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Jason unlocked the four locks leading to his secondary safehouse, the one his family knew about, and opened the creaking door.
“Thanks for letting me stay with you Jason,” the short woman at his side said for the tenth time in twenty minutes. If she said it one more time he was pretty sure he was going to have to find a way to gag her. It was driving him nuts.
~~~~
The girl in question, Marinette, had found him in the alley outside of her apartment as she was coming home one night a few months ago. He had jumped down from the roof he was on, taking some stupid purse snatcher by surprise. The thief was going to attack someone at the end of the alley. Jason quickly pinned him to the wall. He grabbed some zip ties to cuff the man from a back pocket. The guy pulled a knife on him and stabbed him as he had been distracted grabbing the ties. Jason silently reprimanded himself. He had been lazy by not doing a pat down and paid the price for it. He grunted in pain, the knife stuck in his stomach, just below his liver. He was almost certain that the guy had missed his gall bladder. He would be in more pain if it had stuck in there, right?
His mind halted when the man wrenched himself out of Jason’s grip, taking the knife painfully with him. Clearly, he was going to go after the girl at the end of the alley and finish the job he started. Jason doubled over, coughing up some blood. Not good. He would be too late to help her. He hoped she had taken the chance to run. That hope was dashed as he saw her coming up behind them. She had taken their struggle as a chance to grab a damn trash can lid. Seriously? That was it? Why the hell hadn’t she run?!
She whacked his attacker on the back of the neck with the lid. The jerk crumpled to the ground. He had been knocked out instantly. Jason stared on in surprise. She either knew exactly where to hit or had been lucky as hell. Either way, she took one look at him, and hoisted him back up to his full height, pressing one of his hands onto his bleeding stomach, and wrapping the other over her shoulder, grabbing hold of it and gripping his waist with the other.
“Come on, hero,” she said grunting a little under his weight. She had a definite French accent.
“Vigilante,” he coughed out, correcting her.
“Hero. My hero,” she clarified as she dragged him up to her apartment to patch him up.
She was definitely stronger than she looked if she could lug him up the stairs while he protested (mildly). “I can walk by myself,” he tried to argue. He really couldn’t. That knife had hit him funny. He really did need to go to a hospital. Or Alfred. “I need to go.”
“Not a chance hero. You’re coming with me.”
His ego had taken the hit, but his brain was still working. A pretty girl invites you up, who are you to say no? Especially when it means you don’t bleed out on the way home. She was a couple of stitches in when he was pretty sure he passed out. When he woke, she was done, and he felt way better than he should have. She hadn’t removed his mask, which he was relieved for.
“What’s your name?”
“Marinette.”
“Well, thank you Marinette... for everything.”
She simply waved him off, telling him, “Just be safe out there.” He scoffed at that, but she continued, “You aren’t good to anyone if you’re dead.”
Ever since then, Jason stopped by whenever his patrol took him into the area – just to check on her – like he did with Mrs. Walker, his old neighbour. Her apartment was in the worst possible area for someone her size who lived alone, only one street over from Crime Alley. It meant that he stopped by basically every night, though he didn’t always go in.
Whenever he visited, she always had some form of food for him, but her baking was the best. Cookies seemed to be the most frequent, but there was always something lying out – cheese, fruit and other snacks. He was pretty sure she just snacked throughout the day on them.
She was exceptionally creative, both with her work and how she solved issues around her house. Her design business was really starting to take off now that Jagged Stone had released her business information, rather than just referring to her as his favourite designer and niece. That had been a surprise, especially since where she lived was in such a crappy part of town. She could afford better. A lot better.
Just a check was enough to know she was safe when she had her music blasting, dancing in front of the window. He probably stayed watching, mesmerized, longer than he should have the first time, and had a long conversation about keeping blinds closed. It hadn’t worked.
“Marinette, you really need to keep your blinds closed. Anyone could see you in your apartment,” he had asked her the first time. “I could see you dancing from across the street.”
Rather than seeming horrified, like he had expected, she asked, teasingly, “Oh, was it that bad?”
“No, that’s not the point. You were great – you’ve really got some moves. Loved it. But that means everyone else in the building I was on could see you too.”
She blushed. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”
The girl truly did have moves, but she was klutzy as hell. He had seen her trip over nothing more times than she would ever like him pointing out. It happened a lot when she was looking at him rather than watching where she was going.
He really needed to talk to her about safety procedures in Gotham, again. She really needed to keep her damn blinds closed to keep the creepers away. He couldn’t be the only one that liked to watch her dance. Yet despite seeming grateful for the advice at the time, and embarrassed at what others could see, she continued to do it. It was frustrating as hell.
His visits with her were calming. She never pried for information. She never asked him for his identity or asked for his domino mask to come off. He always seemed to feel rejuvenated after spending some time with her. He wasn’t really sure why, other than that she was just amazing. She made him feel welcome and at home in the tiny apartment. She also seemed to be able to hold her own on the streets of Gotham. He swore the girl could do no wrong. It was like everything she touched turned out okay.
He recalled several nights of relaxing in her kitchen after patrol. One night, he had decided to suck up his pride and ask her for an autograph on his Rock Giant CD. They had been watching a baking show eating the latest batch of macarons she had made (he had helped fill them), and Marinette kept interrupting them to criticize something. He was no red seal chef, but he would trust Marinette’s expertise on it.
“Hey, Pixie, is there any way you could…” he choked in asking, and just pulled the CD out from his pocket.
Marinette blinked and stared at the CD for a second. “You want an autograph?” She took the case from him. “I’m sure I could ask Jagged to sign it for you, but this is pretty worn out, you sure you don’t just want a new one?”
It was true. The thing had been used so much the paper inside was tattered and the CD scratched. Wait-
“I- I meant you.”
She looked confused for a moment. “You want my autograph?”
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, a new CD and Jagged’s would be great, but I was more interested in yours.”
“Okay,” she giggled as she signed her name and put a heart beside it.
When he got home that night, he had placed it on his dresser, her autograph on proud display.
Marinette was his walking good luck charm, too. He always seemed to come out unscathed from fights on the days he visited her. Just a few nights ago, they had been fighting Killer Croc a few blocks from her apartment, and Damian had to be sent back with a concussion and Tim had sprained his ankle. Dick had a few bruised ribs. Bruce had managed to get sliced across the back and required a few stitches. Jason had oddly come out completely untouched. Croc had never even gotten near him.
Best of all, she just seemed to accept him. She didn’t know the Jason Todd side of his life, but if she could accept Red Hood and all he had done, Jason and his ties to the Wayne family would be an easy sell. There weren’t many people in the world that accepted Hood. Sure, he was better these days, but he wasn’t exactly toeing the line either.
Nightwing regularly lectured him after fights, especially when the bad guy’s plans backfired on them. Was it really his fault if the creeps decided to blow them up and Red Hood had used the bomb to blow the asshole up instead?
Bruce’s lectures were worse, as he would glare and make him feel like he could do nothing right. Jason felt that he had done what was needed – what the others were too moral or afraid to do themselves. He wasn’t out of control like Bruce always accused him of being.
Marinette’s unconditional acceptance meant the world to him. Not even his family was capable of that. Roy was probably the only other one that was.
More than once, he had recounted his night and how some villain had died from a split-second decision he made to save someone else who was a victim. Sure, he used rubber bullets, and nonlethal shots, but he couldn’t stop the bad guys from killing each other if they insisted on using live rounds and shooting when their colleagues were around.
The last time it had happened, she had given him a hug as he tried to recount how he had made the choice to save his brother rather than the guy trying to kill them all. Batman had lectured him that time. Again. He went to see Marinette afterwards, and she just held him as he tried his best not to cry.
Marinette just seemed to just accept it, glad he was okay. She had seemed sad at the loss of life and what that meant for their families, but was always glad that he had survived and come to see her. She reassured him that he had done the right thing. His brother, another hero, was alive to save someone else because of him.
It made his choices a little less hard. Someone outside of his teammates wanted him to come back to them safe and unharmed.
Her current situation was likely his fault. He’d had his jacket repaired by her the other night after she had stitched up a cut in his arm. He hadn’t been as paran- careful about if he was being followed. The next night when he went by to say hello and check on her, her apartment was trashed. Her couch was on it’s side, the TV broken, and there were a series of bullet holes in the walls. Two men were dead on her apartment floor, bleeding out from gunshot wounds, and another three were knocked unconscious. They looked like assassins and hitmen though, not the regular riff raff from the area. Had someone else tracked him there?
He panicked, running into the next room, expecting her dead or kidnapped, or at bare minimum traumatized and having a panic attack. Instead, she was pulling out a tub of cookies from her cabinets, finishing up a call to the police on speakerphone.
“Thank you for the call miss. An officer will be there shortly. Please try to remain calm. Do you need us to stay on the line?”
“Nope, I’m fine thanks!” she said a bit too brightly.
The emergency operator reluctantly hung up.
“Hey Hood!” she had said when she turned around to see him.
“H- Hey?! THAT’S what you have to say to me? What the hell happened out there?!”
“Oh. Well, they burst in through the door – which I locked, so you don’t need to nag me about it again – and just started attacking me.”
“Why aren’t you dead?” he blurted out bluntly. Inwardly he groaned. He was way too close to this situation to react appropriately. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine! I’m fine.” She sighed when he started checking her over for injuries. “Really.” She had a tiny cut on her face, two on her left hand that were not deep enough to need stitches, and a bruise forming on her leg above her knee that her shorts were not covering.
“What happened,” he demanded, now that he knew she was not hiding something bad from him. She was just the type to hide an injury if she thought he would fuss, or it would trouble someone.
“I don’t know. I ran to my bedroom the first chance I got and locked the door. I was going to go down the fire escape when this hero in red appeared and went in after them.”
“Red hero,” he said blandly. “Arsenal?” He would have to check with Roy. Had he come to town a few days early?
“Is Arsenal a girl?”
Hood snorted. “Definitely not.”
She shrugged.
“So the girl killed them?”
“What?! No!” She sounded offended. “She kicked their butts. The guys shot each other while they were aiming for her. She didn’t do anything except knock them out!”
“I thought you said you didn’t know what happened?” he questioned, his tone skeptical. Why was she changing her story?
“I just meant I don’t know where she came from or who she was!” Now she was panicking. Not when faced with dead guys, but when he questioned her. She was acting weird, even for her.
Marinette was flighty at times, and distractible at best. She had panic attacks with catastrophic thinking that spiraled regularly over little things, like not picking the right fabric. But this… this was odd. Was it just a weird way of showing trauma? Was she going to go into shock? Was there something she was hiding?
Jason found himself having no clue, which was unusual for him. Between Batman and the training Talia had sent him through while trying to distract him from killing Batman, Jason was usually extremely good at reading people.
“Pixie, you sure there isn’t more to your story? You can trust me. I won't rat you out to the cops.”
“There’s nothing. I swear!”
He raised his eyebrow at her. “Then why were they here?”
“They kept asking, ‘Where is it?’ but I have no idea what it could be,” she tried to explain.
“The cops are going to want to search the place if that’s the case to see if someone stashed something dangerous here.”
She groaned. “How long is that going to take? I have a commission due in two days!”
That was what she was worried about? He swore he would never understand her. Marinette, for all she was open and giving, was a mystery. He loved that about her. She was never boring, despite not having the normal heroics to recount like his other friends did.
He stuck around nearby when the police came with a full CSI team. Again, she just seemed worried about her commissions and when she could get back to them. It made him wonder what she had been through that a couple of dead assassins were not the priority in her life. After a long-winded statement from her, they had let her gather her sewing supplies and vacate while they conducted their investigation.
He met her in the lobby. She was searching for hotels on her phone. That wouldn’t do. She was a target. Whether they were after him or her, or some thing someone had planted at her place. No hotel in Gotham would be safe enough. Only a few places in Gotham would be able to defend against a hit, and they all belonged to his family.
Before he knew what he was saying, he had blurted out, “I know a place you can stay.” He scrambled to come up with a plan. “Uhh, I’ll call him.”
He excused himself and called out over the comms, “I need to hide a target for a while. Can someone go to my safehouse over by Robinson Park and stash my gear? I don’t want to leave her unprotected in case more show up. And she’ll need a ride that she can put some stuff in rather than my bike.”
“Who targeted her?” “Who is she?” “How do you know her?” “What were they after?” he heard in his ear before he muted his comm again. He didn’t have any answers for them anyways. At least not ones he was willing to give.
Walking back to her, he said, “Look, I’m going to get you to stay with an acquaintance of mine at a safehouse downtown. His name is Jason Todd. I promise you can trust him.”
“Jason Todd,” she repeated flatly. “As in one of Bruce Wayne’s sons, Jason Todd.”
He cringed. Of course she would have heard of him. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“As long as he’s not a stuck-up prick, I’m good.”
He laughed. That was one thing he definitely wasn’t.
“But… won't that be putting your ‘acquaintance’ in danger?”
“Todd can fight well enough. He’ll protect you.”
“That wasn’t what I was worried about. What if something happens to him? Bruce Wayne would slaughter us both!”
He laughed at the thought of Bruce slaughtering anyone these days, even when the bastards deserved it. His days of killing were long behind him. Now he just judged everyone who did. He felt bad for the gremlin, as irritating as the kid was, as his not so distant killing of Nobody, Otto Netz, and Spook and the countless minions everyone seemed to hire that they went through like cannon fodder, meant that gaining the favour the kid obviously craved with Bruce was an uphill battle.
Jason just tuned the lectures out now, if he stuck around for them at all. He had a guilty enough conscious without them adding to it, but sometimes he had to do what the others weren’t willing to.
His phone lit up with texts. He ignored them all until one from Alfred arrived, indicating that preparations were complete, and that he would meet him out front in a few minutes.
“Well Pixie-pop, your chariot will be here in a minute, so I will take my leave. Be safe,” he said as he touched her cheek. He realised a bit too late that he was emulating the classic romance novels that he read a bit too much. He sounded like a dork in his head.
She blushed a bit, saying, “You too. Thank you for your help.”
“Anytime, Pix. Anytime.” He gave her a two-fingered salute in goodbye. Red Hood hadn’t done anything tonight. Someone else had rescued her, but she was still thanking him. Maybe Jason Todd could make it up to her. He ducked out a side door emergency exit and met up with Alfred before he could turn back onto the main road. He changed quickly and stashed his gear in his suitcase.
He gripped the handle to the crappy apartment building, suddenly realising that he was nervous. Would Marinette like this side of him?
He looked at his reflection in the mirror. Unlike most, she had seen Red Hood with the helmet or hoodie off. She knew about the bizarre streak the Lazarus Pits had left behind. She had heard him without the voice modulator as he ate the snacks she gave him.
Would she connect the dots?
Oh hell, this was a bad idea. She would figure him out. It was too late to back out though! And she needed a safe place to stay. He didn’t think she told anyone about his visits – she would keep this secret too, right?
He took a deep breath and entered the hallway. She raised her eyes up at his arrival. They were tense at first, but relaxed when he held his arms out in a non-threatening manner. He surrendered. He couldn’t help as his mind wondered what exactly he was surrendering to.
Her.
He could live with that.
She smiled at him as he approached. “Hi, you must be Jason Todd.” She held out her hand that wasn’t holding her gigantic sewing kit. He took her hand, and began to shake it.
“Enchanté Marinette,” he rambled out. His French was so rusty. He hadn’t had to use it in years.
“On m’a beaucoup parlé de vous,” she said in return. He had never heard her speak French before, and it was a beautiful thing indeed. She pulled him down a bit by his hand, and gave his cheeks kisses. Bises, if he remembered correctly. It was a greeting. He knew it. But she had never been so close before. And she smelled like the cinnamon from the cookies she had out earlier. It was so tempting to just kiss her.
His mind halted as he remembered. To her, he was a stranger. It would be beyond creepy to do something like that. Instead, he reached over, swung the backpack of her essentials onto his shoulder, and grabbed the garment bags and the sewing machine. She looked like she had a death grip on the sewing kit, so he let her take it. She followed him to the car.
When they were safely inside the car, Marinette proceeded to thank him. Repeatedly.
~~~~
“Well, uhh… make yourself at home,” he said awkwardly. He glanced around. All the weapons and more questionable stuff he normally left lying around was stashed away. He peeked into the kitchen. Fully stocked with fresh food. He bet the fridge was full too. They must have all come to help out. There was no way the place was in that good of shape the last time he was here. Damnit. He likely owed them a favour now.
He set her stuff down in the room that would be hers and allowed her time to settle in, wishing her a good night.
The first night was about as good as expected. She had disappeared into her room, and didn’t come back out. Granted, by the time they had arrived it was bordering on 01:00, so he hadn’t expected much more.
The next day was an unmitigated disaster. He couldn’t avoid his family any longer. He had excused himself after a very quiet breakfast, leaving a note that he would be back after he checked in at ‘home.’ Using his street bike, he rode out to the manor, dreading the conversation that was to come.
They must have been told he was coming, because everyone met him in the cave. Just like on the comms the night before, he was bombarded with questions. Tim had pulled up a file on Marinette. A quick scan of it told him nothing out of the ordinary. Most of it he already knew. Marinette had been very open about most of her past. The only big thing that was mentioned was a tie to Adrien Agreste and his father Gabriel, who had been some magical terrorist. The kid had been found innocent of all related charges, so it wasn’t really relevant. He could understand why she wouldn’t want to talk about that. Most of the reason he was cleared was because of the heroes vouching for him and that his class had been regularly attacked. Marinette would have been part of that class. No wonder she didn’t talk about school or old friends much.
The CSI initial report was useless. Nothing he hadn’t garnered himself at the scene. Multiple shots, gunmen killed their own men, no other prints on the guns. Those who hadn’t been shot had blunt force wounds that had knocked them unconscious. They would recover. It matched perfectly with what Marinette had said. Nothing suspicious was found in her home, but it was going to remain an active crime scene for a while longer. Their teams would take a few more days to finish more in depth sweeps and to clean up the bulk of the mess. It was pretty clear by the pictures that she would have to move, even for a while, as repairs were done. Her insurance would cover most of it. Whether the building manager kicked her out afterwards or not was another matter.
“So when were you going to tell us about your girlfriend?” Dick asked, far too chipperly.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he answered as blandly as he could.
“She’s so cute. Are you sure you –”
“Is the girl okay?” Bruce asked, cutting Dick off mid-sentence.
“She’s... fine. Totally unbothered by the whole thing. Though by the looks of it, she went through more shit in Paris than I thought.”
“I imagine if she was connected to the ‘Akuma class’ as they’re calling it, she’s seen worse,” Tim reasoned. It was a depressing thought. Images and videos from the time ranged from comical villains to bloody slaughters.
“What were they after?” Bruce asked.
“No clue.” He paused. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell them everything, but she needed help. “She seemed to know more than she was letting on, but she claimed she didn’t seem to know either.”
Damian provided the most useful information of the night. Four of the five men who had attacked were from the League of Assassins. The fifth was likely a mercenary out of Russia. “And the girl survived?”
“She says she ran and hid while the hero – whoever it was – took them out. She does have a few injuries, so she didn’t come out unscathed.”
“Surveillance for the whole block went down an hour before she was attacked. We’ve got nothing.”
“If we find anything more, we will let you know,” Bruce excused him.
Dick followed him out. “So when can we meet her? You should bring her over for dinner!”
Jason looked at him like he had gone insane. Introduce her to this fucked up family right after she was attacked? Not bloody likely.
He made it back in time for lunch.
“Welcome back!” she greeted him cheerfully with a kiss to the cheek. He had to remind himself again that it was culturally normal for her. He’d always kept his distance as Red Hood. Only when he had been upset about the lectures and the killings did he even touch her, and even then, only after she initiated it. Jason Todd… well he didn’t need to do that. Instead, he relished the moment of normalcy and fake domesticity. “I made some sandwiches for lunch. Wasn’t sure when you would be back.”
“Sounds great, thanks Marinette,” he said. “Uhm, don’t be surprised if my family barges over to say hi or invite you over for dinner. They were very curious about what was going on and wanted to meet you.” Dick would likely show up sooner or later, dragging his brothers with him.
“Really?” She looked pensive. She seemed to make up her mind after a few very long moments. “Alright. I’ll meet them.”
He helped her take the sandwiches out of the kitchen, setting them on the coffee table. “Movie?”
She agreed, and they settled onto the couch to watch some rom-com that Roy had left the last time he stayed there. Before long, she had cuddled into his side. He went to put an arm around her, thinking maybe she wanted more, when he felt her arm. She was freezing! Her attention was completely on the screen, so he doubted she even was aware of doing it. So he grabbed a blanket from the cupboard and threw it over them both, putting an arm on her shoulder to help warm her up.
“Thanks Jay,” she said after a few moments, giving him a bright smile.
When the movie was over, she grabbed a couple of cookies and went to work on her designs. Apparently she had baked them while he was gone. He wasn’t even aware that Alfred had stocked the ingredients. She joined him for dinner later, their conversation flowing as well as it always did. He could get used to sharing meals with her. Life felt right for once. She gave him another peck on the cheek when she went to say goodnight. That French custom made it so hard to tell – did she like him? Didn’t she?
~~~~
The next day was quiet. No assassin attacks. She had spent most of the day working. He was rereading one of his favourite classics while waiting for the cameras to ping with any intruders. His stomach grumbled after a while, so he poked his head into her open door.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything. Any requests for dinner?”
“Anything is fine… thank you.” She went about working on her sewing machine, not even looking up. If he hadn’t heard her response, he would have sworn she didn’t hear him.
He began to make some pasta with meat sauce. He set the hamburger to brown and turned on some music. He should probably be more alert, but he knew the place was just a step down from the manor itself in terms of security, and he had his guns in the drawer right beside him. Settling into his normal routine.
When the meat was finally cooked, he went to drain the fat, but the oil ended up splashing, hitting him on the stomach. His shirt was covered in it, and he whipped it off without thinking.
“Shit. Ow. Fuck,” he swore as he turned around to chuck it in the garbage (there was no way those stains would ever come out) when he realised that Marinette had come out of her room. He hadn’t even heard her.
She was standing there gaping at him, her eyes wide in horror. He looked down. His body was covered in scars. He didn’t have anything too terrible. The Lazarus Pit had taken care of the worst of it. She was staring at his arm near his shoulder in particular. He looked down to see that his stitches from the other night had opened and were beginning to bleed again. Fuck.
“You tore your stitches!!” she screeched at him. “Where’s your medical kit?”
His mind froze. Thankfully his mouth automatically answered that it was in the bathroom down the hall. That was it? His stitches? Did she not realise it was him? Or did she really just not care?
She came back quickly and forced him into a chair. Her hands were gentle as they spread numbing gel over the area before stitching him back up.
“Thanks Pi- Principessa,” he fumbled, trying to cover up his slip, just in case she hadn’t figured it out.
She frowned. “I think I prefer Pixie.”
“…Right.” Shit. “Uhm…”
“It’s okay, you really don’t need to explain. Your secret is safe with me. I’m good at keeping secrets,” she interrupted. “But if you’re worried, I can go. I swear I won't tell a soul.”
“No! I knew it might happen if you came here. It’s fine. Really. Batman might not be so thrilled… but he can stuff it.” He scuffed his foot on the floor. “So what gave it away?”
She raised an eyebrow at him like he was insane. Instead of answering, she reached out and twirled a piece of white hair in her hand.
She had known the whole time.
He cringed as she smirked at him. He loved it when Marinette was sassy. “So… you don’t mind?”
“Mind? Mind what?” she asked, confused.
“That I’m, y’know, him. Hood.”
“Why would I mind that?”
“I’ve killed people, Pix,” he reminded her.
She shrugged. “From what I’ve heard, the world would be a lot worse off if the creeps had lived. You did what you had to. You’ve never really killed for fun – only necessity, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Then we’re good.”
He blinked at her. It was that easy? She just… forgave him all of that? His arms moved before he realised it, and he had pulled her into a hug. “Thank you…” he whispered into her hair. Her only response was to hug him back. He rested his head on top of hers for a bit, before he kissed her gently on the top of her hair. He wasn’t sure she felt it.
The water for the spaghetti began to boil over the top of the pot, and they broke apart so that he could run to fix it. He was shocked how easily their conversations flowed after that. Him not having to pretend he didn’t know her, and her not having to pretend she didn’t know his secret, opened doors to their conversation that had been avoided before.
Marinette had gotten cold while he finished making dinner, so he grabbed her a sweater when he went to grab a new shirt for himself. He had to admit, he liked seeing her in his clothes. They were gigantic on her, her hands not making it out the ends, and looking more like a dress.
Like before, after dinner she gave him a kiss on the cheek goodnight. He really wished he could read her better. He had no clue if she was interested or not.
Jason called Roy to tell him about the change of plans after she had gone to bed. “Hey man. I need you to crash at the other safehouse.”
“Everything okay Jay?”
“Yeah – do you remember me mentioning Marinette?”
“You mean Miss ‘I can do no wrong, my smile lights up all of Gotham?’ Yeah, I think you’ve mentioned her once or twice, or fifty times.”
“She’s staying at the safe house at Robinson. Some assassins and shit attacked her.”
“And she lived to tell the tale?”
“Yeah. Some red hero chick showed up and saved her. She didn’t seem to know who, and they certainly didn’t stick around.”
“And she’s staying at the safehouse alone?”
“No… I’m here.”
“Hood-you or Jason-you?”
“Both... she knows.”
Roy whistled. Letting people in on the deep dark secret was a big deal. Having them not run away on you was bigger. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the great Red Hood had become whipped.”
“Heh,” he breathed out. “Shut up.”
“Wow, he is. Next you’re going to say you’re head over heels for her.”
Roy had meant it as a joke. But it wasn’t. He hadn’t put it in so many words, but he did. Jason loved Marinette. He couldn’t even pinpoint the day it happened.
"Damn. You and Marinette are living together now, aren’t you?" He had phrased it as a question, but it was definitely a statement.
"Yeah. She's way better than my last roommate,” he joked. Roy had been his last roommate. “I was worried that it might strain our friendship, you know, with her knowing my secret identity, but everything's been great so far."
"Wait, what? Roommate? You're not together?"
"No?"
"Goddammit, I thought this meant you two had finally gotten your shit together. How have you two still not gotten together? You’ve been pining for the chick for over six months."
“She’s only known Jason-me for a couple of days man. And she’s been through hell.”
“You sure you haven’t just been friend-zoned bro? Or are you just chicken? Bawk-bawk!”
Jason cringed. Had he been?
She kissed him goodnight. On the cheek. But… bises were common in France. It was normal for her. They could be platonic. They had snuggled on the couch watching a movie. But she had been freezing cold. Like when she borrowed his sweater. She was very sensitive to the cold. Had he friend-zoned himself? He groaned. He really hoped Roy was wrong.
~~~~
Today he was going to see if he had been friend-zoned. He had to know. He decided to start the day by working out in the living room instead of in his room. Shirtless. In shorts that would have fit better on Tim. They were way too tight. He shoved some earphones in and blasted his music. Marinette likely wouldn’t be up for a bit, but if she got up early, hopefully she would react…
He got into his routine, lost in the music. When he eventually turned around, Marinette was standing in the doorway, coffee in hand, blatantly staring at him. Her hair was tied up into her signature pigtails that make him want to tug when he teased her, this time with long ribbons dangling from each one. She wore what he assumed were her pajamas still, a pair of extremely short shorts and a tank top. She was biting her bottom lip and he couldn’t help but look. Her cheeks turned a bit pink when she realised she had been caught staring. “Coffee?” she asked him, holding out the cup.
He jumped up from the push-ups he had been doing, and joined her, taking the cup with a quiet, “Thanks.”
“Hot. Totally hot. I mean, you look hot. Maybe I should have brought a towel. I should go get you a towel!” He watched, bewildered, as she left to get him a towel. He looked down. He wasn’t sweating that badly yet. Had it offended her?
She came running back with the towel and threw it at him in her haste. It landed flat on his head. Okay then…
He shook out his hair and put it around his shoulders. Well that backfired. “Sorry, I’ll go put on a shirt.”
“NO!” she practically screamed at him. She continued at a slightly lower, but no less panicked tone, “I mean, no. You don’t need to change what you’re doing just because of me!”
This girl confused the hell out of him. He needed a new tactic. He took the towel, spinning it around in his hand a few times. A smirk on his face, he whipped it out at her, trying to hit her on the ass with it. If he couldn’t understand her verbally, he would just have to figure it out physically.
“What was that for?” she squeaked.
“Ever wanted to learn how to fight?” he continued to smirk at her.
He wound the towel again. Her eyes went wide, and she reached for the first thing she could find – a bow staff he’d had out earlier. He raised an eyebrow at her. She looked at it, and a wicked grin crossed her face. She twirled the staff around a few times, a move she definitely should not have known how to do, and took a fighting stance, the staff slightly off to the side of her.
“Come at me, bird boy,” she wiggled a finger at him.
Suddenly the towel didn’t seem like the correct weapon of choice. He flung it at her anyways, and she wrapped it up in the staff. Welp, that went about how he expected. He lunged for the escrima that had been sitting beside the staff, but didn’t really need to, as she let him past to grab them. He barely had them in hand before she attacked.
His shock that she could fight was quickly changed to awe that she could keep up with him. She might even give Tim a run for his money with the staff. Unfortunately for him, he had spent far too much time gawking and gaping at her, and far too little time strategizing. He had been backed up against the wall, with no room to swing the sticks enough to get real momentum. He soon found the stick planted against the wall, just barely missing his ear.
“I win!” she beamed at him, dropping the stick and launching herself into his arms for a hug.
He grabbed her in the air, holding her against him. “That you do, Pix. That you do.” He relished the moment a bit, before he finally had to ask, “So where did you learn that?”
“Maman taught me when I was young. I just was really lucky that it happened to be there!”
Huh… that really was lucky. “How are you at hand-to-hand?”
She looked him up and down, her eyes lingering on his arms. “Not as good as you. I definitely don’t have the same power behind my attacks that a hero would.”
He didn’t even bother to correct her anymore. He was too busy trying not to blush at her gaze. She took a few steps back.
“Don’t need power if you do it right.” He darted forward, throwing a light punch at her.
She blocked it head on, rather than having it glance off her arm at an angle. “Ow!” she cried out in pain.
He stopped and went to look at her arm, letting down his guard. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry Pix!”
She took her leg and swept it around him, knocking him to the ground. “Oh I know you don’t need power alright.”
Tricky. She was smart. And apparently she was willing to use anything to her advantage – even playing dirty. Perfect.
She took a step back so she was too far away to sweep her down as well, and smart enough to know that trying to pin him by overpowering him wouldn’t work. She was smirking. She had won twice.
How the hell had she won twice?
He looked at her unassuming form, and realised that was it. He kept thinking she was defenseless. He was underestimating her, and she was using that to her advantage.
He needed to up his game. He couldn’t believe he even had to think that.
He jumped up, not giving her any warning of his attack. He would still pull his punches, but she glanced them off her arm properly this time. Seemed she knew he meant business this time. His superior strength came in handy when she blocked the third punch, and rather than going for another one, he grabbed her wrist. She tried to wrench it out, but he held firm, raising it above her head. She struggled, a look of panic in her eyes for a moment. She gave a look of resignation. She knew she wasn’t getting out of his grip any time soon. She used her legs to push off him, trying to force him to let her go, but it was obvious to them both that it wouldn’t work. So he used his other arm to grab hold of her leg, around the ankle.
“Not your smartest move, Pixie,” he said with a smirk. There was nothing she could do. He had definitely won this time.
But rather than the pout he expected, she gave him a wicked grin. “Wasn’t it?” she said in a low voice as she pushed against him, causing her leg to slide higher into his grip, so he was holding her calf now.
Oh.
His grip lessened around her wrist. She pulled her hand out of his grasp entirely, her eyes alight with mischief. She placed her hand on his chest, but she didn’t fight or push him away. His free hand now went to her waist, pulling her closer. His other hand made its way up to under her knee. Damn her skin was smooth. He stared into her eyes, silently begging for permission. Her other hand grabbed his neck in response, and pulled him down towards her.
She pushed up into him, their bodies pulling flush to one another, and their lips touched for one brief, fleeting moment. He wasn’t even sure it had happened for a moment. She pulled back enough to look into his eyes once more. Jason was sure his reflected hunger for her. Hers burned for him. He squeezed her thigh as her leg wrapped around his waist. One breath in, and their lips smashed together again.
~~~~
Jason rolled onto his side to look at Marinette. “Hungry?” he asked.
“Starving. I never ate breakfast.”
“Funny, I think that might have been the best breakfast I’ve ever had,” he joked.
She turned beet red. He laughed as she moved to smack his arm. He rolled off his bed and threw one of his shirts at her. He was pretty sure hers was in the hall somewhere. He quickly dressed himself and went to grab them some lunch. Nothing could wreck his mood. By the time he had whipped the sandwiches together, she had moved to the living room, and was dressed in his shirt and a pair of her pants. She had fixed her hair, but it was a little off. He sat down beside her, placing them on the coffee table, and tugged her pigtail like he had always wanted to, but this time to fix it.
He gave her a tender kiss. When he pulled back, he realised that her hand was twisting his shirt. Nervous…
“Hey Jay?” she said tentatively, “I really need to tell you something…”
Ugh. Had she not meant what she said? “I understand if it was a heat of the moment thing. You wouldn’t be the first to say you loved someone in bed.”
“No! No, I meant that. It wasn’t that- Did you not mean it?”
“I definitely meant it Pix.” He grabbed one of the hands twisting his shirt into a ball, and kissed it.
She sighed in relief. “Ok, well, uhm, it’s about the att-”
There was a thud on the other side of the door. They both jumped up, suddenly very alert. The doorknob was turning. The alarms hadn’t gone off. Who the hell had broken through his security system? There were only a handful of people in the world that could. Jason dashed for the side table to grab one of his guns. Marinette had jumped to the other side of the couch and was making her way to the other side of the room to grab the bo staff she had dropped there earlier. Gun trained on the door, safety off, he waited as it creaked open.
A mop of red hair peered around the door. “Jay!”
Jason had half a mind to shoot the bastard.
He lowered his gun, noting that Marinette lowered her staff at the same time. “Friend of yours?” she asked him.
“Not for much longer.”
“Hey there, I’m Roy. You must be Marinette.” Roy went over and shook her hand.
“Hi! I’m Jason’s…” she looked over at him. They hadn’t really defined their relationship. He was going to formally ask her during lunch. They had kind of skipped a step in the moment.
“Girlfriend,” he finished for her.
“…girlfriend,” she repeated with a smile. “Oh! You can join us for lunch! I’ll go make you a sandwich.” She hopped off to the kitchen, dropping the staff back where it was before, haphazardly on the ground.
“Why are you here? You knew to go to the other safehouse.”
“I just wanted to meet the chick who tamed the infamous Jason Todd.”
He glared at Roy.
“Okay, okay. I get it now,” Roy said, all teasing gone. “All the sunshine smile comments. She’s gorgeous man. Congrats.” Jason grinned. “Are you and your girl up for some company?”
“Uhm, sure, let me just ask her.”
“Aww checking in with the girlfriend. How sweet,” Roy teased again.
“Girlfriend?!”
Jason heard the squeal from behind him. Dick. He sighed and prepared for the tackle hug. Sure enough, a moment later, Dick was winding an arm around his shoulders. “I’m so happy for you!”
“Is there a reason why we all had to come? Couldn’t just one of us have interrogated the girl?” Damian complained as he entered Jason’s safehouse. Oh hell. Dick and Roy were bad enough, but all of them?
Sure enough, Bruce, Damian and Tim were standing in the entryway. Alfred, Steph, Barbara, Cass and Duke were lingering at the door. Ah hell. They really did mean everyone. It seemed as though the rest of Jason’s family had decided to do the same thing as Roy, and they all showed up, even Alfred. Traitors, the lot of them.
Marinette chose then to return to the living room, one sandwich in hand. It definitely wouldn’t be enough now.
“Oh, hello! You must be Jason’s family. It’s so nice to meet you!” Marinette hadn’t even missed a beat. She put down the sandwich in front of Roy and started introducing herself to everyone. Jason sat down and started eating with Roy. Alfred had eventually excused himself to the kitchen, likely to make everyone else food.
Marinette managed to chat with them about nothing of any real substance while they ate their quick lunch. Every time they attempted to steer her into an interrogation, she artfully dodged the questions. It was impressive and incredibly subtle. If he hadn’t known her as long as he had, he would have thought it was completely innocent. He had to admit again that she was hiding something.
Tim was on his fourth attempt to get Marinette to spill anything of substance when there was a sudden crash. Through the living room window came a red blur of a person. They wasted no time gathering their bearings, and went straight for Marinette, knocking Bruce, who had been closest, to the ground. The strange man went to kick her, but she jumped up from her seat, doing a few back handsprings towards the wall, away from him. She didn’t stop at the wall. Instead, she used it as a launch point, and as she was flying past the attacker through the air, she called out “Plagg, Claws Out!”
Green light surrounded her, and she was left with cat ears, short, spikey black hair, and a belted tail wrapping around a leather catsuit. She kicked the stranger as she went flying past. A few regular handsprings later and she was on the other side of the room while he tried to figure out what happened. She whipped out a bo staff from her belt.
What the hell?
The rest of the heroes stood there confused, before realising that the house and Marinette was under attack. Jason grabbed his gun from the side table again. Tim made for the bo staff still on the ground from earlier. Dick was inching towards the bench where the escrima Jason had used for practice were still sitting out. Damian had pulled out a knife from his pocket, as had Cass. Bruce was still sitting stunned on the floor. The others didn’t have any weapons.
Jason couldn’t get a clear shot. Marinette and the attacker were stuck in a frenzied battle. She whipped the staff around faster than Tim ever could have to block one of the attacks. Jason moved around so that he could aim without anyone else caught in the range in case the attacker dodged.
Finally, he had a shot. He had his rubber bullets in, but at this range, there was still a chance the guy would be killed. He inwardly cringed at the lecture he would receive later, and took the shot anyways.
Marinette lunged forward, to his horror, straight into the path of the bullet. Her staff whipped around, blurring at the speed. The bullet ricocheted to the ground. The attacker was momentarily thrown off guard because Marinette had saved his life, and that gave her the chance to get the upper hand. She knocked him hard into the wall with a kick launched from her staff. As he slammed into the plaster, cracking it, Marinette whipped forward. She pinned the man to the wall, and saying, “Cataclysm,” held her hand in front of his face.
Her clawed hand cracked with ominous black energy. Jason could feel it in his bones. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
“Leave,” Marinette growled. “And stop sending your little friends after me… or I will destroy you all, like you seem to think I did.”
“You did. We have the-”
“Plagg had a bit of fun with his captors. If you continue, I’ll let him finish what he started.”
The attacker’s eyes went wide. “No, Grand Guardian, spare us.”
“Leave. Do not return. Do not seek me out. Let us live in peace.”
The man nodded. Marinette stopped whatever the black bubbling was in her hand, and released him. She turned to the side to let him pass. But the man instantly went back on his word, and kicked her, sending her flying right into Jason. He caught her, but they both went down, landing hard against the television table. His family engaged the man, but even fighting against several trained Bats at once didn’t seem to phase him. Just who the hell was this guy?
Marinette groaned and reached into a pocket. She pulled out a pair of glasses and fixed them on her face, saying, “Kaalki, Full Gallop.” Another flash of light later and her hair and outfit had slightly changed.
“Voyage!” she called out, aiming an arm at the attacker, who was surrounded. A portal opened up below him, and he dropped through it. It closed instantly after. She sighed and got up.
“Thanks for the help Bats and… sorry, who are you supposed to be?”
Everyone was staring at her. It was now clear to everyone that their covers were completely blown. Bruce was livid. Damian, interestingly, looked as thoughtful as Tim, Cass and Babs did. Dick just looked plain excited. Duke was very clearly confused.
“Arsenal,” Roy responded automatically.
“Oh, that explains how you know Jay.”
As if this was a totally normal, everyday thing for her.
“I probably owe you an explanation,” she began, but didn’t continue. She had turned to him instead. “I tried to explain at lunch, really I did. I’ll understand if you don’t want me around anymore.”
She told the room patiently about her past. She had been Ladybug, the hero of Paris. They had actually heard of her. She guarded magical jewelry that housed mini gods called kwami. During her fight, she had been made the Guardian of the mother box, housing powers for the creation and destruction of the universe. It turned out that when Hawkmoth had been defeated, Marinette had refused to give the box back. Being in charge of that particular box meant she was in charge of the Order. They had never warmed up to her and her ways, like they had promised to try to do. The result was attempts to get the box back, and retaliations on her part where she had stolen the other boxes and merged them with her own. Her last ‘raid’ had damaged part of the temple, where Plagg had ‘helped.’ His help had led to two deaths. Marinette assumed at that point that the Guardians decided that they were done playing and hired the League of Assassins and hitmen to take her out. When that didn’t work, they had to come themselves, but they underestimated her, as just Su-Han had been sent.
When it became clear that none of his family were going to attack her or take back the box or jewellery that she had mentioned, she dropped her transformation, and sat back down on the couch.
“I’ll need to disappear for a while. I’ve been expecting an attack since Jagged released my information, but I thought I would have a bit more time. Seems they got better with technology after all. I’ll need new IDs… Kwami, where on Earth do you even get fake IDs!”
Jason laughed, and was soon joined by Roy and most of his family. “We can take care of the IDs… but where are you going to go?”
“I have no clue! I sent Su-Han to a deserted island in the middle of the Pacific, so I probably have a couple of weeks before they bother me again…”
She was leaving. His girlfriend was leaving. He had finally gotten together with her, and she was leaving! He looked around at his family. There was no way he wasn’t going with her, if she would have him. Finally he looked at Roy. He gave a brief nod. Hell… why not?
“How do you feel about joining the Outlaws for a while?”
“Really?!” she jumped onto his lap and gave him a hug before sitting down properly and giving Roy a quick hug too. Roy turned a bit pink at the attention.
Hmm… maybe the two people he trusted most and felt like home could be just that… a home no matter where in the world they were. A bizarre, patchwork family of his own, minus the adoption habits, plus a few dozen mini gods to care for instead.
A tiny black cat floated up in front of Jason’s face, shocking the shit out of him. It was one thing to hear about chibi gods. It was another to see them. “As wonderful as this cuddlefest is, could I get some cheese? Camembert.”
“And a sugar cube or two,” a miniature horse piped in from the coffee table.