Work Text:
“Your place is a fucking mess, dude, ” Roy says. He kicks away an old sneaker to pull back a chair and takes a seat.
Jason’s answering groan echoes from where his head is hidden inside the fridge. “Yeah, I noticed.” He manages to find two sodas through the wall of spoiled leftovers—one of them isn’t even new, half the soda and most of the fizz is gone.
Roy’s eyes skim Jason and Dick’s apartment, expression growing more horrified as he goes. “Mind if I take pictures? Next time Ollie calls me a slob I wanna be able to show him what a real mess looks like.”
Jason hands him the unopened can and settles in the other chair, eyeing his own soda wearily. “Do whatever you want.” He didn’t intend for that to come out as blasé as it did, but he’s too tired to bother course correcting.
Roy snorts, snapping the tab back. “You got nothing to say to that? C’mon man, I’m itching to feel insulted.”
Jason takes a sip in lieu of answering—it’s predictably terrible. He takes another. He’s not going to bother arguing with Roy, not when he’s absolutely right. Hell, the couch’s been buried in old laundry for so long, Jason isn’t sure he remembers what colour it is.
His silence has Roy putting his drink down, or at least trying to. He hesitates for a moment, looking for an empty spot between the books and chargers, before giving up and holding it between his knees. He leans forward. “You okay, man? This isn’t like, a cry for help or anything, is it?”
Jason rolls his eyes, somehow both warmed and annoyed by the question. “Of course not. I’ve just been too busy with my dissertation to keep up with how fast this shit grows.” He stares past Roy’s head into the bathroom, where their last working lightbulb has started to flicker. “I still have a few months of research ahead of me so I’m— getting used to it.”
“What about Dick?”
“What about him?”
“Shouldn’t he be helping you out? Most of this shit looks like it’s his.”
It’s true; Dick’s stuff has taken over every clean spot of their apartment, like an invasive fungus. There’s shoe polish stains on the walls, pieces of his uniform on almost everything, law textbooks and case files covering every inch of floor as thick as a carpet. Even so, Jason shakes his head. “Cleaning’s never been his thing.” If he had any energy left, he’d use it to be pissed about it. “The only time I’ve ever seen him pick anything up was to impress a hookup.”
Roy laughs. “Then how the hell is anything ever dirty? I know Dick, man, he’s— popular.”
“He used to be,” Jason says, glancing back at Dick’s bedroom door. He can see the pile of dirty towels from here. It drove him crazy when they first moved in together, constantly getting caught out in his underwear by Dick’s hookups, but he’d take that over this mess any day. “But apparently being the only clean cop in Blüdhaven keeps a guy busy, go figure.”
“He hasn’t given up on that yet, huh?”
“Not even close. Right now, he’s on a crusade to get rid of guns on patrols. He hasn’t carried his in weeks, just brings another baton.”
“And he’s still alive?”
“So far. He’s even convinced some other guys to do it, too.”
“Fuck off.”
“Yeah, I didn’t believe it either. But I saw it myself when I picked him up for lunch.” They go out once a week, usually. He knows Dick works through his lunch otherwise, and Jason will take any excuse for a study break.
“Still, man,” Roy says, shifting in his seat, “there’s got to be a few months' worth of mold growing in your sink.”
Jason glances at the dishes, thinking back. “That mug is a few days from celebrating its fourth month out of the cupboard.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Roy says, frowning like he’s solving equations in his head. "Do you mean— Are you saying Dick hasn't had a girl over since August ?"
"June."
"June!? And you're sure he's not dead?"
"It's not that long," Jason says, jaw stiff thinking about his own current two year dry spell.
Roy falls back against his chair, unfazed by his offended tone. “You don't count. You're single because you hate everyone.”
“Having high standards is not hating everyone.”
“Isn't it?"
Jason kicks his chair and Roy laughs. “I’m just saying, man, six months is a century in Dick years.”
“It’s not like he isn’t trying. He doesn’t have the time to go out anymore, but he’s got Tinder.”
“He does? I thought he still had a flip phone.”
“Babs set the whole thing up for him.”
“So, he’s bad at it.”
“The fucking worst. He’s so busy, girls keep thinking he’s ghosting ‘em.” And then Jason has to hear about it when Dick gets ghosted right back.
Roy nods slowly, like Jason’s just said something very wise. The bathroom light flickers faster.
Roy clears his throat. “So— I mean. You could fix that.”
Jason pauses. “What?”
Roy tilts his head back, taking his chair with him and downing most of his can in a single gulp. The chair lands back on four legs with a heavy sound and Roy moves with it, leaning towards Jason. “Alright, hear me out. Dick cleans when he thinks he has a girl coming over. Girls won’t humor him because he’s a workaholic martyr and can’t organize his time for shit. If you want clean dishes, all you need is a girl who can put up with him.”
“Trust me, she doesn’t exist.”
“She doesn’t have to,” he says, crushing the can in his fist. “We can create her.”
Jason blinks. “You wanna catfish him?”
“It would work.”
“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”
“But it would work, though.”
Roy hands him Jason’s own phone, an expectant look on his face. Behind him, the bathroom light finally dies out, and Jason lets out a painfully long sigh. Fuck this disgusting apartment. Fuck Roy and his braindead ideas. Fuck Dick for ruining his life. He unlocks his phone.
Fuck it.
Roy grins as he watches Jason download the app. “Awesome!” he says, shuffling his chair closer. “Alright, what’s her name gonna be?”
Jason glances at the app store page, where templates of fake accounts swipe by. “Amber,” he says, picking the first name he sees. Before Roy can get too excited with his character creation, Jason continues, “Nothing too elaborate. The most believable lies are the ones closest to the truth.”
If he’s doing this, he’s doing it right.
“Jayce, she’s not real. There’s no truth.”
“There’s a real person texting him, jackass.”
“Oh, I get it.” Roy leans over to peer at the screen and watch Jason begin filling in Amber’s profile. “So you’re saying that, for this to work, Dick has to like you . But as a girl.”
Jason glares. “Don’t make it weird.” As if it isn’t already.
Roy snickers, but is wise enough to drop it. “What pic are we using? He can’t realize it’s a fake.”
“Screw that. He’s a tech illiterate, but he’s still a detective. Too much information will tip him off.”
“Dude, you need a pic or he’s gonna think you’re a bot.”
Jason readjusts his fingers along the phone. “I got this.”
In the description he types “ I don’t post selfies. If you want to see what I look like, you have to earn it. ”
Roy hums. “Prickly.”
“Trust me—this’ll work on Dick.” All that time spent listening to Dick complain about his love life is finally good for something.
“Gimme.”
Jason hands the phone over, and Roy is quick to finish the description. “ Doing my PhD. I keep weird hours, don’t expect fast replies. ”
“I think we need more.”
Roy hums. “You know any quotes or something? PhD candidates are into that garbage right?”
Jason smacks the back of his head and takes the phone back. He hesitates for a second before adding, “ ‘Where everybody’s guilty, the only crime is getting caught.’ ”
Roy nods approvingly. “Bullseye—and just pretentious enough, too. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Jason takes the compliment.
****
Matching with Dick is easier than anticipated. After Roy leaves, Jason returns to his room (the least cluttered place in the apartment) and begins swiping through profiles. The station isn’t too far from his location and finding Dick only takes a few minutes. They match less than an hour later and then—
Dick: Hey
Jason panics. He never thought he’d actually get this far, but now that he’s there, everything this plan implies is hitting him over the head. This is a terrible idea, actually, and he never should’ve—
Dick: Amber is such a nice name. I Amber-y interested in getting to know you ;)
All thoughts of guilt instantly vanish from his mind as he physically cringes at the message. How any woman has ever agreed to have more than one conversation with Dick is a mystery. Before he can stop himself, he replies.
Amber: Are you sure a guy with a name like yours should be sending name puns? You're attacking an enemy with more ammo
Jason stares at his own sent message, frozen. Well, no going back now. The phone vibrates.
Dick: Is that what you are? My enemy?
Jason’s thumbs hover over the screen. Yes , he thinks, you are. You never wear a full shirt, half your comebacks sound like pick up lines, and I have to see you every single day. You are a freaking nightmare. You’re the reason my life is a mess and the only way I can fix it is by fucking flirting with you. He shakes his head, dropping the phone on his bed and pushing away that train of thought. He isn’t the one answering Dick, Amber is. And even though he intends to make her similar to himself, she is not him .
He can do this. All he needs to do is talk like he’s a university student hopelessly attracted to Dick. How hard can it be? Roy’s laughter reaches him from the back of his mind, and Jason makes a point to ignore it by picking his phone back up.
Amber: Not yet Is there a reason I should be?
Dick: idk depends on who you ask ;) i like to think I’m a pretty likeable guy
Jason considers his options. He should say something flirty here, right? Christ he has no idea what he’s doing, he hasn’t looked at anybody twice in so long. Well, anybody not regularly walking around his apartment half naked—Dick is hot and Jason is tired and bitter, not blind.
Amber: Mmmh... Well in your profile, you did seem pretty
Amber: Likeable that is
Then, mostly out of curiosity as to what Dick’s answer will be, he adds,
Amber: But I think Im going to need some proof. Who should I ask?
His answer is almost instantaneous and Jason chokes on a laugh as he reads it.
Dick: my roommate
Amber: And what would they tell me?
Dick: that im a generous sweetheart
Jason smirks, disbelieving.
Amber: Oh really?
Dick: of course. Im bringing him his favorite.
Jason barely has time to process the reply when he hears keys jingle in the front door. It’s pushed open and shut again, and Dick calls out, “I got dinner!”
Instinctively, Jason locks his phone and shoves it under his pillow, as if Dick would be able to smell the catfish in the air. He stumbles out of his room to see Dick toeing off his shoes, his backpack hanging off his arm, a takeout bag held by the other.
“You’re home early,” Jason remarks, leaning on his door frame. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before dawn before. It feels weird. Unnatural, even.”
“Captain sent me home and told me to take the evening off.” Dick smiles, an edge of guilt to him. “I kinda fell asleep at my desk.”
“When was the last time you got a full eight hours?”
His tone is accusing, but Dick just shrugs, his smile widening into a grin as he grabs something from the takeout bag. “Heads up!” he says, throwing it Jason’s way.
He catches it easily. “That is so not an answer.”
Jason starts unwrapping it and frowns at the sight of the turkey dijon sandwich. His favourite.
Distracted by the awesome taste of his first bite, Jason misses Dick slipping away from their conversation until he hears the sound of Dick’s bedroom door slamming shut. From behind it comes a muffled “You’re welcome!”
Jason frowns. He was going to talk to him about the neglected chore list. Again. “Dammit,” he says, mostly to himself. Then, louder. “Asshat! We can’t keep eating without dishes forever!”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before stepping back and closing his own door. He takes another bite, intent in remaining annoyed no matter how tasty it may be, and pulls out his phone again.
Amber: So? What did your roommate say?
The reply is surprisingly quick.
Dick: He was eternally grateful and sang my praises
Amber: …
Dick: In his own way
Amber: There it is
Jason grins, leaning back against his pillows.
Dick: Anyway
Dick: how about u?
Amber: ?
Dick: are you likeable?
Jason pauses. The right answer is yes, but the real answer is no. He decides to average it out.
Amber: I’m not sure.
Dick: mmmh. It’s easy to figure out
Amber: Oh yeah? how
Dick: what are your thought on dijon mustard
Amber: Seriously?
Dick: Seriously.
Jason smirks through his mouthful of sandwich. Dick and him disagree on a lot of things, but nothing more than food.
Amber: Fucking love it
Dick: Oh no not you too
Ready to die on his mustard hill, Jason puts his food down to type with both hands.
****
Amber doesn’t hear from Dick for another forty hours. He could be dead for all she knew.
But Jason can hear the soft snores from Dick’s bedroom, a rhythmic noise keeping him company during the dull hours working with his eyes glued to his laptop. The guy’s been catching up on what must be an entire month of sleep. He’s woken up twice to eat and shower, but otherwise has been comfortably unconscious for over a day.
When Dick finally wakes up for good, he makes his way to the kitchen to collapse in the chair facing Jason’s, tripping twice in the piles of laundry at his feet along the way. The piles are sorted; Jason is attempting to get through some today while he works from home. There just wasn’t enough room by the washing machine for it all so into the hallway it went.
Jason doesn’t bother raising his head from the keyboard as he pushes his mostly fresh coffee mug across the table. Dick accepts it with a sleepy thanks.
It only takes a few sips for Dick’s brain to turn back on, and right away he’s reaching for a discarded case file lying beneath the table. He starts reading it out loud, describing its contents. It’s technically against the rules to disclose that information to anyone, but Jason isn’t listening, so it barely matters. Dick gestures to Jason as he does, and Jason is only half paying attention, letting himself be used as a rubber duck as Dick struggles to make connections and unravel the complicated nonsense in his hands. Dick gets up a few times, pacing through their apartment, grabbing and putting on pieces of his uniform scattered around with every trip.
Eventually, his chatter dies out and Jason glances up. Dick is frozen in place, midway through putting on his shoes, clearly putting something together. Jason waits for a few seconds, staying silent. Then—
“I got it!” Dick says, smile blooming on his face, and Jason returns to his work. Dick finishes getting dressed, grabbing his keys off the counter. “Thanks Jay, you’re the best!”
“Any time,” Jason says, but he’s already talking to a closed door.
He reaches for the coffee mug. It’s still half full, and he tries not to smile through his next sip. The time spent working goes by faster than usual that morning.
It’s a few hours later, when Jason’s migrated to his bed, and, not too coincidentally, a little after Dick returns home from his shift that Jason’s phone buzzes.
Dick: hey so I’ve been wondering
Jason doesn’t hesitate to answer right away, despite the eons it took for Dick to respond the last time. Amber doesn’t have patience for the “who wants it more” game.
Amber: ?
Dick: What are you getting a PhD in
Jason’s eyes widen. He can’t give his own subject, it’d be too much of a coincidence. He’s got to avoid the question, so without thinking replies,
Amber: What are you, a cop?
He hears Dick burst out laughing through his bedroom wall.
Jason lets his head fall forward. Right, duh.
Dick: ...yeah actually
Wanting to redirect their conversation away from more personal questions, Jason veers them back to flirting.
Amber: Oh oops, my bad officer.
Weirdly anxious waiting for a reply, Jason gets up, phone still in hand, and wanders into the kitchen in the hopes of finding a clean glass for some water.
He's barely two steps out of his bedroom when he stops short. Dick is sitting on the couch, staring intently at his own phone, biting his lip with smiling eyes.
Dick: Officer huh
Jason retreats, mostly to avoid Dick seeing his phone light up at just the wrong times. And a little so he doesn’t risk seeing any more of Dick’s face. Something about the sight makes him tense. It’s not guilt—he’s learned to live with the weight of that one already. No, this is something different, something he is definitely not thinking too hard about.
He shuts his door again and leans back against it.
Amber: Is that not what you are?
Dick:
Yeah but
Dick:
I’m not called it often
Dick: not by nice people, anyway
Amber: Why not?
Dick: I usually hear it from criminals
Jason lets himself slide down to the floor as he types.
Amber: You and your cute pet names. Enemy. Criminal. You really know how to make a girl feel special.
Dick: oh come on, it’s not like you have anything better
Amber: You think so, officer?
Jason hears Dick laugh again, though it sounds more pleased and embarrassed than amused. He puts the phone down and tries not to do the same, that weird feeling settling down in his chest.
****
Amber might be hitting it off with Dick but she doesn’t have to live in their apartment. Jason does, and the inconvenience of it all is getting to him. He goes to shower to calm down, in the fucking dark , but all that does is give him more time to think about how pissed off he is. So when he sees Dick in the kitchen afterwards, hair still damp, he can’t help it. He snaps.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Dick stops mid motion, spoonful of pad thai hovering between its old take out container and a clean plate. The last clean plate. “Trying to heat up some dinner?”
“Not on that plate, you’re fucking not.”
Dick shifts it a little in his hand, taking a look under it. “Is there something wrong with it?”
Jason strides into the kitchen. “No, that’s the point. It’s the only good plate in this entire apartment, and you’re about to dirty it with your week old noodles.”
Dick puts down the carton and drops the spoon into it. “That’s what plates are for, Jay.”
“Maybe for regular plates, but this ,” Jason says, resisting the urge to take it out of Dick’s hand, “isn’t a regular plate, it is the only plate. The only clean thing in the vortex of garbage you call a kitchen.”
“We’re going to have to use it eventually,” Dick says, and Jason’s teeth grit at the condescending tone.
“Yes, we will. When we have other clean plates.”
“Why? Why do we need a permanent reserve of plates?”
“In case we ever need one.”
“I need one now!”
Jason steps forward, getting in Dick’s space to reach behind him and grab the greasy carton. “You already have one right here.”
“I’m not putting that in the microwave,” Dick says through an angry smile.
“Right, my mistake.” Jason plucks the metal spoon out and chucks it into the sink with a loud clunk. “There you go, much better.”
“Just let me use the plate, Jason.”
Jason leans forward to meet Dick’s eye, putting the noodles back down. “No.”
“Wouldn’t it be a good thing, to finally run out? Give us an incentive to wash the others.” Dick’s words are diplomatic, but the challenge on his face is anything but.
“That's what I thought when you took the last fork. And the last bowl. The last butter knife. The last corn holder . I won’t let you take the plates.”
“So what,” Dick says, too loud for how close they’re standing, “I’m not worthy of the last plate, but you are?”
“I’m not gonna use it either, it’s going to stay in the cupboard.”
Dick scoffs, mean, and Jason can feel it against his cheek. “Oh, is that what we’re doing? Keeping it hidden away, hoarding it like a fucking dishwear dragon, until what, the next plate emergency?! ”
Jason won’t budge on this, not again. “Yes.”
There’s a moment where neither says anything, staring each other down, the plate in Dick’s hand the only thing keeping them apart.
Dick, probably unconsciously, is holding a fighting stance, legs apart for balance and head tilted like he’s issuing a challenge. It exposes his throat, just a sliver, and Jason is slammed with familiar want. It’s not his first time picturing this—slipping his thigh between Dick’s, burying his fingers in Dick’s hair and yanking his head back, sinking his teeth into his neck. Dick would moan and his knees would buckle, and Jason would tighten his grip around him. Dick would laugh and call him needy. Jason would bite him again in retaliation, harder than the last time. And then again, and again, and one more time, over and over until Dick stops being able to form words and finally, finally, stops talking—
Jason blinks himself back to the present. The kitchen is eerily silent. Dick is staring at him, in the way Jason was a second ago: eyes looking but not seeing, lost in thought.
And this (hypocritically, Jason thinks) pisses him off. They’re in the middle of a fight and Dick can’t even be bothered to pay attention? They’re close enough to breathe the same air, the hand Dick is using to hold the plate brushes against Jason’s shirt with every exhale, and Dick— isn’t here. Jason clenches his jaw.
This is why Amber is necessary.
Jason feels warm, aches all over. His fingers itch to grab the plate, the counter, Dick — He tightens his jaw even more, muscles tense. He needs something to keep himself focused on his anger and this fight and that fucking plate . Not on—
Jason takes a wide step back. The warmth stays behind.
It snaps Dick out of whatever daydream he found more interesting than Jason, and he shoots Jason a bitter look that comes too close to disappointment for comfort. Dick takes his own step back.
Then, slowly but too fast for Jason to realize what’s happening in time, Dick stretches the hand holding the plate away from him—and lets it drop. It crashes to the floor and shatters on impact, three distinct pieces scattering across the tiles. Dick tilts his head again, this time in a mockery of an apology. His smile is all too genuine, however, when he says, “Aw, man! Guess we’re out of plates.”
Jason’s sigh whistles through gritted teeth. “That make you feel better?”
Dick walks past him, work boots unaffected by the mess, and pats Jason’s chest as he goes, searing through his shirt. “Feel great, Jaybird.”
Jason’s simmering anger leaves him just after Dick does—he’s left alone in the kitchen, rubbing his palm against his face. “Fuck me.”
****
The next day, Jason has to carefully work his way around the broken plate shards and the emotions they bring up in order to get to the coffee machine. While he waits for the water to boil, Jason opens up Tinder and reveals Amber to be a bit of a neat freak. He makes a point to develop a bit on that, having her add on about how she loves the smell of soap. It’s a little weird, but Dick doesn’t seem too fazed by it. He is more reserved than usual for most of that conversation, though, like he has trouble relating. He only sends one message that isn’t just general agreement.
Dick: Yeah, I know what you mean. I’m not really like that, but Jason is.
Because Jason has to, he asks,
Amber: Whos that?
Dick: my roommate
Amber: Oh yeah, the guy with great taste buds
Dick: it’s his only flaw, don’t encourage him
Jason blinks. Dick obviously meant it as a joke, and yet he can’t help the mounting warmth in his chest.
Amber: Perfect guy otherwise? Damn maybe I should try matching with him instead
Dick: You dont know what you’re saying
Dick: His taste in pizza toppings alone are enough to put him at the bottom of anyone’s list
Jason can’t get himself to type another word. Despite the jokes, Dick hasn’t contradicted Amber. It’s not like Jason’s list of shortcomings is in any way brief. And yet, Dick spoke as if none of them even occurred to him.
He waits for Dick to type more, but it looks like he’s said his piece. Nothing else to add.
it’s his only flaw
Jason doesn’t know what to make of that.
****
Dick gets stabbed at work.
Jason answers the call from the hospital half asleep. It’s nothing too serious, nothing Dick hasn’t been through before considering his job and where he does it, but Jason still hurries out the door.
The nurse on the phone told him that Dick is considered too unfit to make his way home on his own, so Jason hails a cab to the ER—his motorcycle seems like a terrible choice of ride for a guy with a freshly stitched up side wound.
When he gets there, Dick is already waiting for him outside by the doors. He slips into the cab, and Jason can just barely see the bump beneath his shirt that reveals the placement of his bandages. The injury is on his right side, just below his ribs. It doesn’t affect his movement much, but his small wince when he buckles his seatbelt doesn’t escape Jason’s notice.
“You alright?” Jason asks.
Dick smiles, reassuring. “Of course,” he says, as if, in this situation, Jason is the one in need of comforting.
Jason nods, and that’s that.
They get home, Dick rushing to get some more sleep and Jason heading back out to grab Dick’s painkiller prescription.
He throws the pill bottle in Dick’s face when he gets back, waking him up with a start. “Asshole.”
“Jackass,” Jason replies, pushing a glass of water in Dick’s hand. “How long are you off duty?”
Mouth occupied swallowing his meds, Dick raises two fingers with his other hand. Two months. Having Dick at home so often will make handling Amber a little harder, but not impossible. But this is still, in a weird sort of backwards way, a good thing. Jason never says anything, but lately Dick’s workaholic schedule is starting to tilt into the danger zone; he hates that Dick has to literally get stabbed in order to take a break, but he’ll take what he can get. Jason nods. “Alright. I’m making omelets for dinner.”
“Mmh ‘kay,” Dick mumbles, already half asleep again.
Jason moves to leave, but Dick’s hand shoots up, gripping Jason’s wrist with surprising strength. “Jay—”
“What,” he says, daring a glance back.
Dick is smiling, looking like the happiest stabbing victim who ever lived. “Thank you.”
If Jason runs out of the room after that, well. There’s no one conscious around to prove it.
****
Amber is hit with radio silence, once again a victim of Dick’s majorly extended sleeping hours. It’s a whole four days before Jason gets anything. He’s at the university library, trying to fit his bulky frame between two too close bookcase rows.
His back pocket vibrates and he struggles to twist his arm behind him to reach it.
Dick: hey, im back! Sorry i went MIA so long…
Jason shifts again, careful not to knock anything over when he types.
Amber: It’s alright Shit happens.
Dick: You can say that again.
Amber: Did anything happen? Are you okay
Dick: Everything’s fine! :)
Dick: I just got really swamped at work for a while.
Jason lets out a surprised sound. He really didn’t expect Dick to keep this hidden from Amber, but maybe he should have. The guy’s such a fucking martyr, of course he’d sit on this as long as possible. Dick, don’t you know all good relationships are based on trust , he thinks, then smirks at the irony of it all. There’s a small, very petty (and maybe a tad insane) part of him that’s absurdly pleased Dick trusts him more than Amber.
They text sporadically, the frequency slowing gradually until Jason gets back home. He steps in quietly, not wanting to wake Dick up in case he’s finally fallen asleep.
At first, he doesn’t realize anything’s amiss. He kicks off his shoes, hangs his helmet and jacket, and heads into the kitchen to heat up some leftovers. He’s taking a bowl out of the cupboard when it finally hits him. There are bowls in the cupboard.
He spins on his heels, eyes bouncing around the room. There are no stained mugs to be seen, not an inch of mold and no dishes for them to grow on either. The counter’s been scrubbed and the inside of the microwave no longer resembles a crime scene. Even the fucking ceiling lamp’s been dusted.
Fuck sleep. “Dick!” he calls out.
A response echoes from the hallway. He stomps his way there, stopping at the sight of Dick squinting at their linen closet. Jason clears his throat. “What the fuck is going on?”
Dick half turns his head Jason’s way before refocusing forward. “I’m looking for the vacuum.”
“You’re— You’re cleaning?!”
This time Dick moves to face him fully. “It’s not that unbelievable, is it?” He must see the answer to that question in Jason’s face because he continues, “I figured, since I’m stuck here anyway, I might as well.”
“You’re supposed to be resting,” is all Jason can think to say, and why the hell is he arguing ?
“You know me, if I’m too bored I’ll want to go back to work, so—” He shrugs, then smiles. “Plus, it’s not like I’m doing it just for me.”
An odd force grows in Jason’s chest. “It’s not?”
“No, I’m uh—” Dick shifts, reaching to rub the back of his neck while leaning the rest of him against the wall. “I’m kind of seeing someone? And she likes it clean so if I’m ever gonna have her over, you know—” He moves his eyebrows suggestively.
And that—stings. “Right,” he says, and nothing more. He rushes back to the front door, slipping his jacket back on.
“So you don’t know where the vacuum is, then?”
Jason ignores him, flying down the stairs and out the main doors, suddenly desperate for some air. He needs a minute to think. But even as he walks down the street, hands in his pockets to fight off the cold, his mind remains filled with static.
Gritting his teeth, he pulls out his phone.
“Jaybird! Waddup bro.”
Roy’s voice is incredibly annoying and just what Jason needs right now.
“I was disappointed,” he blurts out.
“What?”
“Dick was standing next to the closet, and he sounded fucking happy about it, and I found bowls , Roy.”
“Dude, you’re not making any sense.” Jason is aware of that, but he needs to get rid of the white noise between his ears, and speaking the thoughts as they come is the only plan he has right now. He makes a sharp turn into an empty alleyway.
Roy speaks again after a beat of silence, hesitant. “You good?”
Jason stops and lets his head fall back against the grimy wall, hand gripping at his hair. “ Fuck no . I spend literally all of my time researching, I can’t remember the last time I slept, I think I’ve lost my sense of taste, I can’t remember where I parked my bike, Dick got stabbed, I get way too happy whenever I see the goddamn Tinder logo, the fucking—”
“Hold up, Dick got stabbed?!”
“That’s not important right now, Roy, aren’t you listening?”
“Believe me, I’m trying.”
Jason groans. “I need you to turn your neurons on and figure this one out yourself, ‘cause that’s all the coherence you’re getting right now, buddy.”
Roy can be smart sometimes, when he wants to. Jason shuts up, trying to calm himself down while he waits for Roy’s ‘idiot to savant ratio’ to tip in his favor. Eventually, Roy says, “Tinder, bowls, Dick. That means Dick started cleaning, and that the plan is working. But for some reason, that bums you out. And that reason is why you’re freaking out?”
It’s Jason’s turn to be confused. “I— yeah,” he says after a moment. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“So what’s the reason?”
“Because I forgot— Look, I know that Dick is texting Amber, not me, but there’s like a part of me that forgot Dick doesn’t know she’s me . Dick thinks Amber’s out there, being a whole ass person, and he’s doing things for her because he likes her .” He exhales, too long. “I forgot Amber existed.”
He grimaces at Roy’s pause. “Right, but she doesn’t, dude, it’s just you.”
Jason shakes his head, frustrated. “I’m not Amber.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“No, no, I’m not,” Jason says, voice sinking back into that frantic tone. “Because Amber likes Dick.”
“Because Amber—” Roy’s own laughter cuts him off, sudden and loud. “Are you serious right now?”
The laughing grates at Jason’s nerves, and he defaults back to anger. “Do I sound like I’m joking, Chuckles?”
“Right, my bad,” Roy says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. Jason can hear him still trying to stifle his laughter when he says, “Just, like, clarify something for me.”
Jason grunts in affirmative.
“So, to recap. You, Jason Peter Todd, call me up saying you feel disappointed because Dick is cleaning your place to impress Amber. Because Dick likes Amber, and he feels that she likes him.”
“Yeah.”
“But you forgot Amber existed. That means that you went in there thinking that Dick was cleaning for you .”
“... Yeah.”
“You were thinking that Dick likes you , and feels that you like him back. But then you realized that he doesn’t, that this isn’t about you, it’s about Amber. And it pissed you off, because—”
“I’m not Amber.”
“Right. And what differentiates you two again?”
Amber likes Dick.
“Fuck!” Jason hits his skull back against the rough brick, staring straight up. “I’m Amber.”
Roy laughs again. “Feel better?”
“ No. ”
“Awesome, glad I could help. It sounds like you got stuff to work through, so I’ll leave you to it. Talk to you later!”
The line goes dead.
Jason moves the phone away from his face, glaring at the end call screen. He considers smashing it under his boot for too long before he resigns himself to head back home, dragging his feet every step of the way.
****
Their place looks great, Dick smiles more everyday, and they’ve stopped fighting almost entirely. That third point has nothing to do with the first two, though. Dick may be floating on cloud nine but Jason is rooted firmly in a hell of his own making, sulking his days away.
He’s annoyed and irritated all the time, mostly at himself. Dick is happy and it’s because of him, but not like it’s thanks to him, more like it’s his fault and it’s eating him up. Not to mention that a happy Dick is somehow hotter than your standard, day-to-day Dick, just to make things worse. The only reason they don’t have fights anymore is because Jason cuts them short, every time. Dick will do something stupid, Jason will get in his face about it, and before Dick even has time to think of one of his shitty, cutesy rebuttals, Jason is out of the room.
Turns out, anger and “so horny it makes his head hurt’ are two very similar emotions in Jason’s brain. It’s much safer to avoid them both.
As much as he can avoid Dick, he can’t avoid the apartment he lives in. Now that it’s clean, every time he sees something that used to be dirty, he’s reminded of Dick and everything he’s done to make this happen. The fridge handle isn’t sticky anymore, he can finally see himself in the bathroom mirror, and there’s even a new, tiny plant growing on the window sill. Not to mention how bright their place looks now. Every faulty bulb (which, as it turns out, was most of them) has been replaced, and for the first time in recent memory, Jason can actually see the apartment. He can now walk down the hall from his room to the kitchen without stumbling blindly ahead, the path clear and bright ahead of him, the walls an insultingly awful pale green.
He can’t believe he’s never noticed the colour before. It’s the last crayon in the box, because at least the white one looks good on black paper. It’s the colour of a booger, or mold, or cloudy water that’s too grimy to consider drinking. He could blow chunks all over their living room and that would still be a better decorating decision than this paint colour was. He spends more time than is probably healthy thinking about all the terrible things that match this stupid wall, but it’s better than thinking about Dick and the way his fucking arms look when he vacuums. Roy went and gave him his Suns out, guns out tank top, because he’s an asshole who wants Jason to suffer. Dick only ever wears it around the house, but while that saves the public, it does nothing for Jason, who almost had a fucking aneurysm when he walked into the living room and saw Dick straining to reach an out of the way cobweb wearing it. Jason would wonder what he did to deserve this, but he knows exactly what he did— The point is, the walls are ugly.
Despite all that, Jason keeps texting Dick. Because with how terrible, stressed, and angry he feels every second he spends in his own apartment, he’s learned to enjoy what he can. And he enjoys texting Dick. A lot.
They flirt, they laugh, they have inside jokes and Jason has spent more time on his phone in the last three weeks than in the last three years. The best (or worst, he hasn’t really decided yet) part of their conversations is how much Dick brings Jason up. Any joke he makes that Dick particularly likes, any kind gesture he accidentally offers, and almost every attempt at a fight he squashes gets reported back to Amber, with varying degrees of detail. Amber always agrees with Jason, because he’s a moron with no self-control, apparently. Dick never seems too bothered by it, though. Mostly, he’ll pick the argument back up where Jason left it, and Jason is more than happy to keep it going, still angry but not brave enough to face Dick in real life.
Dick is never angry at Amber, just happy to get to talk to her, stupid fights and all. For a while, Jason lets himself believe he can keep doing this forever, their screwed up status quo just stable enough. But of course, all good ‘getting your roommate to fall in love with you for continued access to clean spoons’ schemes must come to an end.
Dick : You know it says in your bio i gotta earn a pic of you... how would i do that?
Jason knew they’d reach this point eventually—he’s prepared for it, he knows what to say. It’s with a sense of finality that he sends his next message.
Amber: I think we’re past that at this point How about we meet up and I show you the real thing?
If he wasn’t so— annoyed that this meant Amber’s impending ‘death’, he’d laugh at how fast Dick replies to agree. They set up a date two weeks from now on Saturday, the last day of Dick’s medical leave from work.
After that, Amber will ghost, Dick will go back to work, and the mess will, hopefully very slowly, return.
Something occurs to Jason, just as he’s closing the app. He opens his text messages and opens his chat with Roy.
Jason: hey when this amber bs finally ends, can you or like Wally keep him company?
Roy: still not cleaning up your own messes i c
Jason: Very funny
Jason: Look man I think he’s gonna be really mopey when she bails and I don’t think I can sit there and help him get over myself It’s gonna be too weird.
Roy: u really think he likes her that much???
Jason: Will you do it or not?
Roy: ig
Roy: when r u doing it?
Jason: In like two weeks When he goes back to work.
Jason: maybe sooner
Roy: what’s the rush? flirting with your crush is getting to u already??
Jason: Fuck you this is your fault
Roy: that bad?? lmaoooo
Jason: Shut up, it’s fine, he’s gonna be out of my way soon. I just have to deal with him for 2 weeks
Roy: ooooh so ur “dealing with him” ;)
Jason: You know it’s not like that
Jason: I can handle it
Jason: him
Jason: whatever
Roy: lol alright if u say so
Roy: btw do they still run the heater full blast in ur building?
Roy: ur boy has trouble keeping his shirt on when he’s hot
Roy: thats gonna be so fun for you <3
Jason: You’re not helping
Roy: I could be!!! Im a great helper
Roy: I have an idea n im like 98% sure it will work
Jason: What?
Roy: cant tell u yet
Roy: its gonna be dope though
Roy: ttyl!
Jason puts the phone down, eying it with something close to dread. He forces himself to forget about it, and gets back to work, one of his deadlines only a few hours away. He’s got nothing to worry about—whatever Roy is planning, it can’t make things any worse.
****
Amber: You know, you bring this Jason guy up a lot
Amber: He seems like a big deal
Jason meant it mostly, almost completely, practically 99%, as a joke. And yet Dick doesn’t answer immediately, like he’s been doing for the last half hour. Jason can see him typing, then stop, then start up again. It feels like he does it forever, until finally—
Dick: yeah
****
Roy: Happy bday man :D
Roy: Hope you like ur present!!!
Jason’s in the kitchen, scarfing down some much needed lunch. He squints at the message, partly because a present from Roy should always be regarded with suspicion, but mostly because his birthday isn’t for another six months. But he’s got a deadline to meet, so he doesn’t bother responding and puts it to the back of his mind.
Jason’s halfway through his sandwich when Dick comes in the front door. Jason was too engrossed in his work earlier to bother asking Dick where he was going, but now that he’s back, the reason for the outing is immediately apparent.
Dick got a haircut.
Jason stares, and Dick raises a hesitant hand to his new hair, sides trimmed down to an undercut.
“You don’t like it?” Dick asks, and fuck, he actually looks worried, like he cares about Jason’s opinion.
Jason swallows. “Nah, man, it looks great. What, uh. What prompted the change?”
“Um, well,” Dick says, “I told you about the girl I’m kind of seeing, right?”
Jason nods mutely.
“I wanted—to look good. For her, I guess.” Dick laughs to himself, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s Roy who suggested it. It was kind of out of the blue, but I thought, why not?”
“Why not,” Jason repeats tonelessly. He shakes himself. This is fine; he just has to get used to the new hair, the same way he had to get used to Dick’s general hotness when they first moved in together. “I have to get back to work.”
“Oh, of course. Pizza tonight?”
“Only if you put olives on it,” Jason says automatically, the argument blessedly familiar.
“Fine, you heathen,” Dick says instead of arguing with him like he’s supposed to. “Since I’m in such a good mood.” Dick smiles, blinding, and—Jason is fucking lying to himself. He’s not used to any of this.
He goes back to his room in a daze. He does remember to pull out his phone and text Roy, though.
Jason: I’m going to kill you
Roy: ur welcome!!
****
The next day, in a desperate attempt to relax, Jason decides to take a bath. He hasn’t had one in ages; just last month the tub was too dirty for him to consider doing more than race his way through a shower. The water is hot, his music is loud, and he has no plans to move— or think, for that matter—for at least forty five minutes.
He gets about ten before his relaxation is interrupted. The music blaring through his headphones dips in volume to make way for the sound of a Tinder notification.
He grabs his phone with the intention of muting it— Dick can fucking wait —but the message gives him pause.
Dick: What r u up to rn?
Innocuous enough on the surface, but… The textspeak, the timing—Dick’s been prowling the apartment all day looking for something to do, and now he’s holed up in his room…
Jason thinks for a moment, then texts back the truth.
Amber: Taking a bath.
Dick’s response is fast.
Dick: Oh? Do u have candles? Rose petals in the water?
Jason looks around at the basic utilitarian bathroom design they’ve never changed, the harsh lighting of the new bulb Dick put in yesterday, his own hairy legs barely fitting in the tub with no bubbles left to cover them.
Amber: Something like that What are you doing?
Dick: Just got off work
Jason wants to laugh. Dick is comfortable enough with Amber to give her his best shot at sexting, but not to tell her the truth about his injury. Typical.
Dick: Lying in bed
Dick: Thinking about Saturday
Jason pulls his headphones off to rest around his neck and stares at the ceiling, wondering why on Earth he ever took Roy’s advice. He has to shut this down, now, if he wants any chance of Dick ever forgiving him for this.
Amber : What about Saturday
Jason texts instead, because he’s a terrible person with no self control. He settles into the still too-warm bath and hopes that he isn’t misreading Dick’s intentions. Now that his headphones are off, he can hear the ding of Dick receiving the text in the next room, loud and clear.
Dick: What will u be wearing?
Jason snorts. All these weeks talking to Amber and Dick’s still the most awkward texter he’s ever seen. He considers his options, thinks about calling it off right there and then.
But, well, in for a penny and all that.
Amber: When I fuck you? Hopefully nothing.
He’s getting bored of Dick trying to be polite.
The three dots signaling Dick is typing stutter in and out of existence a few times.
Dick: You'd top me?
Jason smirks and decides to roll with it.
Amber: Yeah
Amber: But only if you ask nicely
Jason thinks back to the pictures from Dick’s profile.
Amber: With that ass itd be a crime not to, officer
It takes Dick a longer while to respond this time.
Dick: [image.jpg]
Dick : this ass?
It’s a picture of Dick on his bed, lying on his stomach, the phone pointed down towards his ass, wearing nothing but tight black boxer briefs. The angle allows for a small glance at the muscles of his lower back. Jason looks at it for too long, his breath caught in his throat. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, true, but something about the posing, or maybe the context, is breaking Jason’s brain a little.
He blinks, realizing Dick is waiting for a response.
Amber: Yeah that one
Amber: Id recognize it in a line up
Jason laughs quietly at the absurdity of this conversation. He wants to see just how much nonsense he can get away with.
Amber: Now i just need evidence that it’s attached to the rest of you
Jason shifts, causing ripples throughout the bathtub.
Dick: [image.jpg]
Dick: hows that?
This time, Dick’s on his back, the camera is held up higher and at a different angle, showing Dick from the bottom half of his chin to down where his free hand is palming his erection through his underwear, his lowered arm hiding part of his frankly ridiculous abs. It takes a second too long for Jason to realize Dick probably put his arm like this on purpose, to hide the fresh scar of his stabbing incident. It’s that fact that makes all of this more real, somehow.
Something in Jason lurches upwards.
Amber: Fucking perfect
Amber: I can’t deny that’s you
Amber: Tough guy like you…
Amber: Bet i could make you feel so small
Amber: So hot under me
Jason hears four dings in quick succession, the thin walls in their apartment barely muffling the noise, and then what can only be described as a moan.
Dick must not know he’s in here, to be this loud already. Or maybe he's counting on the fact that Jason typically wears headphones in the bath. Or he doesn’t care. (Or he wants to be heard).
Jason holds his breath, heart thumping.
Amber: Got any lube?
Dick: shit yeah
Jason hears the sound of stuff clattering to the floor, as if Dick is scrambling to find the lube in his disaster of a room, and stifles a laugh.
Dick: Wish u were with me
Jason’s mind scrambles for the shreds of knowledge he has about Dick’s— preferences. He takes a shot.
Amber: Why?
Amber: So i could do it for you?
Amber: Let me do all the work while you lie there
Amber: feeling good for me?
With that message comes another groan, louder this time.
The sound has Jason fighting the urge to sink down further into the tub. Dick being a pillow princess isn’t surprising—in fact, it’s a theory Jason’s had for a while now based on the few things he’s seen and heard—but having it confirmed so obviously is… Dick’s never been the best roommate and Jason's heard his noises before, but this time it’s different, because Jason is the one causing them and— god , Jason is in way over his head.
Amber: How many fingers?
Dick: 2
Amber: Already?
Amber : Bet you can get in a third
Amber: Bet u look gorgeous
The dings of Dick’s phone are only seconds ahead of Dick’s moans, and it makes Jason’s cock twitch. Jason’s still got both hands on his phone, unwilling to risk dropping it in the water, but he’s starting to think the risk might be worth it for some friction. Dick’s in the next room, fucking himself on his fingers, thinking about—ok, it isn’t Jason, but the distinction doesn’t seem all that important at the moment.
Dick: Could i ride you?
Amber: Of course
Amber: Youd like that all pretty and on display for me to look at
Dick curses loud enough that Jason doesn’t hear the notification this time.
Dick: pretty?
Amber: the prettiest
Amber: Those thighs of yours are deadly, gonna look so good riding my cock
Amber: The sounds you make, they’re driving me wild baby, you’re unbelievable
Amber: Your face is too pretty to handle, all blissed out
Amber: Bet you look beautiful when you come
Dick isn’t responding, his hands otherwise occupied, but the sounds coming through the walls are enough for Jason. He puts the phone down and reaches under the water. He comes embarrassingly quickly, choking down his own moans.
He takes a moment to breathe, his head lolled back. Dick is quiet, now, too. He climbs out of the tub, grabbing his phone as he does. Nothing new from Dick
He towels off in a daze, thoughts spinning. He just sexted with Dick. Dick . His roommate. Who he’s catfishing. The worst part is that he forgot, after a point, to be Amber. He types out a text before thinking it through.
Amber: all good?
Dick: never better :)
Jason breathes out a sigh. Just because Jason has guilt boiling in his stomach doesn’t mean anything has changed for Dick.
He slips out of the bathroom with the tub still draining, suddenly desperate to get out of the apartment. He doesn’t know where, just as long as it's not here .
He’s almost at the door when Dick wanders out of his room, still half-undressed. There’s a lazy grin on his face that only widens when he sees Jason inching towards the front door.
“Hey, man, where are you headed?” Dick asks, leaning against the kitchen door frame.
Dick’s still wearing the underwear from the pictures, Jason notices, and then can't stop noticing. Dick’s question barely registers. “I’m uh...I--I just—” He blindly reaches behind him to take the car keys off the hook.
Dick’s grin falters and he takes a step towards Jason. “Dude, are you okay? You look exhausted. Are you sure you should be driving?”
To avoid looking at Dick, Jason grabs his coat and pulls it on. “Yeah!” Jason answers, too loud, then winces. “I mean, yes. Yes, I have to go…get coffee. To wake up.” He needs to stop running away from him like this.
Dick eyes him with suspicion, but drops it. “Okay, then. Say hi to Tim for me.”
“I will,” Jason agrees without fully processing the request, hand on the door knob. Once it registers, his eyes widen. “Tim! I’ll talk to Tim!”
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Dick asks.
“Yup, never been better, bye!” Jason doesn’t give Dick a chance to respond before he’s slamming the door shut behind him.
Tim will know what to do.
****
“I think I’m a bad person.”
Jason leans his back against the counter at the coffee shop where Tim works, weight on his elbows, a frown firmly in place. The lady waiting for her drink glares at Jason as if she agrees with his statement. He stares her down until Tim hands her her coffee, refusing to move and forcing her to reach around him.
“You came all this way to tell me something I already knew?” Tim asks blandly, grabbing a rag to wipe down the counter, forcing Jason to move his elbows out of the way. He spends extra time scrubbing that part, as if Jason left a stain. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”
Jason rolls his eyes and turns to face Tim. “Please, like you’d ever get fired. Kon’s practically in love with you. He’s like Heathcliff, except he wants to suck your dick.”
“See? That’s what I mean,” Tim mutters as if Jason isn’t right there. Louder, he says, “And why exactly are you a bad person?”
“I sexted Dick,” Jason says, then thumps his head on the counter Tim just cleaned.
Tim sighs. “Gross. How does that make you a bad person?”
“He didn’t know it was me he was sexting,” Jason mumbles.
Tim doesn't respond for long enough that Jason raises his head. “Run that by me again,” Tim says, looking pained.
Jason runs him through the whole story—the disgusting apartment, the catfishing, Dick’s unusually good mood, and finally, the sexting. Tim listens intently, occasionally interjecting to ask for clarification, or pausing to take someone's order. It feels good to get the whole thing off his chest. But at the same time, laying it out like this makes it sound even worse, and when Jason is done he hangs his head, unwilling to look Tim in the eye.
“Can I see?” Tim asks after a moment of silence.
Jason eyes him. “See what?”
“The messages between Dick and ‘Amber’,” he says with air quotes.
Jason jerks up, instinctively grabbing his phone in his pocket to keep it from Tim. “No!”
Tim raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Just—why do you even want to see them?!”
Tim starts preparing another drink, even though there’s no customer. “I don’t want to see them. But the fact that you don't want me to see them means that you weren’t acting all that much during them. If you showed me, I bet I’d find a conversation between Dick and Jason, just with another name slapped on. You’re a terrible actor, Jason.”
“What are you saying?”
“Dick doesn’t care about Amber, he cares about you .” Tim punctuates his words by activating the ice machine, giving Jason a second to process. “You’re going to have to fuck him for real.”
Jason squints at him. “The fuck did you just say?”
Tim sighs again, like Jason is being ridiculous. “The only way Dick doesn’t hate you forever is if you tell him the truth, and prove to him that he was right to be so into you,” Tim explains slowly.
The panic that drove him here bubbles in his throat again. He manages to choke out, “Why the fuck would I want to do that?”
Tim sets the finished drink in front of Jason, levelling him an unimpressed look. Jason looks at the cup in confusion that quickly morphs into understanding when he sees Dick’s name written on it.
“Better hurry, before it melts.”
****
Dick is on the couch when Jason gets home, staring at his phone intently, a smile on his face. Jason’s own phone buzzes in his pocket. Dick must be texting Amber, probably something flirty and cute that would make Jason’s stomach flip flop. He walks over, nonchalantly spinning his keys around his finger.
“Tim made this for you,” Jason says, handing him the drink.
Dick looks up at him grinning. “Thanks—” Dick stops at the look on Jason’s face. “What happened?”
“What do you mean? Nothing happened.”
“Jay, it’s all over your face, don’t lie to—”
“Who’re you texting?” Jason cuts in.
Dick lets the non sequitur slide. “My—that girl I’ve been talking to on Tinder.”
“Again?” Jason’s vision darkens around the edges. “What’s she like?”
It comes out harsher than intended and Dick goes on the defensive. “You’d like her, actually.”
“You think so, huh?”
“Absolutely. She’s a grad student, too. She’s funny, blunt—honestly, she’s kind of an asshole.” He says it like it’s a compliment.
“Sounds like we have a lot in common.”
“Yeah, actually.” Pensive, Dick takes a long coffee sip, eyeing Jason. “Why are you being weird?”
“What?” Jason answers, sounding strangled. “I’m being very normal.”
“You’re taking the keys off your keyring.”
Jason looks down. He has several keys in one hand, the ring in the other. Huh.
He shoves them in his pocket. “Nevermind that. Tell me more about her.”
“Why do you care all of a sudden?” Dick puts the cup down. “Last time I brought her up, you ran for the door like you were going for the record in the hundred meter dash.”
“I don’t care.”
“You’re lying,” Dick says, incredulous. “Why are you lying? What’s going on, Jay?”
“Do you have a picture of her?”
“Stop dodging—”
“Do you?” Jason repeats.
Dick falls back against the couch. “No, I don’t.”
Jason flexes his jaw. “People lie on the internet all the time.” He pauses. “She could be a furry, or an octogenarian, or a Floridian, or a dude. ”
“Or an eighty year old Floridian furry,” Dick mocks.
“Ha ha.”
“Look, Floridians are people, too,” Dick quips, picking his coffee back up. “If she’s eighty, she’s done her homework on modern slang.” He smirks around the straw. “And dudes have always been on the table, come on.”
“You must really like her.”
“I do,” Dick says carefully. “Does that bother you?”
Yes . “No.”
“That’s good, cause she’s coming over on Saturday.” He says it like someone placing a big bet on a poker table.
Jason was wondering when Dick would mention that. They made that plan days ago. “Sounds fun. I’ll get out of your hair, then. Wouldn’t want to scare her away.”
“That won’t happen,” Dick insists.
Jason feels scraped hollow. “Because we’re so alike?”
Dick stands. He’s been tilting from annoyed to concerned since Jason walked in, and now it looks like Jason’s pushed him all the way to anger. “Would you please just tell me what’s wrong?” It’s more a command than a question.
Jason sneers, matching Dick’s anger in a second. “I just don’t think that me and Amber would get along.”
Dick freezes. “Did you say Amber?”
Jason raises an eyebrow. “Yes? The girl we’ve been talking about?”
“I never told you her name.” Shit. “Have you been going through my phone?”
“No!”
“Don’t lie to me .”
“I’m not, I’m not,” Jason chokes out. God, how is this going even worse than he anticipated? He has to stop this from snowballing. “It’s just—” Fuck it, all cards on the table. He takes his own phone from his pocket and shoves it in Dick’s face, Dick’s messages to Amber clearly on the screen. It takes Dick a moment to read it, expression evolving in a matter of seconds from confusion to denial to dread to finally settle on outrage.
“ You’re Amber?!”
In a way, seeing Dick this pissed off right off the bat is a relief. Jason knows what to do next—fights are always easier than conversation.
“Not as pretty as you thought?” It comes out more bitter than mocking.
Dick pushes the phone back into Jason’s chest. “You can’t be serious!”
“I know, I also thought my tits would be bigger,” he says, taking his phone back.
Dick, for the first time in his life, skips the opportunity for a cheap joke. “Why.”
Like countless times as Amber, Jason is split between saying the fun thing and the truth. She isn’t here anymore to justify him lying, though. “To get you to do the dishes.”
“This isn’t fucking funny,” Dick barks, and Jason chooses to ignore the hurt in his voice. “Answer the question.”
“I wasn’t kidding.”
Dick pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me get this straight,” he begins, putting the pieces together as he speaks, “you made a Tinder account, pretended to be some girl, flirted with me for weeks, told me you were a neat freak so I would clean the entire apartment, and then kept it going for like a month afterwards?”
Why deny it? “Yes.”
The punch is surprising, but not unexpected. It’s strong enough to make Jason stagger backwards, and he hisses, instinctively pressing a hand against his own bruised cheek. “Alright, I deserved that.”
Dick doesn’t let him maintain the new space between them, getting in his face to spit, “Are you fucking deranged? You could’ve just talked to me, dumbass!”
“I did talk to you!” Jason says, pushing Dick back. “The only thing I got from that was a bitchy one-liner and a broken plate.”
“I was already talking to Amber when that happened,” Dick laughs. “How stupid do you think I am?!”
“Very.” Dick makes an offended noise that only spurs Jason on. “It took shoving it in your face for you to put two and two together! Aren’t you a fucking detective?”
“I’m usually warned in advance when I’m dealing with a psychopath!” Dick throws his hands up in the air. “We have a shopping list on the fridge, it’s a bright yellow post-it, you could’ve just written Mr Clean on it.” He snatches the phone out of Jason’s hand again, waving it in his face. “Who in their right mind does this ?”
“Desperate times, man,” shoots Jason. “The fridge was getting too grimy for the post-it to stick— you gotta do what you gotta do.”
“And that couldn’t be, oh, I don’t know, clean the fridge ?”
Jason straightens up to glare down at him. “Do you not remember how gross this place was? You left slime everywhere like a fucking Ghostbusters poltergeist. I’m writing my dissertation, I don’t have the time to scrub mold off the walls.”
“And I work 60 hours a week,” Dick counters. “It's not like I have the time, either .”
“You’ve never had the time, Dick, even before you were this busy. It didn’t have to get this bad, it takes 20 minutes to vacuum once a week,” he says, crossing his arms. Then, out of spite, “Besides, you found time for Amber.”
“Because I was stabbed , Jason!”
“Is that all it takes for you to pick up a damn sponge?” Jason scoffs. “Fuck, good to know, next time the TV needs dusting I’ll skip the effort and go straight for the shiv.”
“At least a knife attack doesn’t involve—” Dick gestures vaguely “—weird catfish sex!”
Jason’s throat dries up in an instant. “It was just sexting, man,” he croaks out, clinging to a casual tone, “it’s not that bad.”
“ Not that bad ?” Dick says, pushing the hair back off his forehead. “Do you fucking hear yourself?”
He does hear himself, knows he has no moral high ground in this fight, but it’s been too long since they’ve yelled at each other. He has to cut this fight short, like he’s done with every single one for the last three weeks; he has to stop before he says something he can’t take back. But he’s too caught up in it, gone so far already—”If that’s all it takes to rattle you, you gotta be a shit cop.”
“I said it was a fucked up thing to do, not that it was enough to fuck me up,” Dick taunts, but he’s breathing hard as he says it, bitter fury rolling off him in waves and hair a mess around his face and Jason isn’t sure how long he can keep this up. “You’re talking as if a couple horny texts are enough to rock my world,” Dick says, the last three words brimming with sarcasm. “Of everything ‘Amber’ did, the sexting was definitely your sloppiest work.”
Jason grins. “You lying motherfucker,” he says, teeth flashing. “If either of us was sloppy, it was you. If Amber was taking a bath, can you guess what I was doing?” Jason’s expression turns predatory at the growing realization in Dick’s eyes. “I could hear you through the wall.”
“That’s—it doesn’t count,” Dick says, floundering. “I mean, Amber was—”
“Amber wasn’t anything, Dick. That was all me.”
Dick’s face becomes unreadable, a strange calm returning to his voice. “I guess it was, huh,” he says, digging his phone out of his pocket, opening their chat and scrolling back. He smirks, reading, “ gonna look so good riding my cock .”
Jason swallows. Hearing his own words out of Dick’s mouth, said not in anger but with something else, something he doesn’t dare to look at twice, has him shifting on his feet. He has to at least pretend to be unaffected, but how can he when Dick—
Dick meets his gaze, his voice low. “Didn’t even try to sound like someone else, did you, Jason? That was all you.”
Every inch of Jason's skin burns, his blood boiling, and a gun to his head couldn’t have stopped the next words out of his mouth. “You weren't complaining earlier, officer. ”
Dick punches him again. The only reason he doesn’t go flying is because Dick grabs him by the shirt collar this time, forcing him up, keeping him close. Too close. They stare at each other, breath mingling.
His cheekbone throbbing, yet barely registering the pain, Jason waits for Dick to let him go, heartbeat deafening. When he doesn’t, Jason wets his lips and asks, voice barely more than a rasp, “What was that one for?”
Ignoring the question, Dick says, ”I can’t believe I’m gonna let you get away with this.”
Dick kisses him.
It’s like a third punch. Jason is only caught off guard for a second before reality kicks in, and then his only thought is oh god, finally. He gropes Dick’s ass immediately, the experience even more satisfying than he could have imagined. Dick bites him in retaliation, but Jason pushes closer. The phone falls from Dick’s hand, clattering to the floor… It goes ignored as Dick breaks away to nose at Jason’s neck.
“You fucking catfished me, what the fuck—” Dick mutters into Jason’s skin, as if to himself, then bites down again, this time hard enough to bruise. Jason moans, grabbing Dick’s leg desperately, his brain only concerned with getting closer closer closer . Dick, to his credit, takes this as his cue to hop into Jason’s arms. He does so effortlessly, his thighs gripping Jason’s waist with enough strength that Jason barely needs to hold him up.
“I catfished you and it wasn’t even a dealbreaker, I think you’re the weird one,” Jason says, already feeling out of breath. His hands wander under Dick’s t-shirt, the skin too hot.
“You catfished me ,” Dick repeats, distracted, “instead of asking me out like a normal person.” Then he presses their lips together again. It's marginally less violent this time, and only by virtue of being slower, firm and purposeful movements, the pressure building and building and building. It’s only their second kiss and Jason’s already getting addicted to this, to the feeling of Dick pressed up against him, to Dick’s heat overwhelming him.
“Is this you asking me out?” Jason says against Dick’s lips. He’s grinning. Weird, he doesn't know when that started.
“No,” Dick says, petulantly. “You already live here, so I’m not cleaning for your visits.” He kisses him again, barely a peck. “What’s the point if I can’t live up to your impossible standards?”
Jason laughs and scratches down Dick’s back just to see him shiver. “I can think of a few reasons.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” With Dick still in his arms, he starts walking.
Dick grins like a cat that caught the canary. “Are you going to follow through on your promises from earlier?”
Jason walks faster, pushing them blindly into Dick’s bedroom.
He drops Dick onto the bed, following him down to climb over him. Dick says nothing, smug anticipation in his eyes. He lifts himself up to kiss Jason, who immediately sinks into it. He could make out with Dick for hours, but— Maybe some other time, when his cock isn’t pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.
The kiss suddenly stops and, without warning, Jason’s flipped onto his back, Dick now on top of him. Jason’s not a small guy, and he'd be impressed at the maneuver if he wasn’t so annoyed at Dick’s cheap attempt at getting the upper hand. This isn’t a fight, far from it, but it still feels like one. Jason ignores Dick’s attempt at another kiss in favour of flipping them back around. He’s almost managed it when Dick pushes back the other way; they struggle, both trying to press the other down into the mattress.
Dick succeeds at keeping him down after a few moments, but barely.
“Is Amber why you were being—” Dick grunts with the effort of staying on top “—so weird the last couple weeks?”
“What?”
“For weeks, you barely talked to me. Was it guilt—at what you were doing?”
“Not really.”
Dick’s eyes flash, his grip tightening around Jason’s forearms. “You’re telling me you did that to me with no remorse?”
“No, Dick,” Jason struggles under him, pointlessly. “I—okay, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let it go on as long as it did.”
Jason doesn’t expect the kiss, short and vicious. They part out of breath, and Jason uses the opportunity to attempt once again to get Dick on his back. It doesn’t work, Dick pressing down his entire weight into him.
“If it wasn’t guilt, then what was it?” Dick bites, more hurt in his voice than Jason expected. “Why the hell did you keep leaving? ” The last few weeks were so hard on Jason, always having to push Dick away, he barely stopped to consider how it affected Dick. Jason relaxes in his grip.
“I was jealous, okay?” He squeezes his eyes shut.
Dick laughs at him, momentarily distracted from their fight. Jason opens his eyes to be pulled up into a kiss.
“Jealous of the girl you created? Jay, that makes no sense,” Dick says when they pull back.
Jason picks that moment to suddenly buck his knees, finally toppling Dick back down. He’s barely managed to settle over him, mouth open to crack a joke, when—the room spins and they're switching places. Again. Dick grinds down against Jason, the friction delicious and nowhere near enough.
“Fuck you,” Jason spits without heat, his hips lifting against his will.
“I’d like to, we just have to clear this up first.” Dick lifts himself up on his knees and out of Jason’s reach. “Why were you jealous of Amber?”
Jason, with much more ease than before, quickly regains the upper hand, settling above Dick, kissing him fiercely. “We’re grinding in your bed and you’re still gonna make me fucking spell it out?”
Dick smirks, saying nothing.
Jason groans, letting his head fall, forehead on Dick’s shoulder. “Because I—I’m in love with you. Probably.” He bites down. “Duh.”
Dick pulls Jason’s head back up by the hair, not unkindly, and kisses him, sweet for the first time since Jason returned home. Jason settles into it despite himself, letting his weight fall onto Dick, his confession sitting between them.
When they pull back, he realizes Dick’s stopped struggling entirely. “You let me win,” he accuses.
Dick shifts under him slightly, pleased. “Aren’t couples supposed to compromise?” Jason must look confused, because Dick rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, obviously I love you, too.” He gives him another sweet kiss, shorter this time. “Now, are you going to get your dick out and fuck me like you promised, or do I have to do everything myself?”
Jason blinks, then without thinking says, “I’m not convinced you’d do anything for yourself if you could get away with it.”
Dick levels a look at him, a look that brooks no argument. “Just—take your clothes off, man.”
Once their clothes are in a pile on the floor, Jason has to stop and just look. Dick preens under the attention, stretching his lithe body out with a smirk. Jason wants to ruin it with his teeth.
“Like what you see?”
Jason ignores Dick’s compliment fishing, for now. “On your stomach.”
Dick complies, like he’s doing him a favour. “The lube’s in the side table.”
Jason settles over Dick’s thighs. “I don’t know, will you even need it after earlier?” He rubs his cock against the cleft of Dick’s ass, teasing.
“All I need is for you to get on with it,” Dick breathes out, hips sliding against the sheets of their own accord.
Jason’s not gonna fuck him dry, but—he slips a finger in, mesmermized by the lack of resistance. Dick moans, choked off like he’s trying to hide it. Jason pulls the finger out, pushes it back in, fucks Dick with it slowly, teasing.
“ Jason .”
Jason returns with lube, and this shuts Dick up. Jason adds another finger, and he’s treated to a pleased moan from Dick. But Jason’s taking his time, and Dick’s getting frustrated again, shallowly humping the bed in an attempt to speed Jason up.
“So desperate,” Jason taunts, feeling Dick clench down around him at his words.
“Come on—” Dick snaps.
“Nah,” Jason laughs, a little mean. “Not yet.”
Dick surprises him, then. He groans, annoyed, then, in an unrestrained voice, he bites, “Please, fucking— Jason, please, I need your cock,” his hips suddenly lifting up off the bed brazenly. “ Please—”
“Fuck,” Jason mumbles. He pushes in, both of them moaning in tandem.
“Now who’s desperate?” Dick snarks, suddenly more composed. Jason pulls out just to slam back in and Dick grunts. “Barely any begging, and you crumble? For shame.”
“You talk too much,” is the best reply Jason can come up with. Dick may have been loose around Jason’s fingers, but he’s impossibly tight around his cock, and Jason can barely breathe.
Dick shuts up, moving with Jason as he fucks him into the mattress.
Dick’s vocal now that he’s gotten what he wants, and Jason speeds up, unable to handle the sounds now that they’re in the same room. “Jesus, Dick, you’re so—”
He cuts himself off, finding it harder than he did over text to say the thoughts running through his brain. He settles for leaning forward and leaving another bite mark into Dick’s shoulder. Dick fists his hands in the sheets and curses, again and again.
Jason's internal temperature is boiling over, he's bruising Dicks hips where he's gripping them. It's too much, he's getting close and he doesn't want this to end, not yet, so he pulls out with little warning. Dick curses in complaint as Jason catches his breath, then twists his shoulders around to shoot him a look.
"Thought you were gonna ride me?" Jason grins, pushing his hair off his face as he sits back on his calves. "Why am I doing all the work?"
Dick pauses. Then, “Do I have to?”
Jason laughs out loud. “Oh my fucking god. Roll over, pillow princess.”
Dick agrees to the suggestion quickly, for once. Jason’s not one for that cheesy crap—except no, he totally is. He wants to see Dick’s face, wants to be able to kiss him. He slides back in and Dick sighs, content, reaching to grab the back of Jason’s neck and tug him down for a kiss. The frantic pace slows down and Jason becomes more focused on making out with Dick than fucking him. Dick runs his hands up and down Jason’s back lightly, sending shivers running through him with every stroke.
The kiss stops eventually, both of them too short on breath to keep going.
“Just as pretty as I thought you’d be,” Jason says and Dick’s eyes fall shut, pushing up into Jason’s thrusts to meet him halfway. “You drive me crazy, baby, Dick, fuck—”
Dick moans as Jason devolves into nonsense, throwing his head back. It isn’t long before Jason starts to lose his rhythm, thrusts speeding up, Dick cursing out encouragements.
Dick tries to wrap his hand around his cock, trapped and leaking between them, and Jason bats his hand away to replace it with his own, moving it in time with his thrusts.
“Come for me, gorgeous,” Jason encourages and Dick does. Jason was right—he is beautiful when he comes. Jason follows soon after, eyes rolling back into his head, bones liquifying as he rests his entire weight onto Dick.
They pant for a moment, just staring at each other, before Jason slips out to a grunt from Dick. Jason climbs out of the bed, his legs shaky as he grabs a damp towel from the bathroom. He cleans himself off, then comes back to the room, throwing it at Dick, still lying on the bed, who catches it with a thanks.
Jason crawls back into bed beside Dick, pulling him against his chest. Dick goes willingly, teasing, “I didn’t peg you for a cuddler.”
“Next time I call little spoon,” he says, and places a kiss on Dick’s shoulder.
Dick sighs, content. “I still can’t fucking believe you catfished me,” he says again, though it just sounds amused this time.
“It was Roy’s idea.”