#spring mornings

words: 1,6k

It was a typical, late morning in spring. The sun had already risen, but not yet reached its highest state. Not that it mattered much in Gotham City. But today, even Mother Earth seemed to be in a generous mood, and here and there, a few rays of sunlight broke through the usual gray sea of clouds.

Somewhere, on the edge of town, just where the population thinned minimally, stood a tall residential complex – next to another one that looked the same, and another one that looked the same, and another one that looked the same.

Just like most of the rest of Gotham – or at least the parts that weren’t sponsored by Wayne Industries – this building was an old soul, spearing home to around three separate people per floor.

The apartments weren’t the biggest, and the floors in-between were cold due to the stone walls of the building, but at least there was an elevator. Also, it was mostly old people or petty criminals that found themselves living here. No real danger to anyone around.

Or so you would think.

But the real danger doesn’t come from within, no, in this case, it came from outside. An intruder.

It was a typical, late morning in spring. On a weekend. With mostly old people in the building. That were still sleeping.

But he didn’t care for that, no. He was leaning backwards on one of the plain white doors that led to a rented apartment, hands dipped in the pockets of his cargo pants and a loose-fitted T-Shirt. For once, his red hair wasn’t caught under a cap, he had gotten a haircut a while ago anyway.

He didn’t care about peace, he only cared about chaos. Because it was a late morning in spring, on a weekend, with mostly old people in the house that were still sleeping, and he was yelling.

“Oh, Jason, I love you so much! Oh, Jason, please, yes, exactly like that,” Roy Harper exaggeratingly moaned. He pitched his voice higher, in the – absurd – belief it would make him sound more girly-ish, his head was bumping the door behind him in few-second intervals.

Anyone listening would have thought that Roy was having a very ... spicy time down there. But no, he was alone, simply mocking a situation to draw the attention to him that he wanted.

It had been minutes since he had first entered the building, walked up the stairs, and knocked on the door to his best friend’s apartment, only to find that no one answered him. And because he just couldn’t leave it at that, he had decided to put on his little show, and his sounds were starting to become obnoxious to the entire rest of the people living in the building.

“You’re doing that so well Jason,” he kept on going. “Jason, I love you so much!”

Roy Harper had the body of a model athlete, but the mind (and in some’s opinion also the brains) of a five year-old. He was in the constant craving and need of attention and was determined that if nobody was available to give it to him – he would simply take it. Just like right now.

He knew that his best friend was home, and also that he was awake, judging by his inner watch but yet, he hadn’t opened the door for him.

And Roy could all too well figure out why. Which was the reason for all of this circus. Because he came here to see Jason, and if he wanted to see Jason, then he wouldn’t give up so easily, defeated by nothing more than a door.

The two of you were living together anyways, you could thoroughly study each other’s body parts another day.

The archer was just opening his mouth again, taking a deep breath for an extra loud exclamation (he didn’t even get to the kinky parts that he figured the two of you were totally into), when suddenly, and without any warning, the door he leaned on was opened from the inside.

With no time to adjust to his lack of leaning space, Roy fell backwards, flailing his arms for balance, and landed hard on the cold stone floor of Jason Todd’s apartment.

Still grinning, as he was looking up to see his best friend, who was standing leaned against the now open door.

“Hiya, Jay!”

“Roy.” Jason Todd’s voice was flat. His muscular arms were crossed in front of his chest and he was staring down at his best friend with a disapproving look.

He, on the other hand, was twisting his neck to take a farther look into the apartment – with a beaming smile, he recognized you standing in the empty doorframe between the kitchen and the living room.

“Hey, Y/N!” He greeted you. You gave a small wave back.

Roy frowned. Was he hallucinating or was your hair … tousled? And were you adjusting your pajama shirt? Oh, you so totally were!

The archer grinned cheekily. In one swift move - a total opposite to the rather clumsy entrance he had landed - he was back on his feet again and made his way to the left, directly into the small kitchen.

Vaguely, he heard Jason close the apartment door behind him. Determined, Roy headed for the hung shelves. He opened them one by one and closed them again, until he eventually found what he was looking for – a half-eaten bag of mini chocolate-chip cookies.

With a triumphant laugh, he pulled them out of the shelf, closed it behind him, and dug his hand in the bag.

Roy stuffed one cookie after the other in his mouth, without chewing even one of them properly, all while his feet absentmindedly carried him further into the apartment, through the threshold into the living room.

Both you and Jason leaned opposite him against the open doorframe, backs turned to the kitchen, and looked at your friend with raised eyebrows and crossed arms.

It was quiet for a while, only interrupted by the continuous munching noises of Roy devouring his cookies.

You tilted your head.

Normally, there were two possible reasons why Roy Harper would spontaneously seek out your and Jason’s apartment.

A) he was gravely injured and needed medical attendance as soon as possible. This usually happened at nights, or sometimes when he had decided he felt like starting a brawl.

Or case B) where he was just bored and in total need of attention.

You gave the archer in front of you a quick once-over with your eyes. Considering the lack of blood on his clothing and skin, and the fact that he could still walk upright, today the case seemed to be the latter. Also, the more common one, to be honest.

Jason seemed to have come to the same conclusion as you, because he was now shooting a disapproving look at his best friend.

“Roy, what do you want here?”

The addressed looked up from his cookie bag with stuffed cheeks. “Is this a bad time?” He muffled. “Oh, why am I asking, of course it is, you two were totally going at it.”

“I think what we are doing in our apartment is totally our business, Harper,” Jason almost spat at him. But Roy simply waved him off.

“Relax, it’s not like there was a problem, guys. I would love for Lian to have someone she can play with,” mumbled Roy, stuffing his face with even more cookies.

“We weren’t-” Jason groaned, frustrated. “Roy, what do you want? “

He shrugged. “Can’t I just come by to visit my good old friend once in a while? Huh, jaybird? My pal, my buddy, my boy?”

“Okay, that’s it.” Jason pushed himself off the wall and unceremoniously grabbed Roy’s shoulders.

“What are you doing?” The redhead asked, but Jason didn’t give him an answer. With all his strength, and the help of his apartment’s slippery floors, he pushed his best friend towards the door out of the apartment, which you courtly held open for both of them.

Roy turned around on the doorswell and threw Jason his best puppy dog eyes. “Come on, Jay, you can’t do that to me!”

“Call next time, Roy!” Jason simply said, and with a thump, he threw the door closed in his best friend’s face. At least he had left him the bag of cookies.

For a short while, Jason was just standing there, head close to the wall to check if Roy really was leaving. Only, when he heard footsteps disappear in the distance and the faint slam of the main door, he stepped back with a sigh.

You stood cross-armed, leaning on the kitchen counter. “Do you think we were a bit harsh on him?” you asked, and Jason turned to you.

“Nah,” he waved off. “He’ll be fine. He’s used to rejection.”

Your mouth fell open at his comment. “Jason!”

You slapped his shoulder playfully; he had taken a few steps towards you.

“What?” Your boyfriend laughed.

His voice dropped lower as he leant down to you, his warm breath was brushing over your ear. “Was just saying how it is.”

Then he captured your lips in a warm kiss, lifting his hands to grip your waist and pull you even closer to his body than you already were – trapped between him and the kitchen counter.

A soft moan managed its way past your lips at the movement, and you gripped your hands subconsciously into the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Now”, Jason grinned, when he broke away from you. “Before the red tornado barged in and interrupted us so rudely – where were we?”

happy clean towel day imaginary constructs!