jason todd cannot let you know how badly he's been crushing on you.
anyone could've guessed it by how he treats you. jason was naturally observant, but when it came to you, there was a difference. he'd steady you at the waist whenever you stumbled over your feet, brushed the hair out of your face when the wind was much too strong, wouldn't complain about your whining when something didn't go your way.
dick had noticed way too early: when commotions rose, he'd be at your side, massaging your shoulders and leading you with a hand at the back of your neck -- like right now, where he stood before you to help tie your sneakers.
"i can tie my shoes myself," you scold, yet the glare jason shoots at you, with the dirty bottom of your shoe rubbing against the knee of his pants, is enough to quiet you down. he's fumbling the strings, big fingers making it difficult to deal with the smaller material.
he finishes quick enough, pausing to look up at your face, and suddenly he feels like a love-struck fool. "you just did your nails," he points out, "no way was i about to let you ruin them when they're pretty." you swallow a lump in your throat, the simplest recognition from his part making your stomach feel in twists.
dick clears his throat, a brow raised.
"tell me, again, about how you guys are not a couple?"
"he's just being friendly," you roll your eyes, attempting to hide the flush that forms on your face once jason squeezes your ankle and pushes your shoe away to stand up.
"friendly? the man looks out for you like no one else." you scoff at the absurdity of his accusation. in reality, it was stupid how neither of you had realised it yet. at your side, with his 6'1 build, jason carried your bag over his shoulder, makeup swatches along his hand, and an embarrassing lip stain that never came off when you tested it on him. anyone would think he was doing the service of a tortured boyfriend brought to the makeup counter by his girl.
you glance at each other and then at dick, trying to hold back that common awkward laughter that bubbled its way up whenever someone asked what you both were because, truly, what were you if not a confused pair of regular friends with regular habits that totally never regularly looked at one another like you'd yearn to dig a home deeply between each other's ribs?
jason sniffles, placing his hand over your shoulder. his nose was red from allergies, something about dust in the air being his worst enemy. "yeah, richard, way to make it weird." his tone holds a silent edge, hinting to back off. dick knows it all too well. jason's been pining for so long that he doesn't notice how badly you'd wish for him too.
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