“we've met before, once upon a dream.”

Even so, no amount of fear inflicted by your darkest nights could ever possibly make you regret the love you have for your darling one— if anything, it made you love him even more; cherish him even more.

Turning away from the open sky, your eyes crinkled with a smile as your gaze zeroed on Jason— glasses abandoned, his hair sleep-tousled, a loving, soft smile on his lips as he stepped out the glass door and closer to you.

Instinctively, you stepped away from the balcony and let your feet carry you towards him. You opened your arms, wrapping them around his torso when he was close enough, his own pair of arms engulfing you comfortably.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whispered, words muffled against his shoulder, his scent of pine entered your nose, eyes closing as the tension left your shoulders.

He hummed, gently rocking you in his arms. “What was it?” he asked after a beat of silence, his tone knowing. Gods, you almost laughed; he knew you too well.

You picked your head up, eyes connecting with his. For a second, no words were said, you just admired him in awed silence.

“I’m scared.” you stated, voice shaking in your honesty.

His eyes, those lovely, familiar blues, softened upon your confession, yet understanding all the same. “What are you scared of?” His hand lifted to cradle your cheek, soothing your troubles away with his touch as he patiently waited for your response.

You nuzzled against his palm, breathing deeply, basking in his warmth before laying it all out. “Of everything,” you said quietly, the truth spilling from your lips easily. “Knowing that we’re living on borrowed time, and I’m scared to dream, to hope, knowing that one day, it could all get taken away from me.” Your head fell, gaze down to hide the tears that began to glaze over your eyes.

The only thing that kept you from breaking down was him. Just him alone.

Jason said nothing. Not at first anyway. He slipped his hand under your jaw, tilting your head up to return your sight to his.

“Hey,” he whispered so sweetly. “I can’t tell you to not be scared, because that’s stupid, and untrue I get scared, too,” you both chuckled quietly at that. “of a lot of things. But I can tell you that it’s okay to dream, to hope for the good things, even when you're scared.

“‘Cause if you let your fears stop you from dreaming, you’re not really living, are you? That’s just existing, without really enjoying the good things you’re given or get to experience— even when it's supposed to be.

“So, just live. All that happiness, those hopes and dreams? In spite of your worries, live it. Accept it. Sometimes good things just happen without a reason. They just do. You taught me that.”

He smiled then. Soft and assuring, innocent as if he didn’t just chase your fears away so effortlessly, like he hadn’t just sent your heart skipping wildly in your chest.

Was there a word stronger than ‘love’? Those four letters just wouldn’t do. He saw right through you, and knew just the right words to say. Back then, you could never imagine letting someone in this close, letting someone see this vulnerable part of you and let it be out in the open.

But, surprisingly you weren't scared of that, not when it was Jason who sees it, because he’s seen the worst of you, and he stayed. How you ever deserved him, you didn’t know.

You’d spend the rest of your life finding out, but as of right now? You kissed him, pouring out the wordless love you have for him and gave it wholly.

He kissed you back, slow and reverent. Neither of you rushed. Just felt, and loved.

The chill breeze of the night autumn air touched your skin as you and Jason laid down on the balcony floor—clean, Jason had made sure of that—to watch the stars. The thing that became a sort of default whenever either of you had night terrors, or just insomnia, in general.

“What do you dream of?” Jason whispered next to you, arms tightening around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, though his eyes stayed on the glittering sky.

“Hm?”

“Earlier, you said you were scared to dream,” he clarified, his tone carrying no pressure for you to answer him at all if you didn’t want to. “What do you dream of?”

You squinted in thought, lips pursing. Where do you even begin? You dreamed of so many things— wonderful things to look forward to. It’s so hard to pick out just one of them, so you replied honestly.

“A lot of things.”

He kissed the top of your head, his hand tracing mindless shapes over your hips. “Tell me.”

You hummed in thought. There was so much you could think of all at once— travel the world, try out new hobbies, get married like in the many fairytales you’ve read as a child where the princess would get her happily ever after with her prince, just growing old with Jason.

In the end, “I don’t really know.” was what you settled with, laughing over the fact that there were so many things you wished for and yet you could name not one of them in detail. “All I know is that I want you there, right next to me, us, just making memories together.” That, was something you knew for certain.

At every point of your life, he’s always there, in the front seat, holding your hand through all of the remaining chapters of your life. And you there through all of his. Together. That was all you wanted.

His hand slowed its movements.

You could feel him smile. “I want you next to me throughout my life, too, sweetheart.” he muttered against your hair, the words just for you to hear.

A restful smile made its way to your lips, your heart feeling so warm and comforted.

Being a demigod taught you to not hope for so much, that even the bare minimum is plenty. So you always cherish the moments like these ones, moments that others would take for granted— the quiet, sweet words, small, loving touches.

Shifting to lay on top of him, you folded your arms under your chin, watching him intently. “What about you?” you asked, tangling your legs together.

He raised a brow, his hand playing with the ends of your hair. “Me?”

“Mhm,” You nod your head, your own hand went to caress his unfairly perfect sculpted face, “What do you dream of, my dear Sparky?” smiling widely at the sound of his deep laughter over the silly nickname.

He gave it a thought. “Hmm… you?” he said, grinning shyly after. “‘Cause you know, you’re a dream come true…? No– actually, you know what? Forget I ever said anything.”

He grimaced as a chortle slowly bubbled up your throat, hiding his face behind his hands, looking like he’s regretting his every life choices while your laugh pitched higher to the point of wheezes by the second.

You did what any rational person would then: pull his hands away from his flushed face and plant a kiss to his forehead. With a loud smooch, that was necessary. “Oh, Jase... you’re so cute.” You didn’t know whether to laugh some more or to cry.

This man brought you so much joy.

“Right, so I’ll need a few days to recover from that.” He exhaled, still very heavily embarrassed. His words just made you laugh even more, until your head drop above his chest.

“Oh my gods,” you sighed, wiping at the tears at the corner of your eyes, small giggles still falling from your lips. “I’ll never let you live that down. Ever.”

“Figures.”

Nothing was said for a short while, just you catching your breath after all that laughter.

But after you’ve calmed down, you began again, “Okay, we got a little sidetracked there, but you, sir,” you poked his nose, pulling away when he playfully mouthed at your finger, “haven’t answered my question.”

He squinted, “Technically I did, but you made fun of my answer.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your flirting game needs some work.” you snorted.

“Ouch.”

“Yep. So, what is it?” Your eyes were expectant. Though truthfully you wouldn’t have mind it if he hadn’t got an answer for you. You were just curious— wanting to know his dreams, know him even more than you had now.

He inhaled a deep breath, searching for the answer in his head. “Same as you,” he shrugged, or well, tried to. “I don’t really have it too planned out, I just wanna live life with you.”

“But,” he continued, his words stringing together with ease as his mind conjured up his plans clearer with each word he spoke. “I guess I’d love to just... settle down with you. Somewhere quiet, maybe a cottage in woods, like you’ve told me once.”

You could picture it. Just you and Jason living a quiet, peaceful life, far away from all the chaos. It sounded so nice.

“And we’d get married,” That made your heart go all fluttery in your chest. And judging by the beat of his heart under your ear, his did too. “Not too many guests- just the others, and Nico and Will.”

“And then?” you prompted in a murmur, his voice slowly lulling you to sleep.

“Then later—way later, after we travel the world like you always wanted— maybe we’d have some kids. Or not; it’s up to you.”

“How many?” You wrapped your arms around his waist, eyes fluttering slowly to a close.

Jason’s reply was immediate. “Two. One girl and one boy.” It made you grin a little. He’d really thought this through, hadn’t he?

“And we’d live happily ever after.” you finished with a tired laugh. That sounded perfect.

He breathed out a chuckle, “Yeah.” He placed a gentle kiss to your temple. “You’re tired, go to sleep, love.”

You didn’t argue, letting the exhaustion pull you to the depths of slumber. You barely registered it when Jason stood, carrying you in his arms and brought you to bed.

The stars witnessed the way he promised that night— and let his words be true and fulfilled as the years passed.

author’s note : upon rereading and editing, i realised how dramatic my writing is when i'm in my feels. i'm not changing/deleting anything though, just fixed the grammar mistakes (i used to not beta read my works yikes) and adding little tweaks to it. thank you so much for reading!! i'd love to know what you thought of it in the comments 🫶🏻

he has a picture of you inside his wallet. i mentioned once jason is like an old man. well he is. and when he was running errands or something to take out his card, he just stops to look at the picture for a second, smiling like a fool.

he's observant when it comes to you. we all know how observant that man is, but when it comes to you, he does it like he's breathing. he just knows when you're feeling upset. he won't pry but he'd just be there with you so you're not alone. or when you're uncomfortable in a public setting, he'll hold your hand to ground you and just remind you that he's there.

he pays attention to small details. he knows how you like your coffee, how you like your tea, what kind of shampoo do you use, what kinds of food you like, your favourite artists. how many moles. freckles, or beauty marks you have. the book you said you really wanted to get is suddenly on your nightstand when you wake one morning.

reassurance king. so while he needs to be reassured from time to time, he does the same for you. he'll tell you he loves you—not just with words, but with his actions—and that he'll always stay with you, basically just batting away your fears just like you do with him.

he's powerless with you. oh, you want to go down a slide that looks like a metal death trap? he tries to stop you, being the usual responsible and reasonable man he is, but when you pull out the puppy eyes? he folds embarrassingly fast and he let you. (only if you let him join u tho there's no way he's letting u on that thing by yourself.)

“jase, i kinda wanna go down that slide...” — “absolutely not, that looks deadly, you could get hurt.” — “please...?" *blinks* — “.... oh fine. let me go with you, at least.” — “yay!!!”

he blushes at every kind of affectionate gesture you give him. that man is so soft and so sweet and so pretty. he gives you kisses, hugs you, sometimes tease you by kissing your cheek to see you blush.

but when he's on the receiving end? he short-circuits. if you peck his cheek? done. jasongrace.exe has stopped working.

he could be a little overprotective at times. correction: he could be very overprotective at times.

which yes, would sometimes escalate to a small fight—especially if you're more the reckless, impulsive type— but its nothing a simple communication couldn't resolve.

you'd both get like,,, 10000x more affectionate after a fight.

that's not to say that you weren't already sappy enough btw, you are. the rest of your friends could attest to that.

on the groupchat with the rest of your friends, your nicknames are 'mom' and 'dad' (leo was responsible for that but are we surprised?)

he associates every romantic love songs with you. has a playlist just filled with about a thousand soft love songs with titled with your name with a '<3' next to it.

when he kisses, it's a real kiss. like none of that quick peck on the lips— he wants you to feel it, like a full ten seconds of just kissing you slowly, not even caring if he's late for an appointment or any of that stuff.

he gives affection like it's a part of his to-do list. they are, sometimes out of nowhere he'd just be so casually affectionate like DOES HE KNOW WHAT HE'S DOING TO YOUR HEART???

*hugs you* "jase, what's this for?" — "just 'cause. you look like you needed one." *cue your tears* (no fr the author is currently crying ahahaha)

he does not like it when you talk bad about yourself. no, he absolutely hates this. he never lets you get away with self-depracation, nuh-uh not on his watch. he wont stop to remind you of how amazing and beautiful you are. doesn't force you to talk but he needed to know that you feel better or that he at least pull a real smile from you before he feels content.

he gets a baby fever when you babysit estelle. listen,,, this man has a future with you already planned out in his head. and seeing you with a kid,,, being so sweet?? may the gods bless his heart. the heart eyes he has for you would quadruple in size.

not really a jase headcanon, but aphrodite herself approves of you two. if you're a daughter of aphrodite,,, you best believe she visits you just to gush about your love life.

once you graduate college together, he'd subtly (not) check out jewelry stores for a ring to propose to you with.

Whirling around, you swatted a hand to the grinning man’s shoulder. “Leo!” you groaned exasperatedly, still keeping your voice low to not awaken the birthday boy, just a few halls away. “Can you not do that?” you whisper-yelled.

The said man groaned loudly, and you were sure it was purely to spite you. And well, if your warning glare said anything, it was that it’s working. “This is way too early for me.” he complained in a dramatic drawl.

You cocked a brow, doubtful. But as you looked around at the other’s drowsy faces—Frank was a hair away from dropping his head in the bowl of frosting across from you, Hazel was washing the dishes with her eyes closed— you realised that perhaps it was too early.

Even for you. But you had to.

You had to call your friends at 04:30 am to help you get this done quickly. You had to carefully and quietly sneak them inside your apartment at an ungodly hour of the day. 

For Jason was the kind of person who wakes at 06:30 on the dot every day. No matter if it’s a weekday day or a weekend.

Jason was, as far as you knew, oblivious and unsuspecting of this small surprise you were throwing for him. He didn’t look at you weird the night before, he—hopefully—hadn’t noticed that you were constantly checking your phone to plan the whole thing in secret with the others, he didn’t ask if anything was wrong.

Actually, he did, as always. You just didn’t know that.

So, now, here you were— stood in the middle of the kitchen, a piping bag in hand, decorating the cake whilst the others were focused on some other things (i.e., in the living room, on timeout, banned from the kitchen after they’d almost burned it down).

Honestly, it was truly a miracle how the chaos hadn’t managed to wake Jason. Maybe the Hynops was on your side just for today.

Although you were sure that he was mostly exaggerating, you nudged the son of Hephaestus teasingly, “Weren’t you the one that insisted to ‘help a friend out’?” He opened his mouth to retaliate, but you cut him off before he could, quoting his words from the texts. “Don’t deny it, I screenshotted it.”

He exhaled in defeat, and rubbed a hand over his face, “Yeah…” he grimaced, looking partly sheepish and regretful, “thought he’d given up that early-waking habit by now.”

You raised a brow, as if to say ‘really?’ Perhaps a lesser man would let go of those habits after years, but not Jason.

“I should’ve known better. What kind of a best friend am I?” he feigned a hurt expression.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Percy, Annabeth, Piper, Thalia, and Nico trickling towards the kitchen like scared little children. 

You narrowed your eyes at them, tutting and shielded your cake with an arm. “You’re still banned from the kitchen.” you told them, voice hushed. Though, you supposed it sounded threatening enough by the way they halted on the spot.

Piper chuckled nervously, “Anything we can help you with?” her gaze dropped onto the cake on the counter (or more specifically, the blob of frosting on the edge of the cake). “I can help you with that.” she offered.

“Oh, it’s alright-” 

The muffled sound of water running stopped your words.

And it seems that the others heard it too, because, simultaneously, you all froze. Shit. You still needed a few minutes more to get this all ready.

Suddenly, all sets of alerted eyes fixed onto yours expectantly, darting towards you and the source of the sound— your shared bedroom with Jason.

It took you a second but then, it clicked. “Actually, yes, please. Thank you.” you hurriedly gave the piping bag to her. And then, you sped over to your bedroom before Jason could exit it. “Don’t burn down my kitchen,” you managed to say before disappearing down the hall.

Just as you arrived, the door swung open gently, revealing a drowsy, disheveled Jason Grace— shirtless, his sweatpants hanging too low on his waist for your sanity, his golden hair mussed, and his glasses askew.

This man wasn't good for your health, you decided. It wasn't nearly the first time you've seen him in this state, but somehow, each time, it gets you even more flustered.

His eyes set on you, his lips lifting into a soft smile— one that never fails to weaken your knees.

Still slightly panicking, you did the only thing that your overheated mind managed to conjure in your head at that moment.

His lips barely began to form the first half of your name before you took his face in your hands and crashed your lips onto his, sloppily pushing him back inside the bedroom while your foot kicked the door closed behind you.

For a moment, he stilled, seemingly taken aback by your sudden move. But slowly, he relaxed, toned arms slithering around your waist to pull you in, his head tilting to deepen the kiss.

Mint. He tasted like mint.

He pulled away for a moment to rip his glasses off his face as it got in the way, and instinctively, your lips chased for his, a low sound of protest leaving your lips.

Chuckling at your obvious impatience, he gave in to your silent wish and kissed you again, grinning against your lips.

Meanwhile….

In the kitchen, the others chaotically, scuttled around in a silent panic. Unknowing what to do, but knowing that they had to do something. Percy ran around the counter to rummage in a random drawer for the candles, nearly slamming them on the counter when he found them, while Leo’s hands had already flamed to light them.

Piper was panicking to fix the frosting, although the border looked wobbly as her hands shook. Thalia and Annabeth scampered around in search of the scissors when the candles’ stubborn packaging wouldn't open. Frank, also looking quite distressed, took the dam thing and ripped it open with his bare hands when he saw the girls’ struggle.

Maybe a little too forcefully, as it exploded open, the little candles flying out, dropping to the floor like confetti, much to the eight’s horror. 

Immediately, they—minus Piper, who, out of surprise, lost control of the bag of frosting and accidentally smeared it awkwardly off the edge of the cake— scampered to quickly pick them off the floor. 

Back in the bedroom…

Time stopped, or maybe slowed, or sped up, you weren't aware. But what you were of was his pair of lips, his lips, his lips brushing over your own, you even almost forgot the part that you were supposed to distract him from—

Fuck.

From the surprise.

Right.

A moment passed, the kiss subsided. Slowly, your lips parted from his, your lids fluttering open, letting the swirls of electric blues fill your sight, your foreheads touching. 

Jason's mouth split into a dopey grin “Hi, sweetheart.” he whispered breathlessly. His pale cheeks were flushed and in that moment, you couldn't think of anything more endearing.

"Hi," you smiled softly. Oh, you were so in love. "Happy birthday." your hand comes up to brush the slightly damp strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes.

Pausing for a second, his brows pulled together in confusion. "Oh." he muttered, a look of realisation crossing his features. "Wait... oh, yeah, it is. I forgot."

Slowly, a grin bloomed on your lips, laughs spilling from your mouth. He was so cute. you tiptoed to press a small peck on his forehead. "How could you forget your own birthday?"

The flush on his cheeks deepened a shade darker. "I don't know," he shrugged. "I've just never really focused on it." 

You frowned in disapproval. “Well, you should, from now on.” you told him, but it sounded more like a demand, really.

The smile on his face returned at the demand. “Okay, okay,” he nodded, leaning forward to plant his lips to your forehead. Pulling back, he asked, eyes searching for yours. “What did you do?’ playful suspicion laced his tone.

You tilted your head innocently. “Hm? Whatever do you mean, my love?” your lips curling slightly to a suppressed smile.

He raised his brow at you, unconvinced. “You have that look on your face, one you get whenever you’re excited,” he said easily, as though he was merely observing the weather.

Butterflies spun around your chest, you felt like you might burst. 

But you focused your mind. “Of course I’m excited, love. It’s your birthday.” you insisted, and that part was wholly true. “Now, come on, I made you breakfast.” you tugged on his hand. The lie has been on your mind for months. So, he better believe it.

“A special one?” he asked knowingly, putting his glasses back on.

You tugged on his hand again. “Of course,” Though your hand hovered over the door handle as you realised one thing. “But, uh… you might want to put a shirt on first.” you cleared your throat, face heating up once more, avoiding how his toned abs was on full display–

It was way too early to have these kinds of thoughts.

You exited the bedroom together once he’d put a shirt on. His eyes closed behind his glasses after you told him to, hands intertwined as you guided him over to the dimly lit living room—someone must’ve drawn the curtains to block out the morning light—where the others stood excitedly.

Thalia was the one who held the cake, which looked surprisingly flawless from where you stood, next to Jason. The candles were lit beautifully, the little error with the frosting fixed.

“Okay, ready?” you grinned in anticipation, and so did everyone else in the room. He nodded in response. “Open your eyes.”

His lids fluttered open, and when he saw what’s in front of him, a bright grin spread on his lips. A tint of rose dusting his face.

“Happy birthday!” 

You all chorused with identical smiles, watching the colour bloom on the blond’s cheeks grew.

A round of the ‘Happy Birthday’ song ensued; for once, it wasn’t awkward—mostly because Leo was dramaticising the tone, seemingly making his own version— it was filled with laughter.

It was perfect.

When he finally blew out the candles, you gave a small kiss to his cheek. Which resulted in playful gags, and ‘aww’s’ and a thrown tissue from Leo with something along the lines of, “Disgusting. Not in front of the children.” that got two of the finger from you and Jason.

Your friends took turns to give him tight hugs, some hair-ruffling, and birthday wishes for him. 

As it was time to cut the cake, a laugh rippled from Jason’s throat when he spotted something. “What happened here?” He turned the cake around, revealing the uneven patch of frosting. All eyes then fell to the one responsible.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged, “What? It’s artistic.” prompting another round of loud laughter to bounce off the walls of your apartment— your neighbours might hate you, but who cares? 

The rest of the day went by wonderfully, lots of teasing, recalling old memories, a movie marathon,  cooking together while forbidding Jason to enter the kitchen because “you should relax on your birthday,” no matter how much he insisted on helping.

By the evening, your friends said their goodbyes to return to their respective homes, giving both you and your lover hugs and more birthday wishes to the latter before they made their exit, mumbling something about, “giving the lovebirds some space.” and some teasingly suggestive looks from them all.

Once you closed the door to your house, you were surprised by Jason’s hand pulling you back into his arms, his face buried in your shoulder as he hugged you tightly, “Thank you.” he whispered in your ear. 

You were quick to return the hug, your hand caressing the back of his head. “Of course, Jase.” you replied softly, chuckling.

He pulled back, meeting your eyes silently, “Gods, it all makes sense now.” he laughed quietly, his hands softly running up and down your spine.

His words confused you. “What?” 

“No, it’s just-” he shook his head, “I noticed that you’ve been distant for a few days, I thought something was wrong.” he confessed, his voice lowering to a whisper. “I thought I did something to upset you.”

Your heart squeezed, “Oh, Jase…” you sighed, taking both his hands in yours, “No, love. I’m sorry I made you think that.” You’d been so caught up in planning for his birthday and so focused on keeping it a secret that you hadn’t realised you'd made him worry in the process.

He shook his head again, a small smile on his lips now. “I know it’s silly, I know that now.”

“It’s not silly,” you insisted, staring into his eyes. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

“It’s okay,” he assured you, his finger smoothing the crease between your brows.

An idea popped into your head after a beat.

“You know…” you said slowly, your eyes still on his; your mind conjuring up the memory of him from earlier. “I still have one more surprise for you.” Your voice dropped to a whisper. That was totally unintentional.

His hands on your back stilled, eyes widening a fraction once he understood the implication. “Oh…”

“Yeah.”

“So…”

Without another word, it was his turn to grab your face and kiss you. So passionately that you almost literally fell to your knees if it weren’t for his other hand steering you away from the door and clumsily ushered you to your bedroom without breaking your kiss.

Yeah, your neighbours will definitely hate you both now.

author’s note: *plays 'still the one' by shania twain*

He looked disheveled—his hair fell over his forehead messily, his tie had loosened and crooked over his wrinkled dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Your eyes flickered to the backrest of his chair, where his blazer was draped over and left abandoned.

You sighed in disappointment at the sight.

It seemed that he took the hint, because he quickly said, “I just need to finish up this report, Bruce wants it done by next week.”

You rounded his chair, and walked over to the window behind him, looking out at the view below you. Even in this time of night, Gotham was still wide awake.

“When?” you asked, still admiring the city from above through the window.

“On Tuesday.”

Today was Friday.

“Tim.”

“I know,” he rushed out, pausing his typing and swiveled around in his chair to finally find your gaze, stifling a yawn with his palm. “I’m almost done with this, then we can go home.”

You tried to ignore the weird flutters that erupted in your stomach at the words ‘we can go home’

Snap out of it!

You shook your head to dispell the uninvited butterflies, and try to focus on the more important matter right now.

Because you were angry at him, for, again, disregarding his health for the sake of work. You never minded that he's very hardworking—in fact, that's one of the things you admired most about Tim, and you knew you could not be angry for that.

What you did mind was how he always puts everything else besides himself first, how he would often regard his well-being as an afterthought.

And you hated how you had to remind him of it over and over again. Sometimes, it'd even come to a point where it would lead to an argument. Maybe you were just paranoid, but still, you couldn't help but worry.

That's why you planned on lecturing him. Again.

But the look he's giving you was not helping at all.

The city lights outside reflected in his eyes, clearly, so blue that you would've spent hours memorizing the exact shade.

And you were getting off-track.

“You’ve been holed up in here all day.” you stated, and you knew your guess had been right.

Tim sighed, running his hand through his hair, taking off his glasses, and you tried your best to not let your eyes linger too long. “I’m sorry.” he said, meeting your eyes, “For bailing on you. I know we've planned this out since weeks ago. I swear I’ve even pinned it in my calendar, but things came up, and I didn't have time to check my phone—”

He was rambling, and it took you a second to catch up.

Oh.

He thought you were upset because of that.

“Tim-” you tried to get his attention, but he kept on rambling.

“—and I know that's like, a really shitty excuse, and you're probably mad at me right now—”

“Tim.”

“—but I promise to make it up to you when I have the time—”

“Timothy.”

His mouth snapped shut, cutting his rambling off short.

The room went silent, and that was when you took your chance to speak. “Can I talk now?” you asked rhetorically, lips slanting to a slight smile, taking a few small steps closer to where he was sat. In return, you saw him tensing, posture rigid on his chair whilst he looked up at you. You caught the way his palm flexed on the armrest of the chair. “Right. Okay, yes. Thank you,”

“I am upset,” you expressed honestly. His expressions fell and you felt a twinge of guilt before you went and continued, “But not ‘cause you bailed on me.”

You gestured for him to swivel his chair around with a finger. He looked confused but obeyed anyway, turning around to face his desk again.

“But because you overwork yourself too much.” You put your hands over his shoulders and started massaging the knots and kinks off his tense muscles, which made him groan quietly and relax more into your touch. “Have you even had a proper meal at all today?”

“I had coff-”

“Coffee doesn't count.”

Tim scoffed, “You, out of all people, can't be talking.”

Unfortunately, you couldn't help your case on that subject.

“Yeah, but this isn't about me.” You brushed him off with a snicker, hands still focused on kneading his back, shoulders, and the back of his neck. “Try again.”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “…I had half a bagel this morning?”

You blinked, staring at the back of his head, a little bit dumbfounded. Was he serious? “You’re fucking hopeless.”

“I’m sorry…?”

You sighed again, failing to form a response that didn't include the words ‘you’re an idiot’ or anything else that would've remotely counted as an insult.

A few minutes went by in silence, the sound of the clock ticking the only thing breaking the quiet, as you were deeply focused on giving your best friend a massage— which you were quite decent at doing.

“Wrap it up,” you whispered at last, nodding at the monitor that was still on. “We’re going home.”

He turned his head, catching your gaze. “But-”

“You’re literally two seconds away from passing out right now, don't argue with me.” you snapped exasperatedly, fixing the man a heated glare. “You’ll get your report done faster when you're well-rested—which right now, you are not.”

Tim fell silent for a moment, letting your words sink into his head. It surprised you when he suddenly chuckled, quiet, but his eyes flickered with amusement. “You sound like Alfred.”

You huffed out a small laugh at that, admittedly feeling a bit of pride swell in your chest at the, in your humble opinion, compliment. Replying pointedly, with a slight smirk, “And he's always right, so he'd definitely agree with me.”

“Unfortunately.” The man shook his head, lips tipped to a grin.

Finally, you let your hands fall from his shoulders. Then snatched his blazer off the chair, and tossed it on is lap before starting towards the door, not before turning on your heel and pointing a finger. “If you don't get your ass off that chair in the next five seconds, I will personally manhandle you out of there.”

He mumbled something under his breath as he shrugged on the blazer, but you didn't catch the words, having already stepped a few feet away from him.

“What was that?” you hummed distractedly, shortly glancing his way while you grabbed his coat off the hanger by the door.

“Nothing.”

You frowned, brows knitted in confusion, but quickly shrugged it off. He'd tell you if he wanted, and if he didn't, then you won't push.

Taking off his glasess, Tim placed it inside his desk drawer. His eyes catching onto the small Polaroid picture laid next to it in the small trinket tray you gave him, and he couldn't help but pause to admire it.

It was of him and you in Paris when you went there two summers ago. The Eiffel Tower lights shone behind the two of you as you faced the camera with matching beaming smiles. Your hands were folded atop his shoulders, his arm was wrapped around your waist while his other hand was occupied with the camera.

Your eyes were closed from the bright flashes of the camera, but he was looking right at you.

“Did you bring the car?” he asked finally after closing the drawer shut. Stretching in his seat for perhaps the first time in hours, groaning tiredly. Standing up after he'd switched off the computer, lazily throwing on his blazer, and approached you.

You made a face; you were stubborn, not stupid. Anyone that takes a cab this in Gotham is either very optimistic and brave or a is newcomer. Most of the time, either one of those scenarios would end up unpleasantly. “Duh. Contrary to my constant rants about hating life, I still would like to live it some more, thank you very much.”

You handed him his coat, watching him put it on. It looked great on him. But you averted your eyes before he could notice you.

Turning your head over your shoulder, you said, “You're sleeping for the next ten hours, by the way, nothing less.”

He sighed a worn-out “Yes ma'am,” and did a mock salute. Good. You were going to make sure he gets enough rest and enough food in his system, too. Since he's apparently shit at doing those things himself.

He opened the door and let you exit first, following hehind you as you made your way back to the elevator.

Cold night air swept back your hair the second you stepped out of the building with Tim in a tow, the rustling of trees mingling with the sound of vehicles honking not too far away from here.

You let your feet lead you to your usual parking spot as you fished out the keys out of your jacket pocket.

Tim held out his hand, silently asking for the keys. For, usually, he's almost always the one who would drive your car whenever you're out together.

But not tonight.

“No,” The vehicle unlocked with a beep. You jutted your chin towards the passenger’s side as you walked towards the driver’s one. “You’re being the passenger princess this time.”

The man was quite literally dragging his feet in exhaustion. So, for the sake of both your safety, it would be best if you drove.

Besides, you found driving to be relaxing, despite not being the best at it.

He stared at you. You stared back, almost expecting for him to insist, as he usually did, but you inwardly cheered when he didn't and complied.

You hopped in the car, throwing your bag haphazardly to the backseat while Tim sat back comfortably, a weary sigh drifting past his lips. “Fucking hell.” The sound of your seatbelts clicking in sync followed after.

“Yeah,” you hummed, starting the car, the engine revving to life, “That’s what happens when you don't enough sleep.”

For half the ride, the car was filled with muteness when you told Tim to get some shut-eye; and he did for a few minutes, but you could see that he wasn't very comfortable and was failing to sleep.

So, now, quiet random conversations filled the silence, slowed songs playing quietly in the background from one of the shared playlist he had picked out.

Purposefully avoiding the night traffic on your normal route—you were too tired to deal with all of that. You just couldn't wait to cuddle with your cat soon— you took a shortcut that would lead to a street just a couple blocks away from your apartment.

Was it a sketchy route? Absolutely. But who cares?

“Oh, we're not going to the manor?” he asked mid-conversation, probably after noticing that you didn't make the turn.

You kept your eyes ahead, “No, I’m taking you to my place.”

You knew him enough to know that if he was at the manor, the man would just get his hands on the Bat-computer and get his nightly business done.

Yeah, that's not happening.

He wasn't on patrol duty tonight, and you'd help him make better use of his time. Like getting a proper ten-hour sleep. And eating well without skipping meals. And anything else that doesn't involve work.

The silence on his end made you turn your head, and you were met with a smirking Tim Drake; the kind of smirk that told you he's on the verge of saying something dumb.

“To your place, huh?” he drawled out, cocking a brow, and you narrowed your eyes, flickering between him and the road ahead. “At least buy me a drink first.”

There it was.

Your jaw slacked, and choked out a shocked chortle. Unbelievable.

Was he flirting with you, or were you also equally as sleep-deprived and highly delusional? Your bet was on the latter.

But boy, was he in for a surprise.

You reached out—eyes still locked on the road because you valued your life and his, too—and opened the glove box, taking out the unopened bottle of water and offered it to him with a matching smirk on your lips.

A wheezing laugh rumbled out of his chest after he started at the bottle in your for a few seconds. The sound, in turn, making you laugh even louder.

“Unbelievable,” He shook his head, grinning ear-to-ear as he unscrewed the cap of the bottle and took a large swig. “You just had to pull the Uno reverse on me.”

“Expect the unexpected.”

“Fair.”

“Uh-huh, so can I take you home, now?” You asked, feigning eagerness, then frowned when the green traffic light flashed red. Bright light spilled through the glass, coloring your surroundings a deep scarlet tone once you hit the brake.

A few other vehicles, as expected, ignored the lights and continued to drive away anyway.

The sight had you pursing your lips. You sort of wished you weren't such a rule follower.

“Sure.”

You quickly brightened up at that. “Yay! You yielded surprisingly fast.”

“You literally pestered me to,” he said blankly, his words threading through a yawn once more, scratching an itch on his forehead with a finger, “If I hadn't, you would've waited on the couch until you fall asleep. Couldn't do that to you.”

You glanced over at him, eyes softening for a fraction of a second.

That was sweet, but why were you even surprised at all? Tim has always been sweet. Not in the flowery proses kind of way, but in an absolute way that had you knowing that he's always there for you, even without him needing to say it out loud.

A certainty that kept you afloat, even through the worst waves of your life.

The thought made you smile.

“You’re smiling.” Tim observed, and you failed to notice how his eyes were locked on your lips.

“What I can't smile now?” you asked lightly, watching as pedestrians crossed the road.

“You can,” he stated, nodding his head. “I just wanna know what's inside that pretty head of yours that's making you smile.”

How do you tell your best friend of your whole twenty-one years of life that he was the main attraction in your mind, and that he was the reason why you were smiling without spilling out the contents of your heart and potentially ruin your friendship?

Yeah… no.

Instead, you asked, side-eyeing him, “You saying you only caved in for me, Timbelina?” Your fingers drummed impatiently on the steering wheel.

He took your hand from the wheel, squeezing it tight once, “For your poor, ill-postured back, actually,”

The addition had you scoffing incredulously in offense, even so, you couldn't help but cackle. “I’m sorry, but last I checked I wasn't the one who was practically draped over my computer like a hunchback. Don’t compare my perfect posture with your atrocious one.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.”

You felt your cheeks burn at the nickname, despite the familiarity of it, the endearment never failed to have you flushing.

You leaned back in your seat, waiting for the lights to turn green, glaring at the street light like it would change if you do it hard enough.

It didn't.

“You’re so concerned about me all the time,” You started slowly, answering his earlier question with an omission— a truth, yet not the one on the front of your mind. Your little hand holding had somehow escalated into a lazy round of thumb war. “I wish you'd act the same way for yourself.”

He was winning, but you're not one to give up so easily. “But then you won't be scolding me anymore if I did that.” he said quiet and casually, his thumb dodging yours.

“Is that you saying that like it when I scold you?” You raised a brow, a crooked grin forming on your mouth, wide eyes clashing with his, red tinted from the lights ahead of you.

“That’s exactly what I'm saying.” His grin was sharp as he finally managed to pin your thumb down.

“Masochist.”

The car had gone quiet, and you hardly noticed it with Tim’s deep blue eyes pinning you in your place, hand still woven loosely with yours.

He didn't look away.

You didn't look away.

Not to wander around to his other features, not to the dark circles around his eyes, not to the strand of his hair that fell over his eyes.

Just to your favourite shade of blue.

It might've been the trick of light, or you might've imagined it, but you saw the way his gaze dropped to your lips for a split second, before it returned to your eyes again just as quickly.

The sound of a loud horn honking from the car behind had the two of you jolting, hands ripping away from the other’s, it was only after a hot second you realized that the traffic lights had finally turned green.

“Oh, shit.” You choked out, straightening awkwardly in your seat, heart racing as you hurried to drive again with the driver behind you honking more rapidly in impatience. You didn't do well under pressure.

When your heart rate had slowed, neither of you talked again for a good fifteen minutes after that… whatever that was.

A while later, only a few minutes away from your apartment, you ran into a surprise.

From a small distance, you saw a familiar motorbike parked in front of a small convenience store; the owner of the said motorbike leaning against it with a cigarette hanging off his lips, not-so-subtly stealing glances at the person who was behind the cashier inside the store.

Oh, you knew that look, even from here.

Sharing a look with Tim, who had also spotted the man from a distance—the tension back at the stoplight had dissipated, you were glad—you pulled up by the curb just outside the store, right in front of Jason. You returned his scowl with an innocent grin as you rolled down your window, while Tim gave a brief, mocking wave beside you.

“Well, what do we have here?” Your eyes darted between his sharp, glaring green ones and the very questionable bright purple PEN sign on the glass door behind him.

Was this some type of an erotica shop? you thought suspiciously. But what was Jason doing here?

Embarrassingly, you had to squint for a good few seconds to realize the fact that it was actually a sign that said OPEN, but the lights was burned out of the one singular ‘O’ letter.

Not an erotica shop, then. Just a normal convenience store. Yeah, that makes more sense.

“Your mom,” Jason snapped instantly, a wrinkle forming in-between his dark brows. Removing the lit cigarette from his teeth, smoke wafted out of his lips when he added, “Get out of my face.”

Tim took the words out of your mouth, the amusement heard clear as day. “No, no, no, I think we'll stay for a bit,” Your breath hitched when he leaned over the center console to peer behind his brother, most likely to assess the person at the cashier.

He was really close.

Driven by the sudden nerves, you took out your phone, unlocking it and… did nothing with it. It looked stupid, so you just clicked on a random app— the camera app, specifically. And just let the phone hover in your hands, hoping it would distract you and dispel the heat in your cheeks.

“The fuck do you want, huh?” Jason bit out sharply, though when his eyes connected with yours, there was a knowing glint there.

You turned your eyes away.

You breathed easily when Tim leaned back again, but your phone slipped from your hold and drops under your seat. You ducked down awkwardly in the cramped space, struggling as you tried to find it in the dark.

“Why are you out here,” said the younger of the two brothers, gesturing silently with his hand, eyes flickering to you. “staring inside there? That's a bit stalkerish of you, Jay,”

You heard Jason chuckle dryly. “That’s rich coming from you.”

You snorted, still trying to find for your phone, that was so much more difficult to do in the dark, plus, it was starting to feel a little claustrophobic. “He’s not wrong, Timmy,”

“You’re supposed to be on my side, honey.” You could hear the frown in his tone.

“I’m on no one’s side. I’m on the side where the truth is- yes!” you exclaimed cheerily when you finally found your phone.

Sitting upright again, puffing out a relieved breath, you turned your head and saw Tim, and he was oddly pink in the face. Which made you glance towards Jason, who had a smug smirk on his mouth.

You blinked in confusion. You were definitely missing something.

“…anything you wanna share with the class, boys?”

Jason looked away first, coughing a small “Nope.”

Tim cleared his throat, suddenly observing out the window and not meeting your eyes. “Uh, no.”

You slid your gaze between them, trying to gauge their expressions. That ended up being a fruitless attempt now that they've both looked elsewhere.

“You're being weird.” you told them, catching Jason glancing back at the store again. He looked a bit longing. It was kind of pathetic, to be honest. Now you were sure that he was looking at the cashier. You’d been unsure earlier.

Briefly, you see the pretty cashier glance out at him, you were sure that they were smiling shyly from inside the store.

Oh, so it’s like that, huh?

Your sight went back to Jason, and that he was smiling. Smiling! It was a small twitch on the corner of his lip, but there's no mistaking that it was actually a smile.

But before you could point that out, Tim piped up, “I’m not, but I did just caught Jason yearning—and that smile, too, and I took some pictures.” He lifted his phone which showed the exact scene you've just seen, and now it's caught on camera.

You marveled at the pictures as though they were some priceless art. “Oh my gosh, I freaking love you.”

He froze for a moment, then cleared his throat again. “Sending those to the group chat, by the way.” And he did just that. Sending the pictures with no context whatsoever.

For now, you just have to wait until the others see it and chew him out with teases.

He hid it well, but you knew the tells of a panicking Jason Todd, and right now is the perfect example of that. “Do that and I'll rip your faces off.” he threatened gruffly, but his voice held an almost imperceptible strain.

Cute.

“You smiled, Jay. And I have the perfect twenty-twenty vision.” Tim pointed out, now he's the one who's looking mischievous.

"I don't, but, yeah, I agree with him," The two men snorted, you ignored them. You went on, equally as smug as your counterpart. “That was a smile, Todd, I didn't know you could do that.”

The second you hear his phone buzz in one of those many pockets, you started the engine, readying your escape.

“You little shits-!”

And that was your cue to leave.

You stomped on the accelerator, yelling out the window: “Bye Jason! Tell your sweetheart we said hi!” and drove off, leaving a disgruntled, and possibly freaked out Jason alone at the wake.

After greeting a small “Hi,” to Walter, your doorman, you and Tim dragged your feet over to the elevator, pressing the button on for the seventh floor.

Your best friend slumped on the mirrored wall across from you once the doors had closed, head lolling down, sighing quietly.

“Don’t sleep yet,” you told him in a murmur, watching the numbers ascend from G. “Have some food, at least, I’ll cook something up.”

He muttered your name in protest “It's midnight.” That single sentence held so much disagreement by his tone alone.

You shrugged, “So?” The doors slid open, and you walked out, carefully so your heels wouldn't make much noise, heading for your unit—Unit 710.

Your keys jingled as you took it out of your pocket, then heard the muffled pitter-patter of paws scratching on the other side of the door, and you took a deep breath before pushing it the door open.

As expected, a very chunky and feral ball of pretty black fur attacked you with a very loud yowl, tiny sharp claws dug into your pants.

You barely stepped a foot inside.

“I left you for an hour.” you deadpanned, frowning down at Clover, your cat, as you removed your jacket and hung it on the coat rack, then removed your shoes and slipped on your slippers before you ambled in.

No dirty shoes are allowed inside your place. God knows whatever gross germs had touched the soles of people’s—including yours—shoes.

Tim did the same behind you, laughing quietly. “Let her be. She has abandonment issues,” He picked her up as soon as he slipped on his sandals and went further inside with her practically purring in his. hold.

You watched with a sour look, you could've sworn she looked smug when her beady green eyes were on you.

That little traitor. You were the one who feeds her everyday, takes her to the vet, bathes her, give her treats, and yet, she still preferred her absent dad.

“You spoil her. Now she hates me.” you huffed, turning off the harsh light of the room, and instead, went around to turn on the small lamplights you have around.

“She doesn't hate you,” he insisted, watchful eyes following you as you circled around the room, leaning against the wall. “She just likes me better. Don't you?” He kissed Clover’s head, petting her fur softly and put her down again.

You decided that you weren't going to ridiculous and be jealous of your cat.

“Asshole.” you laughed, scrunching your nose at the Clover when she trudged towards you, big eyes observing you at your feet. You tilted your head over to the hall where the bathroom was, all while you sauntered over to your bedroom to go change. “Wash up. I’ll see if I could cook something up really quickly.”

Tim pushed himself off the wall and called after you, “You really don't have to.”

You closed your bedroom door without an answer, leaving him at the living room.

And he acquiesced afterward, raising his voice a tad so you could hear him from your bedroom, groaning, “Fine, but I’m washing the dishes!”

Wonderful.

About fifteen minutes of your fabulous skincare routine later, you exited your bedroom; hair thrown up carelessly, now clad in a large shirt and a pair of sleep shorts.

You headed for the kitchen, fetching a few ingredients from your fridge and pantry when you're there. As well as your appliances whilst you settled on cooking a one-pot pasta with a recipe you've found on the internet a while back.

Clover was acting as a little helper—as in, she helped clean your floor by eating the parmesan that you had accidentally dropped—and just hover by your feet as you hobbled between the kitchen island and the stove.

“No,” you drew out in warning for the third time, distractedly stirring the pot as your cat jumped on the counter and start sniffing the spices again.

She had been doing that repeatedly.

Clover sniffed again and recoiled, dashing away, sneezing. You felt terrible when you couldn't stop your snort. “I told you.”

Turning off the stove when you finished cooking, you transferred the pasta onto the two plates you've prepared, eyeing the pot approvingly when you saw you measured the portions perfectly this time.

That was when Tim walked in; hair mussed and damp from the shower, clothed in a white t-shirt and sweatpants.

He stopped short in his tracks.

And just stared at you like he was stunned.

You put the empty pot on the sink, amongst the other dirty dishes and utensils that you've used earlier. “Hey, come here,” you ushered, pulling out your stool on the island and sat down. “I made pasta. Not as good as Alfred's but this is way better than those cardboard-like frozen pizzas you like.”

You looked up when he didn't say anything. He was still standing in his place. “Hey… you good?”

He blinked, shaking himself out of his you-induced stupor. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” He strolled in and took a seat on the stool next to you. “Thanks for making this.” he whispered, and your heart warmed at the sincerity in his tone.

“Yeah, of course,” You flashed him a soft smile in return.

And you both ate your food, occasionally talking over mundane topics. And once you finished your meals, as Tim promised, he volunteered to wash the dishes, whilst you just sat on the counter by him, accompanying, if you will.

By the time you start to feel tired, you both migrated towards the couch after brushing your teeth, Tim reminded you of how bad it was to sleep right after dinner, so you both agreed on doing calm activities to pass the time.

That was alternating between reading and conversing to avoid sleep for at least an hour.

“Oh my god, why is he here?” Tim gaped in surprise, reading over your shoulder. He wasn't much of a reader—much less a romance reader—so his every reaction to the stuff you read are always amusing to you.

And somehow, you've successfully roped him into reading one of your romance books with you. And he's enjoying it, too, which was a rare occurrence.

“He broke his engagement, and travelled six hundred kilometres just to be with her, isn't that so sweet?” You were raving, yes, you were aware of that. But you also couldn't help but to gush over one of your favourite books.

“Damn,” He whistled lowly, turning the page. You let him, even if you hadn't finished reading that page; you've read this book a good ten times more since you read it the first time.

He finished reading a few more chapters when he noticed you yawning. It was nearly two in the morning, and you were starting to feel tired; not enough for you to sleep yet, but enough for you to fully relax.

“Hey,” Tim whispered in your ear. “You tired?” He closed the book, putting it on the side table. Then he shuffled to lay next to you, pulling you in to his chest.

You curled yourself up in his arms instantly, sighing at the warmth that enveloped you once you did. “Kind of,” You confessed in the same gentle whisper. “Talk to me. About anything, so I can sleep.”

He cocked a lazy brow, his voice a low rasp. “How does that work?”

You closed your eyes, “I don't know. Your voice just puts me to sleep.”

“You basically just called me boring.”

“Yeah, I did.”

A pause.

“Your lack of hesitation hurts me.”

“Deal with it.”

His chest heaved as he let out a long sigh. “I'm sorry.”

Those two words made your eyes snap open, and sought for his in the dim light. “For what?” you asked, mouth pulled to a frown.

“For bailing on you,” he said again, and you almost objected when he continued on, “You've been planning that outing for weeks. And I told you I had time, but then I forgot about it. I don't know, I just feel so guilty.”

You waited to see if he would say more, when he didn't, you began, “Tim, don't apologise,” You gaze aligned with his. “I’m not mad. Or- well, I was, at first. But mostly at myself. The reason I suggested those plans in the first place was actually for you.”

“For me?” He seemed confused.

“Mhm,” you nodded, “You've been so busy these past few months, I thought that maybe it'd be nice for you to take a break for once, even if it's just for a weekend.”

His eyes softened as he looked down at you. He was speechless, as if your words had completely thrown him off-kilter.

Then he laughed. Soft, and sweet, and beautiful. For some reason, that made you laugh too.

He tucked an unruly tendril of your hair behind your ear, and for the first time, the butterflies didn't leave you flustered, just comfortable. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

You nestled under his chin, words dampened by his skin. “I don't know, maybe you should keep me around.” And in your heart, you knew this was what home felt like. Maybe one day you'll be brave enough to say it out loud. But in the meantime, you'd tuck this little secret to yourself.

He breathed deeply, arms tightening around you like a blanket.

“Maybe I will.”

❀ honorary mentions to my lovelies @livlocus @yuunarii-arii @your-mommy-ems MWAH ily all so much🫶🏻