ass.” You huff out with hindsight you’d wished you had back then.

He watches you swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m luckier than most, I can hide my scar, they wouldn’t suspect anything. But you… can’t hide yours, and I get it. I know what it’s like to be stuck in some warehouse for his enjoyment.” You take a deep breath, not wanting the emotions to bubble over the surface on what is supposed to be a fun day. “That’s why I kinda freaked when Mack asked. The few times people have seen the scar and asked about it, it took me right back to reliving that night. I didn’t want that for you, and I know with it being on your face, people probably ask you about it a lot. I can’t imagine how many times you’ve had to answer the question or come up with something.” You were so earnest when talking to him that it makes him freeze in place. He wasn’t used to someone caring about him to this extent, and so openly too. “Well, that and not wanting to risk traumatizing Mack, I’d rather not have to explain to his mom why he’ll be having nightmares for the next three months”

Jason lets out a snort, then just looks at you, like really looks at you. He couldn’t have guessed that you would have gone through something so brutal. You were practically an angel on Earth. Yet even with the horrors you’d seen, you still got up in the morning. You still tried to make it a safe place for other people. Despite all the wrong, you still tried to make it right, and Jason doesn’t think he’d ever seen someone so beautiful.

“I was fourteen.” Jason begins, “I have kind of a similar story.” He tries his best to laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood, it comes out a bit strained. “Bruce, told me not to go somewhere by myself, and despite his warnings, I went. And well, I’m sure you know what happened next.”

He didn’t want to get into the whole dying thing. This was not the appropriate place to be having that conversation, but right now he decided that he was going to tell you. In the vulnerability of the moment, Jason Todd had finally found someone who might understand him. Someone who saw past his scars, someone who saw them and knew what it meant yet, still showed him kindness. Still showed him that someone could care for him regardless of how broken he might be.

The understanding settles between both of you, and just for a moment you see the rawest forms of each other. A boy and a girl who had their innocence stolen from them too young and were forced to live with the reminders of their mistakes. But in spite of it all, they found each other, and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

“YESSSSSSSS” The sudden scream rips both of you from your heartfelt moment.

Both you and Jason jolted, prepared to handle whatever was happening with the boys, only to see a celebration. Turning back to the monsters, Luke is still on the floor, but his hands are clasped together, raised toward the sky.

Your hand flies to your heart calming your heartbeat, which has sky-rocketed into orbit.

“So, I guess we’re going to go see the Tiger’s first then?” Jason asks the boys, amusement slipping into his tone. “Yes, brother.” Damian responds with his familiar formality. “Then, we will go see the Giraffe’s and feed them, then ultimately, we will pay a visit to the lions.”

“Alright then,” Jason shrugs extending his arms out. “Lead the way.”

When the nine of you begin to make your way to the exhibit, you don’t miss the way Jason trails back with you. You also don’t miss the anxiety reeking off his frame when he tries to inconspicuously throw his arm around your shoulders. However, for his sake, you pretend that you don’t realize that his fingers are cradling the top of the scar you both share with a gentle fragility that almost makes you cry.

•───────•°•𝓙•°•───────•

After the boys lost their mind at the tiger exhibit, you end up feeding the giraffes. Damian is trying to school his features but fails spectacularly. Anyone can see that he’s excited. This is the part he’d been telling you that he’d been looking forward to all week. He doesn’t necessarily love the idea of a zoo, considers them inhumane. Which they are in a sense, you never loved that they rip these animals from their natural habitat. However, when he found out he could feed some of the animals, there was a sudden interest in the field trip that found him. It’s one thing to ogle at them in their enclosure but actually being able to speak to them and feed them, was something else entirely. It was something he could treasure, some gesture he could do for them.

Now here you all are, with the heat that noon brings to a sunny Gotham day, you’ve decided to be in the shade. Some of the boys are trying to play with the lettuce, the little game they created for themselves to see how close they could hold the lettuce to Gerald the giraffe’s mouth when feeding it without getting licked. You weren’t sure what the punishment for the loser was, and there was a part of you that didn’t want to know.

Jason lets out a small snort at the scene in front of him. “Boys will be boys” he muttered quiet enough just for your ears. You giggled with a nod at the only acceptable use of that phrase. Moving slightly to be stood in front of him, you rest your head against his chest. He then shifts slightly allowing his right cheek to lay on your hair, the domesticity of the moment makes your heart flutter.

Then your gaze shifts to Damian. He’s carefully feeding his giraffe, Gina, while petting her muzzle. Her baby, Ronnie, is hidden behind his mother with the innocence of an anxious child seeing strange faces and species. Damian isn’t deterred by this in the slightest, he simply returns the care and attention a mother should receive. He feeds and pets her reassuringly, while whispering that she deserved better than this, that he will make sure she is taken care of. You imagine he’ll report back to his father and ask him to invest in her habitat.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done something like this.

Last year when you went to one of the art museums in Gotham, he had noticed they were severely lacking in baroque art. You had spent the past four weeks studying it in your classes, and he knew how passionate you were about it. When the class went to the museum and he noticed the art, or lack thereof better said, he instantly went home and asked his father to make a few donations.

“He’s a good kid.” You mention off handedly to Jason. He hums in response and moves his head so that his chin is now rested on the crown of your head and follows your eyeline.

His eyes land on Damian, and a sudden surge of protectiveness blooms in his chest.

In these rare moments where he can see the waning amounts of innocence Damian has left, he’s reminded of when they first met. Not when they met in the cave, but in the League. The runt has no recollection of it, and Jason’s memories are hazy, but there was once a time when he was his caretaker. After the events in Ethiopia, Ra’s took him into the League of Assassins and somewhat nursed him back to health. Talia had just had Damian not long before, and while she cared for him in every way that she could, she still had duties she needed to attend to. In those times where she could not be with her son, they allowed Jason breaks in his training to care for him.

He would play with him with the few toys they’d allow the one-year-old, babbling with him in a way that doesn’t fit his current persona. Jason had learned how to change his diaper when there was no one around, failing horrifically the first few tries. He was even there for his first steps, it was a quiet night during some meeting that Ra’s was having to execute some plan in Santa Prisca. Jason was sitting in the nursery and Damian had pulled himself up on his crib and held his hands out, taking two stumbling steps toward him. They were brothers before they knew it and wasn’t that something?

There are few pictures of that time, and he’d never cared for them before. He was too upset with the world and everything it had taken from him. But in light of recent events, in trying to turn the page and start a new chapter, he decided that the next time he sees Talia he’d have to ask her for one of the pictures. It wasn’t a home per se, but there was something almost familial in his time in the League. He got a little brother from it after all.

“Yeah, he is.” He whispers to you.

It’s almost as if he was listening to you two talk about him, because he whips his head around to both of you. Eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him for the position you’re both in currently. He drops the lettuce back in to the bucket that the zoo attendant had handed to him before briefly abandoning his post for a moment, assuring Gina he will be back.

He walks- no charges over to you. Jason’s eyebrows rise in a quiet warning, communicating that he better watch whatever he’s about to say. He pointedly ignores him and looks at you with something like worry creasing between his eyebrows.

“Is he bothering you?” he asks you with no ounce of humor in his voice. You were tempted to snort but had to swallow it as fast as the urge came, not wanting to discourage the twelve-year-old. Jason’s not much of a help, as he scoffs at his little brother.  

“No Damian, Jason is not bothering me.” You assure him and shrug off Jason from your body so, you can place a hand on his shoulder.

His eyes narrow further in suspicion, and then move over your shoulder to his brother, then back to you. “Are you sure?”

Jason sputters something in disbelief, your brain’s working overtime blocking him out because you cannot laugh right now.

“Yes, I’m sure.” You offer him with a genuine smile. The same one you use when he asks if he can have lunch in your room on the days he doesn’t want to go to the cafeteria.

There must have been some micro expression on your face, or possibly Jason’s that betrayed you. You watch it click in his head; you were half convinced you could hear the cogs clinking into place.

His face shifts from suspicion to a comically disgusted disbelief, all his features contorting on his face when his eyes land back on Jason.

“Are you dating my teacher?”

The question hung in the air for a second too long. The joy from the situation suddenly evaporating into an uncomfortable awkwardness, you and Jason hadn’t exactly put a label on it. You two were just seeing each other hoping it would go somewhere. The silence allows doubt to creep in, because you didn’t know how to answer that question, even if it wasn’t directed to you. You couldn’t exactly explain the unspoken rules of adult dating to your student, and you also didn’t want to.

“Yeah, and?” Jason answers unabashedly, and even though you’re looking straight ahead, you can picture the shrug he gave when he put the label on it for both of you.

Now it’s your turn to make a sad attempt at schooling your expression. You’d hoped, like anyone would, that he would want to be something with you. You were having fun, and he seemed genuine in a way you hadn’t experienced with guys before. There was a muscle that relaxed in your chest when he was near. You didn’t have to be on edge all the time, you didn’t have to be anyone but yourself when you were with him, you never felt the pressure of society when it was just the two of you laughing on the couch. For the first time in your life, when you were with Jason Todd, it all fit.

Damian doesn’t have an answer, not right away at least. He just looks between you and Jason a couple of more times in shock. Then he mutters under his breath and turns around to try and cope with the news while feeding Gina.

“That went… better than expected.” The shock in Jason’s voice mirrors exactly what you’re feeling inside.

“Yeah, I guess it did.” You turn to him with a teasing smile. “So, dating huh?”

If he wasn’t already flushed with the sunburnt, you’re sure that he would have had the same pink complexion. “Well um- I, didn’t want to assu-”

“Relax.” You laugh openly, eyes shutting from how wide your smile got. “I’m just teasing. I want to be that with you too.”

“You’re so mean.” He grumbles while throwing his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“Only for you.”

Jason hopes you can’t feel the way his heart speeds up at your words.

Damian turns around, hearing the laughing fit you were both sharing, and he’s portraying a look of pure horror at the two of you. Jason sticks his tongue out at him, and he turns back around shaking his head. He would take this act to the grave, because he would never admit how secretly happy he was at the fact that you both had found each other.

•───────•°•𝓙•°•───────•

On the bus back to the academy, Jason was able to sit next to you this time. Instead of next to Damian, who seemed to have finally gotten closer with some of the boys in his group from today.

Most of the kids that were sat near the front of the bus with the chaperones were taking a quick power nap after a long day in the Gotham sun. The others in the back were absorbed with their friends talking about everything they saw today, trading funny moments and embarrassing stories with each other.

Jason was slumped quietly next to you with his neck and head making an almost comical ninety-degree angle to rest on your shoulder. You can tell he’s still awake by the way his breathing hasn’t evened out yet. So, you shift in your seat a bit moving forward to press a gentle kiss on his scar, and his eyes flutter open.

Even in his daze, he can see the indecipherable expression you have on your face sometimes when you’re looking at him.

“What was that for” He mumbles.

“No reason,” he thinks your voice is too gentle to be talking to him, but selfishly, he doesn’t want you to stop. “Just think you’re cute”

And with that, he sits back up in the seat. After taking a quick glance around to make sure no one was paying attention, he drops a kiss on your lips savoring the taste of your strawberry lip balm, before parting and dropping another kiss to your cheek, tainting it with a baby pink tattoo of his lips. And lastly- but most importantly- he moves the neckline of your shirt and drops one on your shoulder blade where you share the same letter that he’ll rebrand for you.  

“Well,” the sheepish blush drowning you from your forehead to your neck fuels his wicked grin. “I think you’re perfect.

Your blush deepens and you look around triple-checking that no one saw before grumbling embarrassed under your breath, causing Jason to chuckle quietly.

When he rests back against the seat, and the familiar weight of your head is on his shoulders, he didn’t think he’d ever been this happy. The smell of your eucalyptus shampoo somehow manages to calm him, even with all the craziness exploding in the back of the bus.

Maybe he should owe Bruce favors more often.

•───────•°•𝓙•°•───────•

•───────•°•✶•°•───────•

“Dick, cut it out. I already told you no.”

“C’mon, just one date- that’s all I’m asking.” He carelessly throws his hands in the air. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Jason swore that if the former circus act opened his mouth one more time that he was going to make him wish that he fell off that trapeze with his parents.

Dick had spent the past two weeks trying to set him up on a date with you. Every single time he saw Jason on patrol, he’d harass him about it. The gymnast had taken you to the charity gala Bruce held a little under a month ago, as friends.

You caught his eye the moment you walked in, you were impossible to ignore. There was radiance in your figure that rivaled the sun’s. The way your eyes lit up the whole room lit a match in Jason that had been extinguished years ago. Your laugh was a melody that Jason would spend years learning the notes to, in a pitiful attempt to replicate. Anytime you were dragged from one conversation to another with a Gotham Elite, the room parted for you like a sea that Jason would drown in if he was given the chance.

Jason has been taken by you from the moment your heels clicked on the pale marble floor. Being the pathetic loser he is, he steered clear of you the whole night. Dick had introduced you to the whole family, except him. He got too worked up in his mind, fearing he’d stumble over his words or worse,

You’d see him.

He didn’t think he’d be able to handle the expression of horror that would inevitably cross your face when you saw the scars painting a history on his face he’d be cursed to remember.

The looks always came, there were days he felt like he was a walking car crash. The wandering eyes always roamed his face, his body, at the question where the pain came from. Some asked about it, and some tried to hide the concern behind empty small talk and glances when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. It stopped bothering him years ago, those people never mattered to him. So, he wasn’t sure why he was so anxious now. Why all of a sudden, all the old feelings he’d buried under packs of cigarettes came up at the sight of a girl at a gala.

He thought he had disguised the way his heart fluttered every time you looked in his direction better than he actually did. He hadn’t noticed the youngest bat in the corner of the ballroom observing the way his shoulders tensed when your eyes floated over the sea of guests. The way the pink flush drowned Jason’s face when your eyes met with a small smile. The way his grip tightened around the stem of the crystal champagne glass.

Damian saw all of it.

He approached Jason and ridiculed him for not being able to approach you. He tried to push his stubborn older brother in your direction. Told him to get over himself and just introduce himself. When Jason planted himself on the floor of the ballroom like a tree, he told him he was pathetic. He brushed him off, but Damian didn’t stop there. Being the annoying eleven-year-old that he was, he went and told Dick all about his minor attraction to you.

That’s how he finds himself in the cave at one in the morning after a particularly long patrol, fending off another attack. Dick’s voice echoed off the stone walls of the cave with a slight tease, solidifying Jason’s fate to be forever doomed as a little brother.

“I just don’t want to.”

His explanations were short and simple every time, never revealing more than was necessary.

Unfortunately for everyone, Bruce had managed to pass down his infuriating behavior of bottling emotions to his second son. While Bruce hid his emotions behind a carefully guarded mask and uneasy looks, Jason hid his behind a pack of cigarettes and a poorly executed bad boy persona.

He too lived by the mantra that it was easier to push people away, easier to be alone.  

He couldn’t explain to him how the idea of going on a date for the first time since… everything, made him want to throw up. He couldn’t explain how the idea of letting someone in again made him want to pack his bags and go to one of the safe houses he kept from Bruce. How the idea of a dinner with a girl who was everything good in the world threatened him with hope.

Hope he couldn’t afford.

Jason had heard about you over the years, existing in the same circle. Dancing around each other but never together. It was the only good thing that came from Dick’s incapability of shutting up. Jason was half convinced that Dick just enjoyed the sound of his own voice. He heard stories about you, seen pictures that Dick had posted on his social media. You were mutuals, but that was as far as he had let himself go.

He could handle decapitating someone, he could wash the blood of his hands and eat dinner afterward. He could invoke a fear that lingered in the nightmares of the worst bastards in the city he was raised in. But going out with a girl who brought out the sun on the cloudiest days, was what petrified the Red Hood.

“Jason come on,” Dick was practically whining now. “Just give me one reason why you don’t want to.” 

He wasn’t going to let this go, was he?

Dick was, tragically, the pushiest motherfucker on the planet. He knew what he wanted and very rarely failed at getting it.

“Dick for the last time, I just don’t want to.” Jason leveled his brother a look that was as deadly as he had once been, silently begging him to drop it.

But Dick, not being able to take any of his little brothers seriously, just smiled at him. It didn’t matter how grown each of them were, it didn’t matter that Jason was now taller than him. Every time Dick looked at him, he only ever saw the freckled face and the smile with missing teeth of the little boy Jason had once been. The little brother who used to have faith in the world. The little brother he would go to hell and back for. The little brother he would do anything to see one more time.

Dick opened his mouth probably to annoy Jason for the millionth time, when a voice cuts in from across the cave.

“Don’t want to what?”

Tim emerged from the shadows behind the batcomputer. He was in a pair of grey sweatpants and a black long-sleeved shirt that was too big for him. The shirt hung off his frame in a way that made him look sickly, his hair damp and plastered on his forehead. There was a redbull in his hand that he took a sip from, with a raised eyebrow while walking toward the pair.  

“Todd is refusing Grayson’s pathetic attempt at finding him a partner.” Damian announced from where he was training with Bruce in the middle of the cave.

Jason hadn’t realized that the whole family had been eavesdropping on Dick playing cupid. He shouldn’t have been surprised really, Dick announced everything he said with a level of importance that his words usually lacked. He couldn’t handle not being the center of attention, Jason supposed he had the circus to thank for that.

“Ohhhh” Tim drew out the vowel with a level of understanding. “This is about the girl Dick brought to the gala right?”

Jason scoffed and crossed his arm, a small reflex he had developed as protection. The arms pressing against his chest creating another layer against the world. He was building a cage for the fragile heart that was beating too quickly. The extra blood his body was pumping right now migrated to his face, tinting it to a color eerily similar to the hood he branded himself with.

He turned his gaze to his youngest brother with an irritation so biblical, it was one only brothers could bring it out.

“Son of a Bitch,” Jason grumbled under his breath closing his eyes for a moment before accusing him. “Did you tell everyone about this?”

“Your affections were obvious. I merely confirmed what everyone knew.” Damian stuck his nose in the air, refusing to admit he did anything wrong.

“Jason,” Bruce started out carefully. “There’s no shame in liking someone. I’ve spoken with her a few times. This could be a good place to start-”

“Bruce oh my God, stop.” Jason shook his head, frazzled. “The last thing I want is relationship advice from you.”

Bruce’s previously softened gaze disappeared. His lips pressed into each other forming a thin line. There was a guilt suddenly weighing on his shoulders from producing a son as emotionally constipated as him.

Dick, sensing the tension creeping in through the cracks of the stone floor, opened his mouth again.

“Jason, really. What’s the worst that could happen? It doesn’t go well and you never see her again?”

Jason just stared at him. He didn’t know if he could admit the source of all his fears. He didn’t want to name it, didn’t want to make it real. If he kept it in his head and heart, he could ignore it. It’d be something that he deals with sometimes and buries with the mountains of bodies he has in his closet.

“I-”

“And don’t say you don’t want to again.” Dick puts a finger up, pointing at him. “Give me an actual reason.”

Jason closed his mouth and saw the eyes of the rest of the family on him. Even Alfred, who had been lingering in the back with a tray of finger food for everyone, had found his gaze on the former boy wonder. He ran a hand through the white tuft on his hair, pulling it slightly to try and find the words he couldn’t form.

“She could see me.” Jason finally said. The words came out awkward and quiet. There was a weird pause in between each of the words, like they didn’t fit in his mouth.

“Dude, I hate to be the one to break this to you. But if that’s what you’re scared of, then you’re kind of fucked.” Tim looked at him barely hiding his expression of disbelief. “She’s already seen you, she knows what you look like.”

“Barbara told me that she told her that she thinks you’re hot.” Dick rushed out in a genuine attempt to comfort him, trying to drown out Tim’s unhelpful words. “So, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Dick knew that wasn’t what he actually meant, but he was going to play dumb. He wasn’t going to give Jason the easy way out of this one. He was going to make him do the unthinkable, he was going to make Jason Todd talk about his feelings.

Jason gave him an exasperated look with sweat spilling from his forehead. He knew Dick knew what he meant, but he sat there with an open expression and a guiding smile. He was trying to coax the words out of him, giving him a safe space with the prying eyes of his family.

“You know that’s not what I meant” Jason’s eyes narrow.

“Then explain it to me, I’m not a mind reader ya know.”

Jason threw his head back and his eyes fell upon the roof. All the bats that the cave was home to were asleep. They were gone to a more peaceful world that couldn’t even begin to comprehend the horrors Jason had seen and experienced in this one. He envied them sometimes, wishing he could live isolated by himself with no one to bother him.

“Dick, I- just look at me.” He finally tears his eyes from the roof, and his eyes meet his older brother’s again. His arms outstretch in front of him as if he was putting himself on display at an auction that no one would bid on. “I-, I’m,” He was stuttering, he couldn’t figure out how to word it.

How did he explain that he was a monster. He had killed. He had been killed. Who was going to want to get entangled with that mess? Who would want to put up with this level of disaster? He couldn’t impose this life on anyone else. He couldn’t drag anyone else down this hole, especially not you.

“I’m not exactly a star candidate.” Jason avoided everyone’s eyes and his fell upon the old Robin suit across the cave. The reminder of who he used to be bleeding into the failure he became. “She’s only going to be disappointed.”

“You don’t know that, Jason.” Dick’s expression softened.

Jason hated when he did that, when he shifted from annoying older brother to someone he could trust. Someone he could love. He couldn’t explain what it was exactly that shifted in his demeanor that opened the flood gates. He didn’t know if it was the way his eyebrows creased with a level of sympathy he didn’t deserve, or the way his shoulders slumped dropping the playful act, or the way he had a small trusting smile making him feel safer than any safe house he could run to. It was infuriating how easily Dick could lower anyone’s walls.

“If you really don’t want to, I’ll let it go. I’ll tell her you’re not looking right now. But I think there’s a small part of you that wants this.” Every word he was saying slowly peeled back the layers of protection Jason had been guarding as if they were life or death. He had never felt so disarmed, so naked. “And it’s okay to want this, Jason.”

“Is it?” He couldn’t help but ask, looking around at the faces of the rest of his family. Vulnerable in a way he had never allowed himself to be in front of them. Exposed in a way he had never dreamed of letting them see. “When she finds out about everything, when she finds out what I am, she’s going to run. She’s going to turn around and leave me with the fact that I’ve given myself away to get it given back.” He huffs almost cynically while passing his fingers through his hair for the millionth time. “And the worst part is, I won’t even be able to blame her for it.”

Jason wasn’t looking at anyone but Dick while talking. He can imagine that most of their faces fell along with his.

Dick who regretted everything that happened with Jason when they were younger. Dick who wasn’t the best brother to him. Dick who wasn’t there for him, like he was for the others. He never paid that much attention to him. He had been so tied up in his own emotions, his own feelings toward Bruce, that he abandoned Jason. He left him alone in this house, and it killed him. He never forgave himself for that, so he vowed to himself to never abandon another Robin. Trying to do for them what he couldn’t do for Jason: showing them the ropes, giving them tips and tricks he never had. Now, watching the self-deprecation clawing at his little brother’s throat made him want to call Wally and force him to take Dick and travel back in time. He wanted to rewrite the story and rescue him. To hug the version of Jason that would let himself be hugged. He wanted so desperately to save him from himself, to save him from the nightmare he called home.

He never intended to dig up old trauma by bothering Jason about the date. He wanted him to be happy. He had lived so much of his life as a shell of who he once was after the resurrection. No one blamed him for it, no one could even begin to imagine what it must be like to go through that. To watch the countdown to your death, to die scared and alone.

Dick only ever wanted him to be happy.

So, when Damian came up to him after the Gala saying that he had a crush on you, he was ecstatic. Jason hadn’t had a crush since high school. Dick was also privy to some information that you were down bad for his brother. He had to do something for Jason, and he thought this was the best opportunity. He had to start somewhere after all; there were years of being a horrible brother to make up for.

“She could also stay, Jason.” Dick offered him, the rest of the cave silent as he threw him a bone. “She could like who you are, help you come out of hiding.” He paused holding the fragile eye contact, scared that if it broke all the progress he made would dissipate. “I’m not going to force you to go on the date, but I want you to think about it. A date doesn’t have to mean marriage. It can just mean trying again, and you owe it to yourself to try”

Jason sighed to himself. He was the one who finally broke eye contact with his older brother. He dragged his calloused hand down the length of his face. Tonight had been tiring enough as it was after patrols, adding all the emotions he allowed himself to confront and talk about only added to the exhaustion. He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion or the small hope that bloomed in his chest that made him agree, but he looked back at Dick and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll think about it.”

•───────•°•✶•°•───────•

It had been three days since that conversation when you got a call from Dick. It was a quarter past noon, and you were on your lunch break. You had chosen to walk the two blocks to the small pizza shop near your office when you feel the familiar buzz in your pant pocket.

Pulling out the phone, you see the name of your best friend light up the screen and your eyes narrow slightly at it. You love Dick with your whole heart, but a call from him was nothing short of rare. Hearing from Dick before one or two in the afternoon was even rarer. His sleep schedule was so messed up you were half convinced he was nocturnal.

The call and time of day was concerning for you, if Dick Grayson was calling you that meant the world was ending tomorrow. If Dick was calling you before one, the world was ending now. Your thumb hesitates slightly before sliding the green call button across the bottom of your screen and bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, my beautiful best friend!” Immediately, you’re put off. He’s way too enthusiastic for it to be a Wednesday afternoon. “What are you doing Friday night?”

“Nothing… Why?” There’s a questioning edge in your tone as you side eye the phone.

“I have the most spectacular news!”

“What did you do?” The question is immediate with suspicion prominent in your tone. He was up to something, and when Dick Grayson was up to something, it was rarely good.

“Have you so little faith in me?” He was always one with a flair for dramatics. There’s a small sigh he adds to the act, and you can’t help the eye roll. “You’re going to owe me big time after this.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve made your biggest dream come true.” He says so sure of himself that you scoff.

“I didn’t know you convinced Harry Styles to finally release Medicine. How’d you do it?”

He groans your name as if you’re personally responsible for the pain in his side.

“No, but seriously what did you do?” There’s a slight hesitation in the small laugh you give him as an opening.

“I have scored you a date with the one and only Jason Todd.”

You misstep on the sidewalk hearing the name. A quick stumble before recovering and freezing on the cement.

There was no way.

There was actually no way that Dick had got you a date with the guy you’d been crushing on for the past two years.

“What?” He hears the disbelief in your tone and laughs, like he’d been expecting this reaction.

“Yes ma’am. I have gotten you a date with my brother.”

“Wait-” You’re still standing still on the sidewalk and even though he can’t see you, your free hand flies up motioning for him to stop. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you like him….” He phrases it like a question, similar to when a child sounds overly confident with their take on a situation and then realizes they may be misinformed.

Your face turns bright red and are suddenly eternally grateful that you weren’t having this conversation in person.

“H-How do you know that?” Alarm bells start ringing between your ears. You hadn’t been that obvious had you? There was only a handful of people who know about your quiet crush on Jason.

“Well I called Barbara the other night-” You groan and hit your palm on your forehead. You knew telling her would be risky, they’d all known each other since they were kids, but she promised she wouldn’t say anything.You knew exactly who you were calling after you hung up with Dick “… when I told her that Jason thought you were pretty she got sup-”

“Jason thinks I’m pretty?” You cut him off not caring for the rest of the sentence.

“Well duh,” he responds as if the answer was painfully obvious, as if you’d asked him if the sky was blue. “What kind of question is that? You are pretty.” There’s a sincerity in his voice that sounds so innocent it leads to a genuine smile creeping onto your face.

“But anyway,” he goes to rerail the conversation back on to his initial mission. “I’ve got it all planned out for you. Friday at 8:30, I’ll send you the address. Don’t be late!”

“I-” You didn’t get the chance to say anything before he hung up on you.

You hold your phone to your ear for another second, then bring it to your chest. It was cringy and possibly a little cliché, but you cradle the phone against your heart. Nothing could bring you down from this high.

No annoying boss. No incompetent coworkers. No pestering call from your mother.

Because you lived in a world where you had a date with Jason Todd.

A world where Jason Todd thinks you’re pretty.

•───────•°•✶•°•───────•

08:28 p.m.

The time on your phone screen mocks you while you wait outside the bowling alley.

Of-fucking-course that would be the type of date Dick Grayson planned. You should’ve seen this coming from a mile away. The moment Dick told you that he would send you and Jason a time and place to meet you should’ve prepared for the worst.

You’re standing at the neon lit entrance shuffling your weight from foot to foot, when you start fiddling with the charm on your necklace. Glancing at the families and groups passing by you suddenly hear steps that echo heavier than the normal persons. Recognizing the steps you’d learn to anticipate at Dick’s family reunions, you turn your head to see your date walking toward you.

It was frustrating how good he looked. He was lit up by the flickering streetlights that lined the streets of downtown. He was dressed in a pair of jeans that might have existed since the dawn of time and a plain red hoodie with a giant leather jacket layered over it. His broad shoulders were slouched almost as if he was trying to shrink into himself and become as small as possible. The hands you’d caught yourself staring at too often are shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. The cool breeze that lingered in Gotham’s darkest nights is blowing through his hair, as if nature itself came to witness the unbelievable story of Red Hood on a date.

He was an anxious bundle of nerves for the past two days. After agreeing to this, he almost instantly regretted it. Jason hadn’t let himself want anything like this since the resurrection; he was too broken, too haunted, too cursed. Yet somehow, Dick had managed to get through to him, managed to break down the labyrinth of walls he’d built to protect himself.

It’s just a date; he kept repeating to himself. It was just one date. He can survive this.

He thought once he saw you that all the anxiety from the past week was going to bubble over and make him explode, but it was actually the opposite. When his eyes met yours and you had that warm smile you were never seen without, the anxiety fizzled out. There was a warmth that blossomed in his chest melting away all his fears.

He watched you raise your hand and shyly wave at him. Taking in your body language, he could sense that you were nervous too. Your uneasiness comforted him a little, the anxiety stringing you both together made this almost normal. Like he wasn’t just some pathetic mess of a man trying to go on a date with a girl who was way out of his league.

“Hey!” The simple word paired with your honeyed voice evaporated all his concern.

Offering his best attempt at a smile, he realized it came out awkward at best. He raised his hand to mirror the shy wave and gave out a small “Hi.”

“You’re early” You mentally face palm. Why was that the first thing you said? God, why were you so awkward?

“So are you.” He sounds relaxed but his motions betray him. His right-hand flies out from his pocket to the back of his neck to scratch it absentmindedly and pull at the hair on the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, well Dick had this whole thing of not being late because of the time slot I guess.” If you laughed awkwardly one more time, you swore you were going to sew your lips shut in the bathroom.

“Yeah…” Jason sighed looked at the dimly lit bowling alley with dread. “I can’t believe I let him talk me into letting him plan this.”

“Why?” A teasing smile finds its way onto your face as you try to relax or be semi-normal about this. “Is someone bad at bowling?”

“Bad is…” he pauses for a moment pondering his word choice. “…generous”

“Well, you know what they say about bad bowlers” You attempt the sly joke to revive his confidence.

“What do they say?”

A snort escapes you while walking past him to go inside. When you realize he isn’t following, you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. The creases on his forehead caused by a single eyebrow raise expressed his genuine confusion at the joke. His mouth was parted slightly while trying to piece together the universally acknowledged truth about bad bowlers, a truth he seemed to be left out of.

“You really don’t know?” Heat begins to rise to your face, realizing you were going to have to explain this to him.

“Should I?” There’s a playful hint in his voice that’s trying to hide the embarrassment of confusion.

“Um, Well-” you laugh and swallow nervously. Your eyes start darting around to see if any other lingering soul would want to intervene and explain this to him. “It’s just a joke that guys who are bad at bowling are um-” you huff out some air and shake your hands to see if he’d get the hint. He doesn’t.

“Good in bed.” You finish the explanation for him.

Now it was your turn to scratch the back of your neck and pull your hair. Fingers twirling around the hair at the nape of your neck, hoping he wouldn’t think you were too crude to joke about this straight off the bat.

“Oh-” his face had turned beet red, and his mouth had made the shape of the vowel he’d just repeated.

The expression on his face made all your flustered feelings disappear. You started laughing so hard your hand flew to your mouth to try and hide it so he wouldn’t feel too embarrassed.

And in that moment for the first time in years, while Jason stood in front of this horrifically lit bowing alley listening to you laugh so openly; the clouds parted and the sun shone on him in the form of a girl he’d spend the rest of his life trying to deserve.

•───────•°•✶•°•───────•

A/N: I had a 3 hour drive last week and “when he sees me” from waitress came on and inspiration struck lol

•───────•°•♡•°•───────•

“You know I’m right.”

You hum quietly while he sighs, not quite indicating an agreement, but that you heard him.

Jason was currently leaning against the door frame at the entrance of the kitchen. His arms crossed showing off the biceps that almost made you fold. Practically feeling his famous unimpressed look your sure was plastered across his face, yours remained ahead, unwaveringly steady in a way that would make him sweat. The floral pink gloves he bought you were angrily scrubbing at a dish that had long been cleaned, another unfortunate victim of your rath.

Your fiancée- the light of your life, however, paid no mind to the way you were seething at the sink. He was no virgin to your silent treatment, or in this case, passive aggressive humming. Last night when he returned from his patrols, he freaked out because the window next to your couch was left unlocked. A habit you only developed after he deemed it an acceptable entrance. There were nights where it was easier to leave it unlocked because you wouldn’t wake up to him tapping the glass at three in the morning, or the inevitable slam of the door when he decided to use a proper entrance; and last night was one of them.

And in that moment, at 02:27 in the morning, Jason had the brilliant idea of giving you a safety lesson. There were times when he acted like he was the only Gothamite in the world, the only person unlucky enough to grow up in this crime-ridden city.

Now, you weren’t naïve enough to believe that he was in the wrong, he wasn’t, but you would never admit that. A shot of bleach was more appealing than admitting that you were wrong- or worse,

That Jason Todd was right.

“You need to start locking the window-” Jason began his pestering again, but was quickly cut off by the porcelain dish clattering in the sink.

The ringing of the china echoed off the walls in your shared apartment. A place previously holding domestic moments and love that didn’t fit in confinement of these four walls, was seemingly on the verge of becoming a war zone.

There weren’t many things that frightened the Red Hood, but watching the pink latex gloves that were currently layered over the ring he proposed with curl into a fist, forced him to stop dead in his tracks.

He watched your shoulders rise and fall taking a deep breath. His shoulders squared, defensive, preparing for a fight, but only for a moment before they slumped back down. He started to remind himself that this wasn’t a bad guy, this wasn’t a villain, this wasn’t a fight he needed to win no matter the cost.

This wasn’t both of you against each other, this was you and him against the problem.

In that brief second where he tensed and calmed himself down- like you taught him- your head whipped around. Hair falling in front of your eyes, framing the face he painted to memory every morning when he woke up and kissed every night before bed. Your body was still turned toward the dishes you cleaned thoroughly but remained scrubbing at with indignation. He swallowed heavily when he saw the look in your eye, there was a stubborn frustration he was expecting, but it was clouded over by something he couldn’t place.

It was unnerving. He didn’t recognize it, not when your body slowly turned to in his direction, not when you slowly peeled off the gloves revealing the ruby on your ring finger, not when your fingers teased the hem of the shirt you were wearing.

He only recognized it when his gaze rose from your delicate hands to meet your fiery eyes, and he saw the test he was about to be handed.

Your hands went from resting at your hip fingering the hem of your shirt to a loose grip that flew to your shoulders, raising your shirt with it.

His lips parted and he choked on his breath. Eyes widening before darkening with a lust when they fell upon the swell of your breasts. It was then that he noticed that you weren’t wearing a bra. His eyes were roaming the valley he knew like the back of his hand and his fingers itched to reach forward. This was his ultimate weakness.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He was still frozen like a deer in headlights when your voice snapped him out of his daze.

“Is there anything else you want to say, Mr. Todd?”

The response was instant. “No ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought.” You murmured to yourself with a humble pride before silently dropping your hands and shielding your breasts again. Quietly, you began slipping the gloves back on and began scrubbing mindless circles on the dishes again.

Jason’s feet were still rooted to the floor when he decided to let it go for the night. This was a fight that could be handled later. After all, there were more pressing matters he wanted to have in his hands tonight.

Fueled by the pop quiz he thinks he might have passed, he approaches you apprehensively. His arms sneak around your waist pulling you flush against him. When you relax in his arms, he realized he not only passed, he aced it.

Kisses are being littered on the path of your shoulder, in the crook of your neck, and apple of your cheek. Each kiss had an apology laced into them that he hoped you would accept. And despite your greatest efforts, he notices the smile you were fighting and decides to test his luck.

“I’m still right though, Mrs. Todd”

Had it not been for the way he addressed you at the end of the sentence, you might’ve actually hit him over the head with the plate you were washing.

You’re still considering it when he gives you that playful grin he wears like second skin, but his distraction works while you think to yourself,

‘Mrs. Todd’ has a nice ring to it.

•───────•°•♡•°•───────•

•───────•°• 𝄞 •°•───────•

You were sprawled out on your back when you hear the window of your bedroom slide open.

If you weren’t listening for it, you would’ve missed it. He moved with a silent agility that still surprised you some nights, in an attempt to not disturb your expected slumber. But when you move your forearm to take a peek, your boyfriend freezes.

He takes in your puffy cheeks, swollen eyelids, and the way gravity is holding you against the mattress and frowns.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.”

You groan and move the heel of each of your palms to rub your eyes. “I know, know, I just haven’t been able to.”

Slowly, Damian makes his way to your side of the bed. He lowers himself on his knees next to where your head is laying and carefully takes hold of your wrists. Removing your hands from your face to try and read the whole scene before asking.

“What’s bothering you?”

Your eyes remain on the popcorned roof, attempting to find some of the little pictures you create in your mind. “it’s nothing,” you sigh.

“Beloved,” his voice is earnest enough to make you tilt your head, allowing your cheek to rest on the pillow. While looking at him, you see something similar to worry threading his eyebrows together. “If you are still awake at four in the morning, with signs that you had been crying, it is not nothing.”

His hand cups your cheek and you lean into the warmth of it. “It’s stupid.” You grumble into his palm with a kiss.

“Then there should be no issue relaying the information to me then.”

Your eyes shrink into unimpressed slits while looking into his and he simply cocks his head to the right. Over the past two years, you’ve learned that this is his way of prompting you to explain. He doesn’t make it easy for a girl to avoid her problems does he?

“It’s just- it’s,” You shift your eyes back to the roof while stuttering. For how much you preached on communication and the importance of it, you still struggled with it. Especially when the other party’s eyes are staring so deep in your soul, you’re sure they even know about the $300 speeding ticket you got at seventeen.

“I have exams coming up and I’m freaking out. I work all day and then come home and try to relax for a bit because I’m tired. Then next thing I know it’s eight and I have a million assignments to do and a test I have to study for.” Your hands find themselves pulling at clumps of hair from your roots while rambling. “By the time I’m finally done with my homework it’s midnight, and I have to go straight to sleep so I can get at least six hours of sleep to then wake up and do it all over again.”

Your eyes meet his beautiful green ones again and you can’t quite hide the way your voice breaks or the tears threatening to spill over. “I feel like I’m always behind and barely making it by. I used to be super smart and ahead of the game, and now… now I’m just here.”

His eyebrows have relaxed and now that he realizes you’re not in any physical imminent danger, he can try to fix this. He thinks for a second before opening his mouth before closing it again, then seemingly deciding how he wants to handle this he begins again.

“Do you want advice, help, or just to talk about it?”

You hate that you’re pouting tight now, but too tired or stressed to care you consider the options Damian has given you. “Can you just get in bed with me? I really just want you to scratch my back and forget about this.”

The left corner of his lip twitches before he stands to his full height. “Anything you’d like my love. Allow me to get changed and make you some tea, then I will come to bed.”

“Thank you” you breathe out.

He bends down and drops a light kiss to your forehead with an “Of course.” Before retreating to the bathroom.

It takes him about ten minutes to make the tea before he comes back with two mugs and a warm hand towel. Placing the mugs on your nightstand, he sits next to you and begins patting down your face where tear stains line your cheeks with the damp cotton rag. He’s mumbling sweet phrases in Arabic that you’ve begun to pick up on, and your first smile of the night appears.

1-0; Damian and your University.

Once he finishes with the hand towel he folds it in his lap. You watch him pause for a moment before reaching for the mugs, he’s got an idea.

“Are you feeling better?” he hums while handing you your half of the I ♡ My BF mug. While he lifts his version to his lips.

“Yes,” you answer him truthfully. “I’m feeling a little better, thank you.”

Obviously not satisfied with the “little” aspect of your response, he lays out his plan.

“Would you like me to play some music while we lie down? I’ve heard that if you listen to happier songs, it helps improve someone’s mood.”

Not thinking much of it, you agree with a simple “sure.”

He stands up and walks ever so quietly to his side of the bed. Picking up his phone he presses a few buttons, and you blow on the tea creating little waves as the steam warms your face.

When the rim is about to touch your lips, you freeze hearing the familiar beat drop.

Peace up, A-Town down

Your head snaps to Damian where he’s studying you with the phone in his left hand. This cannot be what you think it is.

You blink at him. “Is this-” the song cuts you off answering your suspicion.

Usher, Usher

Your mouth dropped so much you were convinced your jaw unhinged.

Yeah-yeah-yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

You start laughing, wholly and uncontrollably while snorting into the mug. Damian starts blushing with something he won’t admit is embarrassment and pauses the music.

“Why are you laughing?” His lips have the smallest upcurve at the sight of your happiness, a welcome contrast to when he entered through the window fifteen minutes ago.

“Why are you playing Usher?!” You couldn’t quite hide the incredulous look of shock on your face. Of all things you had imagined Damian to play, Usher wouldn’t have been in the top fifty.

“Do you not like this song?”

“I mean yeah but-”

“Then? I don’t see the issue?” He also looks like he’s struggling to keep a straight face, the crimson on his cheeks threatening to spill down his neck. The embarrassment didn’t bother him though, not at all actually. He’d sign up to be a jester or a king’s fool if it meant he got to hear you laugh like that every night. Damian Wayne would bend the will of the gods if it meant he never had to hear you cry again.

“The song is on Grayson’s training playlist.” He explains slowly after a moment, watching you bite the insides of your cheeks in trying to hide a smile. “Everyone seems to enjoy it when it begins playing during training. And if I am recalling correctly, I believe you danced to this song quite enthusiastically when you dragged me to the club last August.”

You shake your head, huffing out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m practical” He argues back.

The apartment is silent, except for the hum of the radiator out in the living room. The whole world was going to collapse half an hour ago, but now with the boy who learned to love, it became a little more manageable.

“Come here you, idiot.” You place the mug down on the nightstand, and he does the same.

Crawling into bed, you lay down on his chest, and he holds you tight against him. Breathing in the clean scent of dryer sheets, silenced every thought that was taking you by storm. Here where you could hear his heartbeat and know that he made it back alive after patrol, it didn’t feel so scary anymore.

When his arms slid under your shirt and began tracing lines up and down your back, you caught yourself smiling at all the progress you’d made together. He was no longer that rigid boy who ran from his emotions. He didn’t hide behind a wall of swords and call you a weakness. He grew into himself and allowed you to become his greatest strength. He let himself fall in love and let most importantly, he let himself be known.

“I know you would prefer to forget about it, but I want you to know, you are not just anything.” You can feel him swallow. “You are everything. You are incredibly smart, beautiful, and dedicated. Tomorrow after class you and I will sit down, and we will try to set up a schedule to ease your stress, or I will find other means to help you.”

You shut your eyes to avoid blotching tears on his shirt. For all the times he acted like he didn’t know what to say, he sure had a way of knowing the exact words that would cut right through you.

“I love you Damian.” You whispered into his chest.

“I love you too hayati.” He pauses, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. “Now rest, I will make sure you wake up for class in the morning.”

And finally, slept overtook you in the arms of the man who loved you like breathing.  

•───────•°• 𝄞 •°•───────•

A/N: This was inspired by my own lived experience last week where i studied for 6 hours to Yeah by Usher on repeat and pulled an 88 on my exam after knowing nothing about the course.

•───────•°•𝐖•°•───────•

“You are the single most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“Then why don’t you walk away?” his sky blue eyes are twinkling with mischief.  

The pen you were white knuckling, snapped in half in your hands. The ink cartridge and ballpoint clattering on the watchtower floor. His eyes flickered down to remnants of the black pen then back up to you with raised eyebrows and a shit-eating grin.

You were convinced that there was no one in this galaxy- no universe, that was more infuriating than Richard Grayson. He had been a pain in your ass since you were thirteen. He’s been flirting with you since that first day at the Hall of Justice. It was the first time Diana had taken you out of Themyscira together after training you. She was planning on introducing you to the rest of the League and some of their sidekicks.

It went alright, everyone was as to be expected and lived up to the ideas you made up of them in their head. No one really blew you away, you didn’t really like talking to boys all that much. They were…well, annoying.

And Dick Grayson was no exception.

He wouldn’t leave you alone after that first day in the Hall. He trailed behind you every moment he got. Flirting, sighing dramatically, cracking jokes, the whole nine yards. “Boy Wonder and Wonder Girl, we’re a match made in heaven.” He’d told you once when you were fifteen.

Clark had to hold you back from tearing him in two.

And every single time, much like now, you would shoot Diana a helpless look and she would shrug with a small smirk.

“He’s harmless.” She’d say. “He’ll get bored.” She’d told you.

Well, it had been 7 years, and Dick Grayson still hadn’t gotten bored of you.

You needed to give Diana more credit though. She did talk to Batman about it. In the times when life got too heavy and you couldn’t take one more thing, he’d back off, he’d be genuine. He’d pull out different types of candy and chocolate from his belt and offer you a bite during those eternally long League briefs. He was the reason you discovered your love for sour candy, always saving the red sour patch kids for you.

Yet, once life got easier to breathe through, he’d snap right back into the flirty persona that aggravated you more than a dentist visit.

“Mark my words Grayson, one of these days I’m going to punch you right in the-”

“Mouth?” He inquired too smugly in your opinion. “Please do I’ve seen the way you look at it.”

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, trying to avoid the beginning of what’s about to turn into Armageddon. “Fuck you.” You spit out with teeth clenched.

“I mean that’s not much of a question, but I’ll take the invite.”

You’re about to wipe the cheeky smile off his face with your fist when Diana calls out your name.

“Let’s go.”

You turn to look at her, and her eyes are wide with warning. Hitting Blüdhaven’s beloved Nightwing may not be the smartest decision you’ve ever made, but lord was it tempting.

“You got lucky, Wonder Boy.” You pointedly misname him.

His blue eyes are shining with something you can’t name. The only thing more infuriating than his personality was his face. He was gorgeous, drop dead gorgeous at that. His jaw was defined, his cheek bones were perfect, and his hair curled perfectly over his forehead.

These were the moments when he was dangerous. You weren’t sure if you wanted to slap his face or sit on it.

“I’m always lucky when it comes to you.”

You sigh- deeply and turn around. This was not the time to be thinking about sitting on Dick Grayson’s face. While walking toward the zeta tube to meet Diana you call out to him over your shoulder.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.” He doesn’t hesitate to answer and lifts his hand next to his mouth to announce across the space, grabbing everyone in the tower’s attention.

He watches you flip him the bird before disappearing into the zeta-tube and has the audacity to laugh. With everyone’s eyes on him, he was still looking at where you were just stood when Wally comes up behind him and claps his hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going to marry her one day.”

Wally side-eyes him, trying to hide the incredulous look fighting to make an appearance across his face. “You sure you haven’t hit your head too many times Rob?”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

He’s got a far-off look in his eyes that no one understands, because they all thought he was crazy. Yet despite all the games you’d both play in the tower, you’d still call him tonight.

And he’d show up.

He always would.

•───────•°•𖤓•°•───────•

Your keys were clanking together and jingling while you tried to put your house key in the ancient lock. The apartment you and Jason lived in was nice but was in fact an older building. There were pros and cons to that. On one hand, it had that nice gothic aesthetic that made you feel like you were in a period drama every time you came home. But then there were times when the plumbing and radiator broke, where you wished you sacrificed a little more of your paycheck to get something nicer.

You finally get the key into the lock and shove it in a little further until it finally gives and you hear the familiar click as it turns. One of these days you would finally ask your landlord to call a locksmith and get it fixed. When you finally push the door open, you see your faithful boyfriend sitting on the barstools at your kitchen countertop cleaning his guns.

His eyes are already on you when the door opens. He knew the sound of your keys and heard you silently curse behind the door while trying to slot the key in just right. Standing up silently, he walks over to meet you at the doorframe. There’s a quiet ounce of relief you watch him breathe out when you appear behind the door.

Jason always worried when you left the apartment. He never stopped you from going out, but he knew firsthand the horrors of Gotham. He knew how easily the city would swallow someone in the darkness of its shadows. It didn’t matter that you emitted more light than the sun, the alleyways of Gotham would stop at nothing to dim the lights by nightfall.

You barely lock the door behind you before you feel the arms that you called home wrap around your waist and the face you woke up to burying itself in the crook of your neck. He takes another deep breath absorbing the same perfume you’d been wearing since the day you met.

The nostalgia of the smell took him back to the first time your eyes locked at the gas station. The moment the chip reader broke and your card kept declining. He was at the pump behind you and watched you throw your head back with a groan out of the corner of his eye. He saw you take out a different card, and same thing. So, Jason being the gentleman that he is, waltzed right up to you channeling his signature Red Hood bravado.  However, the moment his eyes landed on you, all the cool he previously had, evaporated into the cool night air. He wasn’t suave or smooth about it, he was incredibly awkward and became a stuttering mess. Eventually, he’d convinced you to let him pay for your gas and when you asked him if he took Zelle or Venmo, he said he’d take a date instead.

And well, the rest is history.

He never understood how you still had the same smile after all these years in Gotham. Living here drained the life out of him, literally. Yet here you are, still finding the little joys in the world to smile about. He never deserved you, but he’d thank the universe for sending you to him anyway.

“I missed you too.” You chuckle out as his grip tightens on you. Your cheek falls against his hair, and you turn your head slightly to drop a kiss into it.

You stand there for a moment just taking him in and he does the same. Both of you allowing each other this brief second of peace to settle into each other’s presence.

 After a couple of seconds, he gives you one last squeeze before letting go, allowing you to turn and look at him. He looks lighter today, his shoulders aren’t tensed in their usual square causing him soreness he didn’t know how to live without. His eyes are open and the scars on his face aren’t painting stories of pain, but a history that had finally stopped haunting him.

He drops a kiss on your lips, and you feel as light as him. It was quick and fleeting, a simple brush across your lips that leaves you with a promise for tonight as he pulls away. There’s a small grin on his face with smugness etched into his smile line at his ability to leave you so easily breathless.

“How was your day? Did you get your facial?” He asks you over his shoulder while retreating back to his seat at the countertop.

Now it’s your turn to don a shit-eating grin. You, however, have to bite it back. Last night, you came up with a master plan. While Jason was on patrol, you had been mindlessly scrolling through your Tik Tok and saw some girl pranking her boyfriend that she had gotten her Brazilian wax done by a guy. Instantly, you wanted to try that on Jason and started conspiring.

When you both woke up this morning you told him you were going to get a facial and maybe buy yourself some food or makeup. You were going to have a cute self-care day. He loved the idea and gave you his card and told you it was on him. He insisted on you using his card because he’d been coming back from patrols later than usual and well, you weren’t going to deny your boyfriend his attempt at an apology.

There was a small ounce of guilt lingering in your gut at the prank, but he’d get over it. He was back at his spot on the countertop, cleaning and reloading his guns from last night. Thankfully, he’d remembered to lay the towel out under them this time while cleaning. He’d scratched the counter one too many times from the metal sliding on the cool granite. His hands are back to work and his head is tilted down too, making getting away with this a million times easier

You try to play it cool while humming and dropping your bag and keys on the welcome table. Toeing off your shoes you start off excitedly,

“Yes oh my gosh it was so good! They were so sweet, aaaaaand because it was my first time there they threw in such a good deal on a bundle.”

He hums back, indicating that he’s listening while his head turned away toward his duffel bag at the chair next to him, searching for ammo.

“They had some promotion going on for first timers, saying that you could get a Brazilian for 50% off the usual price if you got a facial.”

His hands freeze for a brief moment, and one eyebrow shoots up before he continues looking through the bag.

“Like the wax service?” His voice sounds hesitant while he asks. He knows you’ve gotten waxed once or twice. Usually, you only did it before you both took a vacation during the summer or if you were going on a girls trip with a group of your friends.

“Yeah!” Your voice sounds a little to enthusiastic, but you hope he doesn’t catch on. “It was such a good deal, I couldn’t pass it up and he was so nice too.” His head snaps to look at you as if you just revealed you had a bomb strapped to your chest. You bite the inside of your cheeks to hold back a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head and closes his eyes trying to convince himself he misheard you. “He?”

“Mhm!” You nod with a smile on your face, and you wish you had recorded this because his reaction is to die for. He’s frozen staring at you like you’ve grown another head and his lips press together into a thin line. That’s when you hear it, the subtle click. You look down and in his right hand he’s holding the grip of the shotgun with his index finger on the trigger, and he’s used his left palm to slot the magazine into place.

You have to actively keep your mouth from dropping in shock. You knew he’d have some type of reaction, but not this level. Maybe doing this while he was reloading wasn’t the best idea you’d had.

“So you’re telling me,” he starts and holds a finger in the air while carefully setting down the gun. “That a guy, waxed your vagina.”

His eyebrows are about to blend in with his hairline with how high they’ve risen. You scoff at him with an attempt keeping up the act.

“Oh, c’mon Jay don’t get like that, it’s his job”

“His job is to get paid to look at your vagina, like a fucking perv?”

You couldn’t keep up the act anymore and you snorted. And once you started you couldn’t stop, you started wheezing so hard you bent over. His mouth dropped open slightly, his face holding more confusion than it did a moment ago.

“You should see the look on your face right now.”

He finally caught on to the fact that it was a joke and his face falls. He scoffs at you and rolls his eyes. “You’re so stupid.” He mumbles with no heat behind it, going back to his guns.

You slide across the wooden floor in your socks to him. You hug him from behind and he grumbles something incomprehensible, your shoulders still shaking slightly from laughing.

“You think you’re sooo funny don’t you.” He leans into your touch, head leaning back to turn toward you.

“I do,” you say proudly into the fabric of his shirt. “It was a prank I saw on tik tok last night while waiting for a special someone.”

He grunts in disapproval while his fingers start working again. Leaning a bit to the side to look at him your fingers rest over his stopping his movements. You see the look on his face and decide to give him something else.

“Well, you know since I didn’t actually get a Brazilian, we can still have some fun tonight.”

He turns to look at you with desire pooling in his eyes that he’s trying to hide with a false flicker of annoyance and a raised eyebrow. You roll your eyes at his stubbornness and stand on your tippy toes to press your lips against his with a promise: that you would always and forever be his.

•───────•°•𐃯•°•───────•

You weren’t sure if it was the warm water of the bath, the glass of wine, or the fingers tracing patterns on your arm, but you’d never felt more at peace in your life.

On the way back from one of the most awful shifts, you’d ever had the displeasure of working, Jason called you. No one was more excited than him when the hands of the clock lined up at the five. His fingers always hesitate for two minutes before clicking on your name. He’d wait the gruesome one hundred twenty seconds before dialing to give you what he deemed, a substantial amount of time to pack up.

The call always came when you had stepped no more than three feet out of the concrete building that you worked in. He asked you the same questions without fail: How are you? How was work? Did you eat a good lunch? etc. Usually, it was fine, normal, and there were some funny stories you’d tell him from the office sprinkled in, however, today was a little different. You’d practically had your asshole ripped in half and handed to you on a platter to eat. The project assigned to your team, that you had completed entirely by yourself, had been edited by some of your coworkers. They forwarded it to your boss without telling you and he scrapped the whole project because of their changes. Now, you had until Friday to redo the whole thing from scratch because the OneDrive crashed, wiping all the work you’d done in the past week.

You hadn’t realized how long you’d been complaining about it until you reached the subway station, barely giving Jason any time to talk before you lost service. A heavy sigh escaped you when the call failed. You told yourself you would call him when you got off on your stop. The subway stunk of piss and you were trying to zone out on the ride home, but some guy was bothering every occupant of the train for a lighter. The stop for Seventeenth Street couldn’t come any faster. When time finally ceased to suspend you in this dingy train, you practically ran out the doors before they’d finished sliding open.

After climbing the faded green stairs out of the subway, you dialed Jason’s number again. After five pathetic rings, it went to voicemail. He was probably taking a shit or on his way to the manor before patrol, you reminded yourself. Thankfully, the walk to your apartment was a little less than ten minutes from the station. Walking the same blocks you’d been walking for years should’ve been mundane, but it wasn’t it was oddly comforting. These blocks had seen you put yourself through college, watched you walk back from mind-numbing breakups, witnessed you get your spark back, and caught you falling in love again.

The world could feel like it would end tomorrow, but the liquor store would always have its neon sign letting you know that it was open when you passed by, and Mrs. Walker would always be outside sweeping the sidewalk before she closed her pottery studio for the day. Some days she’d stop you for a conversation and some she would offer you a smile that reminded you that there was more to the world than the imbeciles you called coworkers.

Soon enough the brick wall of your apartment building came into view allowing you to finally relax. Your shoulders dropped the tension they’d been carrying since your boss embarrassed you in his office. Greeting the doorman, Tom, he had the same smile he always did while opening the door.

You were way to exhausted for it to be a Wednesday, usually this feeling didn’t begin to settle in your bones until Thursday night or Friday morning. The elevator door opened and your feet dragged you through the double doors, grateful you didn’t have to share it with anyone. Your finger pressed the button for the third floor lighting it up, and you fell back on the wall.

Catching your reflection in the mirrored roof, you saw the exhaustion etched into the blurry picture above. Hair falling out of the previously tight bun from this morning, mascara smudged under your eyes, and the dry-cleaned shirt from this morning was now wrinkled. Selfishly, you hoped Jason was still home. He typically had patrols on Wednesday and ran late, but you needed him tonight. Considering he hadn’t called you back or sent you a message meant he was probably enroute to the manor. He’d text you when he arrived and you would probably sleep like shit until the inevitable tap of the window confirmed that he was safe before joining you in bed.

The familiar ding of the elevator, tears you out of your reflection and you drop your head back to a normal angle before stepping out. Your eyes lock on your door as you manage to pick your feet up just enough to get you to the door. Clinging onto the gold sixteen nailed onto your maroon door like it’s a lifeline, when it comes into view. The familiar silver key is slotted in the lock when you reach your door. Finally, you unlock the door into the dimension of your apartment where the rest of the world falls away.

The cozy apartment greeted you like a soldier who’s returned from war. The warm ambiance of the lamp Jason always forgot to turn off lights the apartment with a comfortable familiarity. You drop your bags and keys onto the welcome table and kick your shoes off messily next to the rack, telling yourself you’d fix it later. Turning around, you walk the short way to the kitchen to open the cabinet next to the stove. Grabbing one of the shitty plastic cups you’d bought in undergrad that you couldn’t convince yourself to throw out, you fill it up with water from the fridge.

After downing it in one go, a deep breath fills your lungs before a voice coming from the bedroom makes you jump.

“Princess?”

It takes you a second to recognize the voice, then the first smile of the day climbs to your face.

Jason was still home.

His face peeks out from behind the door as a sight for sore eyes. He’s in a pair of grey sweatpants you bought him a couple of weeks ago to match, and while taking him in you realized he’s already managed to stain him. The tease dies in your throat when your eyes drift up and notice that he’s not wearing a shirt. His torso on full display with every muscle acting like a painting in a gallery you would spend hours wandering in.

Only recently had Jason let you see him without a shirt on. After the first couple of dates, you’d picked up on the fact that intimacy was hard for him. Physical touch wasn’t something that came easy to him.

It started with hand holding.

After your first date at the bowling alley he had taken you to some run-down diner he swore had the best food on the planet, your cholesterol levels sky-rocketed just by looking at it. On the walk over, your shoulders knocked together teasing each other like you had been doing all night. Eventually, you got the courage to reach for his hand, and he froze for a moment. You were about to retract your hand when he interlaced your fingers and let himself hold onto you. You watched him swallow heavily, and at the time you assumed it was nerves and continued talking like normal.

In reality he was swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. Nerves were part of the reason why he almost threw up, but it was the feeling of skin to skin that triggered him. He could touch through the worn leather gloves, or hug through clothes, but unprepared touch sent him right back to that warehouse.

You assumed that Jason just had no game. You weren’t wrong, but that wasn’t the whole truth. It took him four whole months to finally come clean to you about everything.

The confession came after distant days when he got in his head. It was on a night that you had gone out with the friend group and Dick started teasing you asking how it was going. There was a bittersweet smile of acceptance telling a story on your face when you told him you thought Jason was going to break up with you. Dick’s expression fell instantly asking why. Shrugging, you recounted that week and how he had barely called or seen you. This pattern wasn’t new to you. You weren’t stupid, you recognized the signs.

Dick’s eyebrows furrowed together and his mouth settled into a thin line before shaking it away. He changed the topic and you both went back into partaking in silly conversations with friends at the bar. He left while you were in the middle of running the table on Wally. You didn’t know it then, but Dick had gone to take Jason out of his dark place. He wasn’t going to let him self-sabotage and from what Jason told you later, it was a very long conversation about feelings.

That night he knocked on the door of your apartment, and looked as if someone had tried slicing him in half. Worry bubbled into fear and you weren’t sure where to start. You dragged him to the couch you both had laughed on a week prior, with the shitty first aid kid you’d bought at the pharmacy across the street when you moved in a million years ago.

While you made a horrible attempt at patching him up, he told you everything. He opened up about who his parents actually were, the night he met Bruce, becoming Robin, dying while trying to save his mom, the resurrection in the Lazarus Pit, his time in the League of Assassins, how he escaped, being the Red Hood, the lives he’d taken, the anger, the resentment, all of it.

You swore your heart broke into a million little pieces on the wooden floor. He was sitting on the couch with his gaze laid on the roof. He was trying to lie to himself with a pathetic attempt at believing you weren’t actually sitting next to him, disinfecting the cuts on his arms and face.

He didn’t cry, didn’t hiss when the alcohol wipe went over a cut, didn’t get emotional over his short-lived childhood, he just spoke into a void of truth. When he finished, you briefly put down the medical supplied. Your palm found its way to his face and he froze. He was trying not to flinch when you cradled the scars that haunted him in the mirror, the scars reminding him of every mistake he’d ever made, the scars that became a lesson.

This was normal, he reminded himself, this is what couples do. You didn’t rush him, didn’t force him to feel comfortable with the sensation, you waited. Waited for him to adjust to the feeling of being held.

He turned to look at you with those devastating green eyes that had doubt drowning in them. Then, to Jason, the most shocking thing in the world happened.

You stayed.

You didn’t run away.

You didn’t abandon him.

You listened to him and understood.

You asked him questions about what made him comfortable and what triggered him.

You adapted to him, laid yourself bare, explained everything so he wouldn’t be anxious about being blindsided by you.

And on that night, Jason Todd allowed himself to fall in love.

Slowly, he started opening up more. He would kiss you intimately, hold you longer, told you stories about a life he tried to hide. He let himself be a boyfriend.

The day he took his shirt off for the first time was one for the books.

It was one of the many nights he had come to sleep over after patrol, and he was sweating a whole river in his pajamas. When he was alone he slept in only boxers, but he hadn’t so much as worn shorts in front of you yet. He allowed himself a short sleeve and that was it. His pajamas consisted of an old tattered shirt and plaid pajama bottoms that he’d brought from a drawer in his apartment.

You felt him tossing and turning since he had come home. It was almost sunrise and he hadn’t slept a wink. Turning around, you propped yourself up on your elbow and pushed the hair from his sweat-lined forehead. The air was at 71 and the fan was on high, but he just couldn’t get comfortable. Knowing he preferred to sleep in his boxers, you offered to move to the couch to let him sleep more comfortably, but he refused.

He sat up, back facing you while his feet found the floor. It was silent for a few minutes before you watched his fingers find the hem of his shirt. He took multiple deep breaths before taking it off in one fluid motion, almost as if he was ripping off a band aid. You didn’t gasp, didn’t stutter your breath, you just watched in silence. If you moved too fast or said something too soon, you would scare him off.

He couldn’t look at you, petrified at the horror that would inevitably take over your face. He heard the creak of the mattress and shuffle of blankets as you inched closer to his side of the bed. When he felt your precious hands gently lay on his bicep, his eyes screwed shut.

Then he felt your fingers tug at his chin, turning his face to you. After another minute of your everlasting patience with him, he opened his tired eyes and saw praise highlighting yours.

“You’re beautiful.” Is what he heard you say.

He thought his ears were playing tricks on him, that the exhaustion of the patrol had finally caught up to him, but he didn’t. You repeated it. Then your lips found every scar on his back, arms, and stomach and kissed them all with love pouring out of you while repeating the same two words.

Eventually, he let himself believe it.

Now here you are, ten months later in a bath being held by the man who let himself be known.

His fingers were scratching your arm in the way he knows helps you fall asleep. His lips found the crook of your neck leaving open mouthed kisses while whispering how much he loves you into each beauty mark.

There were bubbles floating on the water hiding the mess of limbs submerged below. The glasses of wine laid on the tray next to the bath with candles lit on the top of the toilet.

After hearing you complain about the train wreck that was your day, he called off patrol. He rarely ever called off, which is why when he asked Bruce, he didn’t hesitate to give him the night off. You would never say it, but he read between the lines of the phone call. You needed him and he had to show up for you in the ways you showed up for him.

He ran down to the liquor store a block over from your place and bought your favorite bottle of wine. He ran the bath hot enough to fuel the fires of hell, because God forbid you ever take anything less than a scorching hot shower. He lit the eucalyptus candles you loved, because he knew they were “stress relieving” or something like that. Right when he finished setting up what would be your relaxing night in, he heard you stumble through the door.

He hugged you and kissed you with a love he never thought he’d get to experience. It was cheesy and his brothers would make fun of him if they ever found out, but right now he didn’t care. All the potential shame that came with his strong feelings faded when he surprised you with the bath.  

You almost cried at the fact he remembered all your favorite things. He ran the bath at the perfect temperature, the glasses of wine, the candles, the brand of bubbles you liked, the chocolate.

These were the times you couldn’t help but remember the ex-boyfriends who claimed to love you in past relationships but never acted like it. Charming with their words and helpless with their actions.

And Jason may not tell you he loved you very often, but he remembered. And that was a million times more romantic than an empty declaration.

Jason Todd was awful with words, but he was an angel with his acts. You never had to ask if he loved you, if he wanted to be with you, because he proved it. Every single day.

Laying here in the tub, laying against him made every shitty interaction today worth it. You would star in Groundhog Day and relive this awful workday a million times over, if it meant coming home to this every night.

His lips were still placing open-mouthed kisses on your neck when you brought the glass of wine to your lips. Swallowing the Moscato, you turned your head over your shoulder and caught him staring.

“What?” you whispered, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful scene.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured before taking your bottom lip captive between both of his.

You melted into him with a small moan. Every time he kissed you, it was like you had discovered the holy grail. A mission completed after a life spent searching for something you thought you’d never find. A love neither off you thought you would ever be lucky enough to have. His lips molded into yours like a puzzle piece being put into place.

When he pulled away with blown pupils, there was a childish grin etched on each of your faces. You giggled a bit while glancing between both of his eyes. While you were distracted, he took the glass of wine from your hand and stole a sip. Scoffing, you splashed him with some water, but he chuckled and stuck out his tongue playfully. He placed the glass of wine back on the tray and leaned back, pulling you to him with a contempt sigh.

“Y’know,” he paused, pressing a kiss into your temple. “I had the fattest crush on you for like two years before we got together.”

You immediately push off him, small waves rippling from your frame.

“What?” you stare at him incredulously.

There’s a deep flush that rises onto his face, embarrassed with his confession. He starts scratching the back of his neck and looks away.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d ever go out with me, so I avoided you.” He isn’t meeting your eyes, staring at the dancing flames burning on the candle.

“Jay-”

“Damian was the one who actually found out that I was head over heels for you. He saw me staring at you at that gala Dick took you too, I think it was like what? Three weeks before our first date?” He questions himself as if he didn’t know the exact day. “The demon blabbed to everyone, which is how Dick found out. That’s the reason he ended up setting us up.”

You stare at him dumbfounded, while he continuously refuses to make eye contact.

“I know it’s dumb, but I just thought it might make you feel better to hear how I thought I was hopelessly in love with you after today.”

“Jason.” He finally turns to look at you hearing the demand heavy in your voice. “I had the most embarrassingly big crush on you for years too.” You confess to him half laughing and half blushing.

Now it was his turn to stare at you disbelievingly.

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better about how pathetic I am." His hands fly up resigning to his shame. "Really, you don’t.” He reassures you in a sad attempt at recovering his dignity.

“I’m not lying to you Jay,” He notices the blush dust your cheeks, and it starts settling in his bones. “Next time you see Barbara or Wally you can ask them. They’ll tell you how helpless I was.”

 “Oh my God…” his hand wipes down the length of his face while processing your words. “Why?”

“What do you mean why?” You huff out confused. “Have you looked in a mirror like ever? You’re gorgeous, I thought I was going to orgasm the first time I watched you smoke a cigarette.” That earned you a laugh from him. “The first time Dick brought you to one of our hang outs, I was a goner. You had that bad boy persona that would make any dad shiver in his timbers if you showed up to pick up his daughter.”

That got you a brief unimpressed look before a teasing one took over.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” His eyebrows wiggled at you.

“Yeah, and?” You tried to play it off cooly, but failed miraculously when the blush deepened into a maroon that rivaled your door’s.

“And you think I’m a bad boy?”

“Mhm!” The false confidence was waning thin.

“Well,” he began before pulling you in, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “I’m only a bad boy for you.” He sounded so genuine despite his stupid claim that you snorted while he pressed a kiss to your other cheek.

“I think you’re gorgeous too- ethereal actually.” A kiss to your nose. “I looked for you at every gathering Dick dragged me too.” A kiss to your chin. “I stared pathetically at every picture you’d post and freak out when I hit the like button.” A kiss to your forehead.

“But,” he pulled back, staring at you longingly. “It was all worth it, because now you're here with me.” A flash of mischief passes through his eyes before he opens his mouth.

"And I'll make sure to give you something worth orgasming over."

You laughed and shook your head right before his lips met yours. All the adoration he had just confessed to slipping in your mouth with the small gasps you shared. His hands roaming to touch you as a reminder that this isn’t a dream, that you chose to be here, with him.

As your bodies slid together and found a consistent rhythm, Jason wondered how he got so lucky. Wondered who finally blessed him enough times to cancel out the curses that had been cast through his life. Wondered how he had finally found someone who cared about him.

He didn’t deserve it, he knew that, but he would cherish you, nonetheless.

He would spend the rest of his life fighting for you. Everything he would do from here on out, would be for you.

Because you were the first person to prove him wrong. The first person to choose him over everyone else.

Because when you knew him, you didn’t run.

•───────•°•𐃯•°•───────•

A/N: Everyone thank @crownofdecitreadingrespectfully for the ideas they posted in their reblog because it’s what gave me the idea for the part 2!