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[kandyscorner]

You know what super sweet to think about, Jason getting his first cheek kiss by someone he likes🥺 I know I said I'd submit something for Dick or Tim to break up all the Jason Todd on the dash, but ugh can you blame me?? Like maybe it's a first date or a second, and he's nervous, like she can tell even though he's hiding it pretty well. Maybe he does something sweet, hold the door open for her, pull her seat out, give her his jacket, something chivalrous that just comes naturally from being around Alfred for so long, and she thanks him with a sweet kiss to the cheek. I imagine he short circuits completely, couldn't recover in time even if he tried, and believe me, he tried. Red blush, starting from his chest all the way to his ears, eye brows shooting up involuntarily like he didn't know a cheek kiss could exist, and he's just frozen in time. You look at him and giggle, and that sound breaks him out of it, and he's just a fumbling mess the rest of the night, but secretly he's just trying to earn another one of those. Ugh, I love him your honor

@herodedicatedblog

Publishing this request to try and summon @herodedicatedblog. I miss my friends crazy commentary. I got lost in the sauce of this, I think, but I still think it works out pretty good. Flustered Jason is the best! I love him!!

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“Trivia? You're taking me to trivia?” Jason gives you a very judgey face and it makes you wrinkle your nose.

“Don't say it like that. I thought long and hard about this.” This being the first time Jason was letting you plan a date.

“So that's where the smell of smoke was from.” Jason retorts. You step slowly into his space, hands behind your back and you grin at him innocently. 

He eyes you but doesn't step away from you, if anything leans just a bit closer. It gives you ample opportunity to flick his cheek.

“Don't be mean to me,” you tell him with a pout. He grabs the hand that flickered him, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. 

“Alright, I'm sorry, okay?” You can see the sincerity in his eyes but you flounder anyway.

“Do you really not like trivia?” You ask quietly, eyes downcast. He tips your chin with his free hand to make you look up at him again.

“I like anything you plan. I didn't mean to rag on you, sweetheart. Just wasn't expecting trivia is all.” 

“It's at the library,” you start, feeling more confident and hoping to explain why you had chosen trivia for the date, “and it's specifically on classic literature.” 

You tug him down the sidewalk where you two halted for your conversation. Your jittering nerves enough to finally answer him after he asked what you had planned for the third time. 

“The library?” He asks, letting you pull him slightly. 

“Yeah, you mentioned how you spent a lot of time at the library when you were younger and how you try to support them as much as possible. I figured we could hit two birds with one stone. A date and support the library by participating in their activities.” You suck in a breath at the end of your words. 

“Anyone ever tell you you're perfect, sweetheart, cause you are.” The compliment has you flustering a little but you find relief when the library comes into view.

You pause to look at it. The buildings in Gotham never ceased to amaze you, the architecture always so detailed. Jason stands beside you as you admire the building and then offers you an elbow.

“I think we have a fun trivia night to get to.” He says and you take his arm letting him lead you this time.

“You called it fun,” you say in almost a tease.

“I never said otherwise,” he lightly chides as you climb the steps. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you roll your eyes and reach for the door but Jason beats you to it and pulls the door open. 

“Thank you, handsome,” you say as you walk through the open door. When you turn to wait for him you find a light red dusting across his cheeks and find yourself pleased with getting him to blush. 

The past three date's you had been on you had felt like a total fool. It's why you asked if you could plan the next one, for some semblance of control when it came to being around Jason. 

You check in for trivia and settle in. A small crowd, mostly families and a few couples and friends. Trivia goes by easily or as easily as being tested on old books could be. 

Jason kept looking at you and smiling. You could tell he was trying to make up for his teasing from before, telling you periodically how he was enjoying this and that it was fun. 

The trivia was set up like March madness. You would go up against one team and whoever won would move onto the next round. 

Jason was good, like really good and so were you. You had lightly studied up on classic literature beforehand. It wasn't to show off but you didn't want to look like a total idiot during the date. As the game went on the questions got harder and more specific.

You were in the second to last round. You just had to beat this one and you would be in the finals. You were actually excited, a quiet adrenaline thrumming through your veins. You had one last question in this round.

“Shakespeare wrote over 150 works in his lifetime. Which of these works ends in the death of the noble Trojan Hector?”

You find your competitors turn to each other in a panic. You don't think about it and don’t listen to the question thoroughly as you turn to Jason, “It's the Iliad, right?”

Jason blinks at you apparently startled, he already has the mark uncapped and pressed to the white board. His face turns into a grimace like he’s about to tell you some bad news.

“Sweetheart,” he says gently and makes you smile at his placating attempts, “that's not Shakespeare.”

“I know,” you nod slowly with pinched brows. He gives you a look and you turn to where they have the question posted, “Oh sorry. I wasn't listening to the first part.” you fluster. He reaches over and gives your hand a squeeze. 

“You would've been right without,” he lets go of your hand and picks the mark back up. You lean over his shoulder to watch his answer.

“I never knew Shakespeare wrote anything about the Trojan War.” you whisper into his ear and you swear Jason shudders. He turns his head to meet your eye once he’s done writing.

“It's not very popular. People find it confusing and the name is deceptive.”

“You're actually pretty positive about this, aren’t you?” you question.

“It's why you brought me.” he says with a cocky grin which makes you laugh because it's something you'd expect from a man winning a sport not classic literature trivia.

“Times up, Ladies and Gentlemen, please show us your answers.”

The other team flips the board first, Timon of Athens. Despite the written answer they still seem entirely unsure of it.

“”While Timon of Athens is a tragedy, it is not the tragedy of Troy. Unfortunately that is incorrect. And our second team?”

You give Jason a reassuring nod and he flips the board. Troilus and Cressida

“It seems we have our first contestants for the final round.” the host rambles on more information that you entirely ignore because you made it to the final round! You and Jason stand to swap out  seats with the next group. You shuffle over to the “Audience” seating and sit down suddenly aware of the tight grip you have on Jason’s hand. He doesn't complain, doesn't say anything. 

It's only once the next round starts that you can't contain your excitement anymore. You shake Jason’s hand and turn in your seat, lean up and press an excited kiss to his cheek, “We won.” you whisper, still vibrating with glee.

As you pull back, Jason turns his head slowly to stare at you. He blinks and stares and blinks again. The apples of his cheeks turn red first. It creeps up to his ears and down his neck disappearing under the collar of his shirt. Your glee shifts from excitement about winning to excitement over how fluster Jason suddenly is.

“What’s wrong, handsome? Need another victory kiss?” you swear he turns redder at your teasing.

“No, that's okay. Is it hot in here?” he mumbles and you laugh, loud enough to earn a glare from the people around you. You couldn't care less about the trivia night anymore, enamored by how Jason blushes. 

You leave Jason alone other than periodically staring at him. His blush settles mostly, though it resides on his cheeks indefinitely. He fidgets in his seat clearly no longer paying attention to the trivia game in front of you. 

You want to kiss him on the cheek again then kiss him on the mouth and sit back and watch that blush grow. You want to do it when his shirt is off so you can press kisses to his reddened neck and hopefully follow it as far down as it goes. Maybe go lower to see if the red would follow.

You blink at the poking at your shoulder, a woman behind you gesturing to the trivia contest. It was time for the final round. Apparently, neither you or Jason were paying attention because you have to tug him out of his seat to get him to come along.

You settle in your seat, markers at the ready. The host explains that there will only be one question this round and that was it. You glance at Jason, cheeks still red and you're not entirely sure he’s even listening which would have bothered you if you even cared about the trivia game anymore.

“The final round, the winner takes it all, all being this small trophy we found on Amazon and this bag of candy.” The host presents the prize and a ripple of laughter moves through the group with a small child yelling out, “there was candy!?”

“Are you ready contestants?” the host asks and you nod only slightly hoping Jason will come back to the moment.

“How often does Mr Darcy call Elizabeth by her first name in Jane Austen's book Pride and Prejudice? Time starts now.”

You gingerly set the marker down. This question was so not meant for you. Jason had teased you about not having read it at least once. It wasn't a requirement at your school. 

You turn in your seat and find him still looking a little dazed and decide you're probably not going to be winning this.

“Jason,” you whisper to him and gain no reaction, “Jason!” You poke at his rib and his eyes snap to you.

“What?” You press your hand to your mouth to keep from laughing.

“I can't answer this question.”

“What question?”

“Jason,” you chide and gesture to the posted question and the time you were running out of fast.

“Oh, shit,” his brows raise in surprise and you stifle another laugh.

“Jason, there's children here.”

“Sorry,” he doesn't sound very sorry, “I don't know the answer.” 

That he does sound sorry about. You give him what you hope is a calm smile.

“That's okay. Take your best guess.” 

“But we're so close, sweetheart.” He insists even though there's nothing he can do.

“I know, handsome but we're out of time,” you gesture back to the clock now in seconds. He hurries with the marker and writes down his answer, once.

“I think it's when he proposed, but there may have been another time.I can't remember.” He leans to whisper to you, cheeks a slightly redder than before.

“And our answers are once and twice. I'm so sorry but the answer is twice!” The little girl on the competing team bounces out of her mom's lap and nearly dives at the host for the candy. 

You finally let out your ill contained laughter, hand grabbing Jason’s and intertwining your fingers. Partially so he won't think you're mad about the loss, mostly because you're about to kiss his cheek again and you're definitely going to make him stay there so you can watch him turn red again.

_____

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[kandyscorner]

Do I Know You? Part 31

Synopsis: Darla wants you to be okay. So does Damian. And so does Jason.

Note: Damian’s back for the chapter! He is the carrier of some important information. Also, he’s just a kid and I love him. Everyone’s just kind of checking on our girl and her and Jason come to a very important agreement at the end. Enjoy!!

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“So, I heard your boyfriend brought you to work this morning. Is that why your so bouncy?” Yours and Darla’s shifts overlapped for just an hour today, not totally common but she had a doctor’s appointment that morning.

“I’m not bouncy,” you retort, and she gives you a look of firm disbelief.

“This is the most energy I’ve seen from you all week. You don’t look like you’re gonna pass out from sheer exhaustion anymore. Tell me you gave him an earful for ditching you.”

“I didn’t have to,” you tell her, and she opens her mouth, probably to tell you otherwise. You hold up a hand to stop her, “He apologized, and he missed me like I missed him.”

She gives you an unimpressed look, “I’m not sure I like him for you anymore.”

“That’s not really your decision, Darla.” You counter and it comes a tad harsher than you intended but some part of you feels it necessary to defend Jason. Sure, he left but he came back. Darla features falter and she gives you an apologetic look.

“I know, sweet thing. It’s just- I don’t want you to get hurt. This city and the people in have a way of drowning out people’s light. I don’t want that to happen to you especially sense you only recently got it back.” She steps towards you and takes your hands, “be careful, please. It’s okay not to forgive so easily, it’s how you survive.”

You forget sometimes that Darla was your first real friend in Gotham and that she knows more about you than anyone else in the city.

“That’s how you survive. I’m so tired of being alone, Darla,” you admit quietly remembered the melancholy you felt during your first two years in Gotham, “Jason’s good and kind and unmistakably human. He made a mistake, and he owned up to it and apologized. He’s not going to hurt me.”

She purses her lips, and you know she wants to argue, but she just nods, “Fine, just be careful alright?”

“I will,” you reassure her, and she leaves to attend to customers.

You know why she’s so up and arms all of a sudden with Jason. The emotional drop in your life while he vanished was extremely apparent. Your apartment a mess and you had a less than stellar work week, wrong orders and spilled coffee. Jason had without a doubt altered your way of existing.

Part of you knew you were lying to Darla about something, about Jason hurting you. You don’t think he would ever physically harm you but emotionally, he could do some serious damage. Something told you he already had. You couldn’t figure out what, but you felt a hollow ache in your chest if you thought too hard about it, so you ignored it.

You finished your cleanup process and clocked out. You give Darla an affectionate squeeze of her shoulder before you slip out into the warm air. Jason had told you he had some business to take care of after being gone for a week, if you needed him to pick you up he would. You brushed him off and told him to take care of what he needed.

It would’ve been a good day for a ride on his bike though. There would be a perfect breeze. You take your time walking, enjoying the mild weather before another storm creeped into Gotham. You tune back in at the sudden feeling of being watched, nerves suddenly on end.

You wonder if it’s paranoia, some strange connection with Jason suddenly being in town that might make you a target, but you don’t know why. A sleek black car rolls slowly on the road beside you and your muscle suddenly twitch with the urge to run. You keep your eyes forward, trying not to draw attention to yourself.

“Miss?” you flinch at the voice, stunned by the British accent. You turn to find Alfred Pennyworth smiling at you through the window from where he sits in the driver’s seat. Your nerves settle back down, and you smile back at the old man. You step towards the car and lean into the window slightly.

“Hello, Alfred. I like your hat.” You say pointing to the chauffeurs hat he wears. He holds the brim and tips the hat to you.

“My mother always taught me to dress for the part.” He smiles fondly as he says the statement.

“And what part is that?” you ask.

“Chauffeuring master Damian from school. He was concerned and wished to see you.”

“Pennyworth, do not make me more emotional than I am.” The boy speaks up from the backseat and your eyes are drawn to him, clad in a school uniform and scowl.

“Hi, Damian.” His scowl lessens at your acknowledgement of him.

“Hello, may I speak with you?” with the way Damian speaks you wonder if his English teachers love him or hate him.

“We’re speaking now, bubs,” his brows wrinkle at your words, a disgruntled look crossing his features. You worry that you’re about to get berated but his features ease.

“Have you eaten?” the question startles you and you turn to look at Alfred again. He doesn’t say anything, just nods encouragingly.

You turn your eyes back to Damian, “Not quite yet, I was just heading home.”

“Will you accompany us to Batburger for an afterschool snack?” his entire question, and this entire conversation, throws you off. Damian didn’t seem the type to eat at a fast-food restaurant or have after-school snacks. He gives you an imploring look that reminds you he’s still just a kid.

“You know what? I’ve never been to Batburger, so you’ll have to tell me what to order.” You tell him with a grin. A pleased look crosses his features before settling back to stoic.

“Very well. Pennyworth.” At Damian’s words, Alfred steps out of the vehicle and you feel confused until he rounds the car and opens the back seat door for you.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that Alfred, sorry,” you flounder at making the old man get out of the car. He shakes his head and tips his hat at you again.

“Not only do I dress the part, miss, but I also play the part as well.” He says with a pleasing smile. You give him an embarrassed smile.

“Thank you,” you tell him as you slide into the back seat with Damian. Alfred closes the door and you’re surprised by how tinted the windows are. You settle back in your seat and buckle up just as Alfred returns to the driver’s seat. You turn to look at Damian and his book bag on the floorboards.

“How was school?” you ask, what you hope is a neutral question. He rolls his eyes, and you think maybe you missed the mark.

“The place is full of imbeciles and heathens. How they could call the place an education center is beyond me.” You try not laugh at his words, startling like everything else that leaves his lips.

“It can’t be that bad,” you try after quelling your laughter, “do you have a favorite subject?”

He gives you a hesitant look, “the art classes are quite enjoyable.” He tells you quietly.

“See, there’s always something good. Do you like drawing?”  you ask, trying to keep the conversation going

“Yes.” Is all he gives you. You nod, waiting for more but get nothing. After another beat of silence, he pulls his book bag open and takes out a sketch book. He flips through the pages before settling on one and giving you the book.

The drawing is quite romantic, which surprises you. Two figures standing together, gently leaning against each other. They dressed nicely. The man in slacks and a button up and the woman in a dress you swear you’ve seen before. They stand under a tree, faces pressed close like they’re sharing a secret.

“This is amazing, Damian. The detail is phenomenal, and you can almost feel the emotion.” You tell him, still scanning over the detailed sketch.

“I was going to give it to Todd. Though your approval of it bodes well.” Your brows pinch at his words.

“Why are you giving it to Jason? Why would you need my approval?” you ask meeting his eye and he gives you a confused look before a realization’s dawns on him.

“You don’t remember this then?” you blink at the question and look back at the drawing.

That’s why you know the dress. It was the dress you wore at the brunch. This was you and Jason at some point during your blackout.

“You saw this? me and Jason?”

“Yes. It was before you vomited.” He says nonchalantly and it makes you pause.

“I threw up?” you set the sketch down to press your hands to your face. How embarrassing you must have been during your blackout.

“I apologize. I forgot Jason left town. I had assumed he had filled in a majority of your memory before departing.”

An embarrassed warmth reaches your cheeks, “No. I still don’t remember anything.”

“I can fill in what I know…”

The rest of the ride Damian tells you what he saw. Jason bringing you food, Steph admitting to getting you drunk over a bet, Jason smoking and you trailing after him, the moment sketched, and the moment Jason rushed you inside. The next time Damian saw you, you and Jason were standing in the rain, embracing (Damian’s words), Damian shooting you with a water gun and managing to get you inside for a warm shower.

“I didn’t see you awake until the next morning. I did check on you per Todd’s request.”

It was a lot of information to take in. You were even more convinced that you told Jason you liked him. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

“Request? What do you mean by that?”

“He left.” He states plainly, “he asked me to take care of you, and he didn’t come back until breakfast. I didn’t think he would come back with how out of sorts he was, but you have some hold over him.”

You scrub at your face. You have had fewer than five interactions with Damian and every time he’s fed you information you hadn’t known about. You don’t want to take advantage, but between your blackout and the sudden radio silence from everyone, you wonder if he’d be willing to fill you in on other things. You intentionally ignore what he’s implying about Jason’s feelings for you to ask another question.

“Damian, did I do something bad at the brunch? Maybe something you weren’t there for but your siblings may have told you?”  You ask him and you catch Alfred flickering his gaze at you both through the rear-view mirror. Damian hesitates for a moment.

“You did not do anything wrong, per say. You were inebriated with no solid grasp on your emotional state.” He tells you. Vague and very unhelpful.

“Did I say something to someone in the family? If I did, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to scare anyone off.”

Damian gives you a questioning look as the car pulls to a stop, “in what are you referring to?”

You pause to think about how to phrase it without sounding angry with his family. You exit the vehicle before Alfred can meander to open your door. There’s a twinkle in his eye and you can’t help but think you’ve just challenged the old man. You and Damian walk across the parking lot as Alfred climbs back into the car and drives away. You’re confused about it but can only assume it’s a rich person thing.

“The girls have been ignoring me,” you finally find something, “well, not totally but their always busy when I’m not and free when I’m not. And of course, Jason left town but that was for work.”

Damian gives you a look like your wrong about something, “They feel guilty, mostly Brown, over the mimosa incident. Todd also told them they lost their ‘privileges’ on the threat of bodily harm.”

“What? When did he say that? Was it while I was drunk?” you ask trying to piece the timeline together still. If Jason had left right after you were asleep, Damian being the only one that saw him leave and didn’t come back til breakfast, there wouldn’t have been time.

“It was on patr-” he cuts himself off. You glance down at him from where you’re eyeing the menu and find him glaring at the tile floor like it had done him wrong. You try to decipher whatever he was going to say. Pat? Patchouli?? Petroleum??? None of those made sense in the way of this conversation.

“I see why Todd likes you.” He finally says instead, eyes shifting to meet yours.

“Why’s that?” you tilt your head at the statement, you didn’t even know why Jason spent so much time around you.

“Your easy to talk to.” He states and you nearly scoff. If that was true, you and Jason wouldn’t be sitting in this messed up relationship you had going on where you’re both lying to each other about something.

“Thanks, kid,” you tell him and promptly smack a hand against your mouth, “Oh jeez I sound Wally,” you mumble. ‘Kid’ was all Wally called you like it was an affection nickname rather than the thing you’d call a child. You got the feeling Damian probably wouldn’t appreciate being called that anyway, acting far more mature for his actual age most of the time.

Damian orders for you as you had requested. Three years in Gotham and you really had never been to a Batburger. You move to pay for it, but Damian beats you to it, waving a shiny black card.

“Father would insist.” He tells you and can’t help but wonder if that’s Damians card or one he’d taken from Bruce’s wallet. You choose not to ask.

Once you’re settled with your food and taken a bite of a surprising, delicious burger, Damian takes to questioning you.

“Whose Wally?” there’s an edge to his voice and you think your about to get a shovel talk about dating Jason.

“He’s a friend from home. Much too old for me too.”

He eases at your words, “and home is?”

“Oh, Central City,” it feels odd rolling off your tongue. You hadn’t told any aside from Darla where you were from and much less why you were in Gotham. Nobody had asked. Damian hums like he already knew that information.

“Do you like Gotham?”

You pick at your fry’s unsure of how to answer it, “Its not too bad. I’ve been kidnapped a lot more than I would’ve been in Central City. Some of the people are pretty good.”

“Like Todd?”

“I have a lot of emotions when it comes to your brother,” you sigh, “it’s complicated.”

“You hate him?” he asks quietly, and you blink in surprise.

“No, I don’t hate Jason, bubs, why would you think that?” Damian takes a bite of his fry’s instead of answering you.

“Is that what happened?” you tip your head trying to catch the boy’s eye, “Did I tell Jason I hated him?”

You think it might be a solid conclusion based on how everyone, not just Jason, was acting, especially after Cass told you not to be mad at him. The biggest issue is why? Why would you have told Jason you hated him? Even in a drunken state, it didn’t make sense. You liked Jason a lot, maybe more than like. You didn’t hate him.

“You’re correct. It is complicated. You did tell Jason that, but he told you something that made you say that.” You open your mouth to ask what, but he stops you, “It’s not my place and I shouldn’t have brought it up. My apologies.”

Jason had told you something? The truth, maybe, whatever he’s been keeping a secret from you, and you told him you hated him for it?

“It’s okay, Damian. I shouldn’t ask you things like that. You shouldn’t have to tell me about my own drama. I’m sorry for trying to pry it out of you.” You pause not liking the tense suddenly between you, “Why Batburger for your afterschool snack?”

He seems startled by your change in topic, like he expected you to keep digging. Damian was just a kid, and it didn’t feel right to harp on him about something that you were too drunk to remember. It was good to know that everyone wasn’t ghosting you because you did something embarrassing, they just thought you were upset.

You’d reach out to the girls again. You’d tell them you weren’t mad at them, you just wanted to hang out again, maybe guilt trip them with how lonely you’ve felt.

The rest of your afternoon with Damian was enjoyable. You learned a lot more about him than you thought he’d been willing to share. Why school was so boring (he had advanced learning when he was with his mother), that he was a vegetarian (which is when you learned the burgers you were eating were actually vegan), and that he had a friend named Jon from Smallville, Kansas.

Alfred brought you to your apartment building, Jason’s bike in its usual spot.

“Todd is back in town?” You blink at the question.

“He came back this morning,” you don’t mention that it was 2 o’clock this morning, “you’ve been in school all day that’s probably why you don’t know.” You say trying to ease the thought of Jason not having gone to see his family. Based on the look Alfred gives you, he didn’t know Jason was back in town either.

You gather your purse and sweater, “When’s the next family dinner?”

Damian turns from his stare at the bike to look at you, a glimmer in his eye and a small smirk.

“On Thursday, 6 o’clock. You remember what I asked of you?”

“Yup, have a game ready to play, not twister though. Watching just the girls play sprained my back. I don’t need to watch Dick Grayson play too.” You comment as your door opens. You blink at the driver seat and find Alfred missing. How did he move so fast?

“See you Thursday, Damian,” you say as you slide out of the vehicle, “Thank you for lunch and Thank you for the ride, Alfred.” You add.

“Anytime, miss, should you need it.” Alfred offers you a card, “The manor and my own private telly.”

“Oh, thank you,” you smile, a little surprised by the offering, “I’ll see you Thursday too then.”

You step away from the vehicle and wave to them before walking up the steps of the apartment building. The elevator dings just as you reach it and you’re greeted with a worried-looking Jason. You watch the emotion slip from his body when he spots you.

“Jesus, I thought something happened to you,” he mutters as he drags you into a tight hug. You squeak at the pull but hug him back.

“Sorry, I got caught up with Damian and Alfred.” He pulls back and looks at you like your crazy, “We went and got Batburger. Afterschool snack.”

His eyes scan across your face in a way that makes you think you’re hurt but you know you aren’t.

“Jay, why’d you look so worried?” You ask as you pull him back into the elevator, staying close.

“Well, you should’ve been home from work by know, thought something happened to you.” He says plainly, like it should be obvious.

You hug him again for his worry, arms curling abound his waist and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His arms curl around your shoulders in what feels like instinct.

“I didn’t know I had a stalker.” You mumble without thought but you feel the way you both tense. For you it’s because you’ve only called one person your stalker before and that was Red Hood. Your mind had all but pushed Red Hood to the back of your mind these past few months but all of a sudden, he’s front and center again especially when you’re with Jason.

You don’t know why Jason tenses, maybe he’s worried you’ll be upset about it. You think back to what Damian told you. You tip back in your hug to meet Jason’s eye; face’s far too close for normal friends but you two had never been normal.

“I’m not mad at you,” you start, “and I don’t hate you, Jason.” You slide your hands up and down his back, trying to emphasize your words, “I could never truly hate you. You mean too much to me.”

You hear the door dings but neither of you move. You want to make sure Jason understands how you feel about him without being too spot on. You like Jason and you don’t know if you told him that while you were drunk. If you did, it was far over shadowed by the ‘I hate you’.

It’s only as the door starts to shut that Jason moves, hand stretching out to stop the door. He keeps one hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing gently at the skin of your collarbone at the edge of your shirt collar.

“Bold words, sweetheart,” he utters as he pulls you from the elevator. You don’t like the way he says the words, nearly degrading in tone but you don’t think it’s aimed at you. He pulls you out of the elevator and gently guides you to your door, like he had time and time again.

“Honest words. I want to do that more,” you tell him. It was a little freeing talking to him that morning about him leaving and about your sister. The accident had weighed heavy on your heart for years and you hadn’t realized how much about your life you were hiding from Jason.

“I want to be better about telling you about my past,” you continue, “I want you to be better about it too. All I know is you were born and raised in Gotham and that you’re adopted and you weren’t even the one that told me that. I don’t want us to have a superficial relationship, Jason.”

He seems startled by your sudden request, but he nods, “I think I could do that. If that’s what you want.”

“What I want is to prove to you that I could never hate you. So, I need to learn every little detail about you.” You fish your keys out and start unlocking the door.

“Sounds terrifying.” He admits but you can hear the way he tries to make it a joke.

“Sounds exciting too, doesn’t it?” You ask as you lean against the now open door to let him. He stands in front of you and brushes a stray fly away hair behind your ear.

“It does. You gotta ask questions, though. I don’t know if you want to know something if you don’t ask.” He gives you a pointed look and you wonder how long he’s had that thought.

You nod, “You too. I liked that you asked why I didn’t drink this morning. It made easier to tell you things.”

He finally steps away from you, and you turn to shut and lock the door. You turn back to meet him where he leans against the kitchen counter.

“So, my good sir, do we have deal?” you offer him your hand. He takes it and shakes it once.

“You have a deal.” He brings your hand up to his face and presses a kiss on your knuckles. A tingling warmth works its way up your arm from your hand as he keeps his eyes focused on yours. You suck in a breath, trying to gather yourself.

“So, what do you want for dinner?” you ask, and he lets your hands drop between you, not letting go, as he laughs.

“let’s see what you have.” He finally let’s go of you to search the fridge. You take his place against the counter.

“Also, on the note of dinner. Thursday at 6. Game night too.” He pauses at your words meeting your eye over his shoulder.

“What? You ask me out on a date?”

You laugh and hoist yourself to sit on the counter, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you repeat your words from that morning that had him flustered. His gaze drops back to the fridge, and you continue.

“Wayne Family Dinner. Also, you should let them know you’re back in town. Damian didn’t seem too pleased that he didn’t know you were back.”

“Damian’s never pleased about anything.” He grumbles as he starts pulling out your sparse ingredients. You really need to go shopping.

“He’s just a kid and most of his big brothers don’t even live at home. He just misses his family.”

He turns to look at you with far more sass than a man of his size should have, “and you’ve decided this from your, what? Two interactions?”

“Shut up, I can be good at reading people.” You scoff at him.

“Sure, what ever you need to tell yourself.” he comes to stand by you and in spite of what you’d call an insult he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“I can’t believe you,” you gap at him, and he lightly smacks the side of your hip.

“I can, get of the counter. You’re taking up precious workspace.”

“Yes, Chef. Whatever you say, Chef.” You bow with each phrase and evidently don’t move fast enough for him. His hands grip at your hips, and he picks you up off the counter, setting you the ground.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, mostly to hide the sudden harsh beating of your heart.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Cut the veggies.” He tells you with an eye roll

“Yes, Chef,” you shout and take the knife from him with a cheeky grin.

Additional Note: btw this is, like, the calm before the storm of the next few chapters. Theres gonna be a lot of drama again, I think. Maybe a little more backstory if I can figure out how to write it. It’s gonna be interesting. Thank you for reading!! Please let me know your thoughts on anything! ❤️❤️

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling, @automaticplant, @alma-ru3, @13fresh, @anuttellaa, @nekotaetae, @redsakura101, @sleepy-head1, @aejabba, @asteria33, @princessbl0ss0m, @sinnamon-bunn, @wholelottalove05

[kandyscorner]

I love how you write their complexities of their own feelings and thoughts! Jay baby is learning to be more open in his very very very slow way and READER FINALLY getting the puzzle pieces in the correct order!!! Excited for next week keep up the great work!

Humans are very complex creatures! while this is just a fanfiction about comic book character, i still want to have those human characteristics. I know personally I can be a terrible communicator at times (its like this is a self insert of something, weird) and that can make just about every relationship you have complicated.

but people can learn and change which is what our couple wants to do from here on out.

girls gonna be learning tid bits about her black-out for a while.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts!😘

[kandyscorner]

Yeah, hey, question for anyone that might know. Does Black Mask know Jason Todd is Red Hood? Like I think he does (its totally useless information considering he's legally dead) but I'm also not 100%.

This has nothing to do with anything in particular just cant find answers on google.

Thank you!

[kandyscorner]

Sooo about that Jason smut I asked about in the comment 🫣 I am a sucker for the fake dating trope, and I am very curious about your take on this. Unfortunately I haven't found many fics like it. I usually am a lurker on tumblr, but I feel confident asking you to write one per my request. 💗

I don't have a lot in mind for the request itself, I really just want to see what you can come up with for this trope. I love your writing and Do I know you? became one of my favourites, I am so excited every saturday for it to come out!

Thank you and wishing you the best! 💗💗

I love a fake dating trope but I don't think I did it justice in this fic. It starts out a little angsty. I have no Idea why. then its a little kinky but softens up towards the end. Honestly I feel like I kept losing my footing on this one but I have been working on it a lot. I hope it works for what you want!

Warnings: Smut! Mentions of gore(super vague), choking(kind of, more just hand on throat action), little bit of a brat kink, blowjob, P in V, Let me know if there's more that I missed (I probably did)

****

“It shouldn't have happened.” Jason's harsh voice makes you flinch. The silence on the rooftop had been blissful. Especially when compared to ear ringing bass at the club you had been undercover at.

A backfired mission. Kind of. It should've been easy. Go in, scope out the place, plant a few bugs in some strategic places. Except you got caught, dragged into one of the back offices and interrogated.

They thought you belonged to some foreign gang and wouldn't believe that you weren't. The worst you got was a hard back hand to your cheek before Jason was breaking the door down. 

He hauled you out of there before you could even think about getting involved in anything else. 

Which brings you to now, sat on a rooftop In a skimpy club dress and Jason's jacket over your shoulders to keep out the cold air. Your cheek still stung. You could feel the tightness of a scrap no doubt from the gaudy ring the man was wearing on his hand, or had been before Jason cut it off with the man's own knife.

You knew Jason was extreme, that he could do some serious damage when he wanted to. You had seen it with your own eyes before but every time, it was a shock to your system. 

Jason was sweet on you. Albeit for show, a fake boyfriend-girlfriend scenario so everyone would leave you two alone.  But to watch him gently coax you across the roof only for the flip to switch threw you off.

He was shouting at Batman, a deep anger behind It. You had heard from the other bat members what he had been like when he first came back to Gotham. You heard about the pure rage that rolled off of him during that time. You think this is what it was like.

“She shouldn't have been in there,” he repeats.

“Just because your dating doesn't change the mission. She knew the risks. We all do.” Bruce says. There's a tenseness in Bruce's shoulder that you're not accustomed to. Sure, Bruce was tense, it was like his default but this was different.

“Same shit, different kid. You always want the good soldier bullshit. I'm not going to let her get killed too.” Bruce flinches at his words.

Your brows pinch, unsure about the argument and where you stand in it. It turns out you don't have the time to figure your place in it because Jason is done. 

He stalks over to you and you tense, sure you're about to get your own lashing. Instead Jason's hand is on your arm, gently tugging you to the edge of the building.

“I'm taking you home,” his voice is still tight but it's much softer than when he had been talking to Bruce.

“Okay,” you mumble  and let him wrap an arm around you as he pulls out his grapple. Your arms instinctually wrap around his neck and you get a glance of the Batman slumped with regret.

You don't blame Bruce. Everything He said was true. You knew the risks of the job. You just couldn't understand why Jason was so agitated about the matter. You were hardly even hurt.

It doesn't take long to get to your apartment building. Jason lets you shimmy the window open and slip in before he follows, closing and locking it behind him. He tugs his mask from his face and lets it drop to the ground.

You're about to ask him what the issue was but he's pulling you to the bathroom. A squeak escapes you when he picks you up and sets you on the bathroom counter. He doesn't even react beyond his jaw ticking as he pulls out your first aid kit.

“Jason, I'm fine,” you say gently. He pauses but ultimately ignores your words. You wince at the antiseptic against the cut on your cheek and you watch his jaw clench again.

“What's wrong?” You finally ask rather than try to placate whatever mood he was in. 

Jason scoffs, “what's wrong? What's wrong? You're hurt and you could've died all under Batman's divine code.”

“It's a scrap, Jason,” you huff, “trust me, I've had a lot worse.”

Jason's hands settle on the counter on either side of your hips. You can tell he's biting his tongue and you wish he would just yell at you about being reckless. At least you'd know what he was upset about. 

Instead he goes back to your cut, rubbing a healing ointment across it. You wait, thinking he'll say something, anything but you should know better than to expect that much. 

“Jason,” your stern now and his angry eyes meet yours, “you cut that man's hand off.” It's a statement but the question lingers in the air. Why?

“He touched you,” he starts and you jump in.

“He didn't do anything.”

“He hit you,” he adds and you open your mouth but he talks over you, “he hurt you and he shouldn't have. He deserved to lose that hand.”

“You can drop the act,” you tell him, “you don't have to play at protective boyfriend anymore. No one's around.” You say it like a reminder in case he forgot.

“That's not what this is about,” he grumbles, pushing off the counter to lean against the wall across from you. 

“Then what else could it be about?”

“He shouldn't have touched you,” he reiterated and you want to rip your hair out.

“So what? That shouldn't matter to you. It was part of the job. Shit happens and you make do.” you retort

“You don't get it do you?” Jason's voice suddenly sounds small and it tamps down your brewing anger though not entirely.

“Don’t do this, Jason,” you press a hand to your injury free cheek.

“Do what?” He sounds nearly as defeated as you feel.

“This.” You gesture between you two, “like what we have going on is reason for you to act out brashly. You didn’t have to cut off his hand, don’t use me as your reason to get violent. Our relationship is contractual. It isn’t real.”

“You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?” He scoffs at you before stepping back into your space, cornering you where you're sitting on the counter. 

You're about to bite back but then he’s kissing you. Your eyes widen at the suddenness of it. It wasn’t new, you two had kissed before, all for show of course. This was different. He pulls back and looks you in the eye, hand cradling your jaw.

“Tell me if that wasn’t real.” His voice sits between a goad and a plea. It nearly makes you sick. You shake your head and pull his hand from your face.

“Don't do this, Jason,” you push him away from you and slide off the counter, “I don’t know what's wrong with you but I don’t want any part of it.” You complain as you leave the bathroom and head for your bedroom. Jason follows close behind and you can still feel the residual anger lingering off of him.

“Nothing’s wrong. Maybe I just want to be honest with you.” You outwardly scoff at the notion while you pull more comfortable clothes out for yourself. 

“Just because what we have started as a deal doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he continues to argues.

“Bullshit,” you mutter under your breath. 

You feel agitated with the conversation, with what he's trying to do. It hurts more than anything. He corners you against the dresser when you turn around. You glare up at him.

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “don't you want to find out.” 

There's a beat of silence as you stare at each other, you in agitation and him in cocky question. 

He was right, part of you wondered what it would be like if what you had was real, if you could easily cross an intimate barrier without it messing up your life.

You grab at the collar of his kevlar vest and pull him forward, pressing your lips to his.

“I'm upset,” you pull back to say before pressing back into him with heat. He takes what you give him and returns it, kissing you back hard. 

His hand returns to its early spot on your jaw, tipping your head to deepen the kiss. His other hand curls around your waist to tug you against his body. He pulls back panting against your lips.

“And I'm angry. What about it?”

“What?” You forgot what you said, what had even happened. All you could think about was Jason kissing you the way he was and how he stopped. 

He grins down at you and tugs softly at a strand of hair, “going dumb on me already, babe?”

“No,” you blink at him and remember that you were upset with him, “you shouldn’t call people dumb, Jason. It's mean.” 

“Mean? I think you like it when I get mean,” his head dips into the crook of your neck and you're thankful for it or else he would've seen the flush on your cheeks at the way he clocked you.

Your gratitude is short lived as he starts pressing soft, sweet kisses to your neck. A hard contrast for the way you two had been kissing previously.

“Think you like it when I tell people off, tell them they can't touch what's mine. You like when I hurt them for doing it  anyways.” 

You shiver at the words pressed into your skin and your body slumps slightly. You can feel the hard press of his armor against you and you feel him slowly hardening up in his pants. 

His knee works its way between your legs, prying them apart and he presses up. The hem of your short dress rises with it, revealing more of your thighs. His hand moves from your waist to the meat of your hip, pressing you down on his leg.

Your breath catches and your head tips back. His kissing moves down the column of your throat. When he meets the junction of your neck, he starts sucking a bruise, teething lightly at the area. A quiet sigh leaves you at the pressure.

“You're not upset with me. Right, sweetheart?” He mumbles against your skin.

You try to blink away the haze that was starting to cover your mind. You could not be this easy.

“Just because I like it doesn't make you my boyfriend.” Your words tip into a gasp as his canine digs more into your skin.

He finally pulls back to give you a predator-like grin, “no, of course not. But you want me to fuck you like I am?”

“I don't want you to do anything like your my boyfriend.” You scoff, “cause you're not actually my boyfriend.”

“Semantics,” he shakes his head at you, “So what? You want me to fuck you like a stranger then? Use you the way I want, yeah?”

You gap at his crude way he speaks but your thighs press against his and your hips shift on their own. He openly laughs at you, a dark thing that makes your body want to grind down on the thigh neutrally placed between your legs.

“Oh, I should've known,” he says lowly as his hand moves from your jaw to press against your collar, thumb swiping across your throat like a threat, or a promise, “pretty little thing like you would be a slut.”

You flush in an instant, body warming and you can feel yourself clench around nothing.

“You're such a jerk,” you say weakly before tugging him back to kiss you. It's soft like the kisses to your neck and his hands are no longer pushing or pressing. You feel confused about it.

“On your knees,” he says when he pulls back and you're startled by the demand. He must sense your surprise because his hands leave you to hover instead and his voice neutralizes, “unless you don't want to.”

You squint at him over the remark, over his actions. You were so confused. Was he angry or just horny? was he trying make this real relationship or did he want to fuck and be done?

“Jason,” you steady yourself as you say his name and his leg slips from between yours. You keep a hand on him so he doesn't bolt.

“What do you want? And please be honest with me. If you're angry with Bruce, the universe or whatever and you're trying to blow off steam, that's fine but I need you to tell me if that's what this is.”

“It's not and it is,” he starts.

“Jason,” you say his name in scold. His hands come up to hold at your arms, bordering the line between gentle and harsh.

“Let me finish, okay?” You nod in concession and he continues, “I am angry and I do wanna blow off steam but I don't actually want to just use you, sweetheart. I care about you, you hear me?”

You can hear the vulnerability in his voice, the way he wants you to understand, and you can hear the residual anger on the edge of it. You want to ask about it because you still don't know what he’s upset about. But he’s got you all worked up now.

“Don’t leave,” you tell him, “in the morning or when we're done. We have to talk about this, us. Okay?”

He hesitates and a look of surprise crosses his face, like he didn't think you would okay any of this. He nods, “Okay.”

“Promise me, Jason Todd.” 

“I promise I won’t disappear,” he confirms.

“Good,” you murmur. Your hands grab his and you drag them back to where they had been before, “I like when you touch me and I like when you're a little mean. It’s okay.”

“Yeah?” He steps back close, his hands pressing firmly. You nod as he leans back in and kisses you again. It starts soft, a thank you without words but it doesn't take long for it to amp back up, tongues sliding against each other. His hand at your hips slips down to palm at your ass, pressing you against him and dragging your dress up slightly. He groans, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he pulls away from you. He gives you a meaningful look and you tilt your head at it in question.

“On your knees,” he repeats his earlier words. He watches you instead of asking if you were okay with it this time. You smile at him and watch him visibly relax. 

You nod and slowly sink down, back dragging slightly against the dresser, until you're face to face with the swelling bulge in his pants. You look up and, boy, is that a sight.

Jason stares down at you, eyes previously filled with anger slowly being filled with lust. His hands grip at the top of the dresser like he's trying to stabilize himself.

You stare at him and stare at him. He doesn't say anything, no further instruction beyond, getting on your knees. You know there's an implication of what he wants you to do, your eye level with the thing, but really he should be clearer.

You spread your knees wider and wider til they hit the edge of his boots. He finally blinks, eyes dropping to your spread legs but he still doesn't say anything. 

You press your hands into your thighs, slowly dragging up. One hand moves up to your stomach and then to your boob. You squeeze at it lightly.

Your other hand slips between your legs. You palm at your own cunt and then let your fingers find your clit over the fabric of your panties. 

You make a show of it, head tipping back against the dress, back arching and your hips shifting forward against your hand. You let out a sigh and close your eyes, hoping that'll goad him. You lose yourself in it for a moment, enjoying the feeling. 

You freeze at the hand wrapping around your throat, nothing tight but enough that you notice. You open your eyes to find Jason squatting in front of you.

“You're such a brat,” he murmurs and it has you pressing down on your clit, another sigh leaving you.

“Am not,” you complain as his free hand pulls your hand from between your legs. He squeezes a little more at your throat and you pout at him instead of saying more. 

With no more commentary from you he lets go of you and stands. He starts undoing his pants. As you watch, you let your hand. slip back between your legs.

“Don’t,” he snaps sternly and your hand pauses before it can make a landing anywhere, “hands behind your back, sweetheart. Can't trust you not to touch when you're not supposed to.”

“But-” 

“Come on, be a good little brat for me and listen. If I need to punish you, I'm going to make it hurt." His words are dark and heavy and you remind yourself that he was angry. It makes your tummy flutter anyway. You listen to him, arms moving behind your back. You still pout though.

He finishes undoing his pants and then tugs them done enough for him to pull his cock out. He squeezes at the base of it and strokes up, a spurt of precum leaking out. He was thick and you could already feel the ache in your jaw. 

He steps forward, trapping you back against the dresser again, towering over you. He lightly taps the pink tip of him against your lips.

“You know what I want. Be good for me, yeah?” 

You slip your tongue out slightly from your lips to lick at the tip of him, the salty taste spreading there. You hear him take a shaky breath, hips shifting forward slightly. 

You let him push in past your lips, mouth opening wide. You close your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of him in your mouth. A hand combs through your hair gently and he slowly uses it to pin your head against the dresser. You open your eyes and look up at him, mouth full of him.

“There she is. Enjoying yourself?” He asks. You hum at the question. He moans quietly and slips more into your mouth. You can feel him just on the edge of your throat and you fight the urge to gag.

“Then suck. You're wet and warm but I need a little something more than that.” He tells you, hand tightening your hair before releasing entirely. He pulls back until only the tip of his cock sits in your mouth. 

You tighten  your lips around him and do as he asked , sucking and hollowing your cheeks. You bob your head slightly with the motion.

“Shit, that's it,” he mumbles and you're not too sure he's talking to you. You peek up to watch him. His hand holds the dresser tightly again. His other hand, you realize, hovers by your head. Your eyes track his face as you sink more of him into your mouth. 

You watch him bite down on his lips, feel the twitch of his hips. Everything held back. You’d pout about it if you could. You hum around him again and his hips jump forward.

You can't fight the suddenness of it and you gag as he presses into your mouth. Your hands leave your back to clamp down on his thighs. He pulls out of your mouth and you gasp, swallowing down the gag sensation. 

“Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to.” Jason rushes out his hand slips to cradle your jaw tipping your head up, “you okay?”

You wipe at the drool on your chin and blink back the wetness in your tear line, “I'm okay, just startled me.” 

“I'm really sorry,” Jason repeats and you laugh because only Jason Todd would apologize after you willingly sucked him off.

“Jason, I'm okay, really. I kind of liked it, I think.” His thumb that was stroking at your cheek stops and you flush at your own admittance. It was true. You had felt it low in your belly, cunt clenching at the intrusion to your throat.

“You're insane,” he mutters under his breath and you would've believed he felt that way if you didn't watch his dick twitch at your words. 

“I'm being vulnerable with you and you call me insane. I can't believe you,” you playfully scoff. 

He rolls his eyes, “still a brat.”

“I'm not a -” a startled noise leaves you as he suddenly picks you up off the ground and over his shoulder. You yelp when he smacks a firm hand against your ass.

“You are a brat,” he drops you on the bed with a bounce. He leans toward your face, noses nearly touching, “a cute one though.” 

You lean the slightest bit forward waiting for a kiss but then he pulls away. You press forward more, trying to follow him and he pushes you back with a hand to your shoulder. He grins at you as he does so, a salacious thing that makes you squirm.

“Do me a favor, sweetheart, take your clothes off.” He tells you. He pauses for a moment and you nod. He moves to finally take off all of his gear. Instead of listening, you watch as piece by piece, the Red Hood disappears and you stare at Jason Todd. 

It's as he pushes down his pants, now entirely naked for your viewing pleasure that he turns to you, still fully clothed. 

“I know you're a bad listener sometimes but this is starting to get excessive.” He chides.

“You didn't kiss me and I just wanted to watch. You're so hot, Jason.” It's Jason's turn to blush. The sensual red on his cheeks turns to an embarrassed flush creeping up his ears and down his chest.

Instead of saying anything, he steps forward to kiss you where you sit on the bed. A pleased hum leaves you as you kiss him back in spite of the odd arch of your neck. 

His hands land on your shoulders and slide down your arms. He pauses the kiss to tug you to stand. You let one hand press against his scarred chest and the other slips up and into his hair, pulling him back in for a kiss.

The kiss warms you as does his wandering hands, down you body, squeezing at your waist and you ass again. Then they move down to the hem of your dress. He smooths up, hands pressing intentional at the skin underneath. He breaks the kiss to pull the slip like fabric off of you and then he takes a step back.

“Lace?” he asks as he eyes you. You shift on your feet suddenly understanding the way his skin flushed when you stared. 

“It was a nightclub dress, so I wore nightclub underwear.” You mumble. 

“Nightclub underwear? What does that mean?” He laughs under his breath and makes you reach to smack at his arm.

He grabs your hand before it makes an impact and uses it to spin you around and press you against him. You can feel his cock pressing against the lace on your bum.

“Is it because you wore a slutty dress so you have to wear slutty underwear too?” He breaths into your ear as he presses a firm hand to your belly to make it easier for him to grind against you. His other hand presses against your ribs just under your bra.

“It's not slutty underwear, Jay.” You try to complain but the mass of his arms and hands around you make it hard for the words to be stable. 

“Not slutty,” he scoffs. His hand from your rib moves up and pinches at the lace and the skin underneath, “I can see right through it.” 

Your breath hitches at the pinch, chest arching just slightly. Your head tips back to lay against his shoulder. He takes the opportunity to mouth at the skin of your neck. His fingers halt their pinching and his entire hand squeezes at your boob. 

“It's okay, sweetheart. Makes it easy to sneak a peek.” He breathes against your skin. His hand on your low belly slips down under the waistband Of you underwear. 

You wrap your hand around his wrist, not pushing or pulling, just holding onto something. His hand slips lower, skimming over your clit to press his finger into your folds.

“Baby, I haven't even touched you and you’re already wet. Choking on dick really got you going, huh?” he chuckles against your ear.

“Shut up,” you whine out as his finger gather slick and presses it against your clit. He moves in slow circles. His hand that was groping at your tit slips under the lace to pinch at your nipple and you twitch in his hold.

“Oh, that was threatening,” he condescendingly coos at you. His foot slips between your legs and kicks them wider.

“What're you-” you cut your self off as he slips his finger down and up into your cunt, you clench around it.

“Gotta get you ready, sweetheart,” he kisses at your cheek and you jaw a gently thing that doesn't match the way his finger fucks up into you, “don't want to hurt you when I finally sink into you.”

Your hand tightens around his wrist as he presses a second thick finger in with his other and the rest of you sags against his chest at the stretch.

“You'd probably be into that, though,” his hand moves to your other boob, pinching hard at the nipple hidden under the lace and you wished he would just take your bra off. 

“Why do- do you think that?” You manage out, breath panting. 

“Wouldn't you like to know.” The teasing tone makes you giggle in spite of the way he has you and you can feel him smile against your neck. His hands slow, no longer pinching at your nipple, hand gently pressing against your chest instead. 

“I like the way you laugh,” he murmurs and presses a gentle kiss to your neck and you think he's not so angry anymore.

“You literally have your fingers stuffed inside of me.” You say lightly and you grind down slightly against his hand and inadvertently against his cock pressed against you. He whimpers and presses his nose to your neck where he had previously kissed. 

“Can't I just compliment you?” He mumbles as his fingers slip from your cunt. You clench at the emptiness. 

“Thought you were fucking me like a stranger cause a pretty little thing like me would be a slut,” you repeat his earlier words using quotation marks with one hand. 

“Jesus, what did I get into with you?” He mutters and you go to laugh again. It dies in your throat when he pushes your top half forward. you catch yourself with your hands before you face plant into the bed. 

He tugs down your underwear and you press your thighs together at the sudden exposure of your sex. Jason clicks his tongue. His hands press into the skin of your ass and he uses his thumbs to spread your lower lips. 

“Don't get shy now, sweetheart.” he tells you darkly. 

You wish you could see him but the low lighting in the room makes it hard no matter how you crane your neck. A gasp leaves you suddenly at drip of warm wetness slipping down your cunt.

 One of his hand leaves your ass and you feel his head of his cock press into you. He swipes across your cunt and to your clit, spreading your slick around. Your fingers tightening into the comforter and you attempt to wiggle your hips back against him. His other hand finally leaves your ass to hold at your hip, stalling your shifting.

“Easy, babe. I'm getting there.” You open your mouth to tell him off because now he's just teasing you. 

A choked gasp leaves your parted lips instead as he presses just the head of him into your cunt.  A groan leaves him as he pushes in more only to pull all the way back out again. the thumb of the hand holding your hip presses soothing circles into your skin. 

He presses his chest against your back when he leans into your ear, “gotta relax, sweetheart. Let me in.” He kisses at your shoulder as he stands back up again. 

He notches his cock at your entrance and pushes the slightest bit in again. His free hand slips under your hip and presses light circles into your clit. You sigh at the touch and the stretch as he pushes more and more into you. 

“That's it. Your doing good,” he mumbles, “my sweet girl doing such a good job.” His praises have you squeezing your eyes shut . 

It’s when he gives your clit a particularly harsh swipe and he slides in completely, his hips pressed to your ass, that your arms give and you face plant entirely. A hiss escapes you and your body tenses at the sudden pain from your injured cheek hitting fabric. Jason stops all of his movement.

“What's wrong?” He asks as he pulls back  and you gather in your mind that he thinks he’s hurt you, pressed into you too quickly. You manage to turn your head to your uninjured cheek and bring a hand up to his at your hip.

“I'm fine!” your words come out in a mewling sound due to the feeling of him sliding out of you. You puff out a breath of air, “please don't pull out, Jason. It was just my cheek. I laid on the wrong one.” You manage to explain and he stills his moving, nearly completely out of you.

“Shit, I thought I hurt you sweetheart.” He breathes out and you can hear the worry in his tone.

“No, it's just- well your so fucking thick. arms gave out.” You admit. His hands tighten again and he pushes all the back into you, splitting you open. You claw at the blanket and whimper at the fullness of him.

He leans back over you again and you swear you can feel him even deeper. Your body can't decide if it wants to press back against him more or crawl away, hips twitching at the pressure.

“Sorry, baby,” he kisses your neck and shoulder, “I should've accommodated for you.”

You only have the wits to mumble out, “huh?” before he’s pulling back up and taking you with him. His hand presses at your chest below your throat like he had before, back arching from how he holds you. His other hand stays at your clit, rubbing at it lightly. The new arch of your back, the stretch of him and the press of his fingers has you moaning quietly.

He pulls out of you barely and uses the leverage he has on you to fuck back into you. You cry out and, with nothing to hold on to, your hands latch on to his forearms. He repeats it over and over, strokes pressed into you harder and harder.

The air smells of sex, your bodies sweaty and you feel slick making a mess of your thighs. You can hear Jason, quiet against the back of your shoulder, moaning and mumbling things you can’t make out.

A broiling heat grows low in your belly. You press your hand down Jason's forearm to meet his fingers pressing against your clit. You feel him hum against your skin as you move his fingers the way you want them.

“Stuffed full of cock and still a brat about getting what you want,” he says weakly pressing his forehead against the back of your neck. You can tell he's trying to keep up his facade of anger and possessiveness but falls flat. 

His hand slides, intentional or not, you're unsure, up from your chest to your throat holding you there. Your cunt clenches around him and you feel his thrusts stutter. 

“Fuck,” he drags his nose up the back of your neck, “need you to touch yourself, please. Touch those pretty tit's for me.” You can’t tell if it's a request or a demand but how were you supposed to argue with that, especially when his hand tightens lightly around your throat in a way that makes you keen.

You keep your hand pressed to his at you clit but drop the other to your breast, dragging the lace cup down and squeezing at it. As you move to pinch at your nipple, Jason sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder, harder enough to bruise your skin. It stings but it tips you over the edge you hadn’t realized you were teetering on.

A gasped moan escapes you at the suddenness of it. Your entire body tightens, your cunt, your hands, and your knees give out . You're sure if Jason hadn’t already had his hands on you, you would have collapsed. Jason doesn’t stop thrusting into you, doesn't stop stroking your clit despite the way you claw at his hand. It’s only when you start twitching, body jerk against his touch that he lets up.

He stills to a stop inside you, still thick and pulsing. His hands ease from sensitive areas to gently lower you down on the bed. It’s only once he's pulled out and is gently manhandling onto your back that you hear him speaking to you.

“You're okay, sweetheart. Did so good. Came so pretty. Could listen to your sounds all the time…” and he keeps going, sweet nothings whispered against your skin as you settle onto the bed, bra quickly discarded.

His hands massage your body, mostly at your hips where you can still the imprint of his hand gripping you. It's when he sits back on his knees,  to apparently inspect you based on how he’s looking, that you notice that he’s still hard.

“Jason?” You say, reaching a hand for him, even though you feel like a wet noodle. He takes your hand and playfully swings your hand back and forth. You barely have the energy to laugh at childish motion.

“You’re still- you can keep going,” you breathe out because while you can barely feel your legs you'd happily let him sink back into you just to feel the stretch, “if you want to, of course.” You add quietly, splaying your legs slightly. His eyes dropped to your heated center between your legs and you think he gets distracted though you don't have to be a mind reader when his cock does the talking for him.

He shifts, hands gently pushing your legs wider before meeting your eye, “You're sure?” 

You nod at his concern, pressing yourself more into the bed and closing your eyes. You feel him move again to hover over you, the heat of his skin radiating into yours. You feel him guide himself back in and push in slowly. A weak sound leaves you and your hips twitch but your body eases into the stretch much easier the second time around. 

Hips pressed together, you wait for him to move, to get himself off so you two can go to sleep. He surprises you instead, pressing tender kisses to your cheek. He stays there, soft and slow, pulling away just a breath to move lower to the edge of your lips. One of his hands gently drags your knee to sit on his hip and he caresses your thigh from there. 

His hips finally move and instead of a dragging thrust like you expected he just grinds against you, his pelvic bone pressing against your clit. Your back arches at the sensation, hands grappling for his shoulders. His kisses move to the junction of your jaw and your neck, still soft.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your ear before he continues kissing your skin like you're something precious. You twitch with each grind his hips, cunt fluttering at sensation as he presses his weight atop, burying his face into your neck.

“So close, baby, so good .” You barely hear as his grinds turn into short thrusts. Your nails digging into his shoulders while his kisses against your skin turn wet and sloppy.

He gives one finally thrust back into you and moans, his hands dimpling into your skin. You feel the warmth of him seeping into you as he settles atop you, a steady weight.

You slump as he stops moving the stimulation ceasing. You feel hazy but not lost. You can feel Jason, warm and heavy on top of you. It grounds you in a way you hadn't anticipated.

The hands that you had scratched at his back and shoulders with slides into his hair, twirling the sweaty locks between your fingers while you listen to his breath, slow and steady.

Your mind drops at the warm soft atmosphere, a sleepiness creeping into your mind. You would probably fall asleep if Jason wasn't starting to become uncomfortably heavy in his position atop you and still inside of you.

“Jason?” You voice weakly as you card your hands through his hair. You feel more than hear his hum against the skin of your collar.

“Too much?” You say it like a statement and a question rolled into one, unsure if that's the phrase you're looking for. Your hips ached from where they were pinned open by him and you feel a seated stickiness where you two meet.

He shifts up in his forearms to look down at you. You wish this was yours all the time. That Jason wouldn't get so lost in his own turmoil and just say what he wanted to say to you.

“Did I go too far?” He asks, “I didn't hurt you, did i?” 

You lazily smile at his worried tone, “I feel great. Just couldn't breath and sticky.”

He blinks down at you and you wait for the salacious comment you're sure he's going to make. You wait for his crooked smirk and ego that you hate to admit your into sometimes.

He surprises you, leaning down and pressing the softest, sweetest kiss you think you've ever received to your lips. Once, twice, three�� times before he's moving backwards, cock sliding out of you. 

You whine, thighs twitching at the emptiness that follows. You can feel yourself clenching at the feeling, can feel the ooze of his cum leaving you. It makes you fluster despite the way he had you a few minutes prior.

Jason kisses at the skin of your rib, lower than you thought he'd be with your eyes closed and then kisses at your hip. Your thighs twitching closed at his southward movement.

“Easy, babe,” he says, keeping your knees apart. You feel his fingers slip through your folds collecting the leaking fluid only to bring them up to your clit. Your whole body jerks at the sensation, too much and not enough all at once.

“Jason,” you whimper in complaint and he just coos at you, rubbing circles into your clit til your panting again. An edge of warmth works its way up your spin and you dig your hands into the sheets.

You make the mistake of opening your eyes to look at him again expecting a cocky grin at how easily he's working you back up.

It's not there. No, instead you find something near reverent as he stares at you and it makes you squirm more than his hands on you. You close your eyes again and throw your arm over them for good measure to hide from his affectionate gaze. 

He takes it as a challenge, wiping up more cum to press against your clit. It has you keening, hips pressing up against his hand. His lips return to your skin moving back up to your breasts. He breathes across your nipple and your back arches, chasing him.

“Jay, please,” you beg as you feel your orgasm creep closer and closer. You feel it then, the barest hint of that stupid smirk against your skin. He envelops your nipple with his mouth, free hand coming to grasp at your other breast.  

He sucks lightly and you feel your legs begin to shake. He presses harder against your clit and his teeth make an appearance, skimming your nipple. You gasp a choked cry from your throat as your body curls in on itself and away from the stimulation as you cum, stars shining in your eyes.

Jason eases his touching, pressing kisses to your skin wherever he could reach, “sorry, just need another from you. Did so good, you sound so pretty.”

You shiver at his affection, a harsh change from the way the evening had started but you don't hate it. The warmth of him leaves and you don't have it in you to open your eyes or move your arm.

It's after a minute of silence and finally coming back down from your high that you gather yourself. Your body aches as you sit up to look around the dark room. 

“Jason?” Your voice sounds a little hoarse and entirely too weak for your liking. 

“Jason?” You try again, stronger, as you pull your sheets to cover your rapidly cooling body.

 A heaviness settles over your body. Maybe Jason hadn't meant what he said. Maybe he just wanted sex to cool his anger and be done. Maybe he didn't keep his promises. 

Your thoughts pause when you hear movement through the open doorway. Your eyes make out the shape of Jason In the dim, a hunched over look that you knew he got when he felt out of place. Something you were used to seeing when the bats gather as civilians.

He pauses at the edge of your bed once he sees you. His flickered down to your now covered body. 

“I, uh, i got a bath running for you, unless you want to just sleep or you know it's whatever.” He stumbles over his words and the sudden nervousness of Jason Todd makes you laugh. Like he hadn't just dicked you down ten minutes ago.

“A bath would be nice,” you say after you watch his features droop a little from your laughing, “I don't think I can walk though. Need a big strong man to carry me.” You flop back on the bed, wincing at the pressure of your thighs.

“That's pretty anti feminist of you,” he playfully chides as he pulls the sheet from your body and tucks his arms under you.

You gawk at him as he lifts you up. A startled laugh leaves you, “what?”

He laughs at your reaction, fingers digging playfully at your ribs where he holds you.

“I'm kidding, sweetheart,” he noses at your hair and presses a kiss there. You're starting to like this quiet affection from Jason. Not a show for anyone else but the both of you.

It's only once he's eased you into the still filling tub and stepped back that you realize he's found his boxers.

“You're not going to join me?” you ask timidly, eyeing him. He smiles at you and squats down, pushing your sweaty hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. 

“Bathtubs a little small, don't you think?” Your eyes close at the touch of his hand but you pout at his words.

“You really gonna let that stop you?” You goad and slide an eye open to see if you've tempted him enough. He catches you and grins, cheeks dimpling.

“Well when you put it like that.” He rolls his eyes but complies with your request. 

You slide forward in the tub as he steps out of his boxers and sits in the water behind you. You promptly turn off the water spout, not needing more with Jason's added body mass. 

Jason's wet hand creeps up your spin and you take it as a sign to settle back against his chest between his thighs. His knees sit above the water on either side of you and you use them as an armrest as you settle your head against his clavicle.

One of his hands settles on the edge of the tub and the other, against your belly, massaging the skin lightly. You close your eyes enjoying the warmth, the steam and Jason.

“Are you still angry?” You ask, remembering the drastic change from the beginning of the evening versus now. His hand pauses on your skin but his fingers tap like he's thinking.

“I wasn't angry,” he admits quietly, “I was scared.” He stops there and you don't push. You'd have to talk about it either now or in the morning.

After a moment of silence, he continues, “I was scared you'd get hurt or worse and you'd never know…” he trails off and you take his hand at your stomach squeezing at his fingers.

“It's okay, I know. You don't fake the way you look at me, Jason.” You tell him, you tip your head to the side trying to meet his eye. He squeezes your fingers back and brings his other hand up to cradle your jaw. 

“That's a cheap shot.”

You snort at the comment, “I don't fake the way I look at you either.” You press up to kiss where you can at his jaw.

“Oh really? You like me or something?” He teases hands shifting to hug you. He tips his head to kiss your forehead. 

“Don't be mean to me,” you breathe and it makes his arms tighten.

“I thought you liked that.” He coos against your skin.

“Not right now, handsome. Be sweet to me” you murmur, eyes sliding shut. 

His thumb presses into your shoulder, rubbing soothingly, “okay, sweetheart, I can do that too.”

****

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[kandyscorner]

Do I Know You? Part 30

Synopsis: Jason’s back and you both talk somethings out.

Note: There is definitely some form of communication in this chapter. People are learning and changing but there is still miscommunication. They’re as affectionate as ever too. Enjoy!

Side Note: I wrote a little snippet from earlier in the series to celebrate chapter 30. Here's the link to Part 8.5. Thank you to all the wonderful people that read and comment and reblog. 😘😘

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Your bed was empty when your alarm went off in the morning. Had you hallucinated Jason? You bury your face into “Jason’s” pillow and get a deep breath of him. No, he had to have been here. You had washed the sheets.

You roll back on your back and listen for the tell-tell scuffling of him in the kitchen. It was still quiet; you didn’t hear him around the apartment. Did he leave?

You pull yourself out of bed and pull-on Jasons red hoodie that he had left there (one you may or may not have been sleeping in in his absents). You trudge out into the living room and find the window open.

You go through a rollercoaster of emotions in less than a minute. A spike of fear because someone may have broken in, a spike a of anger when you spot the silhouette of a man you haven’t seen in months, and then confusion because the man wasn’t red hood or a thief. It was just Jason sitting on the fire escape.

You knock on the frame of the window and he finches, limbs moving in a rush before settling down. You climb out the window, something you suddenly realize you’ve never done. You get a whiff of what you think is cigarette smoke as you settle down next to him, thighs pressing into each other.

“Hey,” you whisper not wanting to break the mostly quiet atmosphere of the city morning. You swing your feet as you look down at the alley below you and then up at the rooftop across the street. You finally turn your head to look at Jason and find him staring at you already. Staring at you like he used to, the way that used to bother you, like he’s analyzing you.

“What?” you ask, less felling self-conscious and more wanting him to speak.

“Nothing, you’re just pretty,” he tells you still staring. You drop gaze back down to the alley with a mumbled thanks. You tug at the sleeves of his sweater to calm your flustered nerves. His hand curls into your own to stop your fidgeting.

“I shouldn’t have left the way I did.” He says after a moment of silence. You tilt your head to watch him out of the corner of your eye. He stares across the way at the roof.

 The very same roof that Red Hood used to watch you from. You shake the thought from your head; it doesn’t have anything to do with the conversation.

“Work happens, I get it,” you shrug him off mostly because you don’t want him to know how much of a wreck you had suddenly become without him. You’re sure he already knows anyway, based on the state of your apartment, and the fact that you very likely told him you liked him when you were drunk.

“It’s not that, sweetheart,” he turns where he sits to face you straighter, “you were confused with no memory, and I just left you to figure it out on your own. It wasn’t fair to you.”

There’s a vulnerability to Jason’s words, a heavy remorse in them like he’s been beating himself up for it the entire week. You try to scoot closer to him, your hand turning to hold his tightly.

“You’re right,” his brows jump at your agreement, “it wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right and all that, but you came back. Jason, that means more to me than anything else.”

You shift your leg under you and raise up to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him. His arm curls around your back and he holds you as you press your face into his neck. Your nose wrinkles at the smell you find, something so not Jason it has you pulling back to meet his eyes.

“Do you smoke?”

“What?” he blinks up at you clearly startled by the question. Then his features shift into a sheepish look.

“I- yea, sometimes.” He mumbles. A mocked gasp escapes you.

“Jason Todd,” you whisper scold, “cigarettes kill, you know.”

He smiles at you, a near flustered thing and ducks his head under your chin, pressing his face against your chest. You hear him mumble something along the lines of “I know.” He tugs you closer and you nearly fall over into his lap. He steadies you with his hands on your back, one creeping up your spine in a way that almost makes you shiver. An annoying screeching noise filters its way out the window from your apartment and you pull from Jason. His hands press into you, willing you to stay out without saying anything.

“I have to go to work,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. You pause to run your fingers through his hair, the white in his roots more prominent again.

“You should grow your hair out,” you add, not intent on actually leaving for work. He finally shifts back to look at you.

“What for?” he seems confused and almost offend, “Dick had a mullet once, I’m not doing that.”

You bite your tongue to stop the near slip of ‘yeah, I looked at all his past Nightwing suits, the disco one was terrible.’ You had reminded yourself that that wasn’t information for you to share.

“I don’t mean grow it long. I mean you should stop dying it. I think this little white section would be cute,” you tell him, reaching up to twist the hairs around fingers. He frowns at your words, and a hand leaves your back to pat at the hair now sticking up.

“Didn’t realize it grew out enough for you to see it.” He murmurs as he presses the hair down. You settle back on your bum as you watch him pick at his hair.

“It’s not the first time I’ve seen it. I saw it once when we were in bed and the first time you stayed for…. dinner?” you drop your gaze at the end of the sentence a sudden confusion breaching your mind. That wasn’t right. The first time Jason stayed for dinner, you were entirely out of it from being kidnapped and killing a man and whatnot. Why did you say that? Why did you think that?

You try to swim through your early morning sense to grasp at why you thought you had seen that shock of white when you and Jason had dinner, when your JarTM suddenly rattles. You blink at the suddenness of it. You hadn’t thought about the dumb comparisons you had made between Red Hood and Jason in months. You look up at Jason to find him staring at you in a searching manner, like he’s waiting for you to connect a dot somewhere. It suddenly makes you antsy. Your alarm blares through the window again.

“I really have to go to work,” you tell Jason slowly, staring at him with wide eyes. You blink before leaning forward to press a kiss to his scarred cheek. It makes your rattling jar worse, and you have to swallow around the sudden lump in your throat.

You pull away from him without you looking and climb back in through the window. You think he may have called out to you, said something, but your head is swimming. You lock yourself in the bathroom. You strip and turn the shower to nearly scalding and scrub at your skin, perhaps a little too harsh.

Jason could not be Red Hood. It would mean that he’s lied to you for the entirety of your relationship. It would mean that he abandoned you, but not really? It would just make everything so much more complicated and confusing. Especially your feelings in regard to the separate men because you had an array of emotions when it came to Red Hood, ones you didn’t want associated with Jason. You liked Jason a lot. Enough so that in a less then sober state, you probably told him

Your hot shower wasn’t helping with your overthinking, so you turn it to ice cold and fight every nerve in your body to press yourself against the shower wall and away from the cold stream. You last less than a minute before a shiver works up your spine and you remember last night. you shut off the water and begin to towel off as you think about.

Jason had been crying before you fell asleep. You wondered if it had to do with him being hurt. You want a closer look at his chest too. You’re sure you saw bruises there and if that was the case you wanted him to tell you what happened and maybe let you rub some of that bruise cream on it for him.

You press the towel against your hair and look around the bathroom. In your panic you forgot to grab clothes. Jason had practically seen you naked before, it’ll be fine. You wrap the towel around your chest and tug at the bottom. You wish you had longer towels, like the Waynes.

The thought gives you pause. Like the Waynes? Had you used their towels? You must have. You focus on the thought, the memory. You had showered, you think. You knew it had rained. You must have stood out in the rain and showered after.

“Axe body wash?” you question under your breath at the weird connection. You’ll have to ask Jason if someone’s shower at the manner had axe products in it.

You tug at the bottom of the towel again before finally unlocking the door and stepping out.

****

Jason felt stuck and confused, which is something he hadn’t felt quite like sense his days in the league. Now that he knew you had some inclination that he was Red Hood he was watching for slip ups, signs of what you’re thinking.

This morning had been one of them, he thinks. The first time Jason Todd had stayed at your apartment for dinner, the white streak had been freshly dyed, and you were a crying mess. The first time Red Hood had stayed for dinner, a new dye box was sitting on his safe house counter waiting for use. It was when you had stared at him while he ate. You would’ve seen it then.

You didn’t say anything now, just ran away to the bathroom. He had called out to you both not wanting you to leave and to ask about it. He wouldn’t ask when you came out of the shower though. All he would do is put you on the trail to prove he was Red Hood (even though you clearly had enough evidence anyways).

So, he sat on the couch, literally twiddling his thumbs, waiting for you. He had been half tempted to ask if he could sit in the bathroom while you showered, just to be in your presence. He had meant what he said last night. He had missed you far more than he probably should have.

He missed you so much he felt it in his bones, and he couldn’t help but kick himself for leaving in the first place. It made him slopy on the mission. Roy had to pull him to cover before he got shot by someone he should have noticed. Years of training down the drain because he missed you, his little liability.

But your drunken words had rang in his ears the entire mission. I hate you. It made him sick, and it made him miss you more for the affectionate way you hugged him anyways. After the mission, Roy scolded and questioned him. Roy had! That’s how he knew he was a total mess. He talked about it with Roy. How he felt and what had happened. Roy had teased, a light thing, “the great Jason Todd finally caught by a pretty little thing.”

Then Roy had offered his two cents. That Jason should be honest with you about everything not just being Red Hood but about his feelings too. All of it sounded good in theory and when you had texted him, Roy sent him off with the support of a full cheerleading squad.

And there you were in a too big t-shirt that he was sure was his, looking utterly exhausted and sad. So unbelievably sad that all his confessions died in his chest. He hugged you, carried you and your reminder to change into more comfortable clothes made him think of all the times you’ve taken care of each other. It made his heart ache.

Laying on your chest listening to your heart, Jason remembered how much of a coward he was when it came to you. The affectionate touch of your hands on him made him realize just how starved he was for you after a week and how if you ever told him to leave he might die again. So, he cried, something he hadn’t down in years because despite the insane life he’s lead, everything suddenly felt so entirely hopeless with you.

You had touched him with the affection of a thousand suns, like you always do, wiping at his tears. No fear, no trembling hand, or hesitation. You just comforted him without thought. He was so in love with you, it was ruining his life and you were not helping.

You step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel that could be longer. Jason’s brain blanks for a moment as his eyes track up your bare legs, more primal urges filtering into his mind at the sight of them.

“Jason?” your voice is a small quiet thing, and it snaps his eyes from your legs to your face. He can feel the warmth on his cheeks at being caught but you don’t seem bothered by his staring. You wave him over with your hand and he shifts forward on the couch slightly.

“What?”

You repeat the hand motion with more emphasis, “come on,” you say like your mildly annoyed with him even though your grinning. You don’t wait for another response from him, just disappear down the hallway to the bedroom.

Were you seducing him? Is that what this is? He knows when he waltzed out of the bathroom in just a towel, he was trying to distract you (and maybe seduce you a bit but you hadn’t taken the bait). He hesitates on the couch, a little unsure due to emotional turmoil and physical reactions. He wills himself to calm down when you call out for him again in a more curious tone.

When he breaches the doorway, he finds you still in the short towel rifling through the top drawer of the dresser. Underwear, he thinks, pick the pink ones. He kicks himself for the sudden thought and the heat traveling southward. Jason wasn’t a perv, but he had seen most of your underwear due to helping you with your laundry. You had been embarrassed the first couple of times, but it stopped bothering you once he started using your clean undies as slingshots. He continued doing every laundry day because of the way you fell into cackling mess when one would hit you in the face, calling him “such a boy.”

“Did you need something, sweetheart?” he tries to keep his voice level as he asks but he doesn’t entire stop himself from staring at your bare shoulder or legs. You glance at him over your shoulder, hair sticking to the exposed skin.

“Just wanted you close. Promise to keep your eyes closed?” you ask, and Jason is suddenly hit in the gut with how much trust you have in him.

“Promise.” His voice cracks slightly and he clears his throat. He’s happy to know that he’s not the only one wanting to skip out on propriety just to be near each other. He steps over to the unmade bed flops on his back, staring at the ceiling before he closes his eyes. He hears your towel drop to the ground and he tries to think of anything but you being naked in the same room as him.

“Are you okay, Jay?” he hears you ask as you shuffle around, “last night, well, last night you were crying, and I don’t think I’ve seen you cry before. Not that there’s anything wrong with crying, it’s like a good release of emotions or something. I’ve just never seen you cry, and I hoped that it didn’t have anything to do with me, you know? I would hope you would tell me if I did something that had upset you that much.”

You’re rambling, an anxious tick that didn’t show up very often. You usually forgot to breathe when you did that. Apparently, dressing yourself didn’t help either. You huff as you try to catch your breath at the end of your words. It makes Jason smile at your quiet wheezing before he catches up with your words.

He takes a moment to think. What could he say?  ‘Oh, yeah, I cried because I realized the only way to keep you in my life is to continue to lie to you.’ He’s sure that would go over well. Apparently, he sat in thought long enough. He feels the bed dip and he assume you’re lying by him.

“Still naked, sweetheart?” he teasingly asks instead of offering you an explanation.

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the words and near sensual teasing tone has Jason’s eyes opening wide in surprise. He finds you leaning your head against your propped hand. Before Jason can stop himself his eye flickered down to your clothed chest. You must catch him and are entirely too delighted by it, a full chested laughter leaving you.

What happened to the startled girl who ran away to the shower? Your laughter dies but you still smile at him. It drops slightly when he watches your eyes move up on his face and he suddenly remembers the cut he got (a dumb fight he dealt with after he took his helmet off, like an idiot).

Your hand not propping up your head settles on his chest over his heart, and he wonders if you can feel it beating as loud as he can hear it. The hand travels down and then slips under the hem of his t-shirt. His muscles twitch at your touch and his hand wraps around your wrist, stilling your movements.

“What’re you doing?” he mumbles in pure confusion because when did you decide you were going to touch him like this?

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” the concern in your voice throws him off. He thought you were trying to cope a feel. What is happening? Your hand moves higher despite the way he holds your wrist, and he flinches when your fingers press into the bruise on his ribs.

You sit up and push his shirt up to see and it makes him think about the night in the manor, the way you had sat on him and pushed his shirt up only to tell him you hated him.

“Oh my god! Jason, what happened?” your voice shrills slightly, and it makes him flinch again. He glances at the dark purpling on his chest. Nothing was broken and the bruise was already healing, turning yellow around the edges. He didn’t know why you were freaking out until he remembered that a bruise like that wasn’t normal. It wasn’t something a civilian would just have.

He pushes your hands out of the way pulls shirt back down, “Nothing sweetheart. Just had a little accident.”

“Accident?” you ask as he sits up and he can hear the disbelief in your voice, “is this from your job? How- did someone do that? Did you get into a fight?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jason snaps and he wished he had just bit his tongue with the way you look at him, suddenly put off, “I’m sorry, sorry,” he rushes out taking your hands. You don’t pull away, thank god, but you still have this look to your eyes.

“It really was an accident from work. It’s embarrassing, honestly,” he tells you rubbing soothing at your knuckles. Embarrassing was an understatement. Roy had already saved from getting shot and he missed the guy sneaking up on him. He would’ve been toast if Kori hadn’t gotten there as fast as she had. That’s why Roy had started scolding him.

You seem to take his word for it, tense shoulders relaxing down. You nod and stand without a word disappearing into the hallway. Why was communicating with you so hard sometimes? Oh yeah, you didn’t know about half of his life, and he was still actively choosing to lie to you about it.

“I don’t think it expires,” your voice startles him from his self-loathing as you step back into the room holding a small jar, “I can’t find a date on it but it’s only a few months old so I can’t imagine it would be too old.”

You settle back on the bed, crisscross and face him. Your eyes meet his and you smile, a sudden teasing thing and Jason wishes he could read your mind.

“Take your shirt off.” You say plainly and Jason hands make it to tugging at the hem of his shirt before pausing.

“What for?” you turn the bottle in your hand and show him the bruise cream you two had gotten months ago for your wrist.

“It’ll help wont it?” you ask.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Yes, it does. You flinched.”

“You shoved your hand up my shirt,” he argues, “it surprised me, okay?”

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not the first time I’ve pulled your shirt up… like… that?”

There you go again. That concentrated pinch of your brow shows itself, like you’re confused about your own words. Knowledge existing at the edges of your memory. You shake your head of what ever thought may have been connecting in your mind.

“Just let me put it on and then you can take me to work.”

“Oh, this is a bargaining chip then,” he teases and pulls his shirt off over his head. He lays back down on his back, hands behind his head with cocky grin as he watches you suddenly fluster at the sight of his chest. It makes him want to laugh. You had asked him to take his shirt off.

“Bargaining chip,” you mutter under your breath, “like you weren’t planning to take me to work anyways.” You say it matter-of-factly while you open the bottle and lightly press some of the cream to his bruise. His breathe hitches at the cold feeling, at your fingers to his bare chest. He watches your eyes flicker to his face then down to his chest. You stare at one spot longer than the others and he’s sure you’re going to ask about the autopsy scar again but then your gaze averts to stare at the bruise.

Jason thinks that maybe he isn’t the only problem in this relationship. You didn’t ask questions, or you would but only once. Even if you never got an answer. You should both be better about that. You finish rubbing the cream into the bruise and then wipe the left-over residue on your hand against the sheets. You were right about it helping, a cooling feeling seeping into his ribs, easing pains he hadn’t been totally aware of.

“Why don’t you drink?” he asks a question he had been wondering about since the brunch, when he could see past his own emotional turmoil. Jason drank socially but he knew that alcohol was just another drug to drag people into the abyss of addiction. That was from his life experience, but he got the feeling that you didn’t even drink socially. You tip your head with a thoughtful expression.

“I was in a car accident,” you start slowly, “with my sister, Natalie.” That was the first time you’ve said a name when mentioning your sister. Jason listens intently at the new information about you proffered in a single sentence, “we were hit by a drunk driver. It- Natalie-” You pause with a heavy sigh, “I promised myself that I would never cause that type of pain. There was never going to be a guarantee that I would be able to stop myself from climbing into a car even if I was tipsy. So, my solution was to just never drink until the brunch, of course.” You sound pained, a heaviness to your words as you spoke about your past concerned Jason.

“I’m sorry,” Jason replies, and it feels flat, like it’s not enough. You shrug and slide off the bed.

“I’m going to get my shoes on,” you say quietly, not meeting his eye.

After you leave, Jason drags his shirt back onto his body. With a moment not distracted by you, he thinks he’s heard you say Natalie once before, but it wasn’t as Jason. You hadn’t told him about her. No, it had been as Red Hood when he saved you the first time you had been kidnapped.

Taken by Scarecrow and experimented on for his new fear toxin. When he found you, you had been crying and calling out Natalie’s name mixed with apologies. That paired with the way you shared your information made him think Natalie maybe got more than just hurt in that car accident.

He wanted to pry at you about this new information about your life before Gotham, but he didn’t like how sad you looked when you talked about it, the overshadow of grief that followed you. He would leave it alone for now, grateful that you shared anything at all.

“I’m so serious about your driving me to work, Jason. You made me late.” your worried tone makes him smile. Of course, you’d blame him for being the distraction and not the way you very intentionally (at least he thought so) attempted to flirt with him.

Additional note: Jason’s learning! Part of loving someone is knowing their past so you can understand the way they think. Neither of them just offers up information so they gotta ask. Jason's figured that out. Reader has too but Jason’s too touchy about some subjects (because he’s already lying in the first place) so she just doesn’t ask again. She’s going to get some more Brunch information in the next chapter and understand why everyone is being standoffish (i.e. its not because she told Jason she liked him). Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!!

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling, @automaticplant, @alma-ru3, @13fresh, @anuttellaa, @nekotaetae, @redsakura101, @sleepy-head1, @aejabba, @asteria33, @princessbl0ss0m, @sinnamon-bunn, @wholelottalove05

[kandyscorner]

Do I Know You? Extra Part 8.5

To celebrate 30 Chapter's of Do I Know You? I wrote this short snippet from an older chapter. In Chapter 18, When Red hood is under ivy's sex-pollen influence, Reader thinks about when Jason taught her self defense. That's what scene this is. It takes place prior to the penguin kidnapping but after the chili dog "date". Thank you so much to everyone who has loved on the series, it means the world to me. ❤️❤️❤️

****

It was a warm day for late November. It's why you and Jason had chosen a long walk for your activity of the day. 

Robinson park was much larger than you had anticipated but you didn't mind it especially with Jason’s company. You two had stopped under a good shade tree after picking up some picnic food, i.e. food from the nearest food truck. 

You had already finished eating and were laying back on what was left of the green grass as Jason took his time. You teased him about being distracted by all the sights and sounds of Gotham city with how much he was looking around rather than eating.

“People watching, sweetheart. Can never be too sure with all the weirdos in gotham.”

“Oh Yeah, I'm looking right at one.” you say with a bright smile and he gives you a deadpan look that makes you cackle. 

You sit back up in the grass, “it can't be that bad, Jason. Not everyone’s a supervillain trying to poison the water supply.” that had been the fiasco of last week. Some rogue that you really hadn’t paid much attention to other than the fact that you had to wash your hair and dishes with bottled water.

“You're right,” Jason nods but his face carries a grim look, “Some people just want to hurt you.”

Your nose scrunches at the dark turn of the conversation and Jason is still looking around like he’s waiting to get mugged.

“Jesus, you're such a drag,” you pout at him and he finally drags his eyes across your face and he stares at you. It makes you straighten up at finally having his full attention.

“You don't know any self defense, do you?” He asks and you feel like you should be offended by his tone. 

“I've watched some videos,” you reply weakly, “what's that got to do with anything anyway?” 

“You walk home alone in one the most dangerous cities in the world.” He deadpans.

“Yeah and I've been perfectly fine the past three years,” except when you got kidnapped by Scarecrow. You hadn't told Jason about that and you certainly didn't plan on telling him based on this conversation. 

Jason stares you down and you suddenly feel like he knows you're lying. He pushes up to his knees and stands. He offers you a hand with impatient wiggling fingers. It makes you grin, brushing away the thought that Jason might know things you hadn't told him. 

You take his hand and he drags you up with ease, “what's the plan, stan?” You ask.

He gives you a weird look but doesn't question you, “I'm going to teach some self defense.”

“Okay, but it's not going to do me any good.” You shrug and swing your hands. 

“Wow, you have so much faith in yourself, sweetheart,” he says sarcastically, “why do you think that?”

“My fight or flight sucks,” you admit.

“That's okay, if you can't remember anything just remember this: always go for the balls.”

A full chested laughter escapes you at his words. That was definitely not what you had expected. It takes you a minute to settle and Jason gives you an unimpressed look. 

“What? It's funny,” you playfully chide.

He shakes his head at you, “if I do something that makes you uncomfortable or you want to stop, you tell me.” 

“Okay,” you say, still slightly giggling, “wait, are you going to attack? Jason, that's mean!” 

He snorts at your admonishment but tugs at your hand he holds and you fall against his chest with a surprised squeak. His other hand comes to hold your arm. It's not tight. You know that if you stepped away from him, he'd probably let go but you understand the scene he's trying to set.

“I've grabbed you and I want your money. What're you going to do?” He asks.

“You're mugging me?” you laugh out. 

“Sweetheart,” he shakes you slightly and it only makes you laugh more despite his serious tone.

“What do you do? Show me,” He asks again once you settle.

“You want me to kick you in the balls?” You ask incredulously.

“I don't want you to, but if that's how you're going to get away then yeah.”

“I'm not going to kick you in the balls, jason.” 

“Then show me how you'd get out of this then, please,” you find a deep concern in Jason's eyes with his words and realize he's seriously worried about you. 

You look down at where he holds you and the space between you. You press your hands to his chest and try to push him away. It only makes his grip tighten a little bit more on your arm. 

The hand that was holding yours changes to hold at your wrist and he abruptly spins you, pinning your back to his chest.

Your heart jumps in what should be fear considering the situation Jason was trying to play out but you feel a warmth low in your belly. Jason's breath against your ear, his arms pinning your own down and keeping you stuck against him has you blinking to try and remember what you were doing and that you were public.

“You see why I said always go for the balls,” he mutters against your ear, “you're stuck here with no easy way out.” 

You should be scared, terrified even, and part of you is because you know Jason's right. if someone bigger than you, stronger than you, grabbed you, you'd be helpless. But it wasn't a stranger, it was Jason. The guy you'd been going on maybe dates with, the guy you've grown to like so much in the last few weeks.

You try to focus on what he asked of you instead of the feel of his warmth against you. There was a way out of this, there had to be. You shift on your feet and your heel knocks the edge of his shoe. Now there's an idea. 

You raise your leg and stamp down hard on his foot, he tenses, his own feet moving at the sudden pain and you drop your body into a dead weight. He tips forward, hand releasing you to steady himself. You peel out of his other hand and stumble away from him. 

“Ha! Ha-ha-ha! I got out and you thought I wouldnt~” you say in an almost sing-songy voice. You do a little victory dance before you step back towards him.

“Did I hurt you bad?” You ask. You felt a little guilty stepping on him but you're sure it hurt less than getting kicked in the balls. 

“You did good,” he doesn't answer your question but you fluster at the proud look that he gives you, “let's go again.”

 He shifts on his feet, an odd settling thing that makes you wonder if he gets into a lot of fights.

“Again? Whyyyyy?” You drag out the word and edge back closer to him til your toes meet his.

“I wanna make sure you're safe,” he says the words softly, a meaningful look resting on his features.

“And I appreciate that,” your hands find their way to the pockets of his leather jacket, “I really do, Jason. But I'm fine and I want to get back to your bike before the afternoon rain hits.”

The warm noon breeze had already shifted to a cold front and you could see people slowly leaving the park.

“Sweetheart,” he says the affectionate name low and chiding. It makes you shift on your feet in a way that you choose to ignore.

“We can tussle later if you want but for now,” you step back from him and use your hands in his pockets to pull him forward. He moves easily with a nod and you two start the walk back to his bike.

“I want to actually teach you next time, okay? I just wanted to see if you'd be any good.” 

“Oh my god, this was a pre-test? You're such a teacher sometimes.” You jokingly scoff. He nudges into you and it makes you trip little and stumble.

“Can't take you anywhere. You're a walking hazard,” he says more affectionately than you think the words are meant to be. His hand curls over your shoulder to keep you walking straight. 

You would complain but you decide that you like the way Jason touches you and the way his warmth seeps into your own.

****

Masterlist

Do I Know You? Masterlist

[kandyscorner]

Should we be concerned about Darla and her outburst or am I reading too much into it? SAD! READER IS NOT MY FAVE READER SHE DESERVES ALL THE CUDDLES BRO! Sad! Jason too!! So many sad emotions!!! Excited for the next update keep up the great work!

I'm trying so hard to make Darla not suspicious because she's not but I can see why she's starting to become kind of an odd addition in the story. Darla does have her own personality and belief system, mostly coming from growing up in Gotham (mainly crime alley). so she thinks everyone wants to hurt people. hence her outburst.

Yea these two just need to live together and never leave. They're so stupidly in love!

Thank you!!

[kandyscorner]

reader having a crush on wally when she was younger #real as hell

I am SO glad you agree with me! I love Wally!

[kandyscorner]

Hello!!!! I've been thinking recently like what about Jason Todd takes the reader on a ride with his motorcycle but like she's never been on a motorcycle. She acts nonchalant about it, like she's not nervous about it(she is) and since she doesn't own any safety gear that she doesn't need it, but Jason makes her wear stuff anyway like a helmet and maybe his jacket. And like then when the bike starts up she suddenly clutches tightly to Jason in slight fear. Just a protective Jason idea I had and since I'm not a writer it's just been a thought for me. Hope you like it!!!!

this ask was fun because there's a chapter in my Do I Know you? series that is a lot like this. it was good practice to try and write the scene a little different. Thank you! and enjoy!

****

“Oh, you’re driving a motorcycle,” you say, staring at the bike before you.

“Told you it was in the shop. Three weeks and those assholes made the problem worse. Had to take her somewhere else but now,” he grins at you and pats the seat of the bike, “she’s ready for a ride.”

You press your cheek to your shoulder, hands suddenly sweaty in your pocket, “of course you call the bike a she.” You joke, trying to cover the building anxiety in your chest.

“You don’t need to be jealous, sweetheart.” He steps into your space, hand pressing to the side of your face, “you’re much prettier.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, tucking your face into his neck with a blush. His arms wrap around you in a tight hug.

He's tugging you from your hiding place far sooner than you're ready for, still trying to use his proximity to unsuccessfully cool your nerves.

“you ready? It'll be fun.” You keep your mouth shut but give him a tense smile and nod. 

You knew he rode a bike. He told you about it, shown you pictures. And while you found the concept very attractive, the bike, very much a real thing in front of you now, was intimidating.

You'd never ridden a motorcycle before but you had heard horror story's of shredded skin and broken bones. You worry you're not dressed correctly and that you certainly don't have any safety gear for yourself.

Jason gives you a meaningful look and tugs you forward towards the bike, “come get a closer look. Promise she doesn't bite.”

The lightfulness in his tone reminds you to breathe. Any vehicle was as safe as the person driving. Your positive Jason is a good driver, based on the amount of times he's actually told you about the bike, he probably rode it often.

“It's pretty,” you tell quietly as you take a closer look.

“Not as pretty as you.” he repeats his earlier statement, softer this time and you turn to find him staring at you already with the slight forlorn look he gets sometimes.

You reach out to poke at his side in jest and he curls his hand around yours.

“you okay with this?” he asks, direct eye contact emphasizing the importance of the answer to him, “I should've asked before. We can postpone it and I can bring the car instead.”

You flush at his sudden rush to accommodate you (clearly you hadn't hidden it very well) despite his excitement about the bike.

“It's okay,” you placate him with a tiptoed kiss to his cheek, “as long as you make sure I don't fall off, yeah?” You ask the question to lighten the space between you but your worry sits at the edge of your voice.

he blinks at you for a moment, before his mind clearly clicks back into the conversation. 

“like I'd every let something like that happen.” He nearly scoffs at you before he lets go of your hand to tug off his leather jacket. He holds it up to you in offering.

“What?”

He playfully rolls eyes at your question but patients bleed into his tone, “safety first sweetheart.” 

You turn around, nearly losing your balance in the spin due to the sudden awareness of how you didn't have to say anything to Jason for him to know what was bothering you.

His jackets warm from his body and too big but that does deter him as he faces you and zips up the jacket for you. It takes a moment for you to realize he's talking to you.

“-on to me, okay?”

“What?” he edges into your space at the question, cornering you against the bike.

“I know you can be a good listener, sweetheart. Could you do that for me?” He grins down at you and you wrinkle your nose at him.

“Don't patronize me, jay. I could still change my mind.” He eases up out of your space pulling the helmet that had been resting atop the bike with him. 

“I need you to hold on to me tight when I accelerate and to brace your weight against the tank when…” he continues on with directions for when he turns, how to get on and off, and how to get his attention. 

He pauses in between sentences to press the helmet over your head and then continues talking as he tightens it.

“If you ever feel uncomfortable and like you want to get off, you tell me, understand?” he asks. You nod and his fingers curl into the chin of the helmet to gently tug you.

“Words, Sweetheart.” he says sternly. You're suddenly thankful for the helmet because of the flush on your skin that it covers.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you.” You finally say timidly. His hand moves from the helmet to cradle the side of your neck.

“That’s my girl,” He coos at you and you wrap your hand around his wrist to pull at him.

“Let's go,” you say cheerfully, “We have places to be and things to do.”

Jason stares you down. It makes you itch at the way his expression alone digs at you. You stare back as well as you can through the visor of the helmet. You would never tell Jason not to do something simply because you don't want to do it. Especially something he definitely knew how to handle.

“I’m serious, Jay, let's go,” you hop on your feet, hoping to give an air of excitement to your words instead of anxiety. He finally shrugs his shoulders and climbs onto the bike, helping you climb on behind him. 

He takes the time to make sure you're settled before even turning on the bike. WIth the bike on, you place nervous hands at his waist, mildly resting there. You want to hug him in a vice grip but you think that might give away your feelings. His hand settles on top of your knee, curling around it slightly. You tip to that side trying to see his face assuming he wants to talk to you. 

The bike gives a sudden jolt forward, your body jerking slightly back with the movement. Your neutrally placed hands scramble to wrap around him tightly. He has the nerve to laugh at you, hand at your knee tightening.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” he says and despite his laughter, you can hear the sincerity in his words. His hand leaves your knee to resituate your hands, one wrapped tight around him and the other pressed to the gas tank.

“Holding on,” he taps the hand pressed to his stomach and then taps the one at the tank, “bracing, okay?” you nod at the question and his hand pinches lightly at your leg.

“Okay,” you answer after attempting to smack his hand in retaliation. He doesn’t even move his hand away, not threatened by you. His hand rubs soothing circles into your thigh before it returns to the handlebars.

“I'm going to move,” he tells you one last time and your arms tighten around him as he slowly brings the bike into the street and then you're off. You can tell he’s being cautious, that this isn't how he usually drives, but you can't help but be grateful. Your hands rub and squeeze at his chest in show of that gratitude. You can tell he understands when, at a stoplight, his hand comes to hold yours there, a silent communication. 

You think you could come to like motorcycle rides, especially with Jason as the driver.

Masterlist

[kandyscorner]

Do I Know You? Part 29

Synopsis: You chat with Wally and Darla. Jason comes back.

Additional Note: I had a family reunion at the beginning half of this week, so I did not have as much time to write(I’m still behind). This chapters a little shorter and it’s made of a few different scenes rather than one continuous. I mentioned to some people that while I am adding some backstory for now it will be kind of vague. For now enjoy!!

Masterlist

Wally had been, unsurprisingly, not helpful. You didn’t share what you knew, that Dick Grayson was Nightwing, or what you assumed you knew. You did ask him if you had a strong theory about a hero’s identity and they were a friend of a friend, should you confront them about?

He was sketchy about it and battered you about which hero in Gotham you knew the secret identity of.

“Why does it matter?” you had questioned.

“It would change whether or not you should confront them or not.” He sounded like he was lying, like he just wanted to know what you knew.

“Let’s hypothetically say it was Red Hood,” you said because that had been what was on your mind for some reason.

“If its Red Hood, you should leave it alone. He hasn’t always been a hero you know.”

“So I’ve heard,” especially recently. People were really up in arms over his sudden aggression, “what about the others?”

“I would just leave it alone, kiddo. You could be entirely wrong and that would just be embarrassing for you,” his snicker echoed across the phone, “or maybe you should do it just make sure there’s a recording so I can see your face when your inevitable wrong.”

“You’re totally lame, Wallace. I was right about you and Barry.”

“That’s only because you were totally infatuated with me, my little shadow.” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“I was 12. Can’t you let it go already?”

“Never.”

Before he could continue to tease you, you ask him about Linda, about the kids, Iris and Barry and everything about Central City and Keystone you may have missed since you last talked to him nearly a year ago. It was the longest you had talked to him since the accident, and you realized how much you missed Wally.

Eventually duties called. He promised he’d come and visit you in Gotham if you promised you’d be home for Christmas. He mentioned having some other friends he could visit while he was there too. It was only after you hung up that you realized he probably knew all of the bats and if you told him what you knew he probably could’ve confirmed it.

****

A week later, you started to get antsy. You hadn’t realized what a constant Jason was in your life until he wasn’t there. You were starting to feel like you did something wrong too. At first you thought you could just fill your time with work and hanging out with Cass and Steph but that quickly went down the drain.

Every time you called or texted them to see if they wanted to hang out, they were always busy with something. They wouldn’t be free until you were at work again. You couldn’t understand what you had done.

You assumed it was when you were drunk. You still couldn’t remember anything, and it bothered you because it seemed to have chased everyone away.

Beyond that you were worried. Weeks prior you had told Darla that your apartment was safe from Penguin and his men because Jason was there almost all the time.

Now he wasn’t. It made you jumpy, even at work. Enough so for Darla to notice. It was a slow morning when she asked you about it.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked flatly, and you jumped at the suddenness of her voice having thought she was in the restroom. You nearly drop the drink you were refilling.

“Nothing’s wrongs,” you reply setting the cup down trying to stabilize the shake in your hand.

“You look like you haven’t slept in days, and you’ve been walking home alone all week. Did you and your boyfriend get into a fight?” she was right, you hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep since Jason left, plagued by nightmares and the sudden what if’s of being a woman living alone haunted you.

“He’s not- I don’t know,” you feel weepy suddenly, no doubt from the lack of sleep.

“Hey, hey. What happened, baby doll?” she curls an arm around your shoulder as you bury your face in your hands.

“I don’t know,” Your voice cracks, “I can’t remember.”

She draws you into a hug and you bury your face into her shoulder and cry.

Jason left you alone and evidently nobody in his family wanted to be around you. You didn’t know why but you can only assume it has something to do with the brunch. Something you’d said or done. You just wish they would tell you.

“What do you mean you can’t remember?” she asks as she rubs at your back.

“I was drunk.”

Her hand pauses, “but I thought you didn’t drink, not after happened to your sister, right?” she asks slowly, pulling back from the hug slightly. You nod and wipe at the tears on your cheeks.

“I didn’t know mimosas had alcohol in them.” You admit to her. Her face hardens slightly.

“This was at the Wayne brunch thing, wasn’t it? I knew those rich people were no good. You only do that much good for Gotham if you feel guilty about something. You should stay far away from them, do you-“

“Darla, it was an accident. They didn’t know and I should’ve paid more attention to what I was drinking.” You cut her off because you were not in the mood to listen to Darla’s politics.

“Sorry, sweet thing.” A guilty look flashes across her features, “alright so blackout drunk and your boyfriend, what, ditched you?”

“He said he had to go out of town for work and I just, I feel so alone, Darla.” You sigh and scrub your face with your hands again. She tugs at your wrist and makes you look at her.

“You’re not alone. Listen, you can come home with me today if you want. I’m watching Claire tonight. She’s started babbling. You could hold her and try to translate her nonsense for me.” You laugh wetly at her offer. You suck in a breath to calm yourself down. The offer sounded nice, but you just want to sleep as much as you can before your mind tries to terrorize you instead.

“That sounds lovely,” you tell her.

“But your just tired,” she finishes your sentence for you. You nod and she pulls you in for another hug, “Okay but the minute you feel something is wrong, you call me. I’ll load up the little girl in the car and we’ll come and get you together. Understand?”

You hug Darla back, a sudden ache for physical affection thrumming through your veins. It made you think of Jason, and you tried to stamp it down.

“Thank you, Darla. Really.” You pull back and wipe your cheeks a final time.

“No need, baby doll. I gotta take care of the only sweet girl I work with,” she rubs at your shoulder, “and you should take care of Jonny Bravo over there. He looks like he’s gonna have a stroke if he doesn’t get his refill.”

You laugh at her words and get back to work and make the refill. You feel a tad lighter. You still miss Jason and still worry. But now you knew you had someone in your corner.

****

Darla drove you home that night. She didn’t want you to walk home if your knight in shining armor wasn’t going to be there at the drop of a hat. It was sweet of her and made you feel less lonely.

Once you had made it to your apartment, you collapsed on your couch. You were exhausted. Your apartment was a mess, and you needed to shower. You pulled out your phone instead. You hadn’t talked to Jason since he left. No texting, no calls. You had hoped that it was all in your head, that he would reach out to you after his workday at some point. But you still had no notifications from him.

You opened up your messages with him. Mostly nonsense. You sent stuff to each other so you would remember. Movies you wanted to watch with him, the book he wanted to rant to you about, a motorcycle on the street that made you think of him. It was hardly a coherent conversation. You start typing.

Hope work is okay. I miss you.

Was that too much? Too needy? You weren’t dating but you had become accustomed to seeing each other nearly every day. Surely that meant something to him. At least you hoped.

There was no use in stressing over it, especially if he was going to ignore you. It was a simple statement. You hit send and set your phone down. You sent it, now you need to forget about it. That shower suddenly sounded really good.

You took a long warm shower, trying to drown at your thoughts but also trying to grasp the fragments of your mind from the brunch. It had been a week, and you still weren’t close to gathering what happened.

After your shower, you didn’t even eat dinner, just crashed into your bed. The sun was still up but the trickling light made it easier to fall asleep, no darkness for make believe monsters to hide in.

****

It was the middle of the night again. You weren’t entirely shocked that you were awake, but you were surprised that it wasn’t a nightmare what woke you. You didn’t know what woke you up. You lay there with your eyes closed, trying to will yourself back to sleep.

A moment later you hear what woke you up. A knock that you can just barely hear in your bedroom. You finally open your eyes to check what time it was. 2:48 am. You slept a lot longer than you thought you would have. You hear the knocking again and finally bring yourself to stand up.

You had taken to leaving the taser Jason had gifted you on the nightstand while you slept for some peace of mind, that and the locket around your neck. You grab the taser and hold the locket in your other hand. You poke your head out of your bedroom and listen. There is another knock, a little bit louder this time and you urge yourself to move out into the living room.

The knocks come from your front door, and you think maybe you should relax. If someone was trying to hurt you, wouldn’t they have broken in? You don’t relax though. It could be a trap. You look through the peep hole and spot black hair. The person moves and you find the green eyes you have been missing so much.

You rush to set the taser on the kitchen counter and unlock the door. You open it wide and stare at him, suddenly and oddly unsure of yourself. He looks as exhausted as you feel and he was hurt, a cut along his temple held together with butterfly band aids, his lip split.

“Jason?” you ask in concern cause you’ve never seen him beat up. You knew he was hurt sometimes. Watched him wince when he did things that wouldn’t have hurt him prior. But every adult has their random aches and pains. His face was different.

“Hi, Sweetheart,” he tries to grin at you, but it comes out as more of a grimace, like it hurt to smile, “heard you might be missing me?”

You flush at his words but mostly your heart warms. It was the middle of the night and Jason had been working somewhere else and saw that you missed him and came home. He couldn’t have been that upset with you then.

You take a step forward and he meets you halfway, dragging you into a hug that makes you exhale in relief. The tension in your body mellows when you feel him relaxing against you too. You take a step back and he follows, never breaking the hug. You manage to get the door shut and locked with Jason like a koala attached to you. You wonder if he missed you more than you missed him.

Door locked, your hands creep up to his neck and in the hair at the nap of his neck. You stroke your thumb lovingly under his ear. You try to pull back enough to see his face, but he just buries his face into your neck instead, like he needed to be as close as possible.

“Can we go to bed?” you ask softly, petting gently at his neck. He scoops you up, an arm under your knees and back. Your arms reflexively tighten around his neck, startled by the movement. He carries you quietly to your bedroom and you finally have a chance to look closer at his face. You let your hand trace from the cut on his temple to his cheek. He watches you from the corner of his eye.

He gently sets you down on the bed and presses a kiss on your forehead. He finally meets your eye and your heart jumps to your throat with the way he’s looking at you.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He tells you and presses another kiss to your cheek, “Far more than I probably should.” He murmurs against your skin, and you don’t know how to respond. The suddenness of Jason’s presence after nothing for a week was giving a shock to your system. It didn’t matter though. His affection was like a balm on cracked skin.

He scoots you across the bed to your designated spot and moves to climb in. You stop him with a hand on his arm and for the first time since he’s arrived at your door, he seems hesitant. He edges back off the bed like he’s done something wrong. Your hand on his arm turns from a press to a grip, willing him to not run away.

“You should change your clothes. Want you to be comfortable, Jay.” you explain quietly, and his shoulders relax. Once again you can’t help but wonder what’s happened. With Jason here maybe you can get some answers for the gaps your memory.

You lay down on your side when he moves for the dresser. You watch him in the dark lighting of the room, barely making out the form of him as your eyes adjust. As he pulls his shirt from his body, you think you see a dark bruise along his rib. It makes you want to worry but he pulls a new shirt on before you can decide whether or not it was a trick of the eye.

It doesn’t take long for him to be completely changed. He comes to stand at the edge of the bed, and you can feel him staring down at you. You open your arms wide.

“Well come here, I need my cuddles.” You whisper to him despite being the only two people in the room. He settles on top of you then, head to your chest and your hands slide through his hair as he curls his arms under you.

It’s quiet and dark. The way you had been this past week it would have had every nerve stuck in overdrive. But with the weight of Jason, the feel of his hands pressed against you, your nerves practically lose all their sense aside from his touch. You’re nearly asleep, mind drifting between the line of conscious and unconscious, when you feel a wetness seeping into your shirt where Jason lays.

It wakes you back up. Jason wasn’t one to drool and if he did it was usually light, definitely not enough for you to feel it through your shirt. You move one of your hands to press into his back. Jason takes a stuttered breath then you hear sniffling. Your entire body freezes.

Jason was crying, albeit quietly. It throws a shock through your body. You’d never seen Jason cry. He’d seen you time and time again but he’d never broken down like this. You didn’t know what to do because you didn’t know why he was crying.

“Jason?” you say his name quietly and slide your other hand in his hair to his cheek, gently cradling it and wiping at the wetness under his eye with your thumb. You feel the flutter of his lashes against the tip of your finger. He makes a gargled noise, and you think he’s trying to clear his throat.

“It’s nothing sweetheart,” he murmurs sounding just a little broken and it makes your heart ache. You tip your head slightly and kiss at the crown of his head.

“You can talk to me, Jay,” you mumble against his hair, “please.”

He holds you tighter, his breath evening out, “later,” he presses a kiss to your sternum where he lays, and it makes your heart jump. You beat yourself up for the feeling when Jason’s being vulnerable, “I’m tired, baby. Just want to sleep here with you.”

He settles back down but your mind hypes up at the three second interaction. Jason hadn’t called you ‘baby’ since the willow tree. It made you feel a lot of things that you would keep deep in your mind. The way he said it, the way he kissed at your chest…

Had you told Jason you liked him? Was that why he had run away? Because you pushed your feelings onto him in a drunken state?

He came back; a quiet voice tells you. If you had told him that you liked him a lot more than a friend, he left you and came back. He was here and he was holding you.

You wouldn’t ask what happened then. You were content with this, with Jason choosing to come back to you. If he wanted to talk to you about it, that worked too. You would want to know what his thoughts on the matter were, but you wouldn’t pry. You’d let him bring his feelings to you.

Additional note: Denial and avoidance are terrible and definitely not how you should live in a relationship. That will not stop these two though. The next chapter is chapter 30!!! That’s so crazy! Considering this was supposed to be a one and done short blurb. I’m so grateful to everyone that reads and comments. I think I might want to do something special but I’m not totally sure what. If you have any ideas let me know! <3<3

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling, @automaticplant, @alma-ru3, @13fresh, @anuttellaa, @nekotaetae, @redsakura101, @sleepy-head1, @aejabba, @asteria33, @princessbl0ss0m, @sinnamon-bunn

[kandyscorner]

Three steps forward then four steps back 😔 super looking forward to the next update! Have a great week and keep up the great work!

yup! things are not moving very fast for them.

Thank you!

[kandyscorner]

“You’re not gonna like me for this chapter.” HUH?!? MAAM??? Respectfully HUH?!? Omg omg omg 😓😓😓😓 ( I haven’t read the chapter yet but I’m so excited)

😂😂 hope it went well!

[kandyscorner]

Not againnn🥲🥲

Well, at least they have two weeks to figure shit out... And the tension at breakfast, She is stronger than me cause i would have bolted to the door. Anyway. Thank you for another chapter of this delicious fanfic<3

I'm 🌛 by the way. (I hope you catch the reference and you know Who i am, bc i've gone shy again)

bold assumption that they're not going to spend two weeks ignoring the problem, lol.

Yea, breakfast was a rough write, awkwardness at its finest. you're welcome and thank you for still sending in a comment.

I see you, babe. don't worry, you do you! 😘

[kandyscorner]

Do I Know You? Part 28

Synopsis: Something happened and everybody’s tense about it.

Note: Hey guys, crazy ending last chapter, huh? Y’all are not going to like me for this chapter I don’t think. So, enjoy that!

Masterlist

Your head hurt. So did your eyes, your throat and even your skin. You turn slowly in the bed. Your body ached almost like you had the flu.

“Jason?” you mumble because something was wrong, and you hoped he could help you.

Silence.

“Jay?” you try again and your greeted with nothing. You finally manage your crusty eyes open and squint up at a ceiling that’s not yours. You sit up slowly, a bidding nausea settling in your stomach but not enough to make you truly sick.

You look around the unfamiliar room, the wall bookcase, the king-sized bed that held only you. You must have stayed at the manor. You close your eyes and rub your face with your hands, trying to remember what happened.

Everything was fuzzy. You remember meeting everyone, remember Jason helping with your dress and then Dick…

“Oh my god,” you groan. Dick Grayson was Nightwing. You didn’t know what to do with that knowledge, for now it just made your head hurt. You try remembering past that but it’s the blurriest your memory has ever been, and you don’t know why.

It may have rained, or you showered. Based on your apparent change of clothes, which were not the clothes you had arrived in the manor. You didn’t like this, this not knowing. What if you did something awfully embarrassing. Jason would probably tell you what happened but where was he?

You turn on the bed, legs slipping out from the sheets. Where were your pants? What happened!? You tamp down any panic you have when you spot a sheet of paper on the nightstand with a glass of water and some ibuprofen pills.

For the headache.

There was no signature, but you knew that wasn’t Jason’s handwriting. You weren’t going to argue with a piece of paper though, your pounding head enough to ignore a survival instinct to not take random pills. You drink some of the water to wet your parched mouth before taking the pills. And then you drink some more water, a sudden thirst overtakes you and the glass is empty before you know it.

You take a minute before standing and decide you need a bathroom. You try the first door you come to, and it opens to a hallway. Not a good plan, you have no pants. You close it and try the other, thankful for the sight of the toilet. You do your business and take note of a pair of pajama pants on the floor. You tug them on and find your dress hanging near the shower. Your hands press into the fabric, and you find it damp. Maybe it had rained.

You splash water on your face and try to wipe the mascara from your skin, so you didn’t look so much like a dying racoon. You need to find somebody, preferably Jason, but one of the girls or anyone in the family really would be nice.

You shuffle back to the door to the hallway and step out. You make it about half down the hallway before you meet Titus. The dog sits down in front of you and stares. You sit down crisscross on the ground and start petting him.

“Hello, sweet boy. I bet you’re not as confused as I am.” He licks at your cheek, and it makes your nose wrinkle, “Do you know where everyone is? Or someone?”

You swear he almost nods before trotting a little away from you. He turns to look at you nearly expectantly.

“Yeah, okay, I’m coming, give me a second.” You mumble standing back up. You catch up to him and he starts walking again, slowly with you by his side. He leads you downstairs and into yet another space you don’t recognize.

It’s the kitchen, that much is an easy guess based on the appliances and the great smell. You hear voices in the next room, a mild cacophony. Titus pushes his nose against a sweeping door and pushes his way into the next room. The conversation quiets as you follow after the dog, pushing the door a crack to peek in. The door opens wider, and you meet the eyes of an older man. He smiles at you kindly.

“Miss, there is no need to lurk. I have a seat for you at the table.” The British accent throws you off and you have a sudden sense of déjà vu. You step into the dining room and anxiety edges into your throat as they all stare at you.

“Wow, you look like shit,” you meet Dukes eye, a tease across his face and makes you grimace but relax a little

“Duke, language,” you hear the stern voice of Bruce Wayne, a far different tone then your mind remembers. Your eyes flash over to him as Duke mumbles a less than sincere apology. He smiles at you, but you can’t help but think of how tired he looks.

“Alfred made his hangover special. I swear it’s magic. It can get rid of just about any hangover.” You feel suddenly hit in the face by Brucie Wayne instead of whoever he was when he was scolding Duke. The tonnage and lilt of his words changing and he doesn’t look as tired as you thought.

“Oh, I’m not hung over. I don’t drink, Mr. Wayne. I do think I may have a flu or a cold. Maybe I shouldn’t sit, I don’t want to get anyone sick.” You say glancing at everyone.

“Honeygirl, I’m so sorry!” Steph’s sudden loud words make you flinch, and she manages her way to stand in front of you, but she doesn’t touch you. It makes your brows pinch.

“If I knew you didn’t drink, I would’ve never given you those mimosas.” She practically wails. You can see how distraught she was, but you don’t understand why.

“Perhaps we should not give drinks to others unless they ask for them, Miss Brown” Alfred says, and you can hear the light scold in his voice. Steph’s head dips in shame and you feel very confused still.

“Why should it matter if I drink?” you ask the question lightly not trying to backtrack Alfred’s scolding but trying to understand it, “Mimosas are just fancy orange juice, isn’t it?”

“Todd said you spoke about this.” Damian speaks up and you shrug your shoulders.

“My memories are not doing too hot this morning and I don’t know why.” You try to keep your voice level despite the way the statement worries you.

“Damn, I didn’t know you were that drunk. No wonder Jason was so uptight yesterday.” Tim says as he loads some strawberries to his plate. The family tenses, a physical thing that you can see.

“Tim,” Bruce’s stern voice is back again, and you would have assumed it was because of his language if not for the way the family had reacted.

“I wasn’t drunk. I don’t drink.” You repeat your statement ignoring the weirdness of the morning.

Cass moves around Steph and tugs you to the table. Steph still looks upset with herself but follows.

“Mimosas have champagne in them.” Cass tells you, “You didn’t know that, but you drank quite a few yesterday. Your hungover. It’s why your memories are fuzzy.”

“Oh,” you say flatly as you sit down next to Cass, “That actually makes sense. I hope I didn’t embarrass myself.”

After Stephs sits and everyone goes back to eating, you glance at the empty plate next to you, “Where’s Jason?”

That awkward tenseness filters into the room again and you wonder if something happened with Jason. He’s told about how he can be prone to fights with the family and you wonder if that’s what happened. Something sits heavy on your chest too. It makes you wonder if you said something to him, but you can’t figure out what.

“He went for a ride on his bike,” Dick offers, “he should be back soon.” You eye twitches as you fight the urge to squint at Dick, to let your mind imagine a mask over his eyes.

“Okay,” you mumble out before you start dishing your own plate. The tense atmosphere settles and the previous cacophony of people talking over each other returns. You give your compliments to Alfred (you had leaned over to Cass and asked her about the older man quietly. Evidently you had met him, you just didn’t remember it.)

You tell Bruce that he was right about the magic of the food, your body was already feeling better, your mind clearing a bit, but your memory stayed gappy. Every once in a while, you’d catch someone staring at you like they were waiting for you to say something or announce something.

Breakfast is almost over when you hear a door shut somewhere else. Everyone tenses again where you perk up. It was Jason, you just knew it and you missed him. You don’t know why he went out riding so early in the morning and without you no less (probably because you were hungover but that was neither here nor there).

The kitchen door swings open. You turn in your chair to smile brightly at him, but it drops when he freezes, eyes set on you. A worry works its way into your heart. He looks exhausted, like he hadn’t slept all night, and he looked like he wanted to run. He’d never looked at you like that.

“So, turns out she was blackout drunk, her memories pretty sucky,” Dick all but announces to the room. You turn back on him with a scoff.

“That’s rude,” you turn back to Jason, “but he’s right. If you have anything embarrassing I did, please share with me for my records.” You try to joke. Jason moves slowly pulling the chair out beside you.

“You don’t remember anything?” he asks slowly as he settles in the chair. He’s still looking at you like he’s waiting for something, like he’s ready to run should the opportunity arise.

“I remember a little bit,” you shrug, “my last solid memory is when you and Dick helped fix my dress.”

Jason’s brows shoot up in surprise and you spot even Damian looking shocked. It worries you a little. What had you done in your drunken state? Was it even something you wanted to remember?

“that’s the last thing you remember?” the way Jason asks you feels stunted. Almost like he has more to say, or he can’t decide what emotion to put with it. You glance around and find everyone watching you two.

“Did something happen?” you ask because you don’t like the blankness in your mind compared to the atmosphere of the room. You were starting to feel like you were the one that needed to run.

Jason’s hand settles against your shoulder and your whole body relaxes. You hadn’t thought that the reason you felt so on edge had to do with the fact that he wasn’t touching you.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Jason says and it’s with that same unsure emotional tone. It bothered you a little bit. You think you catch someone out of the corner of your eye wince but think nothing of it.

“We should go home today.” He tells you quieter and you nod and whisper back, “I have to do laundry.”

“Maybe, you two should stay another night. It might jog your memory.” Bruce offers and there’s a flash of something in Jason’s eye you’re not sure about, but you turn to Bruce with a smile.

“That’s kind of you but I have to work tomorrow, and chores galore to do today. Thank you for everything though. I wish I had been more sober to remember the entire brunch.” You suddenly want to be out of this house. You’re even more sure Jason got into a fight with his family and now you think it might have something to do with you.

Bruce Wayne looks like he wants to argue with you. A stiff frown on his features and a look that feels like he can see right through you to the deepest darkest parts of you. It makes you a little uncomfortable. A gentle hand on your thigh makes you jump but it’s just Cass.

“I’ll go grab your clothes from yesterday.” She says reminding you that the clothes you’re wearing were not yours. Then everyone is moving from the table, and you feel like you missed an entire conversation. Jason pulls you up too.

“You didn’t eat.”

“I ate earlier, don’t worry about.” He says stiffly. You let him pull you out of the dining room and to the front door. Everything feels disjointed and you almost feel sick again. Cass meets you at the door with a small backpack, Jason halfway helping you get your jacket on.

“Oh, thank you, Cass,” you take it from her sliding it over your shoulder and she pulls you into a tight hug. It feels heavy.

“Don’t be angry with him.” She whispers and it has you squeezing her tighter, a rock of emotion suddenly in your throat but you don’t know why.

“I’m not,” you tell her as you pull back from the hug. There’s a worried look in her eyes and you want to ask but you don’t think you’ll get an answer. She glances over your shoulder and that worried look grows.

“Let’s go,” Jason’s near demand startles you, not accustomed to him speaking like that but you’re sure he’s wound up. You nod fully parting from Cass and follow Jason out the door. You give Cass one last wave before she closes the door.

He’s already at the bike and you don’t know when he got so fast. By the time you reach him he already has his helmet on and he’s handing you yours. You slide the helmet on and attempt to do up the straps. Something you don’t do, something you haven’t done in the time you’ve been riding with Jason.

You think he’s upset with you or irritated, and your hands shake as you try to do the straps with little success. Jason doesn’t say anything, just pushes your hands out of the way and does it for you. He climbs on the bike and offers you a hand like he always does. The intention suddenly feels different, like he’s doing it out of obligation rather than because he wants to.

The ride back to your apartment is in silence. You keep yourself from tapping at him like you usually do and his hands stay glued to the handlebars. He speeds, a lot more than usual, and it has you holding onto him just a bit tighter.

Back at your apartment, you follow the same tense sequence in reverse. The ride in the elevator is had in tense silence. It makes you antsy and anxious, shifting on your feet. You can’t wait to get to your apartment. Maybe then you two could relax and you could figure out what’s going on.

****

Jason didn’t know if he should be thanking some divine deity or cursing them. You didn’t remember. Or you did and you were just pretending you didn’t which didn’t sound like something you would do. Especially if you hated him for the truth like you had said last night.

He’s sure you can sense something is wrong. You’ve been awfully quiet and there’s an awkward pressure between you two. He hates it but thinks it might be his fault.

He hadn’t slept since he left you. He hurt a lot of people in his upset, trashed a multitude of Black Masks operations in one go. He got a stern talk from Bruce about excessive force. One he’s heard before and one he’s sure he’d hear again. But that was when he told Bruce and everyone else what happened before you fell asleep.

Not the no pants and you straddling him part. He’s sure someone would have stroke over that, but the part that you asked and he answered and that you said you hated him. Everyone left him alone for most of the night after that, an occasional check-in, mostly from Oracle.

It gave him time to think, but the more he thought about it, the more confused he felt. You had known or at least had a theory. Probably long before the brunch and you had said nothing. Jason had no idea you may have thought he was Red Hood.

You hadn’t even told him about your friendship with Red Hood, no matter how short it was. If anything, the situation just showed Jason how much you two weren’t honest with each other. Not entirely deliberate. It was just that you two didn’t lay everything out for each other. He didn’t know what that said about your relationship.

He didn’t know what your reaction meant either. You said you hated him, but you hugged him like you thought he would disappear. It’s why he actually came back to the manor to take you home. He was going to let Alfred do it, but he was afraid that you’d hate him even more. Because then you would know how much of a coward he was when it came to you.

But there you were at the breakfast table, happy to see him. Your mood fell from there and again, he’s sure it’s his fault. He watches you flinch when the elevator dings and it makes his chest hurt all over again. He wants to hug you, pull you close and tell you he’s sorry but you wouldn’t know what he was apologizing about.

You walk to your door fairly fast, digging into the pocket of your jacket for your house keys. You unlock the door with haste and Jason suddenly wonders if you feel like you’re being chased. You push the door open and step inside, only to turn to look at where he stops at the threshold of your apartment. You hop on your feet and smile like you want something.

Jason hates himself for what he’s about to do, but he needs space from you to think. He just wanted you to get home safe.

“I have to go,” he starts, and he watches your smile falter, your hopping slow.

“Oh, well, I’m off in two days.” He already knew that he had your schedule memorized.

“No, it’s- I’m not,” he stops before he can stumble his way through the rest of the sentence. He sighs and restarts, “I’m leaving town for a little while.”

“You’re leaving?” your voice is sad and small, and Jason hates it. He finally takes a step into the apartment but only to press a hand to the back of your neck and pull you into a hug. You ease right into it like nothings ever been wrong between you two, arms pressing into his back.

“It’s for work,” He mumbles into your hair, “just for a while,” he repeats. You squeeze him tighter.

“For how long?” he barely hears you ask. It’s a hard question to answer. When he called Roy to see if there was anything the Outlaws could get into, the ginger had been pretty vague.

“A week, maybe two,” He guesses. You pull back suddenly.

“Two weeks? What am I supposed to do without you for two weeks?” your joking, he can hear it in your voice, but the words tug at him in an achy way.

“What’d you do before we started hanging out?” he asks ignoring the way he felt.

“Literally nothing.” You laugh, “you gave my life meaning, Jason Todd. You must return from work as soon as possible; else I’ll wither away.” You’re still joking and its killing Jason.

He was starting to wish you remembered because this was going awfully for him. Last night you said you hated him, so he decided to leave Gotham for a bit. This morning you’re telling him he gives your life meaning and he never wants to leave you alone again.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” He pulls you back into a hug, tighter this time, just in case. Roy had told him whatever mission he planned was dangerous, they always are. This is the first time Jason knew for a fact that someone wanted him to come back and that the same person hated him for being the Red Hood. He hated his life.

“I’m not angry with you,” he hears you mumble, and it makes him pause. Maybe you did remember.

“What was that?”

“I’m not angry with you. Cass said I shouldn’t be angry with you and that’s the second time she’s said something like that to me. I thought maybe you thought I was angry with you, so I want you to know that I’m not.”

Jason doesn’t know if he should be thankful or upset with Cass over her attempts to get involved but he would have to deal with it later because his phone was ringing. He pulls out of your hug but keeps a hand on your arm as he pulls his phone out.

****

You watch as Jason answers the phone. He placates whoever, someone named Roy, on the other side of the phone.

“I’m already on my way, okay? I had to take care of something.” his hand squeezes at your arm and understand that you were the something. He’s quiet for a second and then he’s rolling his eyes affectionate. He meets your eye like he’s over talking to this Roy character.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. See you soon.” He finally hangs up the phone and turns towards you. He leans forward and presses a kiss on your forehead, and you wonder why you two had been tense all morning.

“I gotta go,” he tells you quietly. You slip up to your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek.

“Be safe, okay? My life’s totally lame without you.” You say in complete seriousness this time.

“I’ll do my best.” He says it like a reverent promise and then he’s slipping away from you and out the door. He pauses there and gives you a look. You roll your eyes playfully.

“Goodbye Jason.” You say and finally shut and lock the door. You look through the peephole and watch him stand there a second before finally moving on. You sigh and look around your apartment.

Two weeks without Jason. What were you going to do with yourself? You set your borrowed backpack on the ground and settle on the couch, turning on the news.

You flinch at the flash of red that crosses your screen, a photo for the news report. You don’t need to listen to recognize that red anywhere. Red Hood. You don’t know that you’ve ever seen him on the news. You turn up the volume.

“-majorly injured. This new development might seem odd but months ago Red Hood had killed a man involved with a human trafficking case. The slew of violence exhibited this last night may be another sign that Red Hood is falling back on a path he had been on years ago. Commentary from local Gothamites offer a mixed perspective.”

“Red Hood has always looked out for the little guy especially in the harder parts of town but last night he was merciless.”

“I saw him beating up some of those gang members last night through my window. He was like an animal. I hope everything’s okay with him.”

“He stopped me from being mugged last night but honestly I was almost worried he was going to come after me and I hadn’t done anything.”

A few more interviews are shared with mix of people either worried or scared about Red Hood going on a rampage. Something scratches at the back of your mind, like you know something, or you should know something. You try to remember if Red Hood ever talked about his more violent moments, what made them happen, but you can’t.

You tug the locket from under your shirt to thumb at it. You wore it everywhere. Just in case something happened. You wonder if you should press it, maybe Red Hood would show up and you can check if he was okay.

No, you couldn’t do that. You were angry with him. He had gotten you kidnapped, and he never came back. He kissed you and never came back. Beside with your luck, you’d get Dick Grayson clad in spandex again.

You close your eyes and scrub your face. Jason’s brother was Nightwing, and you figured it out by accident (or it was intentional. He was pretty obvious.) you needed to talk to someone but who?

There was someone you could call. It made you feel guilty for finally reaching out over something like this. He had tried multiple times since you’d moved to Gotham. You answered maybe one out of thirty calls and the last time you saw him was when you visited home for Christmas two years ago. Your thankful for his patience with you and for not giving up.

You mute the TV and pull out your phone. Your scroll through the contacts and stare. He doesn’t hate you; you remind yourself, otherwise he wouldn’t call every other week. You press the call button and press the phone to your ear. It rings and part of you hopes he won’t answer.

“Hello?” you steal yourself at the sound of his voice.

“Hey Wally.” You cringe at the way answer him, “I’m sorry for ghosting you but I have a superhero question.”

Additional notes: Surprise! Wally is the flash that she knows. A few chapters ago I had mentioned something about slipping in some backstory for the reader and Wally is part of that (he is important for later on trust me). The next chapter also has a couple sneaky glimpses of her past too. Also, that missing memory is really going to stress her out, who wouldn’t it stress out? As always thank you for reading! And let me know what you think!

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling, @automaticplant, @alma-ru3, @13fresh, @anuttellaa, @nekotaetae, @redsakura101, @sleepy-head1, @aejabba, @asteria33, @princessbl0ss0m

[kandyscorner]

You know what MAAM (gn) you didn’t have to hurt me like this this last chapter?!? 😭 (don’t stop don’t you dare stop writing it’s getting so good!!)

A temporary pain, we'll get through this together! (perhaps with more drama)

Thank you lovely!

[kandyscorner]

YOU CAME OUT OF LEFT FIELD! “ARE YOU RED HOOD?” GOD OH MY GOD YES THANK YOU FOR THAT AMP UP IM EXCITED!!! Have a great day and keep up the great work!

Gotta keep you guys on your toes!

everyone's so excited about the reveal and I like to put it out there that you guys are going to be mad with the next chapter.

Thank you!!❤️