summer/vacation starter call by @thirst4justice

Stephanie was a whirlwind of energy as she burst into his mind, accompanied by half-thought out plans, bags and a bright purple cooler, and Jason found himself with a bag being thrown on to his shoulder and with said cooler already pressed into his hands.

''... wait, SPF 100 exists?!''

He could have stayed at home.

Brooding.

And missed this.

''Never said I wasn't,'' he argued back, the smile lingering as she leant in for a slow kiss. And the kiss was full of the promise of her words. Jason's grip on her hips held firm, his hands finding her skin easily, hungrily, and he ground up into her. ''Sweetheart, if we keep going like this, we won't be able to make it to the beach,'' Jason warned, mouthing along her jawline. ''There are hotels we can go to...'' But not yet, not yet, not with her so deliciously pressing down on him, pinning him down in the seat -

“Hotels, huh?” she managed, breathless against his mouth, her lips brushing his when she grinned. “What, you think I can’t make do with a cramped car seat?” Her grin turned wicked, eyes bright as she kissed him again, open and messy, tongue meeting his with equal hunger.

The first swing nearly took her head off.

Stephanie ducked, heart lurching in her chest. Jason’s eyes—normally so sharp and alive behind that helmet—were wild, unfocused. His breath came in ragged snarls as he swung again, gun in one hand, knife in the other, his whole body coiled in aggression.

“Jason!” Steph’s voice cracked as she backflipped onto the ledge, grappling hook already in her palm—not to use on him, but just to keep her distance. “Come on! It’s me!”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even hesitate. He came at her again.

Her stomach twisted. It wasn’t him—it was whatever crap that gas or dart had pumped into his system. Fear toxin? Venom? Some new cocktail. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t fight him like he was some random thug. But if she didn’t slow him down, he was going to kill her.

She tossed smoke pellets, darting through the haze, her voice echoing. “Jason! Look at me! It’s Steph, okay? Spoiler! Not an enemy!”

His blade flashed through the smoke, forcing her to parry with her staff. The vibration rattled her arms; he was stronger, angrier, barely himself.

Steph gritted her teeth. Her only chance was to ground him—literally. She waited until his swing overextended, then dove in, slamming an electrified batarang against his armored wrist. Sparks flared but the knife didn't fall from his grip.

“Snap out of it!” she shouted, voice trembling. Her staff jammed against his chestplate, keeping distance. Her heart pounded as Jason’s knife screeched against her staff.

The sparks from her batarang still danced faintly on his gauntlet, but he barely registered the pain. He ripped his wrist free with a violent jerk, slashing again - this time low, meant to catch her side if she wasn’t fast enough. His other hand, gun still clenched tight, raised reflexively ready to fire.

Every move was precise, lethal - Red Hood at his deadliest, with all the training he'd been subjected to - but behind those unfocused eyes was a man clawing against the toxin, buried and fighting beneath the rage.

For the smallest fraction of a second, his swing hesitated at the quiver of her voice. Pleading with him. Echoed, distorted, but sharp enough to scratch the surface. Jason's stance faltered, just a beat, just enough to reveal the battle raging inside his own head. And with that hesitation, came the pain.

Burning.

“Jason, come on!” she shouted, bracing against the force of his charge, the impact rattling through her bones as her back slammed against the concrete wall.

Her breath caught but she refused to let go—one arm snapping up to shove the gun hand away, the other pressing against his chest. “You know me! Fight it!”

Stephanie gritted her teeth as his weight pressed her into the wall. He was all muscle and fury, striking without rhythm, without the precision that made him so impossible to predict. This was brute force—and brute force, she could work with.

She ducked beneath his next swing, jamming her staff low into the bend of his knee. “Sorry about this,” she muttered through clenched teeth, ducking under his next swipe, she rolled across the dusty floor, grabbing a length of heavy chain left coiled near a pile of cement bags.

If she hesitated, he’d catch her.

Stephanie bolted, leading him past the scaffolding, weaving between crates, letting his rage drive him in a straight, predictable line. And just as he lunged—

She ducked aside. The chain snapped tight, looped and fastened in one clean motion around the thick steel support beam. Jason jerked forward, the chain locking around his chest and arm. He bellowed, thrashing against it, metal groaning but holding.

Chained.

Trapped.

But she was safe.

The thought flickered through the rage as Jason struggled against the chains, having them dig into his body. And he struggled and raged, the pain of having the undirected murderous fury burning through his veins as Stephanie held her grip tightly on the staff against his chest.

And she waited.

Waited until her arms shook with exhaustion as Jason raged and fought against the restraints, murder in his gaze.

"I've got you."

And Jason struggled until his legs could no longer carry him. They trembled, his throat raw, as he staggered down, utterly spent. But his eyes had lost the crazed glow. Jason was left panting, sore, and too weak to hold himself up as the horror descended over him. "... Steph?"

He swallowed.

Her lip throbbed, metallic tang of blood in her mouth and her ribs ached where one of his wild swings had connected, still relief poured through her so fast her knees nearly gave out.

“Yeah,” she breathed and the words came with a watery laugh that she quickly bit down on. Her split lip stung when she smiled anyway in the echo of the half-finished construction site. “Yeah, it’s me.” Her staff finally lowered, clattering to the concrete floor.

She crouched down in front of him. He looked wrecked—eyes wild but clearing, sweat slick on his brow, chest heaving.

“You tried to take my head off a couple times,” she admitted, forcing a small, tired grin. “But you didn’t. You held back—somewhere in there, you held back. And then I managed to get Babs’ antidote in you.” She tapped the empty injector clipped to her belt for emphasis.

The first swing nearly took her head off.

Stephanie ducked, heart lurching in her chest. Jason’s eyes—normally so sharp and alive behind that helmet—were wild, unfocused. His breath came in ragged snarls as he swung again, gun in one hand, knife in the other, his whole body coiled in aggression.

“Jason!” Steph’s voice cracked as she backflipped onto the ledge, grappling hook already in her palm—not to use on him, but just to keep her distance. “Come on! It’s me!”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even hesitate. He came at her again.

Her stomach twisted. It wasn’t him—it was whatever crap that gas or dart had pumped into his system. Fear toxin? Venom? Some new cocktail. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t fight him like he was some random thug. But if she didn’t slow him down, he was going to kill her.

She tossed smoke pellets, darting through the haze, her voice echoing. “Jason! Look at me! It’s Steph, okay? Spoiler! Not an enemy!”

His blade flashed through the smoke, forcing her to parry with her staff. The vibration rattled her arms; he was stronger, angrier, barely himself.

Steph gritted her teeth. Her only chance was to ground him—literally. She waited until his swing overextended, then dove in, slamming an electrified batarang against his armored wrist. Sparks flared but the knife didn't fall from his grip.

“Snap out of it!” she shouted, voice trembling. Her staff jammed against his chestplate, keeping distance. Her heart pounded as Jason’s knife screeched against her staff.

The sparks from her batarang still danced faintly on his gauntlet, but he barely registered the pain. He ripped his wrist free with a violent jerk, slashing again - this time low, meant to catch her side if she wasn’t fast enough. His other hand, gun still clenched tight, raised reflexively ready to fire.

Every move was precise, lethal - Red Hood at his deadliest, with all the training he'd been subjected to - but behind those unfocused eyes was a man clawing against the toxin, buried and fighting beneath the rage.

For the smallest fraction of a second, his swing hesitated at the quiver of her voice. Pleading with him. Echoed, distorted, but sharp enough to scratch the surface. Jason's stance faltered, just a beat, just enough to reveal the battle raging inside his own head. And with that hesitation, came the pain.

Burning.

“Jason, come on!” she shouted, bracing against the force of his charge, the impact rattling through her bones as her back slammed against the concrete wall.

Her breath caught but she refused to let go—one arm snapping up to shove the gun hand away, the other pressing against his chest. “You know me! Fight it!”

Stephanie gritted her teeth as his weight pressed her into the wall. He was all muscle and fury, striking without rhythm, without the precision that made him so impossible to predict. This was brute force—and brute force, she could work with.

She ducked beneath his next swing, jamming her staff low into the bend of his knee. “Sorry about this,” she muttered through clenched teeth, ducking under his next swipe, she rolled across the dusty floor, grabbing a length of heavy chain left coiled near a pile of cement bags.

If she hesitated, he’d catch her.

Stephanie bolted, leading him past the scaffolding, weaving between crates, letting his rage drive him in a straight, predictable line. And just as he lunged—

She ducked aside. The chain snapped tight, looped and fastened in one clean motion around the thick steel support beam. Jason jerked forward, the chain locking around his chest and arm. He bellowed, thrashing against it, metal groaning but holding.

Stephanie sat cross-legged on the couch, arms folded tight across her chest, her lower lip jutting out in a full pout.

“So you forgot it, huh? Big deal. No worries. It’s only, you know, the most important day of the year.” She folded her arms, pretending to glare, but her eyes were already softening.

“Guess I’ll just have to imagine how amazing it would’ve been while I eat all this takeout by myself.” But then her eyes flicked to the bags in his hands and the smell of her favorite food betrayed her resolve.

"One cuddly rom-com marathon coming right up. Just give me a few to set up the fake candles and some incense? I was gonna offer a massage too but I figured I should at least ask about that one." He'll likely fall asleep at some point during one of the movies; a combination of the genre not being a favourite of his and his sleep schedule being absolutely shot after his mission.

But he will make every effort to remain awake as long as possible. A small price to pay for missing his girlfriend's birthday.

She moved closer, plucking the bag of takeout from his hand before giving him a light nudge in the chest. “Someone’s really trying hard to get out of the doghouse.”

Settling the bag down on the counter, she leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to explain, Tim. I know. You’ve got a whole galaxy of stuff on your plate. But you gotta promise not to fall asleep in the first ten minutes of 27 Dresses. I’m serious. If you start snoring, I’m taking embarrassing photos.”

summer/vacation starter call by @thirst4justice

Stephanie was a whirlwind of energy as she burst into his mind, accompanied by half-thought out plans, bags and a bright purple cooler, and Jason found himself with a bag being thrown on to his shoulder and with said cooler already pressed into his hands.

''... wait, SPF 100 exists?!''

The car turned into the wrong street, and considering her teasing, Jason's wasn't far behind on the uptake.

''... Steph -''

Her hand curled into the collar of his shirt, dragging him even closer across the center console with the kind of reckless determination that had defined most of their interactions anyway.

"You're such a jerk," she mumbled into his mouth between kisses, heat curling through her like lightning, "—a smug, ridiculous, way-too-hot-for-his-own-good jerk—"

But her hands were already slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, palms splayed against the solid plane of his chest, and—

"—and I missed you, okay?" she admitted in a sudden, breathless whisper. Just a crack in the teasing. Just a flicker of the truth that sat in her bones like longing.

Like he had her. As if he could deny to himself that he hadn't been laying in bed, utterly alone, their night together repeating itself, over and over -

He had missed her laugh. The way she had touched him, looked at him, him, not the Red Hood, not the failure and wayward Robin, but him.

"You know where I live -" Jason breathed against her lips between kisses. "Promise I won't leave the door closed for you if you show up "

Jason longed to touch her, to pull her even closer, but his hand was scrambling, searching, along the lower edge of his seat, trying to find the lever that would recline it. If only to allow her on top of him, closer than she was now.

And there!

Jason tightened his grip around the level and pulled, but movement of the backrest was comically fast. It fell back, and Jason fell with it before he could brace, breaking their kiss without warning.

Her hair fell like a golden curtain around their heads as she blinked down at him, momentarily stunned—

Then burst out laughing.

“God, you're such a disaster,” she wheezed between helpless giggles, burying her face in his neck as her body shook with laughter. “A sexy, absolutely feral disaster who lets his spine get whiplash.”

And despite her teasing, she shifted easily into the space he'd made for her, her thighs straddling his hips, her hands still curled into the fabric of his shirt like she had no plans to let him go now that she had him.

She tilted her head to kiss him again, slower this time, with a languid heat that built deep and steady, grounding and familiar. Her voice dropped to a purr:

summer/vacation starter call by @thirst4justice

Stephanie was a whirlwind of energy as she burst into his mind, accompanied by half-thought out plans, bags and a bright purple cooler, and Jason found himself with a bag being thrown on to his shoulder and with said cooler already pressed into his hands.

''... wait, SPF 100 exists?!''

The car turned into the wrong street, and considering her teasing, Jason's wasn't far behind on the uptake.

''... Steph -''

Her hand curled into the collar of his shirt, dragging him even closer across the center console with the kind of reckless determination that had defined most of their interactions anyway.

"You're such a jerk," she mumbled into his mouth between kisses, heat curling through her like lightning, "—a smug, ridiculous, way-too-hot-for-his-own-good jerk—"

But her hands were already slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, palms splayed against the solid plane of his chest, and—

"—and I missed you, okay?" she admitted in a sudden, breathless whisper. Just a crack in the teasing. Just a flicker of the truth that sat in her bones like longing.

summer/vacation starter call by @thirst4justice

Stephanie was a whirlwind of energy as she burst into his mind, accompanied by half-thought out plans, bags and a bright purple cooler, and Jason found himself with a bag being thrown on to his shoulder and with said cooler already pressed into his hands.

''... wait, SPF 100 exists?!''

He could fall in love with this woman.

The realization had Jason drawing in a deep breath, which he masked by pretending at being annoyed by being outsmarted before he moved to the other side of the car and sat down. And pointedly moved his seat all the way back to make room for his legs.

"You're going to regret giving me access to the Bluetooth connection," he grumbled, already pulling out his phone to get the playlist sorted. But he paused when she mentioned -

Jason threw her a glance. "I can take breaks." Sometimes. If he was forced to. Which... was what she was doing now.

Diabolical.

Her knotted t-shirt bared a sliver of her stomach each time she moved to shift gears and her sneakers tapped impatiently on the pedals as they idled at the light.

“You can take breaks, huh?” she echoed, voice lilting with disbelief. “You mean like how you 'took a break' on Halloween? Or Christmas? Or literally every other holiday I spammed you with dog memes and cupcake emojis?”

She glanced at him, one brow arched. “I swear to God, Jason, if you ghost me on Halloween again I will drag you to a haunted hayride dressed as a sexy vampire."

Still, she was smiling—because he was here now. Sitting beside her, kicked back with his legs stretched out, scrolling through music, already reaching for the gummy worms she’d stashed in the cupholder.

Stephanie turned back to the road, her fingers drumming the wheel. “So today? You relax. You swim. You tan that pale cryptid skin. You feed me watermelon. And if I catch you brooding even once...” she trailed off.

And, yeah, honestly, that didn't sound great if he said it like that.

Whatever.

"And I'll keep doing it if it means you'll turn up in a sexy vampire costume, for God's sake, woman. Pick your threats," and yes, perhaps Jason did let his eyes purposely wander as she drove. "And I'm not that pale!"

"First of all," she said around the chewy mouthful, voice full of saccharine threat, "you are absolutely that pale, Jason. I’ve seen milk cartons with more of a tan. And second—seeking out lawbreaking distractions? You ghosted me for a rogue Santa with a baseball bat. So no, you don’t get points for civil duty when I had eggnog and mistletoe ready."

Her voice lilted between mock-pissed and amused, but she was grinning. "You wanna talk about self-regulating adults? Mister ‘let me punch a clown before breakfast’?"

Then—

She glanced at him again. Noticed the way his gaze lingered on her. Felt the lazy heat of it, a little slow-burn behind her sunglasses.

"Swimshorts? Oh nooo," she drawled, syrupy-sweet and utterly not sorry. "You mean you’ll have to wear whatever I pick for you from the tourist trap beach shack? What a shame."

And just as she said it—

She turned down the wrong street.

"Wait. Oh, crap—" she laughed, tapping the brakes. "That’s—yep. That’s the wrong road. That one leads out to the trailhead, not the beach."

But she didn’t immediately turn around. Just coasted forward a little further, winding deeper into a shadier patch of trees.

Her hand slipped off the wheel just long enough to tug her sunglasses down, peer at him over the edge with a glint in her eye.

"...We could take a break," she teased, letting the car roll to a slow stop under a tree-lined turnoff. "What do you think? Five, ten minutes?"

Stephanie leaned back, cocked her head, her grin utterly feral now. "Think your back can handle the upholstery?"