A little cute story for Jason!
Jason furrows his eyebrows at the sound of your hushed giggles as you enter the apartment. He messaged you that he’s coming over around a hour ago, and when he found the place empty he just decided to stay and wait up for you. He found it weird that you weren’t home at 2 o’clock in the morning, but he didn’t really worry because you could have gone over to a friend’s place.
He looks up from his spot on the couch to see you stumbling into the room, a dopey smile on your lips as you held onto the wall for balance. You shush yourself a few times but still giggling rather loud. Jason smiles at the sight.
“Y/N?” He calls out, and let’s out a laugh when you jump a little.
“Oh hey Jayjay…” You say, a hand held to your chest. You bend down to take off your shoes, which appears to be a difficult task for you as you struggle to pull them off. You almost fall over but catch yourself at the last second. Standing up, you look at the man in front of you with the same goofy smile. “You look nice.”
He smiles at the compliment. “Thank you, are you drunk?”
You move closer to the couch, still stumbling a little bit. Once you reach it, you lean against the arm of the couch and stare into his eyes. The first thing Jason notices is how close you are to his face, and the fact that your eyes are bloodshot red and that you reek of weed.
“Maybe.” You grin at him, your hands coming up to touch his cheeks. Due to your lack of balance and having nothing to support you properly, you fall forward, causing Jason to grab you wrists to stop you. You let out more giggles and look down at your hands. “You care about me.”
You say it teasingly, but Jason ignores it to encourage you to take a seat. “Uh-huh, come and sit on the couch Boobie.”
You smile at the nickname, but listen nonetheless and allow him to pull you into the seat next to him. ‘Boobie’ is a nickname you and Jason came up with when you were kids. You’ve known him since Bruce first adopted him, and rekindled your friendship when he came back from the pit. People have always said you two were inseparable, stuck close together like to boobs in a bra (the words of Dick Grayson while he was drunk off of his ass). S you both now call each other ‘Boobie’ for that reason.
As soon as you sit down, you snuggle up close to him with your nose buried into his neck. You take a deep breath before they turn into soft ones. For a second Jason thinks you’re sleeping, but then you start humming a song. He side eyes you but goes to pick up the poetry book he was looking at without moving you too much.
As his eyes scan the pages, he feels you peek to see what he’s up to. A scoff leaves your lips before you sit up and move away from him to face him properly. You lick your lips before speaking.
“‘I wanted to tell him that I loved him, that my heart beats a little faster when he smiles at me. I wanted to tell him that whenever I’m away from him, the noise gets louder and that the knife feels deeper.’” Jason looks up at you with and lowers the book onto his lap. With his full attention, you continue. “‘But I can’t. Not when he looks at her like that, and how she looks back. Not when his hands feel cold in mine, but his face heats up at the sight of her. Not when I know the pain of rejection is one I wouldn’t be able to take. So I stay silent.’”
“Hm.” Jason stares at you, a curious expression on his handsome face.
“It’s one of my favourite poems.” You tell him, an almost painful smile on your lips. Your eyes move to another spot in the room, a distant look on your face as you let out a loud sigh.
The atmosphere in the room changes. Jason watches you closely, trying to understand exactly what you’re feeling and thinking in this very moment. He says nothing, and neither do you. You fall into a comfortable silence.
After a few minutes Jason stands up to get you a glass of water and some Chinese you have left over in your fridge from last night. As he warms it up in the microwave, he leans against the island in the middle of the kitchen to get a view of you on the couch. You have your head in your hands with both your eyes closed, probably trying to get yourself together.
He shakes his head at you but let’s out a little chuckle.
“Here you go Y/N,” Jason kicks your foot gently to get your attention when he returns to the living room. You lift your head a little too quickly and groan in pain. “Easy easy…”
“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice now a little raspy. You take the glass and the plate.
Jason responds before taking up his previous seat. There’s a little space between the two of you, not much, but enough for the both of you to move around.
You chew on your food, occasionally taking a sip of water, as Jason continues to read some poetry, but not without sneaking a few glances at you to make sure you’re eating. You finish eating in about 15 minutes and place your dishes on the coffee table in front of you.
“Mhmm?” He doesn’t look up from the words on the pages, but you know he’s listening.
You clear your throat. “Do you think it’s possible to love someone that much?”
He still doesn’t look up. “What do you mean?”
“Like in the poem. All that fairytale shit we hear about butterflies, and hearts beating faster, all that shit. Do you think it’s true?”
“Um…” he licks his lips and lifts his head to look ahead of him in thought. “I mean, I think it’s possible for someone to make you that happy. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that if you don’t feel those ‘butterflies’ that you’re not in love with the person. It’s different for people.”
He looks up at the ceiling now. “The people who love us the most, can hurt us the most. And the other way round.” He looks at you in the eyes now. “Whether it’s intentional or not, we hurt those around us. But the beauty of love? It’s being able to help each other heal those wounds they caused each other. To accept all the ugly and the beautiful, because that’s what love truly is. It can be painful, but it can also be beautiful.”
You’re stuck staring at him. You try to move your mouth to reply to his poetic words, to tell him you agree, but you can’t. It’s like your body is afraid to ruin the moment, afraid that if you move too much you’ll scare him off. One of Jason’s eyebrows lift as he stares back at your face. He can’t explain the look on your face, because it’s not emotionless, in fact it’s full of so much emotion.
“You have beautiful eyes.” It comes out without you even realising you’re saying it.
His eyes widen at the compliment. This compliment isn’t like the one you said earlier, or all the ones you’ve ever said to him, because this one is said with some much love that it surprises him.
“Thank you,” He clears his throat. “Your eyes are beautiful too.”
You smile at him and he swears he’s so fucking in love with you.
You both continued to talk, having conversations about anything and everything. The room was filled with laughs, whispers, yells and the occasional song from one of your phones. Throughout it all, you both keep on stealing long glances at each other. Unspoken words sit on the tips of your tongues, words you both wish you were more confident to say.
Somehow you got onto the topic of fears, and had migrated from the couch to your bed. Both of you lay on your backs, your heads to the ceiling.
Your heads are both on one pillow. You’re so close to each other that you can feel his body heat. It comforts you to have him so close. It makes you feel safe.
“What’s your biggest fear?” He whispers to you.
“My biggest one?” He hums. You turn your head to look at him, causing Jason to do the same. Your noses are practically touching. “Losing you.”
He turns his head into the pillow to let out a laugh. You smile at how cute he is. When he turns back, he has a little bit of red on his cheeks and a dopey smile on his lips.
“Losing me?” He questions.
He doesn’t move. The smile he held seconds ago disappears, leaving behind a blank expression. The longer you watch him though, you realise that he isn’t looking at you blankly, that his emotions are where you always find them: his eyes. For as long as you can remember, Jason has always been a hard cookie to crack, he’s been trained to hide his emotions by Batman and years of trauma. But one day, as you stared deep into his eyes, you realised that Jason’s eyes held all his emotions.
For something so beautiful, his eyes hold so much rage within them.
“You love me?” He finally asks, his voice just above a whisper.
“Of course I do, I tell you this all the time.” You smile at him, but you know what he’s really asking. You can feel it too.
You’ve said those 3 words dozens of times to him, but this time, it feels and sounds different. Like you mean it differently this time. Like you don’t mean it as just friends.
“No but…” His hand comes up to your cheek and hovers above it, as if he’s afraid to touch you. “Not like that.”
“Then like what?” You were beginning to sober up. You move your head so that his palm finally touches your cheek. He cups it gently, stroking the area below your eyes soothingly. “Like I have a crush on you?”
He chuckles at your childishness. “Do you have a crush on me?”
“Yeah, like when you won’t stop looking at me like that.” You playfully try to push his face away from yours. He laughs at your actions, his hands coming up to grab your wrists. He lays a kiss on one of your palms.
“With your stupid pretty eyes and face that make me nervous and blush and shit,” He snorts, the loudest laugh you’ve ever heard leaving his mouth. His one hand moves to caress your cheek. “And when you do cute shit.”
“Cute shit?”
“Like you are now.”
He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closed and your hand held up to his chest in between the both of you. One of your hands move to stroke his hair soothingly. Jason moans softly at the feeling, his body moving slightly closer to yours. A yawn leaves your mouth, causing you to pause in your movements. Jason opens his eyes and watches you throw your head back as you let another yawn out.
When you look back at him, he has the softest smile on his beautiful pink lips. It makes him look more kissable. You wish you had the courage to just lean in closer and press your lips against his. Hell, you wish you had the courage to tell him you love him. Your right hand moves to stroke his bottom lip.
“You’re my best friend…” you start, and something flashes in Jason’s eyes. The smile falls from his lips.
“Don’t say that.” He gives you a vulnerable look.
“And I love you. Just…not how I’m supposed to.”
He narrows his eyes at you. “What are you saying?”
You give him a sad smile. “Nothing. I just…wanted you to know that I love you.”
“I love you too.” His eyes drift to your lips before looking you straight in the eyes. “Not how I’m supposed to.”
Your smile grows wider, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning over and placing a loving kiss on the side of his mouth, so close to his lips. His eyes close at the sensation.
You place another kiss on his forehead and allow him to snuggle under your chin and into your chest, his arms wrapping around your lower stomach and yours circling his shoulders while cradling his head.
It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, not only because you’re still kinda drunk but also because you have the man you’re in love with cradled in your arms.
Even though you know you’re probably going to be mortified when you wake up for saying all this shit to Jason, for now you allow the familiar scent of Jason to consume you as you drift off into slumberland.
