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It’s turning in your stomach. Resting on the tips of your fingers and itching on your wrists, until they’re a little raw and red from being scratched. There’s a tense, wired sensation in your chest with it, and your lips are bleeding from being chewed, but no one is listening to you.
And this worry is explosive. And it’s bubbling and rising, and the longer it festers the more you lose your mind. You haven’t slept in almost thirty hours. Until Alfred forced cookies upon you while you waited, you hadn’t eaten in twenty-five. But you can’t just wait. If you let this just pass, like everyone keeps telling you to, it might be more than a storm. It might be the end of the world.
Jason’s missing.
And you really can’t understand why everyone else isn’t freaking the fuck out about it.
You’ve been pacing back and forth for about five hours, in the entrance hall of Wayne Manor. You shouldn’t be here. Jason would be furious, either with you for going without him, or his family for allowing themselves to be in your presence.
In their defense, they really have tried to avoid you. Dick had hidden in his office at Bludhaven until you broke down the door. Tim blocked you on every platform—although you doubted he would’ve had answers in the first place, you had to cover all your bases before you resorted to this—and Cass had been hiding behind her own car for fifteen minutes when you’d showed up at her apartment. You’d even asked Damian.
“Todd tends to vanish on us,” he’d said, giving you a cold, strange look you didn’t understand. “I wouldn’t bother trying to find him. He’ll show himself when he’s finished brooding.”
You’d scowled. “He’s always brooding. He doesn’t just vanish-“
“Really.” Damian had drawled. “There have been months where he cut contact with all of us. Not me, of course. I am always able to work out where he goes, because I am not an emotional fool like father.”
“So where is he.”
You’d only gotten a shrug. “What is it worth to you.”
“Anything.” You’d answered too fast, and Damian had just shaken his head.
“You know, I find it quite ridiculous, that you’d offer so freely for Todd.”
“He’s my best friend-“
“I’m sure you believe that.”
You’d bitten the inside of your cheek, crossing your arms over your chest. You wouldn’t shove a child. “Damian. Where is he.”
“Nowhere of your concern.”
“You don’t know.”
“I know.” Damian had snapped. “And I won’t be telling you.”
You’d snorted, and shrugged as lazily as you could manage. “No, I think you don’t actually know.”
Damian had sat a little taller, narrowing his eyes. “I do.”
“How could you know, but Roy doesn’t-“
“Because Father told me, and not Todd’s criminal friends.”
You’d stood a little taller, your nails digging into your arms. “So Bruce knows.”
“Of course Father knows. He knows everything, except for how to keep good company-“
At that point, you’d just walked away. If you kept trying to talk to Damian, he’d probably end up attacking you at some point, and you have enough issues at the moment.
Bruce knew where Jason was. Which probably meant everyone else did, as well—or he’d only confided in Damian, which seemed unlikely—and they’d all lied straight to your face and said not worry.
That should have calmed you down. If Jason’s family wasn’t worried about him, he was probably fine. At the very least, not varnished off the face of the Earth and possibly about to die again.
But there’s that itching feeling.
And Jason always tells you before he goes somewhere. Even if it’s just a post it note left on your counter, a paper slipped under your door, or a knock on your window around midnight to make sure you’re aware. Most of the time he doesn’t say where—it’s a risk enough for you to know he secret identity, but you’d worked that one out yourself—but he tells you he’ll be gone. Gives you a timeframe. Tells you to call Roy if you need something, or Alfred if you really need something.
If he wasn’t in any danger, they wouldn’t be lying to you.
And they’d all avoided your gaze, when you’d questioned them. Like they were trying to keep something from you. At first you’d thought they were just trying to get you to leave them alone.
Now your head keeps spinning around what could possibly warrant them lying to you. It would be easier to just tell you he was doing some vigilante things, and forgot to tell you. You would have been pissed, but left them alone.
But they lied.
So as far as you’re concerned, Jason’s still missing.
And you love him too much to stop until you’re sure he’s safe.
“Miss,” Alfred says your name, and you whirl around with wide eyes. “Master Wayne will still return within the hour. I recommend you sit, rather than drive yourself up the wall.”
You bite your lip, and shuffle over to one of the too-fancy couches. Your arms remain wrapped around your stomach, as you raise your brows at Alfred in a silent plea for approval. You’ve only met him three time before, and there has been an almost sickening need for him to like you. He was the only one Jason fully respected. It still feels like the sky is going to fall, if he decided you’re not good enough. That in this polished wood and velvet hallways, you’re just a stain on the carpet.
But he nods, his lips twitching sightly, and it’s a small spark through your chest.
“Would you like a drink?”
You shake your head, looking back down to your hands. You’ve started to pick at your nails. That can’t be a good sign.
“Well, may I offer a recommendation?” Alfred’s words are slow, careful, and you nod, even if you don’t really want to hear it. “Breathe.”
You give him a tight smile. “I was.”
“Not in any way that matters.” Alfred says plainly, scanning you over before turning, and saying over his shoulder. “You do Master Todd no favors by hurting yourself.”
Alfred vanishes back into whatever that door leads to—there are too many doors, in this stupid house—and you curl a little further into yourself, taking a shaking breath.
You know you probably look insane. Losing your mind over something that might be nothing.
But it’s Jason.
So it’s never nothing. He doesn’t have anyone but you to worry about him like this. If he could, he’d pretend nothing was wrong, ever. He does. There have been countless bullet wounds, too many broken bones, and a lot of times his jaw was clenched so tight you knew he was going to explode. You have to stress and go insane over this, or else Jason would just let it drift off down the water. You’re the only one who makes him drink extra water and go to the doctor and sleep. You’re the only one he can tell everything to, because the only skin you have in the game is him.
You don’t care about the politics and complexities of Gotham’s vigilantes. About the morality wars and actual wars and business deals or secret plans. You care about Jason.
Sometimes, you really don’t understand how he doesn’t know you love him. You’re not good at hiding it.
You’ve never been good at it.
“I got you a donut.” You’d mumbled, only a few weeks after you’d met him. He still wore his mask around you. You still pretended that you might not let him in the window, every time he appeared. “I didn’t know what you liked, so- Glazed.”
“Glazed?” Jason had snorted. “Do I look fuckin’ eighty to you?”
You’d tapped your fingers on the counter, and given him a nervous smile. “Maybe. You don’t have hair. Or teeth.”
Another laugh. Even at the start, making him laugh had felt like some sort of trophy. Something about the sound had seemed rare. “I got teeth, sweetheart. And hair.”
“Okay.” You’d shrugged. “I don’t believe you, though.”
“That hurts my feelings.”
“Oh. Oops.” Your expression and tone hadn’t changed. “Sorry.”
Jason had shaken his head, and pulled the donut across the counter. “You sure sound it.”
“I am. Just like you have hair.”
“I got hair. And I’ll have you know,” he aimed the donut at you, and you’d flushed slightly under the attention. “I condition. So it’s nice hair.”
You’d leaned forward, watching the white fake-eyes of the mask. “Sounds like what someone who doesn’t have hair would say.”
“Do I gotta cut some off and give it to you?”
“That would be really creepy, Red-“
“I think you’d like it.” He’d shrugged, and you’d frozen. “You seem like you’d like creepy things.”
You’d swallowed, your voice getting higher than you wanted it to be. But he’d been thinking about you. What kind of things you’d like. Caring about if you thought he’d have hair.
“Thank you.” You’d whispered, your face open with an almost stupid adoration, and Jason had coughed.
“No problem, you, uh- It works for you.”
You’d stared at each other for a second, and you’d been leaning forward a little further than you probably needed to, but he was magnetic. Broad, dry, muscled and fitting into your life so fucking fast. And you wanted to be closer to him than you probably had any right to, especially when you’d only known him as Red.
“Well- Do you- Are there creepy things you like?” You’d asked, a little desperate for him to keep talking to you—and maybe stay forever—and he’d paused, seriously considering the question.
As if he cared what he said to you.
“Don’t love storms, or- Clowns.” He’d been silent for a long moment, but you’d waited. “Monsters never really scared me, not with fuckin’ people. Uh-“
“Houses?” You’d offered. “Big ones. Or- Bats?”
Jason had huffed in dry amusement. “Nah. Maybe- Crows. They’re kinda cool.” You had been able to feel his gaze through the mask, as his voice had dropped. “Smart birds.”
You’d hummed, offering him a smile. “They throw each other funerals.”
“Shit.” Jason had looked down to his donut. “Alright. Crows. That’s my creepy thing.”
You’d laughed, and Jason had stood a little taller. He hadn’t eaten the donut you’d gotten him at your apartment, but you hadn’t expected him to. Not with the mask.
But the Hood mask had been removed after a few months. The domino mask another half-year later, when you’d worked out who he was. He’d told you, casually, that his favorite donuts were the kind with jelly. You’d gotten him some, he’d looked at you like you handed him the Sun itself, and you’d gotten a little dizzy.
You’d been all his since you met him. Every conversation since then had only been falling further and further down, and you’d started to feel like a bubbly schoolgirl in his presence.
It made you say stupid things. Do stupid things. Sit next to him when he fell asleep, and let his head rest on your shoulder. Buy him more donuts, in what might have been an attempt to Pavlov him into loving you back.
Go to see his father, when he’s explicitly told you not to, just to make sure you’re not about to lose the only man you’ve ever loved.
You see his feet first. Black shiny shoes, stopping in front of you.
You swallow, and look up to meet Bruce Wayne’s gaze. He’s wearing a tie, at 9pm on a Tuesday, in his own house. His face isn’t cold, but it’s mostly just neutral. You can almost see the files being sorted in his mind, as he scans you over.
There’s a statuesque feeling to him, that Jason’s never had. Standing tall with his shoulders thrown back, and whole body relaxed.
But this is also Bruce. Not Batman. And you’re probably getting what Jason’s called the Bruce Show. Nothing you’re seeing is who Bruce actually is.
Batman.
You’re not sure if he’s aware you know. You’re not supposed to. But it wasn’t hard to work out, after the whole Jason-Red Hood thing.
And the longer you look at him, the more you can see an almost phantom resemblance. You know Jason’s adopted, and that there’s not actual genetic connection. But it’s something in the lines of their faces. Guarded, heavy exhaustion. A lot of anger. Even more care.
You’ve been staring at him too long. It’s starting to look weird.
“Mr. Wayne.” You extend your hand, brushing off your pants as you stand. “I’m-“
“I know who you are.” Bruce says, and you get a firm shake, but he still won’t look away from you. “And you may call me Bruce.”
It’s unnerving.
You’re speaking before you can help yourself.
“Oh, cool, and I- I know who you are, Jason- I mean- You’re his father, and- Other things- I’m sorry.” You take a deep breath as Bruce just stares at you, pulling your hand back. “Can I please sit back down?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, and right when you’re about to—maybe—start crying, he clears his throat. “I think it may be best if you sit in my study.”
You swallow, but nod, and follow him through one of the stupid doors. You can’t tell if he’s trying to confuse you or get you lost, but there are so many turns and stairs and hallways that you’re lost within seconds. Bruce isn’t looking back, to check that you’re still there. When you reach the study—another lavish, fancy room with someone too many and not enough things in it, all at once—he sits, and nods to the chairs across his desk.
“Thank you for meeting with me.” You mumble, crossing your legs and forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “I, um- I know you’re busy-“
“I’m sure you do,” Bruce says your name, leaning forward, and you blink at him. “I understand you’re here to bother me about Jason Todd, as you’ve been bothering all my other children.”
“I-“
He shakes his head, raising a hand, and you fall silent. “Listen to me very close, miss. If you need help, we can pay for it. But Jason Todd has been dead for thirteen years.”
You stare at him, any words dying in your throat. You know Jason’s siblings know about you. You’d always assumed that someone—if not Jason himself—had mentioned you to Bruce. Just in passing, so he’d know there was someone running around with everyone’s secret identities.
It might be a test.
If it is, you have to pass.
You sit up, raise your chin, and try to make your voice level. Controlled. A woman demanding answers, not a girl about to start crying because her friend is missing. “Mr. Wayne-“
“Bruce.”
“Bruce. We both know that isn’t true.”
He doesn’t react. At least, not visibly. “Jason died at fifteen. And while we have all adjusted, I do not appreciate you dragging up the tragedy of his untimely death for us-“
“He’s not dead.”
Something flashes in Bruce’s eyes. “His grave is in my family cemetery, I can have Alfred escort you to it-“
“I don’t need to be escorted.” You cross one ankle over the other, angling your chin up. “Jason is alive. He’s been alive for five years. He has a lot of safe houses through the city, but he mostly lives in an apartment in Crime Ally. He comes here for dinner every other Saturday, but he says it’s only for Alfred. And most nights, for team meetings.” It probably isn’t smart to keep talking, but you need to make your point fast. “In the Batcave.”
“You-“
“I know. All of it.” You hold his gaze, refusing to let yourself waver. “I know who Jason is, I know who his siblings are. I know who you are.”
Bruce only stares at you. It’s like being under a microscope. He’s picking you apart, looking for tiny movements or breaths that might damn you, anything that would make you a liar or a proper threat. The best thing to do is probably just keep still. Sit tall. Wait for him to either kick you out, or tell you where the fuck Jason is, and what he got himself into-
“And who do you think I am?”
You swallow, but force yourself to speak. “Batman.” You should probably add a sir, after. For Jason, you don’t.
If he decides to kick you out, you have a backup plan. Rip the city apart, see if you can find a Justice League phone number and bother everyone until they fucking listen, get into the camera footage of Gotham, and try and find him like that-
“Did he tell you?” Bruce’s tired voice cuts through the silence, and you blink.
This isn’t Bruce Wayne anymore. His shoulders are tighter, his back somehow straighter, his jaw clenched a little tighter. He’s given in. You don’t know why—Jason has said Bruce would defend their identities to his last breath—but he has. So you’re making progress.
“Did- Jason tell me?”
Bruce nods, and your leg starts to bounce again as you speak.
“No, I- I figured it out. All of it. He didn’t betray anyone Bruce, I just- I don’t think the masks do as much as you think they do-“
“They tend to do enough.” He says, arching one brow, and you flush slightly. Maybe you’d stared at Jason’s jawline and lips and hair long enough to be able to identify them in any photo ever. But you’d also listened to everything he told you and pieced tiny things together, so there had been some investigative work.
And he doesn’t get to judge you. You’re here to judge him.
“Well, regardless.” You narrow your eyes, and Bruce mostly just looks amused. “I know. And everyone else knows about me, so I wasn’t harassing them-“
“Cassandra told me she had to hide behind a car.” Bruce cuts you off, leaning forward to brace his arms on the desk. “Dick warned me you would be a problem.”
You blink. “So they’ve told you about me.”
“Yes.”
“And you still lied about-“
“You are not in the family. I exercise caution.” Bruce sighs. “But yes. I am aware of you and Jason’s situation. I have gotten the same lecture he gave his siblings about leaving you alone. But I would have thought he’d give you one about staying away from us.” He pauses, then adds. “Staying away from me.”
“He did.” You mutter, picking at your nails. “But Damian said you knew where he was. And I- I need to know, Mr- Bruce. Please.”
It’s falling apart quickly, the strong woman approach. But it’s rising back up your throat. And you just need to know he’s okay.
“I must ask,” Bruce asks, completely ignoring your question. “How did you meet Jason?”
It doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like a command. “Are- Can you tell me where he is?”
“If you answer mine, first.”
You frown. “But I asked before you did.”
There’s a strong chance you’re imagining it. But you could fucking swear his lips twitch. “You did. But you’re still going to answer my question first.”
He’s right. He has what you’re desperate for. You don’t really have any leverage. But-
“Promise you’ll tell me.” You whisper, not caring if he can hear your desperation. “Please.”
Bruce gives you a small nod. “You have my word.”
“Okay.” You take a deep, long breath, and focus on your fingers. Looking right at Bruce feels risky. “It’s not that interesting. He just- He was Red Hood…ing. Around. Like he does. And I was getting attacked, so he saved me. Then drove me home. And- now we’re friends.”
You glance up, hoping that was enough.
It doesn’t seem to be.
“He drove you home.” Bruce repeats back, and you nod nervously. “Did you request that he do that?”
“No. He offered.”
Bruce hums, and you take a deep breath.
“Can you-“
“Did you offer him anything.” Bruce says, his tone oddly serious. “In exchange for saving him.”
“No, he was going to walk away, and then I- just asked if he was okay. And he told me he was, then offered to drive me home.”
He’d stared at you, too. Turned around, in the dark, grimy alleyway, and just watched you in the dark. He’d been wearing the Hood mask, but you’d been able to feel the prickle on your skin.
You’d smiled at him, even as your wrists and legs still hurt, though the downpour of the rain.
Jason had offered to drive you home.
And you’re not sure what Bruce is looking for, but that’s all you have. Jason saved you. You made him hot chocolate, when you got home, but he’d been gone before you could even offer it. The next night, you’d found him pacing the fire escape out your window, and you’d invited him inside.
Somehow, it led to you here. In front of Bruce Wayne. Ready to outright beg him just to tell you where Jason is, because it’s going to kill you soon.
“Is he hurt?” You whisper, desperate for just something. “I- I can answer more questions, just, tell me he’s okay.”
Bruce doesn’t speak, for a moment. Most of this conversation has been long, weighted silences that make you feel sicker.
It’s a sharp breath, when Bruce finally shakes his head. And you can feel just a little of that aching worry settle back down.
“Jason is not physically injured.”
“Not… physically.” You echo, your hands curling into fists. “Is he okay?”
Bruce’s jaw tics. “He will be.”
Your mouth falls open, the world starting to get a little too loud as your heart moves to your throat, and Bruce pushes on before you can freak out.
“There was an incident. He will make a full recovery. He just needs time.”
You swallow, biting your tongue to stop yourself from just screaming. An incident could mean anything from a broken bones to more. And nobody would tell you. Jason’s been hurt and you’re the only person he really has that he trusts, and why didn’t they just fucking tell you.
“I want to see him.”
Bruce sighs. “You will see him when he’s recovered.”
“No.” You cross your arms, and your confidence isn’t fake anymore. It’s built from a white-hot, stark rage that’s growing in your chest, because Jason’s hurt and he’s a massive fucking idiot who’s probably going to pretend everything is healed before it actually is, and you need to be there to make him rest.
He’s told you he needs you. Jason’s said, when he was tired and half-asleep, that he wishes he could be with you all the time. That none of the bad shit felt real, when he was here.
You’d almost told him you loved him there. You’ve never managed to get it out, in case it changes what you have.
It will flay your heart to ribbons, if you tell him and he says he knew, but just didn’t feel the same.
But he still needs you.
And you’re not bending to Bruce Wayne until he tells you where the fuck Jason is.
He says your name slowly, tone firm. “Jason has requested that he stay in isolation, until his recovery-“
“Is it contagious?”
Bruce raises his brows. “Will you believe me if I say yes?”
You shake your head, and he sighs.
“And will it have any effect, if I tell you that nobody informed you at Jason’s request.”
That stings. Drives right between your ribs and makes the top of your chest tight. You’re still not giving up. “Jason’s a fucking idiot.”
There it is again. The twitch of Bruce’s lips. “He would not be happy if I told you.”
“He’s never happy. Tell me.”
A strange look flashes over Bruce’s face, and he sighs. “Officially, I am telling you that Jason is in isolated containment in a safe location, with aide for whatever he needs, and that I will reach out to you when he is released.”
“And… unofficially?”
That’s a smile. Not a normal smile—no teeth, barely even a curve of his lips—but a smile. Bruce’s voice drops slightly, as he leans forward, and he’s fucking smiling. “Unofficially, he’s in my personal safe house, in the Bowery. I believe Alfred keeps the address, and is willing to share with the right people, upon request.”
Alfred.
Alfred can tell you where Jason is.
You almost sprint out of the room, after thanking Bruce. Alfred is almost exactly where you left him, and the plea is barely out of your mouth before he’s listening off the address, a tiny smile—similar to Bruce’s—on his face.
“It will be fingerprint guarded. I recommend you clean your hands.”
You nod, still typing into your phone, then freeze. “But I- You don’t have my-“
“Master Todd added them to the system about seven months ago.”
“Oh.” You swallow. “But that’s… before I told him I knew.”
“I am aware.”
“Okay. I- Cool. Alfred, thank you so much-“
“Of course, Miss,” he hums your name, giving you a tiny nod. “Anything for a friend of Master Todd.”
He says friend with a tiny edge to it, but you don’t bother to stick around and question him about it, or even deny what you know he means. You are Jason’s friend. You’ll be his friend for as long as he’ll allow.
But friends don’t harass estranged parents for locations. Friends don’t sprint across the city, just to see that someone’s okay. Don’t run up the stairs and bang on the door, loud enough that it could wake a mammoth from hibernation in ice.
Friends don’t bounce on their feet, and feel worse and worse the longer they go without an answer. Friends do worry about each other. But not so much that it feels like their heart is going to fall out of their mouth, if they don’t just hear his voice. You only need to hear Jason’s voice, just need to know that he’s fucking alive-
Your phone buzzes, and you yank it out so fast you almost drop it.
Jay
Go home.
You scowl. No
Open the door, Jason
There’s a pause, and you lean forward, trying to listen for signs of life through the door. It’s a Batman safe house, and it’s likely soundproofed, but you just need something. Just a shuffle or a cough, so you know he’s not immobile on the floor and trying to be stupid and noble. Dying without bothering anyone, whining to himself about how nobody cared the first time so it doesn’t matter, ignoring that you’re going to personally strangle his father if the last thing Jason tells you is go home, because he died five seconds later-
Jaay
You can’t be here.
You roll your eyes. Yes, I can
Jay
I’m serious.
Leave.
Another pause.
I’ll explain soon, you just have to leave now.
Please.
You frown, and glance up at the door, then back to your phone.
You hit the call button, and it goes to voicemail in two seconds.
Jay
Don’t call me.
Go home.
You kick the door, just enough to make it shake. No. Let me in, Jason, or I’m going to walk in
Jay
It’s a safehouse, sweetheart, it’s locked.
He’s so fucking stupid. You’re going to punch him, then kiss all over his stupid, pretty face. You programmed my fingerprints in, dummy.
Another pause. You glance up at the door, half expecting it to open, and when it doesn’t you lean forward with a sigh. You don’t want to just push in. It’s an invasion of his privacy. But you’re going to. Just to hit him, or shout at him for not telling you, or maybe hold him in your arms and cradle him like a baby.
Your phone starts to ring.
He’s calling you.
“Jason?” You stand back up, staring at the door. It’s pointless to hide the panic in your voice. He should hear it anyway, so he knows that you mean it. “Jason, are you okay-“
“‘M fine.” His voice is barely audible, and hoarse. “You gotta go. Just- Fuck- Go-“
Your hand curls into a fist. “You don’t sound fine, Jay-“
“Sick.” He mutters. “Survived worse. Go.”
His sentences are too short. Voice too low. You’ve seen Jason sick, heard him sick, and this is different. This is more.
“Are you goin’?” He asks, and you almost laugh.
“No.” You place your hand on the door. “I’m giving you one minute to tell me why I can’t come in, and if I think it’s a stupid reason I’m coming in anyway.”
“No-“ He moans, actually fucking moans through the speaker, and you swallow. “It’s- ‘m gonna get you sick, princess-“
“Bruce said it wasn’t contagious. Try again.”
The line goes almost dead quiet for a second, and when Jason speaks again, his voice is low. “You talked to Bruce?”
Shit. “I was worried-“
“So you went straight to fucking Bruce-“
“I asked everyone else first, Jason, but nobody would tell me-“
“So you give up, sweetheart-“
“No.” You snap, moving your hand to grab the doorknob. “You need my help-“
“Fuck.” He moans again, and heat starts to rise to your cheeks. “Don’t say that, you’re- You got no fuckin’ idea-“
“Jason-“
He groans, and you bite your tongue. He’s not even answering anymore, and he doesn’t sound okay, and maybe he’s going to be pissed at you but he’s been pissed before. He’s always gotten over it.
You won’t get over him not being okay.
“I’m coming in.” You snap into the phone, hanging up before he can argue, and open the door.
It’s dark. Almost all the lights are off, save for one, under a polished white door. You storm across the room, your head spinning too much to really think anything through, and shove it open, a long, furious lecture prepared for Jason to understand that he can’t just fucking vanish and shut you out like this, and-
It dies on your tongue, and your mouth hangs open as the air becomes hot.
You’re in the bedroom. That one light is coming from a small lamp, seeming to turned down to it’s lowest setting. It’s a warm color, washing the whole room in a kind of golden glow.
Making Jason—sprawled out on the bed, covered in sweat and nothing else, and fisting his cock in his hand—look like a fucking god.
He stares at you, eyes wide and face red, croaking out your name as he keeps fucking himself, the sound of his skin slapping filling the room and making your heart skip and flutter and drop right into your stomach.
You spin around, your whole body feeling like it’s on fire, and wrap your arms around your stomach as you try to remember how to speak.
“I- I’m sorry, Jay- I- I didn’t mean to- I thought you were just sick and I- I didn’t- God, I’m so sorry-“ You take a shuddering breath, squeezing your eyes shut.
It doesn’t help. You can still hear him, grunting and jerking himself off right behind you, and now all you can see is him on the bed. It might have branded itself onto your brain. Jason laying down, his arms shining with sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead and mussed from this. His eyes had been hooded, the Lazarus glow hooded and gleaming. His dick had been red and throbbing and big, it had been so big and broad and that had to be once of his resurrection enhanced qualities, because there was no way it was somehow everything you’d even pictured.
Just pictured.
You were never supposed to see it.
Jason didn’t want you to see it. He’d asked you not to come inside, and you’d been stubborn and selfish and ignored him.
“I- I’m sorry.” You breathe out, choking on your own words. He might never look at you again. “I’ll go, Jay, just- I’m sorry.”
You make for the door, biting on your tongue to stop any tears, and Jason groans your name from the bed again.
“Don’t.”
You freeze, and force yourself to keep facing the wall. “What?”
“Don’t go.” He moans, and you can still hear his skin slapping against itself. You’re going to burst into flames.
“Jason, you told me to go-“
“I- I know, I- Fuck-“ His moans are getting more and more lewd, and your knees are starting to feel weak. “I didn’t want ya’- Shit- Can’t put this on you, can’t- Christ, don’t move-“
“Jay.” You swallow, keeping your voice soft. “I don’t know what you mean-“
“Don’t leave me.” He mutters, his voice breaking slightly. “I- I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but- Don’t go. Please.”
He doesn’t want you to go.
And this is going to kill you. You’re never going to sleep again, because you’re going to be caught on the image of Jason like this, and your heart will never stop trying to beat itself out of your chest.
But her wants you to stay.
So you will.
You turn slowly, pressing your back to the wall in a weak attempt to remain grounded, and hope he can’t see your flush as your eyes meet.
He’s crying. Jason’s eyes are glossy and some of the shine on his face isn’t sweat, but tears. You try to keep yourself focused on just his face—the sharp clench of his jaw, the way his tongue keeps flicking over his lips, how his nostrils flare with every single breath—but you can still hear it. And you don’t know how long he’s been going at it, or how long he can last, but he probably should’ve cum by now. When you lose it just enough to glance down, he’s rutting into his fist so fast you’re worried he might hurt himself.
The ache between your legs is unbearable. You have to press your thighs tight together and wrap your arms tight around your body, to stop your fingers from wandering into your pants.
Jason moans your name again, and you take a tiny step forward on instinct alone. Not to touch him. Just to be near him. He fucking crying, he needs help.
But Jason freezes, and almost scrambles back, his eyes wide on yours. Tears start to prick at your own eyes, and you press back to the wall, shaking your head frantically.
“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“
“No, it’s not-“ Jason groans, slowly starting to stroke himself again. “You gotta stay there. Please.”
You swallow, and nod weakly. “I’m sorry, Jay. I- I was just- I’m sorry. Do you just- Want me here?”
He grunts, shaking his head. “Don’t.”
“Don’t?”
“Don’t ask that.” He mutters, his hips slamming up, and you swallow.
“Ask-“
“That.” He repeats, and you swallow, really not understanding what the fuck he means.
He’s stubborn.
And in pain.
So you try a different approach.
“Jason- What happened.”
“Ivy.” He grunts, his eyes never leaving yours. “New shit, got hit. Now I- I can’t-“
He moans again, and you might be about to drool. You should look away. You can’t.
“It hurts.” He mutters your name, something almost pleading on his face, and you take a deep breath.
This can not be about you. It’s about Jason, being in pain, and you being there for him, just like he’s always been for you. There have been sickness and breakups with meaningless men and nights where everything was just too heavy, and Jason stuck them out with you.
So you’re going to stick this out for him. However he wants you to.
“Is it… going to wear off?”
“Should.”
“Should?” Your eyes widen. “Jason, what happens if it doesn’t-“
“Dunno.” He mutters. “Don’t care.”
“Jason Todd-“ You take another step forward on instinct, and he freezes again.
“Don’t.” He repeats, his voice only a croak, but he’s not leaning away this time. “Don’t get closer, I- I’ll-“
It’s not about you. It doesn’t matter that your heart is breaking. This is still about Jason. “I’m not going to touch you, Jay.” You whisper, trying to reassure him, and he just shakes his head frantically.
“I- I know, princess, I know you won’t but, I-“ He groans, eyes fluttering as he watches you. “I won’t be able to not touch you.”
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
“Jay.” You whisper, taking another slow step forward. “Do you want me to touch you?”
He lets out the loudest moan yet, squeezing his eyes shut, and you bite your lower lip. He looks like a fucking painting. Like some twisted work of art that haunts you, that you’re going to think about for the rest of your life. You already think about him all the time, but seeing him like this in personal is as if a star fell down from Heaven, bright and blazing and beautiful.
You want to run your fingers through his hair, kiss and mark his neck, maybe just grind yourself against his abs while you take him in your hand. His doesn’t seem to be doing enough.
And you only ever want to help him.
You take another step, and Jason sits up slightly, watching you with wide eyes.
“Wait, you- Stop-“
You freeze, right at the foot of the bed, and Jason stares at you, opening and closing his mouth with broken, needy sounds.
“What’re you doin’?” He whispers, and you shrug.
“Stopping.”
Jason’s throat bobs. “Why.”
“You told me to?”
He nods, hips jerking up again, and you press your lips tight together. You want to touch him. You won’t until he asks.
And Jason’s scanning over your body. You don’t miss how his movement grow more and more erratic, the longer he stares. How he’s almost panting, his free hand gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles go white. You’d kiss his hand, too. If he let you.
“You’re just-“ He grunts, eyes wide on yours. “Just gonna stand there, sweetheart?”
You hum, speaking slowly. If this is all you get, you can’t mess it up. “Do you want me to go-“
“No.” He almost shouts it, and you blink. “No, don’t go-“
“I won’t.”
Jason movements falter for a split second, his voice getting impossibly lower. “Why.”
“I told you, Jay.” You give him a small smile. “You told me to.”
He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t do what- Fuck- Shouldn’t do what I say-“
“Yes, I should.”
That makes him whimper, his hips pistoling up, and you have to swallow some drool. It’s making your whole body burn, how much you want to climb over him and just take him in your fucking mouth, hands, in you, whatever he wants.
But he has to say it.
“Let me help.” You whisper, fiddling with your fingers, and he groans.
“No, I- I’d hurt you, doll-“
“No, you wouldn’t.”
He jerks again, and you take a deep breath, pushing on.
“This isn’t working for you, Jason, and I- I can help, it doesn’t have to mean anything-“
“Don’t say that.” He mutters, his eyes dropping down. “It’s- I know, but I- Christ, this is why I told ‘em, fuck-“
Jason makes another throaty, desperate sound, and pull every bit of itching, sore worry and turn it into something stronger. Your heart can break. You’ll glue it back together later. After Jason’s better.
“I can call someone.” You mumble. “Anyone you want-“
“Don’t want anyone.” He grunts. “Just- Fuck- You gotta go, princess, please-“
That’s a little more confirmation. Your head is swirling with too many thoughts and desperate attempts to put what’s happening together, but that’s a flare through the fog.
And he never answered your question.
“Jason.” You raise your voice, waiting until he looks at you to continue. “Do you want me to touch you.”
He opens and closes his mouth again, and you shake your head.
“Don’t lie to me. Please.”
“I- I can’t.” He whispers, sitting up a little more. Like he’s trying to get closer. “Not with you, baby, it- I told you, I’m gonna hurt you-“
“You won’t.”
“I can’t control it-“
“I know.” You take the tiniest step forward, your knees pressing against the mattress. “But I trust you.”
He moans, and you bite your tongue, waiting for him to find the words. “It’s- Shit- I can’t-“
“Then let me call someone-“
“Don’t want someone.” He snaps, glaring at you through the addled haze behind his eyes. “It’s- Just fuckin’ you, baby- But- God-“ He closes his eyes again. “It’s gotta be you, I love you- I just-“
His words cut off, right as you realize what he said.
He loves you.
He’s fucking his hand and whimpering and refusing to touch you, but he says he loves you.
And it’s electric. Jumpstarting you into action, as you crawl slowly onto the bed. Still not touching. Just sitting at his side. He loves you. He’s staring at the ceiling, lips parted and tears still falling, and he loves you.
Needs you.
So you’re going to be right fucking here.
“Does it hurt, Jay?” You whisper, and he nods, his face turning in your direction.
“So bad.” He mumbles. “You got no idea, it’s-“
His words fall off in a broken sob, and you sigh.
“Let me help. Please.” You move to your knees, making your voice soft as you hold his gaze. “I want to.”
Jason stares at you, and you can see him trying to figure out how to talk you out of it. “You should go.” He mutters, and you shake your head.
“No. I’m not leaving you.”
He grunts your name, “I won’t be able to stop-“
“Good.”
Jason jaw twitches, his hand flexes slightly, and he’s too stubborn, and you can’t cure him without his permission. You need to push it, just a little further, and if he doesn’t budge, you’ll just sit with him. All through the night and into the morning, longer if that’s what he needs.
But he needs to know that you mean it.
That when it’s him, you always mean it.
You reach out slowly, giving him time to tell you no or move away. But Jason just stares at you, still stroking his cock as he breathes through his mouth, and makes a soft sound when you run your hand through his hair.
He mutters your name, his hand picking up pace, and you can’t look away. He’s still art. And you’d really like him to ruin you.
“Jason.” You whisper. “I want it.”
His eyes shoot open, and you smile at him, covering his hand in the sheets with yours.
“Can I show you?” You whisper. “How much I want it?”
Jason’s throat bobs, and he gives a small, slow nod.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He whispers, his hand flipping up to hold yours tight, his hips jerking up. “Please.”
You nod, squeeze his hand, and slowly pull it away as you shuffle down his body.
It looks painful. His cock is twitching and throbbing in his hand, leaking with precum. When you slowly pry his fist open, and replace it with your own, Jason moans your name as slam his hips up, his hand flying to grab your wrist with a bruising grip.
“Sorry-“ He cuts himself off with a hiss as you swipe your thumb over his tip. “Fucking- God-“
You start to stroke him up and down, and something bright blooms in your chest at the way he starts to sink into the sheets, his eyes falling close and his head thrown back. You pick up your speed, squeezing his base, and his moan of your name is musical. He starts to buck up to meet your hand quickly, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm, but it doesn’t seem to be quiet enough.
He needs more.
So you lean down, and kiss the tip of his cock, just to see want he does.
Jason’s hand flies into your hair, and he almost shoots upright with a low grunt. But he doesn’t pull you away, or push you down. He mostly just seems frozen, watching you like you’re going to bite him.
You wait.
For him, you really would wait forever.
“You don’t have to-“
“Do you want me to?” You let your lips brush against him as you speak, and Jason groans.
“Fuck, you know I do- Jesus-“
That’s all you need. You lean down, sliding your lips down Jason’s dick and letting him bump against the back of your throat. Your fingers curl on his thigh, as you set a slow, painful pace, but you’re not trying to bring him to completion right now.
You’re trying to make him lose control.
It’s not a long game. You take what you can’t fit in your mouth in your hand, and stroke it in time with every flick of your tongue and loud, vibration moan. Jason’s grabs at your hair as you moan, and the feeling of it with his cock, heavy on your tongue, makes the ache between your legs impossible to ignore. You slide your free hand down, fiddling with your pants before slipping them into your underwear, and start to play with your clit. Desperate for just a little friction, while you take care of Jason, to keep to tided over.
Jason hisses your name when you whimper around him, and his hips rut up, making you gag.
You’re yanked off in a second, his eyes wide and panicked. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to-“
“Jay.” You keep your hand on the base of his cock, starting to grind into your fingers. “Please.”
His eyes flash, and he reaches up to swipe a little bit of drool off your lips.
You smile at him, content and drunken on everything about this, and his voice fills with something like awe.
“You- Want this.”
“So bad.” You let your mouth fall open, and moans when his thumb rests itself on your lips. You suck on it, running your tongue of the pad, and let your fingers slip into your pussy. “Want you, Jay, wanna help, want- God, I want you-“
You squeak as he yanks you up, crashing you into a deep, hot kiss. Jason pulls on your hair to angle you how he wants, grabbing at your ass and hauling you to rest over his chest. You can feel where he’s hand, pressed right against your still-clothed cunt, and it makes you moan into his open mouth.
Jason grunts, holding you tighter to his chest as he rolls you over. And you’re drowning in him now. His mouth starts to wander, over your cheeks and jaw before he’s nipping your skin, and sucking his way down your neck. He grabs and palms at you, his fingers only skimming over your sides before he grabs your breast under your shirt. Flicks your nipple, and hisses when you shiver under him, your leg hooking over his waist.
“Jay- Jason-“ You gasp as his mouth finds a soft spot near your ear, his hand shooting down to shove into your pants and cup over your pussy. “Let me- I need to take off my clothing-“
It’s like you’d given him a command. Jason shoots up, and you’re almost out in a daze as he grabs at your pants and underwear, ripping them off your body before diving back down. He takes your nipple in his mouth, his fingers running between the lips of your pussy as he settles above you. You try to tug at his hair—he’s the one that needs attention, his hips trying to fuck the mattress when he could just be inside of you—but he just moans, and slams his fingers inside of you.
Your mouth falls open, as he starts to finger fuck you so fast you can’t keep up. Between the hunger of his mouth on your breasts, the weight of him over you, and the feeling of him pumping and scissoring inside of you, you’re right at the edge in a matter of minutes. Your toes curl, and you try to swallow down your moans, but it’s so hard, when his thumb is finding your clit and rubbing-
Jason moves back up, this kiss a little slower, but no less starved. His tongue presses down your throat, and he lets his teeth graze over your lips, his hand never stopping in your cunt.
“You- It’s-“ You take a ragged breath, trying to cling to whatever words you can drag up. “Jason, I- I’m not the one who, oh-“
You forget how to do anything but moan, as he presses down on your clit.
Jason makes a deep, rumbling sound from his chest.
“I know, princess.” He growls against your lips, crooking inside of you and starting to rub on that one sweet spot that makes you see starlight. “But I- I can’t go slow and- Want it to feel good for you-“
“It’ll feel good.” You whine, trying to grind up to meet his finger. “So good, Jay, I- I need your cock-“
He moans, devouring your every moan and whine, but doesn’t stop his fingers. Not until you’re a shaking mess below him, scratching at his shoulders and wound so tight the tiniest push will make you snap.
Jason pulls out suddenly, leaving you fluttering and soaked and desperate. You make a pathetic noise of need, but it’s quickly turned into a silent scream when Jason yanks up your hips, and drives his cock into you in one movement.
He’s so big. Enough to split you open, and make you feel the hot, painfully perfect stretch of him everywhere. He drops his brow to your shoulder as you both shake, and you grab his face between your hands, pulling it up so he’s looking you in the eyes.
He’s even more beautiful up close. Where you can see every scar on his handsome face, every bit of sweat on his brow, and all the adoration in his eyes.
Adoration.
It’s not just the darkened, heavy lust. Jason’s looking at you like you’re light, filtering through a stained-glass window. Delicate and bright and beautiful, shining just in his hands as he holds them out.
And the light will fade and shift away. But you won’t.
You lean up, kiss him, and roll your hips below him. It makes him hit right over that needy spot again, and your pussy flutters, making him hiss and his hips jerk.
“Shit, you- Fuck-“ Jason moans as you start to kiss on his neck, his hand finding the back of your head. “I’m not gonna be able to last, baby, I-“
He groans your name as you roll your hips again, his face dropping into your shoulder. He’s still not moving.
His skin is burning under your hands, and he’s starting to whimper between words, but he’s an idiot, so he’s not moving.
“Jason.” You kiss the side of his head, and he turns to look at you with hooded, hungry eyes. “Let go.”
“I-“
“Please. I- I’m here, just- Fuck me.”
Something snaps. You see it on his face, the split second before he starts to kiss you like he’s trying to meld his lips into yours. Harsh, with teeth and spit, right as he starts to fuck you.
Properly, fully fuck you.
Jason moves like a man possessed, and you’re lost to it within seconds. There’s not a place on your body that isn’t alight with him. His hands grabbing and pulling at your ass, your thighs, your breasts. His mouth, sucking and kissing anywhere he can manage to get it, leaving bruises you’ll wear like jewelry in the morning. His dick, driving in and out of you at an almost inhuman pace, with sloppy movements.
There shouldn’t be anything romantic about this. He’s fucking you like an animal, tossing you around the bed to try and drive deeper. Your legs pulled up, Jason on his back to suck on your breasts and drill up, you pressed tight to his chest and caged in his arms. But he’s still holding you so carefully. When you’re fully above him, he keeps you steady by your hips. When you’re flipped onto your stomach, your hands pinned behind your back, his thumb rubs small circles on your wrists. When your back is pressed to his chest, he kisses your neck, and starts to rub your clit.
It’s unclear, where he starts and you end. As the first orgasm throws you so high you can’t even fall back down, it’s clear it doesn’t really matter. Jason’s lost to the haze of Ivy’s pollen. It’s clear in the fact that he’s only making deep, feral sounds that roll through your whole body. But when you turn to kiss his neck as another orgasm hits—his fingers won’t stop fucking moving—he rolls you back down onto the mattress, and brushes the hair off your face as he pounds into you.
“Jay- I- I can’t-“ You moan as he flicks his tongue over your nipple. “Oh, God-“
He kisses you, moaning your name down your throat, and other orgasm hits like a tidal wave as he keeps abusing your cunt. You cum with a whine, writhing in his arms—either trying to get away or pull him closer—and that does it.
Jason roars your name as he slams home, and you cling around his neck as a last, tiny orgasms shudders through your body. Your pussy clenches, as he empties inside of you, and your moan is silenced by his mouth, hungry and demanding as he fucks you through his long, desperate orgasm.
You’re still trying to find your voice, when Jason finally collapses over you. And you both sit in the warm, hazy afterglow, after. Your fingers combing through his hair, his lips brushing your neck as he slowly starts to relax above you. He’s not making any attempt to pull out, and you can’t really be mad at him. Even as he softens, it’s too good a feeling to let go of.
He doesn’t seem willing to let go of it, either.
So you both just wait.
Jason finds the words first, chest rumbling as he speaks against your skin.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” Your voice is almost gone from screaming his name, so you whisper. “I couldn’t just let you die.”
Jason hums, still not moving. “That woulda blowed. Probably more than the first time.”
You can hear the smile in his voice—feel it on your skin—and you roll your eyes. “Are you proud of that, Jason.”
“Extremely.”
“Wasn’t even a good joke-“
“I think it was. My death. You’re the one who says jokin’ about it is a good sign.”
“Yeah, but-“ You swallow, keeping your gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Not while you’re inside me.”
Jason tenses under your hands. “Oh. Right.”
You’re both silent again, and he clears his throat.
“You want me to, uh- Get out-“
“No.” You hook your legs back around him, fully clinging to his neck, and Jason grunts.
“Okay. No moving.”
“If you- I mean if you want to-“
“I don’t.” He mutters in your ear, and you realize he’s holding you back. One arm around your lower back and the other splayed on the back of your neck.
He wants you here. When you lean back, he’s watching you so carefully, with a guarded softness in his gaze. Like looking through a heavy, poisoned fog into a garden.
But the fog is clearing, the longer you carefully watch him.
And you have to ask.
“Did you mean it?”
Jason nods slowly, his voice low. “Yeah. But- It’s okay if you’re not there or- near there. If it’s gonna ruin something, I don’t wanna-“
You lean up, pressing your lips gently over his. This kiss is sweeter. Slower.
There’s time.
“Jason.” You murmur, smiling into the kiss. “We just had sex. It’s already ruined.”
He grunts, dropping his brow to yours. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But- I like it.”
Jason chuckles, humming against your mouth. “You like it enough to- I dunno-“
“Go on a date and keep fucking each other’s brains out?”
He coughs, turning a little red as he pulls up. “Yeah. That.”
You shrug, playing with his hair. “Are you going to hide from me when you get Ivy’d again?”
Jason frowns. “I was protecting you-“
“From having the best sex of my life?”
He blinks at you, his cock starting to harder inside of you. “The best?”
“Yeah, dummy.”
“But-“
“Jason.” You smile at him, kissing the tip of his nose. “Big breaths.”
He scowls. “Shut up- I- I’ve never done- You’re important, and being the best- I-“
You kiss him again, even slower than before, and he melts into it. Tugs at your hair to deepen it, becoming a comforting, certain weight over your body.
“I love you too, Jay.” You pull back, biting at your smile as his mouth hangs open. “Can we go on a date?”
“Yeah,” he whispers, his face breaking out into a wide, perfect grin. “I’d love that.”