Snippet from ch. 4 of A Matter of Ethics below! Only good things happening in my angst hurt/comfort identity shenanigans fic.
Before he could cook his brain with any more over thinking, he selected Jason's number and let it ring.
The first call went to voice mail. So did the second, and the third. But on the fourth dial-
"Jaime?"
The sound that rushed out of him was too embarrassing to name. "Jason, thank god."
"Why are you calling me?" Jason asked. He sounded distracted, maybe a bit surprised. The sounds of the city were loud behind his voice. He was outside, then?
Jaime didn't reply right away so Jason pressed, more urgently, "is there an emergency? Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," Jaime said. He didn't think he was, actually, but that's what people say in these situations.
"Okay," Jason said. Silence reigned for a long time.
Honestly, Jaime was just glad to listen to Jason's breathing in the receiver. "I thought...you...you're okay?"
"Of course I'm okay."
Right. Right. Jaime clenched his jaw shut tightly so he didn't blurt out anything embarrassing. Like a half baked theory of Jason working for a crime lord. Dumb, dumb, dumb. "Hey, so...if you have a second I- well, I've had a really weird night, but I need to talk to you and over the phone is fine with me so. If you have time. I'd like to tell you something."
There was some very loud shuffling on the other end. A hurried set of heavy foot steps before a heavier door slammed shut and the background noise cut out. With the air of someone whose words were being pulled letter by letter out from between his teeth, Jason sighed into the receiver. "I can talk."
Jaime sagged onto his desk in relief. He propped his phone up and settled down with his chin on top of his folded arms. "I really missed you."
A beat, "you just saw me today." Jason sounded stiff.
"Before today. I missed you." Jaime rolled his eyes. He couldn't even hear the other man breathe for several seconds too long. So, he continued. "And I need to know, before we settle back into some kind of routine or do anything else or...I don't know. But I need to know if you missed me, too."
The silence persisted. It was torture. A kind that Jaime didn't know how to dodge. He could still swear he hadn't heard Jason even so much as twitch on the other end. Truly frozen. Jaime could only hope that explaining himself even more would do...something. Anything. Get any kind of reaction.
"Like, if you didn't, that's fine, no harm no foul, hah hah. If you don't wanna be- if you don't want to stay in contact, that's okay with me. I just..." He sighed, burrowing down into his arms as if that'd help this conversation at all. "I just need to know, Jason."
"I," a soft sort of grunt cut him off. He cleared his throat but didn't sound any smoother. "I- I can't. You...I want to. But things are- I can't. It's complicated."
It'd been a knife slowly pressing through the gaps in his ribs all summer. Jaime wasn't sure why the rejection even hurt anymore. He should've long gotten used to it. But, it did. He took a deep breath and tried to keep a smile in his voice, even if actually wearing one would be impossible. "You can't stay in contact, or you can't be my friend?"
It was supposed to be teasing, but with how Jason let a whispered curse fly Jaime could guess it landed more bitter than anything. "I can't get close the way you want me to. You're too good for me, Jaime Reyes. So, just- do yourself a favour and walk away. 'Cause I can't be who you want me to be."
"Don't I get to decide that? What it is I want?" Jaime had no idea whee that came from. Annoyance sparking low and bright in the mess of his gut. "What if all I want is to argue about shitty ice cream with a guy I like?"
"Fuck," Jason breathed, "Jaime-"
"What's complicated? About your- your situation. What's complicated? Because I-" don't care what you do in your spare time? Would still have empathy for you if you were a murderer? Am desperate for attention and time and you make me feel wanted? "-I mean, maybe I could help you un-complicate it! I'm getting pretty good at it. Lots of practice in my contract class."
Jason snorted, and it was a soft thing. "It's not something you could help with. It just is complicated. It's- I'm a mess, right now. And putting my life back together, fixing things that need to be fixed, it fucking sucks. It's all complicated. And you can't help."
So stop trying, Jaime heard. "I want to." He said anyway.
The silence was back. He clenched his eyes shut and tried to bear it patiently. His nails dug in hard to his arms. When he finally pushed his head out of his arms he said, "Jason-"
His phone beeped as the call disconnected.
Jaime stared at it as the screen faded back to his call history. A total numbness ran from the top of his head all the way down to his toes. He sighed, long and slow, and tried to pack all of the horrible twisting feelings stuck in his chest from the night into it. He felt empty. Scooped out.
His phone chimed brightly. He had three discussion posts due in two hours.
Jaime let his head fall back into his arms with a breath that left him shuddering and cold. "Great," he said aloud to no one, wishing for any kind of echo.
"Ah, here we are. Brenda, Jaime, allow me to introduce you." She'd stopped them at one of the back tables where a teenager still growing into his new height was perched. He looked very polished, an ease to how he wore his suit and hair that said he was used to wearing them. Still, he had an air of nerves around him that all teenage boys seemed to exude like a fine perfume. "This is young Timothy Drake-Wayne, he's the only other youth here tonight."
Timothy stared intently at their faces for just a hair too long. "Pleased to meet you." He said with a controlled nod of his head.
"Hey man," Jaime offered up lamely. He waved. Timothy did not wave back.
Brenda hummed, looking more than a little put-out by this turn of events. Clearly she had been expecting someone in their 20's and not someone probably pushing fifteen. "Yeah, nice to meet you. Tia, can I please talk to you in private?"
Lady Amparo nodded and they wandered a little ways away, whispering between each other. Leaving Jaime alone with the random awkward teenager. Well. Damn.
"So," Jaime started, "you like video games?"
“When I have time for them.” Timothy answered, smiling politely.
Jaime made a sympathetic sound, leaning in on the table. “Yeah, school can be pretty rough, huh?”
Timothy didn’t quite frown, but there’s a sudden dullness to his gaze. A frustration that’d been built slowly over a long time. “I’m not in school. I’m in the middle of taking over Wayne Enterprises as COO.”
“Holy shit,” Jaime said, “is that legal? You’re so young, hermano.”
“I’m perfectly capable of handling the task.”
It seemed like Timothy wasn’t in the business of frowning so Jaime picked up the slack for him. “It’s not about being capable, dude, it’s about not burning out before 25.”
If he were any less a very rich kid already neck deep in the business world, Timothy would probably be huffing and pouting and posturing about how mature he was. Unfortunately, the teen just smiled a little thinner and tilted his head. "I go where I'm needed. That's all there is to it. If my benefactor and his family need me, then that's that."
Jaime hummed. That was a sentiment he could understand. He'd helped out his dad and his uncle in the shop on weekends since he turned eight, after all. Part of him wanted to stubbornly dig his heels into the ground and insist that him goofing off and being chased around old cars by his uncle was very different from being a COO before his voice dropped. He knew it felt different because his dad had always insisted he finish his school work, never skip to pick up hours, none of that. What hours he did pick up he was paid for. His family had been kind to him. So who's to say Timothy's was doing something differently? The kid could be lying, or exaggerating, or there could be some weird regent-style rules in place or—or a million other possibilities! He simply couldn't know, and he wasn't supposed to know.
This was a total stranger, he reminded himself. He didn't need to get involved in their business nor peck at some rich kid like some annoying mother hen. So, Jaime shrugged, turned his grin back up and very un-subtly changed the topic. "When you do have the time, what do you like to play? Me, I'm cracked at fighting and rhythm games. I'd have more RPGs cleared if I didn't spend like, all my time in them trying to clear all the dumb side quests. You?"
Timothy looked to make a quick mental calculation before looking carefully away, affecting and air of cool that didn't quite land. "I prefer strategy and resource gathering games. Farming sims can be nice."
"Awesome!" Jaime grabbed his phone and swiped it open. "I've got Stardew on here, 76% to perfection, if you're down for a quick tour."
He just had to waggle it a few times before the teen broke under the weight of free games on phone as so many had before him. Milagro was just as easy to bribe. "Well," Timothy started, looking around quickly before shuffling closer, "sure, okay."
Snippet from ch. 4 of A Matter of Ethics below! Only good things happening in my angst hurt/comfort identity shenanigans fic.
Before he could cook his brain with any more over thinking, he selected Jason's number and let it ring.
The first call went to voice mail. So did the second, and the third. But on the fourth dial-
"Jaime?"
The sound that rushed out of him was too embarrassing to name. "Jason, thank god."
"Why are you calling me?" Jason asked. He sounded distracted, maybe a bit surprised. The sounds of the city were loud behind his voice. He was outside, then?
Jaime didn't reply right away so Jason pressed, more urgently, "is there an emergency? Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," Jaime said. He didn't think he was, actually, but that's what people say in these situations.
"Okay," Jason said. Silence reigned for a long time.
Honestly, Jaime was just glad to listen to Jason's breathing in the receiver. "I thought...you...you're okay?"
"Of course I'm okay."
Right. Right. Jaime clenched his jaw shut tightly so he didn't blurt out anything embarrassing. Like a half baked theory of Jason working for a crime lord. Dumb, dumb, dumb. "Hey, so...if you have a second I- well, I've had a really weird night, but I need to talk to you and over the phone is fine with me so. If you have time. I'd like to tell you something."
There was some very loud shuffling on the other end. A hurried set of heavy foot steps before a heavier door slammed shut and the background noise cut out. With the air of someone whose words were being pulled letter by letter out from between his teeth, Jason sighed into the receiver. "I can talk."
Jaime sagged onto his desk in relief. He propped his phone up and settled down with his chin on top of his folded arms. "I really missed you."
A beat, "you just saw me today." Jason sounded stiff.
"Before today. I missed you." Jaime rolled his eyes. He couldn't even hear the other man breathe for several seconds too long. So, he continued. "And I need to know, before we settle back into some kind of routine or do anything else or...I don't know. But I need to know if you missed me, too."
The silence persisted. It was torture. A kind that Jaime didn't know how to dodge. He could still swear he hadn't heard Jason even so much as twitch on the other end. Truly frozen. Jaime could only hope that explaining himself even more would do...something. Anything. Get any kind of reaction.
"Like, if you didn't, that's fine, no harm no foul, hah hah. If you don't wanna be- if you don't want to stay in contact, that's okay with me. I just..." He sighed, burrowing down into his arms as if that'd help this conversation at all. "I just need to know, Jason."
"I," a soft sort of grunt cut him off. He cleared his throat but didn't sound any smoother. "I- I can't. You...I want to. But things are- I can't. It's complicated."
It'd been a knife slowly pressing through the gaps in his ribs all summer. Jaime wasn't sure why the rejection even hurt anymore. He should've long gotten used to it. But, it did. He took a deep breath and tried to keep a smile in his voice, even if actually wearing one would be impossible. "You can't stay in contact, or you can't be my friend?"
It was supposed to be teasing, but with how Jason let a whispered curse fly Jaime could guess it landed more bitter than anything. "I can't get close the way you want me to. You're too good for me, Jaime Reyes. So, just- do yourself a favour and walk away. 'Cause I can't be who you want me to be."
"Don't I get to decide that? What it is I want?" Jaime had no idea whee that came from. Annoyance sparking low and bright in the mess of his gut. "What if all I want is to argue about shitty ice cream with a guy I like?"
"Fuck," Jason breathed, "Jaime-"
"What's complicated? About your- your situation. What's complicated? Because I-" don't care what you do in your spare time? Would still have empathy for you if you were a murderer? Am desperate for attention and time and you make me feel wanted? "-I mean, maybe I could help you un-complicate it! I'm getting pretty good at it. Lots of practice in my contract class."
Jason snorted, and it was a soft thing. "It's not something you could help with. It just is complicated. It's- I'm a mess, right now. And putting my life back together, fixing things that need to be fixed, it fucking sucks. It's all complicated. And you can't help."
So stop trying, Jaime heard. "I want to." He said anyway.
The silence was back. He clenched his eyes shut and tried to bear it patiently. His nails dug in hard to his arms. When he finally pushed his head out of his arms he said, "Jason-"
His phone beeped as the call disconnected.
Jaime stared at it as the screen faded back to his call history. A total numbness ran from the top of his head all the way down to his toes. He sighed, long and slow, and tried to pack all of the horrible twisting feelings stuck in his chest from the night into it. He felt empty. Scooped out.
His phone chimed brightly. He had three discussion posts due in two hours.
Jaime let his head fall back into his arms with a breath that left him shuddering and cold. "Great," he said aloud to no one, wishing for any kind of echo.
"I don't know enough about Gunbug to ship it-" have you watched Blue Beetle (2023)? Do you know Jason Todd? If the answer to both of these are yes then you can ship gunbug.
I know, He knows, Do You Know?
Pairing: gun-bug (Jason Todd x Jaime Reyes)
summary: Bruce figures out Jaime likes Jason before he does. Mostly, because Jason’s in denial but yeah.
Bruce wasn’t supposed to notice.
He didn’t want to notice, frankly. Jason was eating regularly, sleeping occasionally, and not actively threatening anyone within the family group chat. That, by Wayne standards, meant everything was fine. Peaceful, even.
But then came the lunches.
It started small, takeout boxes stacked neatly in the fridge, labeled in handwriting that clearly wasn’t Jason’s. At first Bruce assumed Alfred was experimenting with new suppliers, until he spotted the tiny doodle on one of the lids: a cartoon beetle giving a thumbs up.
It was cute.
Definitely not something one of his brothers would make him. Jason had muttered something like “don’t touch that” when Bruce opened the fridge later, which immediately ensured Bruce would pay attention.
After that, it was impossible not to see the pattern.
Jason’s comm line would stay open later and later on nights he patrolled alone. Quiet chatter. A soft laugh that didn’t belong to any of the family. Sometimes Bruce would walk past the training area at midnight and hear Jason talking, not in his usual gruff, defensive way, but in that distracted, almost content tone he used to have before.
Before everything.
Once, Bruce caught him half-asleep on the couch, headset still in his ear, phone lit up beside him. A faint voice on the other end said,
“You’re gonna fall asleep there again, aren’t you?”
and Jason just mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like,
“Maybe. You sound so nice.”
Bruce shut the door quietly. It wasn’t his business who his son was dating. But he was happy that Jason was happy.
The clincher came two weeks later, during post-mission cleanup. Bruce was reviewing intel when he heard Jason grumble into his comms,
“You didn’t have to do that, Blue.”
and a chipper reply came through the static,
“You say that every time I bring you food, and yet you keep eating it, mi amor.”
Jaime Reyes. Blue Beetle. Reliable, talented, relentlessly kind. Bruce researched him up before. (As he keeps tabs on everyone he knows.) He was a brave, kind boy.
And apparently courting Jason Todd with takeout and late-night calls.
Bruce leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know whether to intervene or send the kid a fruit basket.
From his perspective, Jason was whipped.
Or bet yet domesticated.
He let it go again, observation was, after all, part of his skill set. The Reyes situation became something like background noise: Jason answering calls with a half-smile, disappearing for “team missions” that were suspiciously near El Paso, or muttering “Blue’s gonna kill me if I forget his movie night again.”
It wasn’t… bad. In fact, Bruce noticed Jason’s temper had evened out. Less edge, more quiet energy. Sometimes he came back from patrol with leftover food. Once he even whistled.
Whistled.
That’s when Bruce realized it wasn’t just a passing thing.
It took months for the conversation to happen.
It wasn’t planned, nothing ever was, in this family. Bruce was reading reports in the kitchen one morning when Jason wandered in, yawning, scrolling through his phone. There was a faint grin on his face, the kind that slipped through before he remembered to scowl again.
Bruce, without looking up, asked, “When are you introducing me to your boyfriend?” It was about time. Five months of this and you’d assumed maybe it was time.
Jason nearly dropped his mug.
“My—what?”
“Jaime,” Bruce said simply, still reading. “The one who calls you every night. The one who sends food. The one you’ve been… smiling at your phone for.”
Silence. Then a long, stunned pause.
“He’s not…wait. Oh my god. Has he been flirting?” Bruce could only describe Jason’s face as horrifyingly pleased.
He finally looked up, expression blank. “You’re just realizing this now?”
Jason blinked like a man seeing daylight for the first time. “Holy shit, he’s been flirting.”
Bruce set his paper down, very calmly. So, they weren’t dating. “He’s a nice boy. Don’t be stupid.”
Then he walked out of the room, leaving Jason standing there, phone buzzing in his hand with a new text.
Jaime: You eat yet, Jay? I made too much. Want me to drop it off? 💙
Jason groaned into his hands. “Oh my god, he’s been flirting this entire time.”
Later that night, Bruce passed by the manor balcony and saw Jason sitting outside, phone pressed to his ear.
He wasn’t saying much, just listening, quietly smiling at whatever Jaime was saying on the other end. The expression was soft, vulnerable but smitten.
Bruce paused in the doorway, unseen, and allowed himself a small, rare smile. He didn’t need to say anything. He didn’t need to interfere.
Jason had finally found something, someone, who brought him calm instead of chaos. And for once, Bruce was content to let it be.
As long as he was properly introduced to him, of course.
a/n: guys do u fk with gunbug??? too bad bc i do 🤞🤞🤞
A hand caught him by the elbow and yanked him short. "Ja- John, wait." Of course it was Jaime.
"Let go," Jason hissed. Jaime didn't, of course, and Jason tore his arm free none too kindly. With the movement, he caught a glimpse of the other man's face and it was-
"Dude, wait I- look," Jaime's brows were pinched into a loose knot on his brow. His lips thin, and something close to want etched along the line of his jaw. "Can we just- can we talk?"
How unfair was it that Jason had been the one ignoring him for months on end, a pointed snub of the highest degree, and when they were face to face Jaime was still asking so gently? He should be pissed. Jason could work with pissed. Anger was his best fucking friend. He absolutely could not handle...this.
Shame lashed at Jason's insides with a score to settle in blood and bile. Right. This was exactly why he'd been so keen to ghost the other man in the first place. To avoid this. "I don't think there's anything to say." He said. If he could not apologize—and Jason could not—then there weren't any words left in his vocabulary worth offering.
The knot on Jaime's forehead tightened. Good. Get angry. "I think there is. And maybe it's just me who has something to say and if that's the case then, well, alright. I can work with that. But will you at least do me the favour of listening to what I have to say?" With the question his brows loosened once again.
"I'm busy," Jason bit out around the choke hold his own bastardized emotions had on his neck. "It's better if we keep favours out of this."
Jaime muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "this cryptic shit again?" but was a true expert at vocal control and was speaking at a normal volume just a hair too fast for his mumblings to be understood. "Hey, man, you're not the only one in the world who's busy. Five minutes or less, that's all I need."
Jaime drummed his fingers harshly against his long-empty blizzard cup. It was already five after their agreed meeting time. Jason wasn't going to ghost him again, right?
Five minutes turned to ten. Then twenty, then forty, then an hour and a half. Jaime was being unceremoniously shooed out of the building for closing time when his phone buzzed. It read: Work.
Well...at least they were texting again.
Jaime stared down at the message and couldn't stop the bitter laugh that came out of him. He should've known better. What was he expecting? Some kind of perfect little meet cute straight out of his dad's badly hidden romance novels? The dark, misunderstood love interest showing up out of the blue ready to reveal a bit of his heart and face the terror of being known, even to just one person?
God, he was doing it again. Romanticizing stuff that didn't and wouldn't ever happen. Jaime wasn't sure if he would be better off laughing or crying. The dairy queen employee locking up for the night kept looking at him weird, so he shelved that decision for the time it would take to scuttle on out of there. He needed somewhere private to just...be, for a while. Maybe cry a bit. Maybe laugh like a maniac. Maybe swear at a brick wall. Anything to push at this stupidly heavy boulder of crushed hopes bearing down on his chest.
Jaime, short on breath, ducked down the first side street he could find. Then another, and another, until he was sure he was about as far away from people as he could get in Gotham.
He turned one last corner for his perfect emotional hiding spot just in time to get blinded by a bright flash and a loud POP!
Right at the end of the alley he'd just turned into were five people, all wearing dark clothes, standing in a loose circle around someone who was kneeling on the ground. Two of the people standing had a firm grip on the kneeler's shoulders. They let go and the- the body crumpled forward all on its own.
That wasn't even the worst part, though. No, that honour went to the brilliant shade of red that covered a heavy looking helmet on one of the guys' heads.
FUCK!
Jaime's lungs, already sore from holding in tears so long, spasmed in his chest and he choked on the air. The tang of iron and sulphur invaded his mouth and he choked again for a very different reason.
All five heads swivelled towards him. Each with some form of mask or helmet covering their faces. For a very long moment, no one moved.
He must have twitched or something because the next thing he knew, Jaime had two people on either side of him, wrenching his arms behind his back, and dragging him—kicking and gasping—towards Red Hood.
A hand caught him by the elbow and yanked him short. "Ja- John, wait." Of course it was Jaime.
"Let go," Jason hissed. Jaime didn't, of course, and Jason tore his arm free none too kindly. With the movement, he caught a glimpse of the other man's face and it was-
"Dude, wait I- look," Jaime's brows were pinched into a loose knot on his brow. His lips thin, and something close to want etched along the line of his jaw. "Can we just- can we talk?"
How unfair was it that Jason had been the one ignoring him for months on end, a pointed snub of the highest degree, and when they were face to face Jaime was still asking so gently? He should be pissed. Jason could work with pissed. Anger was his best fucking friend. He absolutely could not handle...this.
Shame lashed at Jason's insides with a score to settle in blood and bile. Right. This was exactly why he'd been so keen to ghost the other man in the first place. To avoid this. "I don't think there's anything to say." He said. If he could not apologize—and Jason could not—then there weren't any words left in his vocabulary worth offering.
The knot on Jaime's forehead tightened. Good. Get angry. "I think there is. And maybe it's just me who has something to say and if that's the case then, well, alright. I can work with that. But will you at least do me the favour of listening to what I have to say?" With the question his brows loosened once again.
"I'm busy," Jason bit out around the choke hold his own bastardized emotions had on his neck. "It's better if we keep favours out of this."
Jaime muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "this cryptic shit again?" but was a true expert at vocal control and was speaking at a normal volume just a hair too fast for his mumblings to be understood. "Hey, man, you're not the only one in the world who's busy. Five minutes or less, that's all I need."
"You...you didn't actually need me to navigate, did you?"
John had the decency to look away. Embarrassed? "You needed something to do before your brain ate itself." He said.
Jaime took the moment in full. Standing side by side with someone who was, realistically, still a stranger outside in the harsh glow of emergency room lights covered in alley grime. He couldn't help it. He smiled, a quick jerk of his lips. "Thanks," he said, knocking into John's shoulder. "For that and just...for coming. I'm really, really lucky you were awake and available."
"I'm a creature of the night." John replied, a little too quickly if the way he immediately grimaced was anything to go by.
The other teen snorted and the action made the pain in his back flare sharply. "Ah, shit."
John was back to hovering like he was a master artisan of the craft. “Are you hurt?”
“Yeah, I’m fine though. It’s not deep, I don’t think? And anyway there were more important things going on.” Jaime waved off. He reached a hand back and poked at the pain. It stung like hell, and his fingers came back a little damp, but not soaked. Look at that. Silver linings yet again.
John doesn’t look at all impressed with his examination. “Give me one good reason not to shove you back through those doors right now.”
“I’m fine,” Jaime sighed. He knew if he actually got admitted to the emergency room his mom would be blowing up his phone immediately saying things like, this is why you don’t study in Gotham, I don’t care how good the school is, and you can take online classes at home, and then his abuela would lean in and loudly ask how long he’d be staying for the holidays. His uncle would get halfway through a horrible joke about Gotham University before losing it at his own punchline and go tumbling out of his chair. God, he missed his family. But they were…a lot. They got excited and protective and he didn’t think he could handle that on top of clerical poking and prodding at his wounds. “I’m just tired. I’ll get it bandaged and then crash for like, thirty hours. Then I’ll be just like new.”
Those brilliant eyes, more blue then green in this light, studied his face for a long time. Jaime put on his best “I’m super trustworthy and reasonable, promise!” face. Somehow it worked. John huffed, shaking his head. “Fine, have it your way. You need to get back to the dorms, right?”
“Yeah, that’s riiiiiiiiii-ohhhhhh noooooo…” Jaime dropped his head into his hands, groaning. “The dorms lock for everyone after midnight. Maybe I’ll get lucky and catch someone sneaking out or…or I could crash the engineering building? They’ve got good chairs…”
He’s about five alternate campus buildings deep in his pro cons list for impromptu crashes in the wee hours when John clears his throat. Jaime glances up between his fingers. “Or you could crash at mine.”
He got a bite to the corner of his mouth for that one. And then another at the fat of his lip, and then more down along his jaw. "John," Jaime groaned, high and breathy in his throat.
"Call me Jason." Jo- Jason mumbled.
That broke through the haze of heat and pressure just enough for Jaime to pause. "Can I ask why?"
Jason, apparently undeterred from his mission to map out every inch of Jaime's skin by mouth alone, huffed. The warmth of his breath across Jaime's neck sent a wave of goosebumps down his arms. "Because that's my real name."
A smarter person would've let it drop at that point to get back to the action. Jaime craned his neck to make those bright green eyes meet his own deep brown and grinned. "So you weren't serious at all! Did you just say that to sound cool? You can be honest."
Emerald eyes narrowed and that was all the warning Jaime got before Jason latched on to a patch of skin right at the junction between collar bone and neck and sucked.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
"You...you didn't actually need me to navigate, did you?"
John had the decency to look away. Embarrassed? "You needed something to do before your brain ate itself." He said.
Jaime took the moment in full. Standing side by side with someone who was, realistically, still a stranger outside in the harsh glow of emergency room lights covered in alley grime. He couldn't help it. He smiled, a quick jerk of his lips. "Thanks," he said, knocking into John's shoulder. "For that and just...for coming. I'm really, really lucky you were awake and available."
"I'm a creature of the night." John replied, a little too quickly if the way he immediately grimaced was anything to go by.
The other teen snorted and the action made the pain in his back flare sharply. "Ah, shit."
John was back to hovering like he was a master artisan of the craft. “Are you hurt?”
“Yeah, I’m fine though. It’s not deep, I don’t think? And anyway there were more important things going on.” Jaime waved off. He reached a hand back and poked at the pain. It stung like hell, and his fingers came back a little damp, but not soaked. Look at that. Silver linings yet again.
John doesn’t look at all impressed with his examination. “Give me one good reason not to shove you back through those doors right now.”
“I’m fine,” Jaime sighed. He knew if he actually got admitted to the emergency room his mom would be blowing up his phone immediately saying things like, this is why you don’t study in Gotham, I don’t care how good the school is, and you can take online classes at home, and then his abuela would lean in and loudly ask how long he’d be staying for the holidays. His uncle would get halfway through a horrible joke about Gotham University before losing it at his own punchline and go tumbling out of his chair. God, he missed his family. But they were…a lot. They got excited and protective and he didn’t think he could handle that on top of clerical poking and prodding at his wounds. “I’m just tired. I’ll get it bandaged and then crash for like, thirty hours. Then I’ll be just like new.”
Those brilliant eyes, more blue then green in this light, studied his face for a long time. Jaime put on his best “I’m super trustworthy and reasonable, promise!” face. Somehow it worked. John huffed, shaking his head. “Fine, have it your way. You need to get back to the dorms, right?”
“Yeah, that’s riiiiiiiiii-ohhhhhh noooooo…” Jaime dropped his head into his hands, groaning. “The dorms lock for everyone after midnight. Maybe I’ll get lucky and catch someone sneaking out or…or I could crash the engineering building? They’ve got good chairs…”
He’s about five alternate campus buildings deep in his pro cons list for impromptu crashes in the wee hours when John clears his throat. Jaime glances up between his fingers. “Or you could crash at mine.”
Honestly, dying at the worlds worst coffee shop trying to get a grade-defining essay checked over by some random guy on the internet during his junior year of college wasn’t the most embarrassing way to go. It cracked the top ten, easy, but it wasn’t the worst. Jaime repeated this logic to himself in the hope that it’d let him calm down. Living for about half the year for two years in Gotham City had made him less jumpy, but he liked to think he still had some self preservation instincts in him. Seated in a taped together chair at a sticky table in a—for lack of a better description—dank and dim coffee shop certainly wasn’t helping anything.
He sloshed around the dark heavy liquid in the chipped mug he was provided. “Coffee”, right. With a wince he took a swig to try and settle his nerves and forced himself to swallow around the gritty bitterness. Bleugh, at least it was cheap…but wow it was bad.
Jaime wanted to believe that little cheap rundown shops hide all the best food. Where everything is made with passion and love rather than expensive ingredients. But, Gotham loved to prove him wrong. Sometimes a place just sucked. He still wanted to avoid looking disgusted by the coffee, the barista was giving him a nasty stink eye. He got the feeling she’d be watching him drink until the very last drop. He did his best not to shudder.
He jumped as a hooded figure slumped down into the rickety chair across from him. The stranger knocked their hood back immediately and leaned forward to put their elbows on the table. “Let’s see it,” they demanded with a gravelly voice.
With their hood down Jaime could see their short cropped hair, mostly black with a shock of white clumped to the front. Their face was handsome, a firm jaw and sharp eyebrows. Their features interrupted by purpling bruises, a slightly crooked nose, and a healing split lip. The stranger raised an expectant eyebrow and Jaime realized he’d been staring. “Oh! Uh, sorry. Uh, can I…help you?”
The stranger squinted at him—and wow those eyes were green—before clicking his tongue. “You’re Jaime Reyes, aren’t you? With the ethics essay?”
“Yes!” He set down his coffee cup and turned to dig through his bag for his laptop. “And…that’d make you…?”
“John,” came the answer immediately, “John Doe.”
Jaime chuckled on reflex as he set down his computer and opened it up. John didn’t laugh. “Oh,” Jaime cleared his throat, “you’re serious?”
A perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised once again. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
Honestly, dying at the worlds worst coffee shop trying to get a grade-defining essay checked over by some random guy on the internet during his junior year of college wasn’t the most embarrassing way to go. It cracked the top ten, easy, but it wasn’t the worst. Jaime repeated this logic to himself in the hope that it’d let him calm down. Living for about half the year for two years in Gotham City had made him less jumpy, but he liked to think he still had some self preservation instincts in him. Seated in a taped together chair at a sticky table in a—for lack of a better description—dank and dim coffee shop certainly wasn’t helping anything.
He sloshed around the dark heavy liquid in the chipped mug he was provided. “Coffee”, right. With a wince he took a swig to try and settle his nerves and forced himself to swallow around the gritty bitterness. Bleugh, at least it was cheap…but wow it was bad.
Jaime wanted to believe that little cheap rundown shops hide all the best food. Where everything is made with passion and love rather than expensive ingredients. But, Gotham loved to prove him wrong. Sometimes a place just sucked. He still wanted to avoid looking disgusted by the coffee, the barista was giving him a nasty stink eye. He got the feeling she’d be watching him drink until the very last drop. He did his best not to shudder.
He jumped as a hooded figure slumped down into the rickety chair across from him. The stranger knocked their hood back immediately and leaned forward to put their elbows on the table. “Let’s see it,” they demanded with a gravelly voice.
With their hood down Jaime could see their short cropped hair, mostly black with a shock of white clumped to the front. Their face was handsome, a firm jaw and sharp eyebrows. Their features interrupted by purpling bruises, a slightly crooked nose, and a healing split lip. The stranger raised an expectant eyebrow and Jaime realized he’d been staring. “Oh! Uh, sorry. Uh, can I…help you?”
The stranger squinted at him—and wow those eyes were green—before clicking his tongue. “You’re Jaime Reyes, aren’t you? With the ethics essay?”
“Yes!” He set down his coffee cup and turned to dig through his bag for his laptop. “And…that’d make you…?”
“John,” came the answer immediately, “John Doe.”
Jaime chuckled on reflex as he set down his computer and opened it up. John didn’t laugh. “Oh,” Jaime cleared his throat, “you’re serious?”
A perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised once again. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
this is from ch 10 of my fic ignis lazuli! context: neither rin nor yukio know they’re twins in this au but that doesn’t stop them from twinning on the regular
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Bye bye 2024 👋, with doodle dump of sillies and such
There’s still a couple of hours left before new year here in my country, but I just wanted to thank all of you who interacted with my art this year !! Thank you for the follows, reblogs, requests and dms 🤧, they fill me with so much joy 🫶 :’)
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