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Jason’s molar sunk into another blueberry. The smallest pop as the plump skin broke and flavor flooded his mouth.
Normally oatmeal with blueberries was one of his favorites since childhood; a rare treat when they could splurge for fruit and the grocery store lady would give them the technically-past-the-expiration-date oatmeal packets but not spoiled enough that they were inedible.
Now though, the breakfast tasted like mush in his mouth. His mind too distracted to focus on the meal. Ears peeled out for familiar footsteps and the rattling of keys.
Jason eyed the clock for the dozenth time that hour. Slade should be back…any minute now…
The doorhandle rattled and metal squeaked as it twisted opened. He swallowed his current bite thickly and made a conscious effort to relax his body. Last time they talked over the phone, just a few days earlier, he was able to hide his nervousness well enough, but Slade had an uncanny ability to pick up on any stress from his mate within seconds.
Jason bit his lip then shoved another spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth to stop the nervous tic, propping his left leg over his right as he leaned back into the kitchen counter to stop his bouncing, restless foot. Moments later Slade rounded the corner. He looked tired. Not normal-people tired of course, but his-tired. A tightness around his eye and his hair a bit more mussed than normal. Still handsome as hell. Ass.
“Hey,” Jason said simply, trying to sus out his mood before kickstarting any plans.
“Hey,” Slade grunted and tossed his jacket on the back of the chair. Jason didn’t pay any mind to his rough tone. His lover never learned, nor cared to learn, the art of vocal social norms or conversational niceties and he was fine with that.
Swiping up the cold-water bottle Jason left out for him that was strategically placed next to multiple pamphlets and brochures of various houses. Ranging from absurd mansions in Beverly Hills to quaint little cottages in the mountains. He even threw in a few countryside-inspired locations in case Slade was feeling homesick.
After downing the whole bottle, Slade’s lips ticked up at Jason’s oh-so-subtle display of the entirety of the housing market collaged on their dining room table. Well, technically Jason’s table but after Slade unofficially moved in his last apartment/safe-house as they started to get serious, they finally got a bigger apartment together where Slade officially moved in. Ish.
He still owned his previous house – the one he had before meeting Jason – the one that had years and years of his life packed into it. His house away from this home. And he still traveled constantly of course. But he always came back to Jason’s side. And since has slowly been bringing more and more of his belongings into their current Gotham apartment. It’s been steadily getting more cramped. And with this new development? Yeah. They’ll definitely need a bigger place. He thinks. He hopes. (And fuck is he scared to hope)
He shoved another bite in his mouth as he felt his teeth start to gnaw at his lip. “Something weighing on your mind, brat?” Slade’s voice cut and Jason froze until he saw what the other man was gesturing to. Oh, yes, the pamphlets.
“Do you have another contract?” Jason asked first. He wanted to talk but if Slade needed to leave in a few hours, he’d rather he slept. Get some real rest. The ex-military soldier can sleep pretty much anywhere but never slept so deeply than when he was at home. (Which was odd because Jason has seen the security measures at his other house. The apartment’s security isn’t anything to scoff at, but damn. Fort Knox looks like a child’s play gate compared to that place.)
“No,” Slade didn’t elaborate, but Jason didn’t really need him too.
He nodded around his spoon. “So, did you think any more on it?”
“No.”
“Slade,” Jason said in exasperation. He could practically feel Slade’s smirk, regardless of only his back and side profile being visible.
The older man’s head turned left, then a bit to the right; Jason assumed so his gaze could sweep over the entirety of the brochures. He saw Slade pluck one up and flip it over, Jason leaned just a bit to the side to see which one he had in hand that caught his eye – well trying to see. The alpha’s dumb broad-ass shoulders blocked Jason’s view just-so that by the time he turned Jason’s way, he had put it back in the pile so Jason would have no idea which one he was looking at.
The prick.
Jason scowled and sent him a pissed-off glare. Slade in return just leaned back against the kitchen table across from Jason. His posture mirrored Jason’s, except his arms crossed where Jason’s held his Gotham Knights breakfast bowl in front of him. Amusement danced in Slade’s gaze; the older man just loved teasing annoying him. Well fine, since Slade wanted to be so spectacularly unhelpful trying to pick out their future home, he guessed they had nothing to talk about.
Jason continued to glare at him, refusing to say anything further, and took a rough bite of oatmeal. His teeth clanging against the silverware. He imagined one of the blueberries as Slade’s dumb obnoxious head as he crunched down.
The same dumb obnoxious head that had a growing grin at Jason’s muted scowl (pout).
Slade finally broke their stare down, assumingly not trying to actually tic Jason off. “Jay, you know my style. I’ll trust whatever you pick,” he said standing up from his leant position to pick up his jacket and duffle bag haphazardly tossed on the chair.
Sounded like a cop-out if Jason ever heard one. Which he’s sure he conveyed in his “uh huh,” he responded flatly with. “Well, even as darling as that is, I would still like your input on things you’d prefer to be included,” Jason continued. Slade at this point was looking at something on his phone. His tendencies to multitask in conversations still annoyed Jason a bit, but over the years of learning about the man he’s gotten used to it; knowing he wasn’t doing it out of a lack of interest or attention. His dumb, but-in-actuality-very-smart, meta-brain was exceedingly good at multitasking and paying attention to various things at once. In fact, it worked better when it had various things to focus on. (Having one Slade Wilson's full attention on you was a very singular, slightly intimating, experience)
Earlier in their years Jason obviously had a hard time believing that forced sounding crock-of-shit, but every time Jason’s tested him to see if he was paying attention to what the younger man had said, Slade could repeat everything back verbatim. Even when Jason would occasionally ramble to himself when cooking dinner or cleaning their weapons while Slade worked in the background at the computer. Jason would get sidetracked and forget where he was going in the conversation, and Slade would remind him easily – because he was listening.
Slade was always paying attention when Jason talked. (And hell, that concept took even longer to get used to).
So, with all that knowledge Jason knew Slade was still listening as he puttered on, “Like do you want a fireplace? Or a humongous back yard? Do you want to live closer to the city? Or country? Do you want a tennis court?” Various thoughts popping through Jason’s head.
At the last one Slade looked up, eyebrows raised, “Why would I want a tennis court?”
Jason shrugged.
“Do you want a tennis court?” Slade motioned at him, phone still in hand and a text conversation with Billy pulled up.
“No?” Jason gave him a weird look. What the hell would he need a tennis court for?
Slade exhaled a huff of air, his version of an-almost-laugh, turning back to his bag he shoved the phone in and ruffled through some of the other pockets, but his voice still clear as he spoke. “Well, what amenities were you considering?”
Jason pursed his lips. For someone known for being direct, the old bastard was good at evading some simple damn questions. It should have been some painless answers of what he wanted in a house, it wasn’t a interrogation on his deepest, darkest fetishes – which at this point, he may have answered sooner.
Fine, fine. Jason’s just gonna throw the pieces out and see where the hell they land. “Well,” he began, “ceilings tall enough to house your giant ass, double-spaced closet, big tub, a nursery, a sunspot to read in, maybe a pool.” Slade hummed at Jason’s list as he strolled out the room towards their bedroom to drop his duffle bag in. Jason waited in the silence and took another bite of his now completely cooled oatmeal…one second…then another.
Then the sound of footsteps coming back at a pace much more rapid than they exited. Slade arrived at the doorframe he just left from, this time motion suspended and all attention on Jason. “…a nursery,” he repeated back.
“Yeah,” he said, eyes flicking to Slade’s statuesk frame, then back to his bowl, spoon lightly scraping at some solidified cinnamon stuck at the bottom. He shrugged, trying for nonchalant, but heart beating too damn fast, “a nursery”.
After some agonizingly long moments of silence, Jason looked back up towards the other man, unbearably anxious to see the alpha’s expression. To see if there was any on displayed or his blunt, emotionless mask was on; the one that fell into place when he completely locked down. Jason swallowed hard, ready to meet the other’s gaze, but Slade’s own was looking down. Well, more correctly it was locked on Jason’s still flat stomach. Slade’s head tilted just ever-so-slightly to the side. A small quark he wasn’t sure if the mercenary was aware he did on occasions when he was listening to something intensely.
He realized belatedly that Slade could probably hear the fetus’s heartbeat if he was purposefully listening for it.
And wasn’t that just fucking weird.
After another minute or two of silence – and Slade’s gaze just fucking locked on his abdomen – the suspense got too much for the increasingly anxious omega. The one who just told their mate he was knocked up with his pup and he wasn’t saying anything.
“Would you, just, fucking say something,” Jason snapped out, flustered. The silverware dug into his skin from the death grip he had on it, his neck and lower back felt hot and prickly. The verbal vomit had Slade’s eye finally lifting back up to Jason, which just sent his heart into another frenzy of rapid beats. Although, the stupid alpha still wasn’t saying anything.
The usually endearing, but now nerve-wracking, taciturn man started to slowly walk towards Jason. All of his instincts had his body tensing up and muscles locking at the approaching figure; his body’s immediate response shifting into fight or flight mode, disregarding any logic of this being their mate or the father of their pup approaching.
The omega set his jaw and stared his alpha dead-on, like hell was Jason gonna run or back down from anything Slade had to say.
More tendrils of warmth spread through Slade, these ones more heated and curling lower in his belly, watching as his omega’s shoulders snapped back and his body naturally slid from fidgeting nervously to defiant and looking like he could turn that everyday eating utensil into a weapon of tremendous bloodshed. And knowing his dangerous omega – he totally could. (Slade tried not to let those thoughts run too rampant in his mind, trying not to get keyed up any further).
The need to touch the younger man was edging into overwhelming but he deliberately made sure to telegraph all his movements. Slade got closer to his mate - his - with agonizing, cautious, and slow movements with no sudden jerks.
Slade’s hand brushed Jason’s cheek, then laid more firmly on it; his lips following the same pattern onto Jason’s own. The kiss was light as Slade tried to hold back his desire by what felt like pieces of fraying yarn at this point. But as he felt Jason relax against him, mouth and body go lax, the possessive hunger he was subduing boiled up at a rapid rate. Within seconds his body was flushed to Jason’s own. His left hand pressed them tightly together by the small of the omega’s back. Slade’s other hand cradled Jason’s jaw, tilting it back enough that Slade had full access, kiss going deep and intimate. At a particularly hard nip and tug on Jason’s quickly reddening lips, a shiver ran through the panting omega. Slade’s grip tighten lightly on those thick raven locks and Jason responded with a shuttered inhale. One that drew Slade back to continue devouring that welcoming mouth.
A hand pressed lightly at his neck. “Slad-” Jason mumbled, but mouth still sliding against Slade’s own in an intoxicating way. The hand pinched at his neck. An area more sensitive than others, but not hard enough to hurt; just enough to draw his hyper fixated attention to something other. (Jason learned that it had to be a pinch. Any hard tugging on his hair would just ramp the man up further.)
“Slade, as much as I enjoy your tongue in my mouth,” Jason panted, Slade moved his attention from that delicious mouth to a rather sensitive spot just under his jawline – the shutter he got in response to the light nips proving his point. He felt the motion of Jason’s hard swallow followed by both hearing and feeling his words vibrate slightly through the skin, “I’m gonna need something a bit more now. Like, actual words.”
Slade couldn’t see the hand on his blindside, but he felt a flutter of movement and knew Jason was doing the little hand wave gesture he did when he was fumbling for words. It was cute.
“What do you want to hear?” The question coming out blunter than Slade had meant, intending it to sound more inquiring than placating. Jason didn’t seem put out by the wording though, seemingly knowing what Slade really meant. He never used to care about stupid shit like that. If people took what he said wrong constantly, that was their issue. But with Jason, it always left him with a pleased satisfied feeling knowing the omega understood perfectly what he was trying to communicate.
“I-” Jason floundered, “Well, what are you thinking? What, what are you feeling? We haven’t actually talked about kids.” The hands gripping the sleeves of Slade’s shirt tightened just a bit as Slade ran his lips over another sensitive area of neck. He kept his hands from roaming, instead bracketing the kid’s nipped-in waist and body pulled flushed to Slade's. The irritating food bowl that was creating distance between them has long been discarded to the side.
Slade was enjoying the feeling of Jason’s pulse under his skin, the strong thud of it. But he could smell faint leaks of anxiety. The scent of worry ran broad strokes throughout his familiar tantalizing scent. A nervousness for Slade’s reaction. What he could be feeling about the news.
Slade was feeling a lot.
But that was always pretty common with the kid. The constant sweltering abundance of feeling, but not unbearably so, that the younger man inspired in him.
What was Slade feeling?
Slade rarely, if ever, had to answer that question. Because frankly, it’s even rarer that he’s asked it. Even when he and Addy were together it was typically, “Slade, what are you thinking?” or Billy’s “Slade, what are you going to do?”, but rarely what was he feeling.
Most seen that as a minor factor, something inconsequential. That Slade, a picture of logic and pragmatism and the pinnacle of traditional masculine strength, would be incited by his emotions. That this man of careful, calculated thoughts and deliberate actions would ever be led by something as fleeting as feelings.
Jason had called that “crock-of-bullshit” out disturbingly early into their budding relationship. He knew how deeply Slade felt things, because Jason felt it too. Those deep wells of emotion they let burrow into their core, then not knowing how the hell to dig them out without it taking bloody bits of them with it.
Slade, however, still had to get used to being asked the question fairly frequently by the younger man. But he’s pleased to say over the years he’s gotten more used to answering it; being able to finally bite out more elaborate identifications and labels to his feelings.
So, his answer flowed surprisingly easy with no hesitation in knowing exactly what ran through his body making it thrum.
“It makes me happy,” he murmured lowly against the skin of his neck, the response short and straightforward. “I’m happy,” he bolstered.
He pulled back just enough to see Jason’s face and the way his eyes widened at the words. Slade distantly recognized that this was most likely the first time Jason ever actually heard those particular words from him. Out loud at least.
Huh. Definitely won’t be the last.
Not if that same smile broke across Jason’s face every time. Wide enough that the hidden dimples on his cheeks showed. Wide enough he struggled to smother it back to normal size and tried to hide it in Slade’s shoulder.
Slade drew much amusement from confident, smug, sort-of-an-asshole Jason. The kid’s quick wit and sharp tongue left many of his victim’s prides figuratively mutilated to Slade’s joy. But shy, flustered and adorably nervous or off-kilter Jason had a very special place in his heart as well. One he coveted greedily; not wanting anyone but him to see the absurdly endearing sight.
“Ok,” Jason cleared his throat. Cheeks still pink as he tried, and failed, to pull his overly pleased smile back and look more composed. “Yeah, ok, that’s, uh, that’s good. Good,” he repeated and nodded.
“Good,” Slade copied back, a teasing mock in his voice. His body hummed with warmth, something he hadn’t felt this regularly since long before their relationship. His attention both drawn singularly to every one of his omega’s features and all of them as a stunning whole at the same time; memorizing the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheek, but also the ripples of joy that spanned across his face. If Slade had to bet Jason had some type of long-lost mythical creature blood in him, he would probably guess phoenix first for obvious reasons, but siren coming as a hard second. The way those pretty ocean eyes seemed to reel Slade in, a sirening hypnotic lure with every emotion that stirred within them; he could, and does, get lost in them and drowns happily.
Now those memorizing eyes were shining with a light and warmth so vivid that Slade had long ago finally put the proper name to the vibrating affection: love.
“Now can I go back to kissing you,” Slade let his words brush against his lips.
Although, whereas the crinkle around his mate’s eyes spoke of love and affection, that particular slanted tug of his lips spoke only of mischief.
Jason pulled back, letting go of Slade’s arms and leaned from his embrace enough to reach for the long-discarded bowl.
“I don’t know,” he sighed deeply. “This is some really good oatmeal. Look it has cinnamon and blueberries and bits of-” he squawked; his remaining words lost as Slade swept him off his feet and into his arms.
“Get your ass over here,” Slade growled in his ear. Jason’s laughter and call of his name followed by curses to put him down filled the white hallways all the way to their bedroom.
A sound that would soon fill a den they both picked, within walls they both built, with a child they both raised. Walls and rooms saturated with Jason’s and their pup’s laughs and scents and memories. That thought too made Slade very very happy.