Chapter Text
This cheeky motherfucker.
Jason had climbed through the window to your penthouse apartment all but twenty minutes ago, muttering to himself about patrols and his brothers and their propensity for trouble on relatively easy missions. You don't think much of it, both of you are verbal thinkers (with soliloquies commonplace). It isn't until Jason places his Red Hood helmet a little too harshly on the island in the kitchen, that you turn and focus your attention on him. You give him a moment. Then another. You adjust your view to see him rummaging through the cabinets, looking for a glass, the fridge beside him open.
"Jay?" you ask, sitting up from your place on the couch, placing your current book on the table beside you.
"Yeah?" he responds, his brain putting together the equation. "Oh, uh, yeah I'm good. Promise."
"You sure?" you prod. He closes the cabinet, glass in hand, placing it quickly while he grabbed items to make himself a sandwich.
"Yeah, no I'm actually good. I'm just trying to process Dickweed's absolute stupidity." he says turning to you, carton of oat milk in hand, pouring it into the glass, grabbing toast bread with the other and kicking the fridge closed with his foot. You pad up to the island, resting your forearms against it. You get a good look at Jason's face. There are no scratches, no forming bruises, no blood. Jason's face, however, is dusted a light pink. His cheeks and ears slightly reddening with each movement.
"What did he do?" you ask, a small smile forming on your lips.
"Dickwing, Replacement and I were practicing some moves," Jason starts, digging into his sandwich and standing opposite to you. "Apparently, I flustered the shit out of that dumbass."
You can't help but let a laugh escape you. "And then?"
"And then, the fucker accidentally gives himself a black eye because I left him speechless."
Your jaw was on the floor. You laugh until you feel like you're about to pee and until you can't breathe. Jason laughs a little as well, more so to laugh at your reaction to the news.
"There's no fucking way he's that--"
"Yes, he is in fact, that dumb." Jason smiles, nodding as you start to laugh again. Jason laughs harder, he can't help it. Your laugh is infectious.
"What did you even do?" you ask, after you catch your breath. Jason stops mid-bite of his sandwich.
"Nothing," his face reddens again. You huff in slight exasperation. You knew he was embarrassed, but also nervous to tell you. Why was he nervous?
You raise your eyebrows.
"Nothing!"
"Aw, come on Jason! Show me, please?" you do your best impression of puppy dog eyes, hoping that you are able to twist Jason's rubber arm.
Jason glares at you, with no malice behind the gaze. His mouth was once again full of food as he shakes his head in disagreement.
"Well, it doesn't seem like nothing," you jest lightly. "Do I have some competition that I need to worry about?"
"Oh, absolutely not," Jason says too quickly, mouth full and pieces of sandwich falling out.
"Then show me what you did!" you whine like a child.
Jason pauses. "Fine," he grunts. "Later though."
Jason fully thinks he's gotten away with hit. It's been almost four days and you haven't brought up the incident. It was more embarrassing for him that it was for Dick. Right?
All he needed was help on some move that you were talking about with Steph and Babs the other day. Steph had shown the both of you a video from a popular book content creator on a short video platform. You had declared, a little too excitedly, that if Jason had done that to you, you would ascend right there and then. As the dutiful boyfriend he was, of course he had to snoop around and figure out just what would make you swoon with pleasure. It ended up taking several unsuccessful rabbit hole dives and a slightly embarrassing text to Babs and Steph to figure out what video you were all referencing. Babs sent Jason the video, Steph sent eggplant emojis instead. Jason rolled his eyes.
That afternoon and into evening, he was determined to learn this stance. For some reason, his body wouldn't coordinate with his mind and he didn't understand why. So he did the only logical thing he could think of; he asked Dick and Tim during monthly family patrol that night to help him. Well, he knew where the story went from there.
"Hey, Jay?" you called out from your place in the living room, nose glued about 50 pages from the end of your new novel.
"Hmm?" he hummed in response.
"Are you gonna show me that thing from the other night or not?" you asked, eyes wide with curiosity as you looked up over the top of your book. You were sprawled out on the couch in one of his shirts, a pair of lounge shorts and a pair of socks that he shittily made for you last Christmas (Alfred still hasn't forgiven him for his knitting atrocities). You move off the couch, laying your book down in the same place you did a few nights before.
As you face him, something in Jason snaps. He needs you and now.
"Okay," he looks down and then back at you through his eyelashes. You shoot him a confused look. He walks towards you and the momentum of his body sweeps you up. You walk backwards, one of Jason's arms behind your waist, as if to guide you. You were trapped against the wall and his body, his chest ever so slightly touching yours as you both breathed deep. His breath was hot on your face, as he looked down his nose. His right hand gently caressed the skin underneath your chin, his thumb and forefinger carefully tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His left hand was supporting some of his weight against the wall. Your eyes locked with his as his mouth twitched into another smirk. Your breathing hitches a little in your throat, and something in his eyes grows with hunger and want. A shiver traveled down your spine. Something about the adrenaline of the moment makes your knees weak, although they hold their ground.
"Oh," you breathe, your breathing quickening slightly.
Jason lets out a breathy laugh, as he kisses the tip of your nose. "Oh." he repeats.