#mavericks script

It was no trouble to track his former (former? They'd never actually broken up, on account of him dying. Did dying count as a valid breakup? He would argue not.) boyfriend down. He knew all details necessary- your name, your parents names, your former address, personal information like social media accounts, etcetera. He had all the methods to search for someone, too, thanks to the training he'd been given. Besides, he didn't need a batcomputer to find a civilian. Frankly, it was easy.

He started with your old address, a house he'd been to many times. With further inspection, he found that you had moved out just recently, and were living in a Gotham apartment.

He landed on your fire escape, footfalls light on the metal grating with a soft ‘clang’.

Then, with social media stalking, it was easy to see what you had been up to while he was gone. After Jason's death, you continued to attend the same school you both went to. You kept the same group of friends all four years and still had them to this day, and still wore the bracelet Jason gave you as a gift for your 6 month anniversary.

Looking into your window, Jason found the curtains drawn with no way to look inside. Smart. In a city like Gotham, it was always best to protect yourself in small ways. Leaving curtains open at night left you vulnerable and open- showed what you were doing, made your movements trackable.

Then, without ceremony, he crouches down and knocks on the window. He wears no mask and leaves the red hood of his jacket down, exposing all of his face that he could (besides the bangs that he'd accidentally let grow out falling into his face). He doubted you would recognize him as Jason Todd immediately, as Jason Todd was dead, but the last thing he wanted to do was hide.

After waiting a few short moments, Jason watches as the curtains pull back and reveal the face he had been desperate to see. One that pictures couldn't do justice because you looked so much more beautiful in person. A face that couldn't be represented by a static image, and was most ethereal in life where he could consume all the details. Even late at night, seemingly in your pajamas, with tousled unbrushed hair, you were as handsome as the first day Jason met you.

He watched those familiar eyes widen slightly seeing him, as if you had expected someone else to be there, before opening the window anyway. An off behavior to say the least- and utterly amusing. Maybe you were expecting Jason to be Batman.

Ironic.

The window slid open, the noise of the bristles cushioning the slide filling the air before the opening was adequate. Then, the voice he was waiting to hear spoke an eloquent greeting of, “Oh, um, hello there,” with a confused smile and a small wave.

Jason found every behavior utterly endearing, like seeing a cat confused with new furniture. From the way you handled things, to your ‘attempt at normalcy’ reactions with not-so-subtle inspections underneath- every quality was just cute.

“You're really calm for someone who found a man on his fire escape,” he says.

You smile wider, stepping aside to let Jason in, “We're in Gotham. The only people knocking on your windows are usually the good guys.”

“Unless you're working with criminals,” he poses, taking the unspoken invitation to climb inside of the small apartment. He's careful with the box in his hands while getting inside, and thankfully makes it through without anything being crushed. Thank god he didn't take flowers- that'd be a whole other issue.

“Well, I'm not working with criminals,” the other boy counters.

“A sound case,” Jason, finally, lets himself smile in return, the action pulling at his lips in a way he wasn't sure he could hold back- or would even want to. Everything was too easy around you.

“So, since I'm very sure I’m not working with criminals, why are you here? I don't remember getting involved with any police or vigilante cases, either,” you ask, tone kind and light, but still with a lack of recognition. You bodily stay a good distance from Jason, which is a safe measure for someone you don't know. Specifically, someone you don't know that you know, “And who are you?”

“Straight to the point,” Jason crosses his arms, an attempt to look casual, “Well, I was waiting for a ‘welcome back’ kiss first, or at least a hug.”

Your eyes furrow in confusion, but your friendly smile stays, head tilting forward as if you didn't hear Jason correctly, “I'm sorry?”

His face turns smug. It's a mask- one to hide his nerves and anticipation. To hide the fear and the worry that things have changed too vastly and the boy in front of him moved on. That you don't even know him anymore, and he is forever that dead boy lost just before 16.

“What? You don't recognize me? I even bought you chocolates for the special day.”

‘Recognize me.’ Those words made your brow furrow further. The boy in front of him was someone you should recognize. You began to analyze the other’s face, every detail you could soak in and compare to those you've seen before. Jason felt your eyes drag down his body, scrutinizing the way he held himself, the way he dressed, even the scars on his hands. Your eyes paused right there and Jason could see your breath hitch before your eyes darted back to his face- a seafoam green shifted from the deep blue they once were thanks to the Lazarus pit. All paired with a new set of scars thanks to not only his killer, but the tour of training and dismantling he'd had since his revival.

The moment of recognition was nothing short of instantaneous. You had gathered the clues and details slowly, sifting through them with careful and confused hands, but the realization dropped onto you like an avalanche. It was undeniable but so utterly impossible. Your heart knew exactly who this was. Your brain didn't know how it could be true.

“...Jason?”

A question asked carefully into the void. Tentatively. Like you were already fooling yourself and being fooled in turn. Jason could see how the sides of your brain were conflicting with each other, but it would all make sense soon. He just had to prove himself first.

“There it is.”

You shake your head a few times- a microscopic movement; frantic, shaking. Your disbelief takes over your tone, making it tremble with your movements, “No, you're- he's, he's dead.”

“I was dead. It's hard to explain, but-”

Your shaking grows more prominent. The trembles take over each inch, and your muscles tense in a futile attempt to stop it. You bring your palms up to your eyes, body hunched over slightly, curling in and making yourself smaller for protection. Your voice sounds like a beg now, pleading to a cruel world that has already hurt you; wet, teary, and overwhelmed, “Please don't do this to me. Whoever you are- clayface, maybe- whatever you want, please don't do this.”

Jason can see the agony in every part of you- and all of his nerves beg for him to reach out. To touch you and make it all go away, but he gives you the space you need. His expression softens, eyelids lowering in his empathy while he feels the emotion pumping in his veins. Instead of an overly emotional reaction, he opts for a more solid option. He opts for the truth, “You told me you want a tanzanite wedding ring because they're rarer than diamonds so it feels more special. You made me wear your jacket when I wasn't cold so I could wear something with your name on it,” he lifts up the small box in his hands, one you recognize, “I got you this box specifically because they're your favorite type of chocolate.”

The effect is gradual, but slowly and surely, after Jason throws those words into the air between you, you remove your hands from your face. Jason can see your gorgeous eyes tinted red and glossy. He can see the tear tracks from freshly shed tears, and most importantly; the glint of belief beneath those deep hues. A knowing that those details couldn't be falsified.

“That was all just between you and me. Well, uless you were going around telling other guys what kind of wedding ring you wanted.”

With quiet steps, you cross the room to be in front of Jason, if anything; to get a closer look. You look deep into his eyes, in a way that made Jason feel utterly exposed- but also like he wanted to lay himself bare. Then, your expression takes on a desperate quality. A mourning one, like sadness had punched you right in the gut. Not sadness that Jason was alive, but like pain had been resurfaced and you weren't exactly sure how to push it back down.

You raise your hands, softly cupping Jason’s face, and hold him steady just to feel that he's real. His light stubble bends and pricks lightly beneath your hands, a foreign sensation juxtaposed with the 15 year old boy you once knew, but you hold his gaze all the same. This time, with almost all fear diminished. This time it was searching for answers in the facts.

“You died. There was a funeral. I've visited your grave so many times I can see it in my mind. How…” you search Jason’s face for the answer, but can't find it hidden between his scars.

He looks away, avoiding eye contact for just a moment to have reprieve from all of these emotions before returning to your face like a lifeline, “It's… complicated. It's a lot to go over. I don't really understand it myself, doll.”

He feels your touch grow ever tender at the petname, like it had melted something in you. Made you weaker than before. Jason wanted to anchor you and whisper those sweet nothings all night long, but he saved that for later. Right now he needed to focus on your words. More than your words, Jason needed to focus on the pleading in your still-glossy eyes.

“Tell me all of it. Please.”

“I will. I promise. I just…” he trails off, yearning desperately obvious in his ever-expressive eyes. Jason could feel how open his expression was, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He glanced down towards your lips- intentionally or not, he wasn't quite sure- then back at your eyes with an unsaid question.

“Oh, Jaybird…”

One that didn't need saying, because like he didn't even need to speak, there was his answer.

Those soft, gorgeous lips moving against his. Lips Jason hadn't felt in years. More mature, but the same imprint he had craved ever since waking up. An embrace he'd dreamt about countless times since his revival, and one that replayed in his mind during the quiet moments of night. Something he had been missing, doubled with the passion of years spent away. Their movement was filled with all the feelings that had built up over years, pouring out everything that had been hidden or pushed aside. Pouring out all of the soft feelings Jason never thought he'd feel again. Only ever meant for the one in front of him.

The feeling of your lips did not fix what was broken within Jason. It did not magically mend everything shattered like it did in the cheesy romance novels he pretended to hate. The emptiness lingered, and the resentment continued to fester- but the world felt so much lighter. Something right slotted into place within his chest. Like something missing had been returned and put into its designated spot. As his hands clutched onto your waist, he felt his worries grow smaller. He felt his mind get quieter and the madness subside, focused only on the languid movement of their lips and the warmth of his lover’s body. Focused on the love he had gotten back. A love he was meant to come back to find.

When you two finally pulled away from each other, breathing heavily into the space between yourselves, Jason spoke the only words he could think of. His mind was racing with countless things, ‘I’ve never stopped loving you’, ‘You make me feel human’, ‘I’ll never let you go again’, and endless others. But, within the chaos of thoughts and phrases, the thing that won was spoken reverently and quiet.

A simple “Happy Valentine's Day, baby” like he had been waiting to say it his whole life.