Outgoing Call
A Jason Todd x reader story. It's funny, until it's not. Then it's angsty.
MDNI, NSFW, not smut but mature language. Excessive swearing, sexual situations, you know the drill. use of a slur, but in jest. content warnings for addiction.
I have no idea how long this is.
Edit: Part 2 is here!
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Jason doesn't want to be here. The stupid fucking pageantry of the Batcave gets on his nerves and sets his teeth on edge, always has. A whole-ass cave is fucking unnecessary, Jason makes do with a handful of safe houses—apartments really—and a storage unit. Bruce, sitting stoic at the computer in his full Batman getup and looking right at home among the exposed rock and towering ceilings that end in darkness, never seemed to know when to stop. It irritates Jason to no end.
Dick and Tim's blind chirping chatters angrily in his ears, and Jason considers putting on the helmet to block them out before he remembers he left it at his place. Damn. He’s going to have to experience this stupid meeting unfiltered.
Jason only realizes they're trying to get his attention when Dick taps him on the shoulder.
"You okay there, Little Wing?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and nudging an elbow into his gut. It's enough to make a swell of vomit claw its way up his throat. Jason swallows down with a grimace. "Yes, dickface," he snaps. "Just wondering when we're going to get this fucking show on the road."
Dick shrugs, and Jason's secretly glad he's not offended. He probably wouldn't be acting so much of a shit if he didn't go and overdo it at some unknown dive bar last night. It's possible Jason is mixing up his eager disgust with Batman and Co. and alcohol poisoning.
Like he isn't part of Batman and Co. Bruce grunts, and Dick and Tim refocus, alert. Jason does the same, then forces himself to relax. He ildly imagines shooting himself in the face.
"You know why you’re here," Bruce starts. Actually, Jason doesn't. He didn't read the report Bruce sent him, but whatever. He can figure it out with context clues.
"Oracle has a new lead on the cyber-crime case. She managed to override the suspect's phone and took control, creating an essential bug. It goes live in one minute."
Right. The hits on Gotham National Bank, GCPD, and the mayor’s office. Plus an attempt on Oracle's highly protected Batman case files. Jason doesn't know why he's here, he doesn't give a shit about this case. If the hacker manages to get into Bruce's stuff, he'll take them out to dinner himself.
"Do we have a name?" Tim asks.
"No, and no location either. The security on the phone is too tight, Oracle could only get outgoing calls. She'll silently trigger a call to a secure line. Our side is muted. We only have until the suspect realizes the call is ongoing."
Jason sighs, tries to settle in for the next few hours. He reluctantly takes a seat in front of the computer, furthest away from Bruce. Tim, teacher’s pet that he is, pulls out a notebook and pen. Bored, Jason thinks about what he's going to do when Bruce finally lets him off the leash. His thoughts go to your apartment, your bedroom, before he remembers that after last night, he's definitely not welcome there.
He slumps down in his seat. Oh well. It's for the best.
"Call goes live in three, two, one."
The cave is silent. There are a few gentle beeps as the call connects. Quiet, then, a subtle clacking of computer keys.
He catches Tim shoot Dick a look. Well, they're in.
The clacking continues uninterrupted for a few minutes. "Location still unknown," Dick murmurs. Suddenly, there is the sound of shifting fabric. The phone is in the perp's pocket, Jason thinks.
"You done in there?" someone calls. "I just cleaned my shower, don't get it all gross. You'd better not be shaving in there."
Location known. Perp's apartment. Tim all but flies to the computer. "Searching for voice recognition," he explains. Bruce nods.
"What? I can't hear you." The audio crackles, and then there's the sound of footsteps, the rain of a shower.
"I said, relax, I'm not shaving my pubes in your apartment, you asshole."
What the fuck? Jason stiffens, then internally recoils, trying not to sit at obvious rapt attention. He quickly surveys the room to see if he got away with it. Dick seems like he's trying not to laugh, and Tim looks mortified. He feels rather than sees Bruce shift minutely in his direction. Fuck. Fuck. He may have been made.
“Unknown person. Accomplice?” Tim mutters under his breath. “Attempting voice recognition.” As if Jason needs Tim’s tricks to recognize who's on the other end of the line.
"Good, I don't what that shit clogging my drain."
"It's just pubes, moron." Jason knows that voice, knows that tone, even on the phone, where he's been a million times over the past four months. He can imagine you rolling your eyes to match. "You have them too, you know, it's not just women.”
What the fuck are you doing in their perp's shower?
"Girl pubes are gross. I'll stick to men's, thanks."
Bruce's fingers move over the keys, gently moving Tim to the side. He's definitely writing out "homosexual" in the perp's file. If Jason had anything left to spare, he'd laugh out loud. But he's too busy furiously trying to figure out what you're doing there (and if you're in danger, and if he should be jealous) while keeping his reactions to himself. He doesn't need anybody knowing about his girlfriend.
Well. Ex-girlfriend, or at least soon to be.
"Speaking of men's pubes," the perp, starts, "how's Jason?"
Oh. Fuck. Jason's tongue shoots to the roof of his mouth. He doesn't think anybody noticed. Except Bruce. Maybe. He still might be in the clear. There are a lot of Jasons, but if you keep talking about him eventually Gotham's greatest detective is going to put two and two together.
He can almost taste vomit again as the thought crosses his mind. That would actually be really, really bad. Bruce wouldn't hesitate to use Jason's connection to you as a way to move forward on the case, Jason’s feelings be damned.
"He's okay. I mean, I think. I haven't seen him in a few days."
"Really? Is that weird, does he do that often?"
"Nah. Well, nah, yeah, he does it often," you say with a laugh. "It's fine, he always resurfaces." The trust evident in your voice grates against his skin, then settles warmly in his heart, then drops to his stomach. That was one of the things he liked most about you, that you didn't question his weird schedule or habits. Though he never allowed himself to think about what that might mean, how that meant you felt about him. It hurts more than he expected to hear it now, to have you connect the dots so clearly in front of him.
"What does Jason even look like? You've never actually told me." Shit.
"I dunno," you muse. "He's tall. Blue eyes, black hair.”
Jason hears Tim shift in his seat, feels Dick's eyes on him. Shit. Shit.
"You're bad at descriptions," the perp sniffs. "Here, let me find him. What's his last name?"
Your sheepish chuckle echoes through the cave. "Uh, I actually don't know."
The perp snorts. "Well, you're a goddamn idiot."
"Thanks, dipshit. His profile said Jason T."
Jason swears, swears, he doesn't react, but it doesn't matter. They know him too well. They have him. "Holy shit," Tim whispers. Dick lets out a low chuckle. "Putting yourself out there, Little Wing?"
Bruce clears his throat. "Name?" he asks Jason. Of course that's the only thing on his mind right now.
Jason shakes his head. "No fucking way," he snarls.
"Good enough," the perp answers. The sound of the shower fades as he walks back to the computer in what must be another room.
Soon the clack of computer keys crackles across the line. Jason braces himself. Let's see how dangerous this hacker really is.
Another comm line buzzes to life. "This is Oracle," Barbara announces. "Someone's putting out a search for Jason T, dipping into some private data. I swept everything out with your face and name."
At almost the same time-- "What the fuck kind of website are you on now?" you call from the shower.
"CCTV footage. GCPD and private contracts."
"Oracle," Bruce barks. "Any CCTV footage?" Jason wishes he were anywhere else. Surely, surely, he doesn't need to be here for this nightmare.
"GCPD footage is protected," she answers quickly. "Checking now. Wait--"
"Got it!" the perp sings. "Data breach," Oracle reports. "They got you, Hood."
"Noted," Bruce grunts. "Any connection between Jason and Red Hood?"
"Negative. Shutting them out now." Barbara's fingers fly over the keys.
If anything, the perp's are even faster. "Fuck, he's so hot. Holy shit. You didn't mention he's ripped. " Dick bumps Jason's shoulder, then easily dodges Jason's punch. "Red Hood," Bruce intones.
"Don't start," Jason threatens.
"Someone's trying to kick me out," perp calls to you. "I've got, maybe, fifteen seconds. Just enough time to zoom in on his ass."
The sound of the shower stops, plastic rustling as you pull back the curtain. "Yeah, zoom in on his ass."
"Wow. I hope you're fucking that shit up," the perp says. This is officially too much for Jason. He feels himself start to turn red.
There's the sound of footsteps again. Maybe it's in his head, but Jason feels like he recognizes it, the pad of your bare feet across the floor. "Don't worry. I'm eating that shit out every day of the week and twice on Sundays." Jason almost shits his pants as Tim sputters and Dick cackles.
"Quiet," Bruce commands. Jason wants to punch him.
"--disgusting," the perp is saying. "I can't believe you do that."
"I can't believe you don't," you shoot back. "Aren't fags supposed to love that?"
"Watch it," the perp warns. For a flash of a moment, Jason wonders if he's going to get angry at you, if you're in any danger. If he should rush in and save the day, if he has an excuse to see you again.
"Do you have to specify that in your Grindr profile?" you press on, delighted.
"Everyone's different, you cunt." The perp's voice is fond, and Jason relaxes slightly. "Speaking of which--" the line muffles and shakes for a moment. "I got a message I need to look at."
Grindr profile, Jason mentally notes. The sound is clearer now, the perp must have taken the phone out of his pocket. "Hm. I think this man needs a dick pic," the perp says thoughtfully. There's the metallic sound of fingers fumbling with a belt buckle.
"Christ, are you taking one now?" For the first time, Jason stops to wonder what your relationship is with this guy. Are you friends? Did you used to hook up? He tries to ignore the jealousy rising in his blood.
"Yeah," the perp sounds unconcerned. "Hurry up and get dressed, I can't get it up with a naked woman in the room."
Jason winces. He looks over at the others. Tim looks almost green in the face, and Dick is grimacing. This is quickly turning into porn audio, not exactly something he wants to listen to with Dick and Tim, much less Bruce. There's the sound of the phone being set down. Jason prays it's far enough away that it doesn't pick up what the perp is doing now.
"Do you want help?" you say after a moment. Tim gasps and whips his head toward Jason. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jason grits his teeth. He doesn't know what he did to deserve listening to you jerk someone off with his whole fucking family next to him.
Thankfully, thankfully, the perp snorts. "No!" he sneers as you cackle in the background. "I don't want your gross women hands anywhere near my dick." No past hook ups, then.
"You are so close to misogyny that if you're not careful it's going to smack you in the face."
"That's not what I want smacking me in the face," the perp sighs. "Hence, the dick pic."
"Well, you've got your work cut out for you,” you say. “You have the most hideous flaccid penis I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Shut up,” the perp snaps. “It’s normal!”
“Hit a nerve did I?” You’re clearly amused. It makes Jason miss you enough to shake his head. Ugh. Apparently the alcohol didn’t flush the sad out of him.
“C’mon, help me out here,” the perp says, ignoring you. “What do you think of when you want to flick your bean?”
“Jason,” you say instantly. It makes him grow warm, then sick.
“Wow, she’s got it bad for you,” Dick murmurs. Not for long. “Nice job, Little Wing.”
“I’m happy for you,” Tim pipes up. Jason scrubs a hand over his face. He can’t take much more of this.
“Yeah, I can see why. Can I think about him?”
“No!” you snap as the perp laughs. “Fine, I’ll just think about Nightwing’s sweet, sweet ass.”
Jason’s out of the hot seat. Finally. He looks at Dick, ready to give as good as he got. Unfortunately, Dick doesn’t look offended. He’s grinning, the arrogant ass.
“Okay, I’m good.” They hear the artificial sound of camera. “God, that took forever. Send.”
Dick’s phone pings, Grindr notification echoing through the cave.
“Holy shit,” Tim mutters. “This is the best and also worst day of my life. Can’t you two keep it in your pants?”
Dick shrugs, but he looks embarrassed. “Would you believe me if I told you it’s not for the case?”
Your voice on the line cuts across anyone who would answer. “An unsolicited dick pic?”
“Nah, he sent me one earlier. Wanna see?”
Tim sounds like he’s choking. Bruce’s jaw is working, but thank god he’s quiet. “Nah, dude. I’ll leave that for you,” you answer.
“Dick,” Bruce says lowly. Dick can’t meet his eyes. “You may have to cut off communication.”
“What? Why?” Dick protests. Bruce opens his mouth to answer, but you do it for him.
“Couldn’t you hack his phone from that? Have you ever done that before?” you wonder.
“No.” The perp is quick to answer. “That’s a line I won’t cross.”
“See? It’s fine!” Dick insists. Bruce grimaces, but doesn’t say anything. The sound of a phone going off saves Dick from further embarrassment. Jason wishes he could have caught their attention for longer. He needed a break.
“That’s you,” the perp says. “Can you see what it is?” you ask. “I’m still getting dressed.”
“Sure,” the perp says, floor creaking as he crosses the room. “It’s your mom. Want me to answer?”
“Yeah, what did she say?”
“She’s asking if she can call tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. You can let her know.”
Jason hears rustling, the sound of you pulling your clothes on. He connects it to the sound of him doing the opposite, of tugging your clothes off and tossing them to the floor.
Damn. This is harder than he thought.
“You also have a text from Jason,” the perp offers.
“Yeah, I know,” you sigh. “I’ll read it later.”
Wait? You haven’t read it yet? Jason feels rooted to the floor. No wonder you said so many nice things about him.
Shit. Shit. He shuts his eyes. He knows what’s coming next.
“Dude,” the perp says. “Dude. I think he broke up with you.”
The cave is dead silent.
“What.” Your voice is flat. “What.”
Jason rests his forearms on his thighs, head hanging down between his knees. When he sent you the breakup text, he didn’t think he would have to hear you react to it.
Maybe it’s what he deserves.
“He broke up with me over text?”
“Yeah.” The perp’s voice is gentle. “Yeah. Yeah, it looks like it.” The perp pauses. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” At least you have a good friend, even if he is a wanted criminal. Not like Jason isn't, too.
“What the fuck. What the fuck.” Jason’s never heard your voice sound like that. He feels familiar bile rise in his throat. “What did he say?”
“You want me to read it to you?” Dick shoots Jason an alarmed glance. Whatever. It’s not like he has any privacy left anyway.
“Yeah. Yeah, read it to me. Actually, wait. How long is it? How many lines?”
There’s silence as the perp counts. “Four.”
“Four?!” you shriek. “Four?! That dumb motherfucker ended a four month relationship in four lines of text?”
“Jesus, Jason.” Tim mutters. Jason can’t even blame him.
“Uh…yeah.”
“Oh my god.” You’re seething. “Oh my god. I’m going to kill him.”
That’s fair.
“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to take the gun he thinks I don’t know he has taped under his mattress, and I’m going to shoot him in the penis!”
Dick bursts out laughing, but Jason has bigger problems. You found the gun?
“He’s got a gun taped under his mattress?” The perp asks, before Bruce adds “Jason, what does she know?”
“Nothing!” he yelps. “Nothing, I didn’t…” he trails off as your voice picks up again.
“Yeah, yeah, he’s some common criminal or something. His apartment’s definitely a safe house, there’s like, nothing in it and only non perishable foods. Whatever.”
“Dude, I think it’s more than whatever.” Jason agrees with the perp. You shouldn’t be with some common criminal. You shouldn’t even be with him.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now! Because he dumped me! Over text!” Your shout rings hard in Jason's ears. “Read the text to me. Read the fucking text.”
Ugh. This fucking rips. Jason would brace himself, if he had anything left to brace.
“‘I’m sorry babe. We have to end it here. It’s not you, it’s me. Hope you had fun.’” It sounded worse read aloud.
“Damn, Jay. That’s low,” Tim comments.
"'It's not you, it's me?'' Dick says incredulously. "Seriously, Little Wing?"
Shockingly, Bruce clears his throat. "Jason--"
"Nope. No. You shut the fuck up right now." Jason's anger is so quick, and blissfully distracting. "You don't get to lecture me about anything, especially this shit."
It seems like, on the line, you're matching his energy, bar for bar. “‘It’s not you, it’s me’? Is he fucking serious?”
“As a heart attack, apparently.”
You let out a small scream. Honestly, Jason didn’t know you had it in you. “Holy shit. I’m so fucking angry.”
“I can see that,” the perp says carefully. “Do you need anything?”
You seem to ignore him. “Oh my god, I am going to read this man for filth. This dumb motherfucker thinks he’s Holden Caulfield.”
Jason opens his mouth, slack-jawed, dumbfounded, as the perp lets out a sharp laugh and Dick sniggers. “Okay, yeah. Let it out, babe.”
“This dumb motherfucker watches Fight Club and thinks it doesn’t apply to him.” You’re on a roll. “This dumb motherfucker holds up any spherical object, says ‘alas, poor yorick,’ and creams his fucking pants.”
Dick and Tim are practically rolling on the floor. Jason swears he sees Bruce crack a small smile.
"This dumb motherfucker is one homoerotic experience away from a Richard Siken poem."
"I like Siken," the perp says defensively. "Come on," you sneer. "'You're in the car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you he loves you, but he loves you,'? What the fuck does that mean? He won't tell you he loves you but he does? Screw that!"
You pause, heavy breathing echoing across the line. "'He won't tell you he loves you. Why couldn't Ja--" you cut yourself off quickly. "Fuck. Fuck."
Jason squeezes his eyes shut, fingernails gripping his forearm with enough force to draw blood. He didn't realize this would upset you so much. He's done the in and out, three-month fling so many times it's hard to count. He gets close enough that the sex gets really good but not close enough that it gets messy. It's not supposed to be like this. Sure, he'd made an exception in your case, but he didn't think it would get so bad. He just couldn't help himself. You were too cute, and funny, and easy to be around. You had slid into his life like a hot knife through butter. The parts he was willing to show you, at least. Or maybe, the other parts too, he thinks, remembering your threat to shoot him with his own gun. You definitely don't have anything to do with the criminal underworld, and Jason would prefer to keep you on the surface of that. But maybe there was more than you could handle. You thought he was a common criminal, but you had stayed anyway.
And Jason's not a common criminal. Not that that's anything to take pride in, but still. He has finesse. And he's been playing by the rules enough lately that Bruce invited him back to his lair. That probably counts for something, somewhere.
And you clearly didn't mind criminals, if you were friendly enough with their perp to shower at his house and let him go through your phone. You definitely knew he was a hacker, you'd mentioned it enough times. Maybe--
"You okay, sweetheart?"
"Fuck off, Jess," you snarl.
"Yes ma'am," the perp (Jess. Name acquired) says. "I'm sorry you're upset," he adds carefully.
Right. It doesn't matter what Jason learns about you now. He ended it, and the past is the past. It might take him a bit longer than usual, but he'll get over it. He hopes you do, too.
"Ahh!" You let out a shout, then go quiet. "I know. Thanks, Jess."
"You're welcome, sweetheart." The two of you stay quiet for several minutes. Jason wonders if he's going to have to endure hearing you cry over the phone.
"He doesn't seem like he was good for you," Jess offers.
"Fuck off." Beat. "I know. But why does everything have to be good for me? Why do I--ha." You let out an acidic laugh. "'You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting."
"'You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves,'" you and Jess recite together. "Point taken," Jess adds. Jason knows Mary Oliver's Wild Geese. He just didn't know you knew it, too.
A beat. "I don't think you get to make fun of him liking Shakespeare after that," Jess observes.
You laugh humorlessly. "I know. I know. I'm acting like I'm not a fucking dork over here, too." Dick is looking at Jason very cautiously. So is Bruce.
"What are you going to do?" Jess asks after several beats of silence.
"I'm going to pick up a drug habit, that's what I'm going to do. Now seems like a great time to become an alcoholic."
"Don't," Jess says fiercely. "Don't even joke about that. You can't go back there."
"I know," you say softly. "I know."
Jesus. Jason didn't even know you'd had issues with addiction in the past. If he did, maybe he would have...done things a little differently. He can't even look at his family, can't meet their eyes. Not when he knows he may have inadvertently sent you over the edge. Holy shit. He feels sick with himself. How could he have missed that you were a little bit fucked up, just like he was?
Jason is suddenly grateful you didn't read his stupid text last night, when he had first sent it. Thank fuck you were with Jess right now.
As if to echo Jason's thoughts, Jess snarls "No. No way am I going to let this insensitive, fucking prick set you back. Not when you've come so far. You can't let him ruin you. He's not worth it."
Jason agrees.
"But what if..." you say quietly. "What if he could tell, and that's why he ended it. That there's something...awful inside of me."
"No!" Jess shouts. "No! How could you say that? There's nothing--"
You let out a choked sob, cutting Jess off. "Fuck, I'm sorry," you say desperately, voice cracking. "I just--" Shit. Shit. You sound so...broken, Jason wants to take you in his arms, tell you he didn't mean it, tell you he's got his own shit and then some, but you're perfect, and maybe you'd even understand some of it. Maybe you had more in common than he'd thought.
"It's okay, sweetheart." Jason hears footsteps, hopefully Jess was going to put you in his arms, like Jason wants to but can't.
"It just feels like...like I always have to try twice as hard. Like I have to keep myself under surveillance, like I have to be so careful. Because if I slip, it's...it's all over. And it makes me feel like I'm not good enough."
Jason knows what that one feels like.
"Listen to me. Listen," Jess implores you. "You don't have to be perfect. It's okay. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone slips. Recovery is not a straight line. It's okay."
"I know," you say, voice resigned. "I know."
"And you're doing so well. Two years without touching anything! Even when you lost your job, and your sister got sick. You're so strong, sweetheart."
"Thanks," you say quietly.
The two of you stay silent for several minutes. It gives Jason more than enough time to consider his next move. Should he text you an apology? Is it too late for that? Does he still want to be with you? Yeah, no shit. His hangover is proof enough that he won't be able to get you out of his mind. And it sounds like you're more alike than either of you realized.
Suddenly, Jess's computer dings with an alert, disrupting the silence. There's a shift as Jess walks over. "Oh, shit," he murmurs. "I got in."
The tension in the cave ticks up even higher. "Oracle," Bruce says evenly, "brace for an attack."
"What happened?" you ask, voice still raw.
"I got into the GCPD protected records." Jess breathes. "Fuck yes. I'm going to dox the shit out of those crooked cops and the politicians Black Mask has in his pocket."
"He's out for blood," you comment with a shaky laugh.
"That motherfucker has it coming, after what he did to my father. If I can't get at Sionis directly, I'll chip away at his stupid empire until he's left with nothing." The floorboards creak as Jess settles himself at the computer. "Are you okay?" he offers distractedly. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I need to tune out, I have to--" he trails off, as the clicks of a keyboard start coming through across the line.
"Don't worry about it," you say, but Jason thinks, worries, you might be putting on a brave face.
"Okay. Okay. I'm going to put in headphones. I'm sorry sweetheart," Jess says again, "but this is the chance I've been waiting for."
"Don't worry," you say. "I get it. Do your thing."
Jess must put in headphones with the music blasting, because they can hear it faintly through the call line. The cave is alive as Bruce barks orders at Oracle while Tim all but shoves him out of the way, flinging himself down at the keyboard and getting to work blocking Jess out.
Whatever. Jason doesn't care, if anything, he cares less than he did before. He's all for getting rid of crooked cops, any hit to Black Mask is a win in his book. He's only still here because you're still on the line.
The call is silent, save for Jess clacking away. Finally, Jess' phone picks up your voice again.
"Fuck. Fuck. I can't fucking do this. I need a drink. I need a fucking drink," you mutter.
Jason rises to his feet, just as Dick says "I think you gotta go, Jaybird."
He knows that. His feet are already leading him towards his motorcycle. But where--?
"I've got a location," Tim whispers. Jason turns to him eagerly, but he's not even looking at him. He's looking at Bruce.
Jason's seething. If that asshole thinks he's going to beg and plead for this--
"Go ahead, Jay," Bruce says gently, seemingly without thinking twice. "We can handle him from here."
Gratitude flooding through him, Jason turns on his heel and moves. He's on his bike in what feels like seconds, speeding towards the location Tim had sent into the bike's GPS.
He just hopes he makes it to you before you're too far gone.
