Flatmates can be a real gamble. Sometimes they're normal. Sometimes they wear masks and wield guns.
You move to Gotham to start at a new job at the General Hospital, but with limited options you have to move into a sketchy apartment.
Tags: Slowburn, Slice of life, female reader, Strangers to friends to lovers, Eventual smut
Chapter 1: A Sketchy Facebook Ad
Chapter 2: The Newest True Crime Podcast Episode
Chapter 3: Welcome to Gotham
Chapter 4: Beeps, Squeaks and Moans
Chapter 5: The Flatmate Treaty
Chapter 6: This Shit is the Bomb
Chapter 7: Sticky Notes
Chapter 8: A Guide to Candle Safety
Chapter 9: SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS
Chapter 10: Too Much Fucking Swinging
Chapter 11: The Jacket
Chapter 12: Terrible No Good Week
Chapter 13: Life is like an Onion
Chapter 14: That just...was that...holy moly
Chapter 15: Just Peachy
Chapter 16: Everything okay, sweetheart?
Chapter 17: For...all of that
Chapter 18: Do You Drink the Tap Water?
Chapter 19: Oh, Lord Have Mercy
Chapter 20: Back to Reality
Chapter 21: Kind of Nice
Chapter 22: Reheated Leftovers
Chapter 23: A Fairly Slow Night
Chapter 24: Tomorrow was Going to Suck
Chapter 25: Stupid Shitty Building
To be continued...
Ao3 -> Non underlined chapters can be found here (Started posting there first and slowly catching up to date on Tumblr)
Chapter 26 and 27 will be out hopefully this week. If you’ve been following on my tumblr it hasn’t been long since I’ve last posted, on my ao3 it’s been a hot sec😭
I’ve flown back for the holidays, I’ve been working on a big gift for my best friend annnnnnnnnd I’ve had a major block for these chapters. So that’s why it’s been a while.
Tags: Slowburn, Slice of life, female reader, Strangers to friends to lovers, Eventual smut
Dividers: chrisssiren
Ao3 / Masterlist
Previous/Next Chapter
Chapter 25: Stupid Shitty Building
The next morning you woke up feeling like you’d slept for maybe twenty minutes instead of several hours.
There was a stubborn ache in your mid back that refused to leave.
You scrolled on your phone for a while, just enjoying your day off.
The apartment was still quiet, besides the usual background noises of the city and neighbours.
You shuffled into the kitchen in your pyjama shorts and one of your old university shirts, already making a beeline for the kettle.
You needed caffeine before you could even begin processing your life.
And oh boy was there a lot to process.
You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes.
The sound of a door opening echoed down the hall, and you dropped your hands from your face.
Jason walked into the kitchen looking equally exhausted.
His hair was messy, the white the streak was more pronounced as it curled upwards and there were circles beneath his eyes. He wore a black shirt and grey sweats, one hand rubbing over the back of his neck as he headed to the fridge.
“You look like hell,” he said.
"Wooow," you gawked at him in mild offense. “You should see yourself.”
Jason snorted, “that bad?”
“That bad.”
The kettle clicked and you turned to make your coffee.
Jason shuffled around in his cupboard, before closing it with a grumble.
“Want coffee?” you asked, reaching for his mug.
“That be nice.”
You made it for him and handed it to him.
You leaned back against the counter and took a sip of your coffee.
He watched you and tilted his head.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked.
You chewed the inside of your cheek.
“I’m okay, I think.”
Jason nodded slowly, you could practically feel his blue eyes analysing you.
“You sure?”
He had probably heard about the hospital situation too, it seemed like everyone had at this point.
“Maybe,” you said, looking down into your mug. “I think I just need some time to digest everything, you know.”
He moved to stand beside you.
“Yeah, I get you.”
Jason held your gaze as you looked up at him.
“Did you get home late?” you asked.
“Mm,” his shoulders shifted and he broke eye contact first. “Around four.”
You nearly choked on your coffee.
“Four?” you repeated. “Doing what?”
Jason glanced at you for one very brief second before turning back to the fridge.
“Just work.”
You watched him pull leftovers from the shelf. There was a fairly large scrape on his elbow today.
You frowned slightly, “Is your elbow okay?”
Jason glanced down at it like he forgot it was there.
“Yeah,” he replied while sliding the plate of leftovers into the microwave.
“What happened?”
“Occupational hazard.”
You blinked, “that explains absolutely nothing.”
Jason shrugged pressing the buttons on the microwave.
"You get hurt a lot on late shifts?" you asked.
For half a second, he paused.
"Pretty much."
“Jay.”
“Hm?”
“You are one of the most suspicious people I’ve ever met.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“No, it's not.”
“Maybe I’m secretly a criminal.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“Jason.”
The microwave beeped.
“Relax,” he said, pulling his plate out of the microwave. “I told you I’m in security.”
“There you go,” you pointed at him. “That was almost a normal answer.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
He moved around you to get to the lounge. Your shoulder brushed his as he passed and the warmth from the contact lingered on your skin.
You sipped on your coffee to distract yourself from those feelings. That attempt only brought up thoughts of Redhood and flashes of last night.
Good lord.
You glanced over at Jason who was slouched on the couch with his food while scrolling on his phone.
You needed more coffee and maybe some alcohol.
You were sprawled across the couch scrolling through Gotham Watch catching up on everything you’d missed after avoiding your phone for the last 20 hours.
Apparently, a lot.
Armed Men Storm Gotham General
You grimaced and swiped past the first headline.
Yeah.
You definitely did not need a recap on that one.
Nightwing and Red Hood Spotted in Burnley During Late Night Drug Bust
Your thumb slowed.
There were several grainy photos once you clicked on the headline. They looked like someone had leaned out a window and snapped them in a hurry, which meant most were blurry.
One photo caught your attention though.
It was Red mid-fall from a building with some sort of cable attached to one of his ankles.
You zoomed in.
“Oh my god,” you mumbled to yourself.
You probably shouldn't have laughed, but you did.
Luckily, he looked like he was mostly fine in later pictures.
After another minute or two inspecting them, you continued scrolling.
Baby Face Gang Pull Off Diamond District Toy Store Heist
You blinked at the headline.
"Not these idiots again."
Apparently, they had escape prison, you hadn't even heard about it.
You snorted and kept scrolling.
Investigation into Bombings Continues
The amusement faded almost instantly.
Most of it repeated information everybody already knew. Recapping the first midtown incident and then Castle land. Casualties. Witness reports.
But near the bottom a statement from GCPD had been highlighted in bold.
Citizens are advised to avoid densely populated public gatherings until further notice while the investigation remains ongoing.
Public gatherings?
Couldn’t they have been at least a bit less vague.
You reread the warning twice before locking your phone and pressing it to your stomach. The lounge didn't feel quite as comfortable anymore.
Your mind drifted back to the last incident.
The teenage boy asking if he could call his parents.
They probably think I'm dead.
You swallowed and closed your eyes.
You really hoped the GCPD would figure this out before anything happened again.
Then your phone buzzed in your hand.
It was a text from Marie.
“Nononononononononono.”
You yanked the pan off the hot stove plate as smoke filled the kitchen, glancing up at the fire detector while turning the oven off.
“Please don’t,” you coughed, already waving a dish towel over the pan.
The smoke didn’t stop.
BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEP
The sound was horrific.
“It’s fine!” you announced. “Nobody panic.”
The alarm continued screeching.
Jason appeared in your peripheral.
“Are you trying to gas us out?” he asked, walking past to open the windows.
“Shut up,” you huffed. “I got distracted.”
“I can see that.”
"I just want to remind you," you glared playfully at him, “That I cook successfully all the time.”
Jason grabbed another dish cloth from the counter and started helping wave smoke away from the detector.
“Whatever you say, Sweetheart.” he teased.
You faltered mid-wave, heat rushing to your cheeks.
Jason seemed to be very intent on trying to clear the air with his towel.
The alarm continued to rattle your skull.
“It’s true,” you mumbled.
You dropped your arms and glared up at the detector.
“I think we need to silence it ourselves,” you said.
“Right,” Jason tossed the dishcloth on the counter.
“Alright,” you stepped aside. “Reach the thing, giant.”
He rolled his eyes and reached to feel up the alarm for the button.
You tried very hard to focus on the task at hand instead of the fact Jason apparently slept shirtless.
Jason found the button and pressed it.
The alarm didn’t let up.
“Huh,” you said.
“Stupid shitty building,” he grumbled while wiggling the detector and pulling from the ceiling.
He fiddled with the alarm that was still blaring in his hands.
You closed your ears with your fingers as you watched him.
Jason managed to get the cover off, but the batteries refused to come out.
He slowly looked up at you with the most done expression you had ever seen from him.
The laugh that erupted from you made you put both hands on your knees.
“Yeah, laugh it up,” he held up the detector. “We still have to deal with this.”
Still mid laugh you grabbed your phone to pull up the trusty Wikihow, it had saved both of your ass's last time.
This felt slightly like Deja vu.
Jason marched into the bathroom.
“Uh uh,” the blaring made it hard to think.
Jason emerged with the alarm wrapped in his towel, the sound slightly muffled.
“Okay, right,” you said, glancing at the towel bundle. “That's good, it says to uh put it under the couch or in the freezer.”
He didn’t hesitate, swinging open the freezer door, throwing the alarm inside and slamming the door.
It was like heaven.
The sound was still faint through the door, but more manageable.
Both of you relaxed.
Jason moved to eye the ruined pan still cooling down on the stove top.
He glanced at you, “you’re banned temporarily.”
“You can’t ban me from my own kitchen.”
“Watch me.
You crossed your arms but smiled despite yourself.
Jason moved the pan to the sink to soak.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“A little.”
“I’ll make something edible.”
You watched him move around the kitchen.
Jason grabbed cheese, butter, bread and a few other spices.
You'd seen Jason shirtless once before, but it had been briefly then.
You hadn't noticed the scars.
Faint pale lines were scattered across his torso and arms, not an overwhelming amount but more than the average person.
One curved across his ribs.
Another disappeared beneath the waistband of his sweats.
They reminded you of scars various thugs had that you had treated in the ER.
“You gonna keep staring,” Jason asked casually, his back turned to you as he buttered bread. "Or tell me what's going on in that head of yours?
Busted.
Your quickly shifted your gaze to the clock above the sink.
22:57
“I wasn’t,” you defended yourself, even if it was weak.
“You were.”
“I was thinking.”
“Oh really?”
You rolled your eyes, “shut up and cook.”
“Yes ma’am.”
You moved to scrub the burnt pan, trying to salvage it.
After a while Jason plated the grilled cheese sandwiches.
You dried your hands and glared down at the pan. The charred black had barely budged no matter how much you scrubbed.
You added more soap and hot water before deciding it was a future problem.
Jason slid a plate toward you across the counter.
“Careful,” he said. “It’s hot.”
You looked up at him.
His hair was still slightly messy and the scrape on his elbow looked worse in the warm kitchen lightening. It made your fingers itch with the urge to disinfect it properly.
"Thank you."
You couldn't help the questions that popped into your mind.
How dangerous was “security” supposed to be? It was Gotham but still.
Your eyes drifted back to the scars crossing his ribs.
It didn't look old.
Jason seemed to notice. His expression didn't change, but something in him seemed to close off slightly.
You moved to the lounge before you could feel weirder about staring at him like a complete creep.
Behind you, Jason turned back to his plate, cutting into his grilled cheese as though had nothing happened. But the easy vibe from earlier never really settled back into place.
The TV played quietly while you picked at your food, occasionally scrolling on your phone just to have something to do with your hands.
Jason stayed in the kitchen cleaning up. Eventually he dried his hands on a towel and picked up his plate moving into the hallway.
He paused briefly near the hallway entrance.
"Night," he said.
You looked up from your phone.
"Goodnight, Jay."
He gave you a small nod before disappearing into his room.
You face palmed.
He definitely thought you were some perv staring at him shirtless.
Tags: Slowburn, Slice of life, female reader, Strangers to friends to lovers, Eventual smut
Dividers: chrisssiren
Ao3 / Masterlist
Previous/Next Chapter
Chapter 24: Tomorrow was Going to Suck
Gotham was never silent, but at four in the morning it came close.
Jason’s motorcycle echoed as he pulled into the apartment garage. The concrete floor was still damp from where rainwater had leaked in earlier.
He sat on his bike, no longer in his Red hood gear, and tipped his head back.
That had been a mistake.
A really fucking bad one.
He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly while the engine clicked as it cooled. Jason really tried to clear his mind, unfortunately his brain had other plans.
“I’d like that.”
Then her hands fisting in his jacket and pulling him back before he could put distance between them.
He groaned.
The rooftop kiss had already complicated things enough. He’d spent weeks shoving it into a separate compartment in his head and pretending that solved the problem.
Jason yanked the helmet off harder than necessary, grabbed his duffel bag from the bike compartment and headed toward the stairwell.
By the time he reached the apartment his exhaustion had finally started catching up to him.
The lamp beside the couch was still on.
He kicked off his boots haphazardly next to her sneakers and hung his keys on the hook in the kitchen before stretching. The movement pulled at bruises scattered over his body, a particularly nasty one blossomed above his knee.
Tonight, had been a pain in the ass in more ways than one.
Jason leaned against the kitchen counter and stared blankly at absolutely nothing.
He’d cooked for her.
Washed her dishes at 3AM.
Watched enough movies together he’d stopped keeping track.
Then he went out as Red hood and kissed her.
A rough breath left him as he glared at a crack in the wall opposite him.
The attraction itself wasn’t the problem anymore. He’d accepted that part already a while ago.
No, the problem was that the lines were starting to blur in ways he hadn’t anticipated.
Her laughing in the kitchen while wearing that stupid shirt.
Her falling asleep on the couch under a blanket he’d tucked around her.
Her kissing him on the rooftop... the hospital parking lot.
Different moments.
Different versions of him.
And both felt entirely different, in a way he couldn’t bridge.
Jason’s thumb brushed the hem of his jacket next to the zipper.
Bruce would probably have an aneurysm if he knew about any of this.
The others would never shut up about it.
Jason’s eyes drifted toward the hallway, to her room.
The memory hit him before he could stop it.
Pressing her against the car.
Her hands around his neck.
The way she had kissed him back like she wanted more.
“Shit.”
Jason shoved away from the counter before he could spiral further and headed to his room.
Halfway there he slowed near your door.
Just for a second.
Then another.
His brain very unhelpfully supplied the image of her asleep under her blankets.
Safe.
Jason squeezed his eyes shut.
He was so unbelievably screwed.
He forced himself to keep moving.
Inside his room he dropped the duffle bag beside his dresser and stripped out of his jacket and shirt, tossing both into the laundry basket in the corner.
Normally he’d shower after patrol.
Tonight he sat on the edge of the bed instead.
The room still felt cold from being empty all day.
His eyes landed on the duffel.
She liked Redhood.
That realization should not have made him feel as smug as it did.
But she liked Jason too.
Or at least… he thought she did.
Or hoped.
Either way, she didn’t know they were the same person.
Jason stared at the bag for a long moment.
Would she have kissed him if she knew it was Jason?
The thought sat heavy in his chest.
Because she trusted Red hood.
Trusted him enough to keep her eyes closed while he took off his helmet. Trusted him enough to let him close.
And instead of stopping any of this before it got messy, Jason had kissed her.
Twice.
A frustrated sound left him as he scrubbed a hand over his face.
This was already becoming a mess, not because of just the feelings.
Because of her.
She deserved honesty, and somewhere along the way he’d gotten himself tangled in something he hadn’t planned.
Eventually something was going to give.
The thought should’ve worried him more than it did.
Instead, all he could think of was the way she’d looked at him before he had left.
Stay safe.
Simple words, but they hadn’t felt casual. They’d sounded like she actually meant it.
Jason finally pushed himself upright.
Tomorrow was going to suck.
He already knew he wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep.
Tags: Slowburn, Slice of life, female reader, Strangers to friends to lovers, Eventual smut
A/N:
I’ll definitely come back and edit this later.
It was harder than I thought to write a kind of action base scene.
I have a few options for ideas on where to go from here, that’ll change how long the fic will end up being. It’s just hard to decide like AH, like I don’t want to stretch or rush things unnecessarily.
Anywaaayyys, that’s my yaps. Hope you enjoyed the chapter <333
Dividers: chrisssiren
Ao3 / Masterlist
Previous/Next Chapter
Chapter 23: A Fairly Slow Night
“I’m really sorry, I think I was just overreacting.”
“Hey, none of that,” you said softly, while updating her chart. “You made the right choice coming here, this is our job and we’re happy to help you.”
“Okay,” she sniffled. “If you’re sure.”
“Positive,” you reassured her.
The patient was a teenage girl with bronchitis who earlier that night had struggled to breathe, whether from the infection or anxiety she wasn’t sure.
It took a lot of reassurance that she wasn’t taking up unnecessary space to convince her she needed to be here.
“We will send you for an X-ray to get your lungs checked out,” you informed the two.
She shot a panicked look at her mom that sat on the chair next to the bed.
The mom nodded, “Perfect.”
You gave the girl another warm smile, “I'll come back to check up on you later with the Doctor too.”
It was fairly slow for a night shift, a few beds were open.
Across the department a child was crying because he needed stitches, an elderly woman was admitted after a fall.
You had just finished restocking a tray when noises carried through the floor.
Muffled shouting and lots of it.
It was always the slow nights.
A group of men burst through the automatic doors so fast one of them nearly slammed into the nurse station.
There were five of them. Maybe six.
One was being carried between the others, his shoes dragging streaks of blood across the floor tiles.
For half a second, the ER stalled.
The crying child stopped mid sob.
You saw the gun before your brain properly processed anything else.
A black handgun, shaking slightly in the grip of the man at the front.
“Don’t let him die.”
His voice cracked on the last word.
The muzzle jerked from person to person.
Beside you, someone quietly swore.
Dr. Singh moved first.
“Alright,” she said carefully, hands visible. “We can help him, but we need space.”
The gun swung toward her.
Every muscle in your body locked.
The patient groaned weakly between the men holding him up. The blood soaked through their clothes as they held him up.
“Save him,” the gunman snapped.
“We are trying to,” Dr. Singh replied
“No,” he stepped closer. “You. Will. Save. Him.”
His finger stayed on the trigger.
Then Dr. Singh nodded once. “Get him on the bed. Now.”
Everything kicked back into motion.
Your hands were already reaching for gloves.
You focused on the tasks rather than the gun pointed at you.
Because despite the gun and the shouting and the fear, there was still a patient bleeding out in front of you.
The patient was transferred onto one of the beds, blood quickly soaked through the sheets beneath him.
You cut away the ruined shirt while Dr. Singh assessed the wound. The metallic smell of blood mixed sharply with antiseptic.
He had a gunshot wound to the chest.
One of the armed men hovered so close that you kept bumping elbows with him.
The main guy paced the ER, chest rising too fast, the gun still clenched in his hand
Despite the situation, your hands remained steady.
Your brain stayed clear.
That felt wrong.
The patient coded less than two minutes later.
“Starting compressions.”
Someone asked you for another syringe and you nearly dropped it because your gloves were slick.
“Is he going to be okay?” one of the guys asked.
No one responded.
The gunman had stopped pacing; he just stood there staring.
All you could hear was the sound of compressions and the squeak of shoes pivoting against the floor.
Dr. Singh checked for a pulse again.
Then again.
Nothing.
You could feel the entire room waiting for her to say something.
Instead, Nurse Bell stepped forward slowly.
“We did everything we could.”
The gunman’s expression twisted.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
Nobody moved.
You couldn’t even force yourself to breathe.
Then distant sirens wailed outside.
One of the men snapped his head toward the ambulance bay doors.
“We have to go.”
The gunman didn’t react.
Another grabbed his shoulder harder this time. “Now.”
For one second you thought he might raise the gun again.
Then, his arm dropped.
The group backed away, shoes squeaking against the blood-slick tile.
One of them looked back at their friend before disappearing through the doors.
Then they were gone.
It had only been maybe five minutes.
A long silence followed.
The patient lay motionless on the bed.
Someone nearby let out a shaky breath.
The crying child started sobbing so loud it snapped you out of your daze.
Only then did you realize your gloves were covered in blood all the way to the wrists.
Your hands started shaking when you tried to pull them off.
Nurse Bell who was standing next to you noticed.
“You okay, hun?”
You swallowed, the question felt oddly difficult because you genuinely weren’t sure.
Physically you were okay.
The rest of you hadn’t caught up yet.
“I think so.”
Your voice sounded strange.
“Are you?” you returned the question while moving to pull off your gloves.
Nurse Bell exhaled through her nose and rubbed her forearm across her forehead.
“I’m getting too old for this shit.”
It almost made you laugh.
The GCPD flooded the department moments later. They took statements, checked cameras, and spoke with security.
The rest of the shift somehow continued. Patients still needed treatment and the charts still needed updating.
By midnight, the blood on your shoes had dried brown. That felt more real than the memory did.
Yet every now and then the memories would force their way in.
But you had to push the thoughts away and keep working.
Your shift had ended and life started feeling real again.
The doors slid shut behind you as you stepped into the hospital parkade of the hospital. The air was cold and carried the smell of rain.
You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself as you headed to your car.
The staff parking level had a few cars scattered in the spots fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
You cursed yourself for parking all the way in the far corner.
Your phone buzzed again in your hand, the group chat was still active.
Alyssa, Thalia and Eva were intent on both checking in on you and getting the details of what happened.
You huffed through your nose.
Gotham Watch had apparently been fast enough to report on the incident before half the staff had even finished giving statements.
You typed back as you walked, reassuring that you were fine and that no one got hurt besides the patient.
Three typing bubbles appeared soon after you sent the texts. You turned off your phone before they replied.
You really did appreciate their care, but more interrogations was the last thing you needed.
As you rounded your car, a figure came into view.
You gasped and jumped back.
“Shit!”
Your phone slipped from your hand and clattered onto the concrete.
Redhood was leaning against your door.
“Hi.”
“God,” you muttered, dusting it off, “You have a real bad habit of sneaking up on people.”
A soft static crackle sound through the modulator in response.
Then your brain finally caught up to the fact that Redhood was just…standing in a hospital parking garage.
Out in the open.
You glanced around, the level was empty of any persons, but still.
“Aren’t you worried about cameras?” you whispered.
“The ones here don’t work.”
Your brows shot up, “really?”
That was news to you.
You looked up at one of them nearby, it was dark.
“Mhm.”
“Right,” you said. “That’s not concerning at all.”
You opened the back door of your car, tossed your bag inside, and shut it again mostly to give your hands something to do.
The sounded echoed through the garage.
When you turned back, he was watching you.
“Are you okay?” Redhood asked.
You leaned back against the car and sighed.
There was still a faint ache in your shoulders, and your hands felt like they hadn’t fully stopped shaking yet.
“Did you hear about the gang thing?” you deflected.
“I did.”
Of course he did.
That was literally his thing.
Still, something about him being here made the whole night feel strange and distant all over again.
You nodded once.
“You came all the way just to check on me?”
The white lens shifted briefly toward the parking garage entrance before settling back on you.
“Yeah,” Redhood shifted, one boot scraping faintly against the concrete.
That made something warm twist in your chest.
“It sounded pretty intense,” he added quietly.
You stared down at your shoes.
“Nothing you haven’t seen,”
“Mm,” he stepped closer. “That doesn’t make it any less.”
Your throat tightened unexpectedly and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, “I guess it shook me up a bit.”
“A bit?”
You let out a weak laugh, “there were guns pointed at us.”
Your fingers curled into the sleeves of your jacket.
“It was scary.”
The admission was quiet and weak.
His gloved hand brushed over your sleeve once before he pulled you gently into him.
The hug caught you off guard.
You hadn’t realized how badly you needed one right now.
Your body melted against him. The leather of his jacket was cool from outside, but underneath it he was warm and solid and real.
His hand spread across your upper back.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” his voice rumbled through his modulator. “But you did really well.”
Oh, that did it.
You sucked in a breath and tightened your hold on him, hiding your face in his chest.
“Thank you,” you whispered.
The city hummed faintly beyond the concrete walls of the garage.
Then Red leaned back slightly, one hand settling carefully against your hip.
The gesture was intimate.
You looked up at the helmet.
At the unreadable white lens staring back at you.
“I wish I could tell what you were thinking,” you said without thinking.
“Hard with the mask?”
You snorted softly, “impossible.”
A sound that almost resembled a sigh crackled through the modulator
“I’m not thinking about much,” he admitted.
His thumb brushed light against your side.
“Just you.”
Your breath hitched, “Me?”
“You.”
Your fingers found the front of his jacket, thumbing the worn leather near the zipper.
The hospital was still busy and probably so was Gotham.
And yet he’d shown up here.
Just to make sure you were okay.
Your eyes dropped to his mouthpiece, flashbacks from the rooftop floated into the back of your mind.
You realized how close you were standing, close enough to feel warmth radiating off him.
“Can I kiss you?” He asked quietly.
Your cheeks heated.
“Here?” You glanced around. “Are you sure?”
The corner of the parking garage was mostly hidden behind one of the support pillars. Your car blocked the rest of the view.
It still felt dangerously reckless.
And oh, so tempting.
“Mhm.”
The simple sound made your stomach flip.
“I’d like that,” you admitted.
Your eyes fluttered shut.
The familiar mechanical whir made your pulse jump.
His hand that was still on your hip felt impossibly warm.
“You’re staring, aren’t you?” you teased weakly, eyes still closed.
A warm breath of laughter ghosted across your mouth.
“Knew it.”
His thumb brushed your exposed skin where your jacket had ridden up.
The touch sent a whirl wind of feelings through you.
You tilted your face upward, and his hand found your cheek gently.
Even now he hesitated, giving you room to pull away.
Instead, you leaned into him
Red kissed you.
It was warm and careful in a way that made your chest ache.
A distant car’s alarm chirped followed by the sound of a car door closing.
He pulled back, just enough to breathe.
But you weren’t ready to part just yet.
Your grip tightened on his jacket, and you pulled him back in, pressing your lips against his.
This time he froze for a second, like he hadn’t expected you to.
Then he kissed you back.
Harder.
Your back bumped lightly against the car door as his hands found your waist properly, pulling you closer.
The kiss deepened fast after that.
Gone was the uncertainty from the rooftop.
Your arms slid around the back of his neck, fingers brushing his neck and the edge of the partially opened helmet.
You wished you could thread your fingers through his hair.
A muffled sound escaped his throat when you pulled him closer. The noise went straight through you, heat curled low in your stomach.
His hand snuck under your shirt and spread against your waist, thumb dragging over your side as he pressed you gently against the car.
The world narrowed down to him and the way he hungrily kissed you.
You shifted closer and your leg lifted to his waist on instinct.
Red’s free hand slid under your thigh, lifting you against him while pressing you into the car. You gasped into his mouth as a sliver of bare skin met the cold car door.
BZZZ
The sharp noise shattered the moment instantly.
Both of you halted slightly apart.
You squeezed your eyes shut harder so you wouldn’t accidentally look at him.
Red huffed out a breath before briefly dropping his forehead against your shoulder.
Then he exhaled slowly and squeezed your waist once.
His hand lifted and the mechanical whir sounded again.
“What?” he answered flatly.
A muffled voice sounded through the comm.
You cracked one eye open, his helmet was securely on, and his hand was pressed against the earpiece.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’m on my way.”
Redhood’s hand dropped from the earpiece and settled back onto your hip, almost absentmindedly.
“Duty calls?” you asked.
You tried not to sound disappointed, but judging by the slight tilt of his helmet you failed.
“Mhm.”
There was a beat before he added, “sorry, sweetheart.”
The nickname hit embarrassingly hard, and you couldn’t help the smile.
“Don’t be,” your fingers brushed against the edge of his helmet. “Just stay safe.”
“You too,” he finally stepped back.
Then Red pointed toward the other side of the parking garage.
“And seriously,” he said. “Start parking closer to the entrance.”
You huffed out a laugh.
“Oh wow, thanks for the safety tip.”
He gave you a look that you could read even with the helmet.
“Okay okay,” you raised your hands in surrender. “I will.”
Red pointed a finger at you.
“I mean it, doc.”
Redhood looked at you once more before leaving parkade.
You would never get used to watching him grapple off of buildings.
After a moment, you turned back to your car getting into the driver's seat.
Tags: Slowburn, Slice of life, female reader, Strangers to friends to lovers, Eventual smut
Dividers: chrisssiren
Ao3 / Masterlist
Previous/Next Chapter
Chapter 22: Reheated Leftovers
You flicked on the light as you pulled off your jacket.
The apartment was cold, the kind that settled into your bones and made you feel stiff.
Today had been the usual rhythm of the ER. Not too many patients, but an exhausting amount of paperwork.
At some point during the afternoon, a GCPD officer had come by the ER to speak with some of the staff, mostly the senior nurses and attending physicians.
You’d overheard snippets of the conversation while passing the nurse's station.
Something about the bombing in Downtown.
Before you could hear anything useful, you’d been whisked away to deal with a patient having chest pain in triage.
Later Alyssa had attempted to debrief you with the little she had overheard herself, while simultaneously updating the new group chat with Thalia and Eva.
You had been so flattered when they added you to it.
It was common knowledge by now that GCPD thought there might be a connection between the recent incidents, but the details were being kept tightly under wraps.
Yet, Alyssa had heard one of the younger officers mentioning the potential for a third attack.
Thalia had freaked and went into conspiracy mode, trying to guess where the next spot could be.
Eva had eventually told all of you to stop speculating and focus on your jobs, lecturing how it was safer to not concern yourself with things that had nothing to do with you.
Alyssa and Thalia were not too keen on the idea.
You drifted into the kitchen and filled the kettle before turning it on. The familiar click and hum filled the quiet apartment.
Opening the fridge, you spotted leftovers from the stew Jason had made earlier.
You still hadn’t fully gotten over discovering he could actually cook.
Not that you were complaining.
You grabbed the container and scooped some into a bowl before sliding it into the microwave. While it reheated, you made tea and turned on the TV, clicking back onto the series you’d recently started binging.
The microwave beeped.
A few minutes later you were curled into the corner of the couch with stew in one hand and tea on one of the coasters on the coffee table.
Your body melted into the cushions.
The stew was still good, even reheated.
Wind whistled outside, it had been annoyingly windy the whole day and it wasn’t calming down anytime soon.
The TV droned on in the background.
At some point you ended up horizontal, you didn’t even remember lying down.
You knew you should get up. You were still wearing your outside clothes and if you slept like this your back was absolutely going to punish you.
But the couch was so comfy…
And your eyelids were heavy.
When you woke again the apartment was dark, well mostly dark.
One of the lamps next to the couch had been left on, casting a warm glow across the living room.
Your eyes felt blurry as you slowly gained consciousness.
The TV was off now too.
You yawned and pushed yourself upright, that was when you noticed the blanket tucked around you.
You blinked.
Jason must’ve gotten home while you were asleep.
Oh, that was so embarrassing.
You rubbed your face and slowly dragged yourself off the couch, your neck and shoulders ached.
God.
Maybe you were getting old.
You reached for your bowl and the mug of what was definitely now ice-cold tea.
Neither were on the coffee table.
“Oh,” you mumbled
You folded the blanket loosely before fishing your phone from between the couch cushions.
03:45
You winced.
You turned on your phone flashlight and switched off the lamp before shuffling quietly into the kitchen.
The dishes were washed and sitting on the drying rack beside the sink.
You smiled.
You must’ve been out cold if you hadn’t heard him come in. Your gaze drifted briefly toward the hallway.
Jason’s door was shut, like it always was.
You wondered what time he had gotten home, was he still up?
Then you shook the thought away and headed into your room. You changed quickly and collapsed into bed with a groan.
Tags: Slowburn, Slice of life, female reader, Strangers to friends to lovers, Eventual smut
Dividers: chrisssiren
Ao3 / Masterlist
Previous/Next Chapter
Chapter 21: Kind of Nice
The week hadn’t been particularly eventful.
Well.
As uneventful as Gotham General Hospital ER could ever be. Nobody had exploded, which was currently your benchmark for a good week.
Saturday had finally arrived, bringing with it the luxury of sleeping in and the unfortunate reality that your fridge was almost completely empty. You’d managed to stretch the remaining food further than reasonable.
Now, however, drastic measures were required.
Groceries.
You finished getting ready around one in the afternoon and stepped into the hallway, at the exact same moment Jason’s door opened.
The two you paused.
He was wearing a red hoodie and black jeans, it was simple. He looked annoyingly good in simple.
“Hi.” Jason greeted.
“Hi."
Nobody said anything for a second too long,
Then you both just kept walking, ignoring it like it that would make the moment disappear. That lasted exactly until both of you reached for the key hooks.
Your hand hovered over the keys. Jason was already there too. You hesitated, then just grabbed yours before it got awkward.
“Errands again?” you asked
“Yeah,” a faint smile tugged at his mouth as he slipped his keys free. “Groceries.”
“Oh.”
You grabbed yours, “Me too.”
Jason headed for the front door and started pulling on his boots while you toed on your shoes.
The silence wasn’t awkward exactly…
You adjusted your jacket.
Jason tied his laces.
Just quiet.
Then the thought escaped before you could overthink it.
“Do you want to go together?”
Jason glanced up.
You regretted asking, not because you didn’t want to, rather because Jason had spent the entire week acting strange. Not rude or distant, just distracted like his attention was always somewhere else.
His gaze lingered on you for a second before he looked away.
“Mm,” he considered it. “Alright.”
You blinked.
“Oh.”
Jason stood, “what?”
“Nothing.”
You definitely hadn’t expected him to agree that easily.
A suspicious expression crossed his face, “you invited me.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you look surprised?”
You pointed at him, “because you’re you.”
That earned a snort.
Music played softly through the speakers as you drove to Gotham Mall.
The roads were busier than usual for a Saturday, everyone apparently taking advantage of the rare non-rainy weather. Traffic still moved, just not particularly fast,
Your fingers lightly tapped against the steering wheel.
Jason spent most of the drive staring out the window, occasionally commenting on other's bad driving.
Inside the supermarket, Jason grabbed a trolley and so did you.
“It’s fine,” he said. “We only need one.”
Your brows furrowed, “you sure? It might be hard to separate our stuff.”
Jason nodded, “I’m okay with splitting it if you are.”
That shouldn't have mattered, but it still made you smile a little anyway.
“Sure.”
The arrangement somehow happened without further discussion.
You led, with your grocery list pulled up on your phone.
While Jason followed, occasionally tossing things into the trolley whenever something caught his attention.
You watched him as he browsed meat, looking for one that suited his fancy.
“What ya making?” you asked.
He picked up a pack and inspected it.
“I was thinking of making stew.”
You bit your lip and forced yourself not to assume that included you for you too.
He glanced at you, “would you eat that?”
“Definitely.”
Jason nodded and put the pack of meat into the cart.
Eventually you ended up in the breakfast aisle.
Jason leaned against the trolley watching as you compared boxes.
“This is the same thing, just off brand and cheaper,” you said holding up the box.
He glanced at it and opened his mouth to respond, but before he could form a word his phone rang.
Jason closed his eyes and sighed, “give me a sec.”
You watched him pull the phone from his pocket.
“Yeah?”
A voice crackled through the speaker, too muffled for you to make out.
“No, I’m at the shops.”
The voice responded.
Jason sighed.
“Because I need food, Dick.”
The voice sounded like they were giving an entire speech. Jason looked like he was being held hostage.
“Mm.”
More talking.
“I’m busy.”
The voice continued.
“No.”
Jason looked at the ceiling.
More talking.
“I’m hanging up now.”
The voice continued anyway, but Jason ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket.
You bit the inside of your cheek and finally dropped the off-brand cereal into the cart.
“Everything okay?” you asked.
Jason grabbed the trolley and started walking again.
“Yeah,” he paused before adding. “It was something stupid.”
You fell into step beside him, that answer wasn’t even remotely satisfying enough.
“Who was it?”
“Just my brother.”
Your eyebrows shot up, “you have a brother?”
Jason glanced sideways at you, “that so shocking?”
You thought about it.
It wasn’t logically shocking, but Jason just gave that vibe he just randomly emerged somewhere.
Family had never really entered the equation.
“I suppose not,” you said as you turned into the next aisle. “How many siblings do you have?”
“Uh.”
Jason paused.
You looked over, was he counting?
“Three.”
The answer came slowly, like he wasn’t entirely confident.
You stared, “you had to count.”
“I was thinking.”
“About how many siblings you have.”
The two of you stopped beside the toilet paper and he grabbed a packet.
Jason gave you a look placing it in the trolley, “it’s complicated.”
That raised more questions than it answered, you opened your mouth and then closed it again.
Jason was private, if he wanted to elaborate he would.
Hopefully.
A few aisles later the cart was nearly full, and it was time to check out.
You parked in your usual spot next to Jason’s bike.
The moment the boot popped open you sighed.
Bags, so many bags.
The trip upstairs was going to be miserable.
Were they ever going to fix that elevator?
Jason rolled his shoulders before reaching in and scooping up nearly half of them in one go.
Your eyes widened, “hey.”
You caught his bicep before he could disappear.
Jason looked down at your hand and then at you.
“You know I can carry things too?”
“Mhm.”
“Then let me help.”
He glanced into the boot, “there’s still bags to carry.”
You followed his gaze.
There were, in fact, still a few more bags but that wasn’t the point.
You narrowed your eyes.
“You’re literally carrying all the heavy ones.”
A smug look appeared on his face, “thank you for the compliment.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“It sounded like one.”
“It wasn’t.”
Jason adjusted his grip on the bags, “you called me strong.”
You scoffed, “I did not.”
“You implied it.”
You stared at him.
Unfortunately, he looked far too pleased with himself.
“You’re insufferable.”
“So, I’ve been told.”
With that he brushed past you and headed toward the garage stairwell.
You grabbed the remaining bags and shut the boot.
“I dislike you.”
The response came quickly.
“No, you don’t.”
You scoffed as you followed after him.
Later that night, two frozen pizzas were in the oven and one of your candles flickered on the coffee table making the apartment smell of vanilla.
The TV played some random game show neither of you were watching. It was mostly for background noise.
Jason stood at the kitchen counter pouring hot water in two mugs. At some point after unpacking the groceries he’d disappeared into his room and emerged in sweatpants and a black t-shirt.
You had done the same.
After all the walking, you needed out of these jeans ASAP.
You stepped out of your room and headed back to the kitchen.
When Jason’s eyes landed on you, he froze.
For a moment he just stared.
“Holy fuck.”
“What?”
Jason looked away, and a strangled sound escaped him.
Then another.
“What?” you repeated.
You glanced down at the shirt.
GOTHAM’S PRINCESS
That suddenly felt like a terrible choice.
Was it insensitive? God maybe he actually liked Bruce Wayne.
You had little awareness of the social politics of Gotham.
“Is it that bad?” you asked.
“No,” Jason said quickly.
He pressed his lips together.
“it's not bad,” Jason continued.
“Then what’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing.”
You crossed your arms, “you’re such a liar.”
Jason glanced at the shirt, and a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. He raised his hands in mock defence.
“It’s a funny shirt.”
You tilted your head and looked at him, “I got it from the garden market.”
For some reason, that made him laugh, you were starting to feel mildly attacked.
“I was supporting local businesses."
“You’re so kind.”
Then after beat, his expression had settled into something soft, and he slid your mug toward you.
“It's lovely.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s fair.”
The oven timer beeped, interrupting your back and forth.
A few minutes later the pizzas were plated and carried into the living room.
Tonight’s movie ended up being Bodies Bodies Bodies.
About twenty minutes in, Jason grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over both of you.
The movie continued and the candle flickered softly in the dim light.
Outside, it had started raining again. Gotham never stayed dry for long.
At some point your knee brushed his.
Then your thigh.
Neither of you moved away.
You took a bite of pizza and tried very hard to pay attention to the movie.
Unfortunately, a much larger portion of your attention was occupied by the fact that Jason was sitting close enough that you could feel his warmth.
It was strange.
You weren't really sure what to make of it. Especially, after everything that happened with Redhood.
But, if you were being honest, it was kind of nice.
Tags: Slowburn, Slice of life, female reader, Strangers to friends to lovers, Eventual smut
Dividers: chrisssiren
Ao3 / Masterlist
Previous/Next Chapter
Chapter 20: Back to Reality
The next morning you woke up before your alarm. For a moment you simply lay there staring up at the ceiling.
Then you remembered.
A smile spread across your face.
“Oh no.”
The smile widened. You rolled over and buried your face in your pillow.
Redhood had kissed you, like actually kissed you.
The memory replayed itself without your consent.
His hand on your cheek.
The warmth of his lips.
The way he pressed his forehead against yours.
You groaned into the pillow; this was getting embarrassing. You needed to get it together.
After a beat you forced yourself out of bed. You had things to do today, and that started with making breakfast.
Jason was already in the kitchen when you got there, stirring his coffee.
You moved past him to grab your own mug from the cupboard.
“Good morning," you greeted.
“Morning.”
You crossed over to the kettle and started making your usual coffee. The smile still hadn’t quite left your face.
When you glanced over, Jason was staring intently at his mug.
“So,” you said, pouring the hot water into your cup. “Any plans today?”
He didn’t look up.
“Errands.”
You nodded and moved to the fridge to grab your carton of milk.
“What kind of errands?” you asked, adding some to your coffe.
His eyes flicked toward you, before returning back to his coffee.
He had been staring at that thing for a concerning amount of time.
“Errand errands.”
You bit the inside of your cheek and took a sip of your coffee before reaching into the cupboard for a protein bar.
“Well,” you said. “Good chat.”
More like awkward chat, but that was just Jason for you.
Vague, direct and occasionally indistinguishable from a brick wall.
“Yup.”
You wandered into the lounge and dropped onto the couch, pulling out your phone.
You took a bit of your protein bar.
Then you got the distinct sensation of being watched.
You looked up.
Jason was looking at you.
The second your eyes met he looked away.
Your eyebrows lifted, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he said quickly.
A beat passed.
“You sure?”
The mug in his hand shifted.
“Mhm.”
“Okay,” you replied, not entirely convinced.
Your attention drifted back to your phone.
Maybe he was tired, or maybe he was just Jason.
In all fairness, you probably looked weird too. You hadn’t exactly stopped smiling since waking up.
That thought only made the smile appear again.
A second later you heard Jason clear his throat.
You glanced up just in time to see him put his mug in the sink and grab his keys.
“You going out?”
You checked the time, it was only 08:00 but it was Monday. Most people didn’t have Mondays off. Jason however usually didn’t leave the apartment until afternoon.
Or the middle of the night.
“Mhm,” he pulled on his boots.
You sipped your coffee as you watched him.
“Bye bye.”
“See you.”
Then he was gone
The apartment door closed behind him, you stared at it for a second before looking down at your coffee.
Jason had definitely been weird, more like he was in the beginning.
You took another sip and the smile crept back onto your face.
“You did not!” Marie screamed.
You were in the middle of sorting laundry when you had made the mistake of telling her about the kiss.
Panties in hand, you stared at your phone with a guilty expression.
“I know how it sounds.”
God.
You sounded exactly like one of your patients trying to justify a terrible decision.
You tossed the underwear into the basket and grabbed a shirt.
Marie looked seconds away from climbing through the screen.
“No. No, because I don’t think you do know how it sounds.”
You shoved the shirt into the laundry basket.
“It sounds bad.”
“It sounds insane,” Marie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Did you even read those articles I sent you?”
“I did.”
You hid your face from the camera; you had skimmed them but in your defence it was months ago.
You grabbed a pair of jeans.
Marie pointed at you through the camera, “do you know what he looks like?”
“Uh.”
The jeans landed in the basket.
Her eyes widened and she pressed a hand to her chest.
“Lord almighty, you don’t know?”
Heat rushed to your face.
“How do you not know what he looks like if he kissed you?”
“I closed my eyes,” you said with a shrug.
Marie’s gasp was so loud you flinched.
“You what?”
“I closed my eyes.”
“You voluntarily closed your eyes?”
You frowned, “that’s generally how kissing works.”
“Not when you don’t know what the guy looks like!”
Okay, that was a solid point.
You picked up a hoodie.
Marie looked genuinely distressed.
“What if he’s a creep? Or ugly? Like slimyyyyy ugly?”
You opened your mouth.
Then closed it.
Because, admittedly, that was a fair concern.
“Well,” you said.
“You don’t know!”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t know his name or his age.”
“Nope.”
“What he looks like.”
“I felt his face kinda.”
“Or where he lives.”
“In Gotham I assume.”
“THAT’S NOT BETTER.”
You laughed.
Marie definitely did not.
“And now you're laughing.”
You stood up and rolled your shoulders, “because you’re yelling.”
“You let a vigilante kiss you.”
“But like he was all sweet and careful about it.”
Marie stared and you stared back.
A beat passed.
Then another.
“Okay, fine that's kinda cute,” Marie admitted.
“Thank you.”
“Still insane.”
“Also fair,” you said, propping the laundry basket on your hip.
Marie dragged both hands down her face, “you know if this ends with me identifying your body in a morgue I’m going to be very upset.”
“Good to know.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
You really did appreciate her care, even if it was slightly melodramatic.
You smiled, “I’ll be careful.”
Marrie narrowed her eyes.
“You absolutely won’t.”
“But I’ll try.”
The sun had long since set by the time you finished everything.
The apartment was cast in the warm glow of the fairy lights strung along the living room wall.
You were quite proud of yourself, almost every chore for the week was done:
Laundry
Dishes
Shave
Groceries
You stared at it, you would do grocery shopping on Saturday. In theory you could make it stretch until then.
Then you looked around the apartment.
Still just you, Jason hadn’t come back yet.
You dropped onto the couch and opened social media.
Five minutes later you switched apps.
Three minutes after that you checked the weather, cold and rainy.
Of course.
Then the news.
Then social media again.
A huff escaped you.
You let the arm holding your phone fall dramatically over the edge of the couch.
Boredom.
Which was frankly ridiculous.
Your last few days had run you ragged, and your body had been begging for a rest.
Yet here you were, restless.
Cursing the chemicals in your brain that made you yearn for more entertainment.
Eventually you abandoned the couch altogether. The rooftop had become something of a habit over the last few weeks.
A place to clear your head and avoid doomscrolling for three consecutive hours.
The city stretched out before you as you stepped onto the gravel. The usual music drifted up from the club strip a few blocks over.
It didn’t matter the day of the week if the clubs were open there were usually people partying out till later. It was both commendable and slightly worrying.
You leaned your arms against the ledge.
The air was cool and comfortable.
For a while you simply watched.
People moved along the sidewalks below and cars drove through the intersection.
Your gaze wandered across the rooftops.
Then lingered.
You frowned slightly.
A stupid little part of you had hoped to hear a voice behind you.
You stared at the neighbouring rooftop.
Nothing.
You huffed quietly.
That realization was slightly more disappointing than it should have been.
But, of course he wasn’t here.
Redhood was a vigilante. He had better things to do than hang around rooftops waiting for you.
Probably.
You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets.
The city continued around you.
Besides from you the rooftop remained empty. You shook your head and walked toward the fire escape.
Tags: Slowburn, Slice of life, female reader, Strangers to friends to lovers, Eventual smut
Dividers: chrisssiren
Ao3 / Masterlist
Previous/Next Chapter
Chapter 19: Oh, Lord Have Mercy
Ground hog day.
That would be how you could describe your last 24 hours:
Hospital.
Home.
Sleep
Hospital.
Home.
Sleep.
Or at least attempt to sleep.
You rolled onto your side and stared into the darkness.
You had managed three hours, maybe four.
Exhaustion made your body stiff and heavy, but your brain apparently disagreed.
Maybe you should eat.
You got out of bed, pulling on pyjama shorts. Then wandered out of your room and into the kitchen.
The apartment was once again empty.
You opened the fridge and stared at your shelf.
Nothing felt particularly inviting.
You closed the fridge door and moved to your cupboard.
“Aha,” you grabbed a chocolate protein bar tearing open the wrapper.
You leaned against the counter and took a slow bite of the bar while staring at a chipped tile.
Images of patients from the ER drifted into your mind.
You looked up at the lounge window.
It was dangerous to bring work home; it never led to anything good.
After finishing the protein bar and you tossed the wrapper in the bin.
Your legs led you to the window and you slid it open.
It was ridiculously late for you to be venturing out onto the roof, but it felt safer than letting your thoughts swallow you whole.
The fire escape was freezing under your bare feet.
You should’ve turned back, grabbed shoes and a jacket, but you were only going to be out there for a bit. So, it would be fine.
The height as you climbed still made your legs wobble, but it was less prevalent this time.
You hugged yourself tight once your feet were firmly on the roof’s gravel, it bit at your feet, but you ignored as you walked.
Today had been weird.
Online had been buzzing with questions and theories about the bombing, but you had mostly ignored it.
The city still moved and the most acknowledgement was in passing conversation.
“Did you hear about the cinema?”
You had heard that a few times while grabbing coffee before your shift and filling up with petrol on the way back.
However, at the ER the topic was mostly avoided unless necessary, and the staff were all much less chatty than usual.
“You shouldn’t be out here this late.”
A deep modulated voice made you jump; you spun to face where it came from.
“Redhood,” you breathed out. “You scared me.”
He stood a few paces back.
Intimidating as ever, the red emblem on his chest sticking out in the dark.
“You’re lucky it was me scaring you.”
You crossed your arms.
He wasn’t wrong, you knew that, but you didn’t appreciate a lecture right now.
“I’m fine.”
“Right,” Redhood stepped forward.
“Why are you here?”
“I was passing through.”
“That's convenient,” you narrowed your eyes and took a step towards him, “or do I have to start worrying about a stalker, hm?”
“Don't flatter yourself too much,” he raised his hands in a mock defense. “I’m just on patrol, doc.”
You opened your mouth but then closed it.
Your tired brain couldn’t come up with a witty enough response to that, so you turned to look out at the skyline again.
You felt Redhood move to stand next to you.
He was scarily quiet when he moved. There was no rustle of fabric, no warning, just sudden awareness of him there.
You kept your eyes fixed on a specific building in the distance, pretending not to notice how his presence pressed against your side despite the physical distance between you two. Something in you kept insisting you look at him anyway.
There were no sirens tonight, or correction less sirens tonight. The buzz of traffic was still ever present mixed with the usual occasional shout from someone enjoying their night, or very much not.
“Long day?” he asked.
You let out a dry laugh.
“Long two days.”
“The bombing?”
You nodded once.
“Me too.”
That made you look at him. You’d forgotten that while you were dealing with the aftermath in the hospital he had probably been dealing with whatever happened on site.
“Were you there?”
It felt like a stupid question, but you didn’t want to assume.
“Mhm.”
He turned slightly, the white lenses of his helmet catching the glow of a nearby sign.
You picked at a piece of loose skin on your thumb
“It was really…” you searched for the right word. “Intense.”
His red helmet tilted.
“Are you okay?”
The question had caught you off guard.
You looked back over the city.
“I don’t really know,” you admitted with a small shrug.
A car horn echoed.
“Are you?”
The distant hum of traffic filled the silence between you for a moment.
“I don’t know either.”
Your heartbeat picked up.
Redhood took another step closer.
“Do you know who did it?”
“A hunch.”
“A hunch?”
“That’s all it is right now.”
You scoffed under your breath.
“Everyone here is so stingy with information.”
“Part of the charm.”
You rolled your eyes and looked back out across the city.
Somewhere out there was Castleland mall.
Your amusement faded.
Then after a moment.
“Does it ever get easier?” you asked eventually.
“Seeing all of it, I mean.”
You pointed toward the skyline
“The violence. The deaths. People getting hurt.”
Redhood looked out at it for a long moment.
“No.”
The answer was sharp.
“It still pisses me off just as much as it did in the beginning.”
There was something in his voice that implied he had lot of history and a lot of anger behind those words.
You waited to see if he’d say more.
He didn’t.
The wind stirred between the two of you.
You wanted to ask more.
“You’re not what I expected,” you said instead.
A quiet laugh crackled through his modulator.
“Thats usually a bad thing.”
“Not this time.”
Music drifted faintly from an apartment balcony.
You found yourself looking at him, you couldn't help it.
Maybe it was because of his reputation.
“You’re staring,” he said slowly.
“You are too.” You countered.
“I am.”
That made your face warm, and you looked away first.
You became very aware of the fact that he took another step toward you.
Your heart gave a sharp, traitorous stutter.
Oh yeah, he was much closer.
You held your gaze stubbornly on a specific window.
Redhood exhaled, “Doc.”
Oh, lord have mercy.
You turned and the distance between you felt very small.
His hand slowly lifted, and his gloved hand brushed your cheek.
Cold and barely there, just the faintest graze of his thumb against your skin.
Everything seemed to narrow,
The city.
The traffic.
The wind.
All of it faded into the background.
Only him and the warmth spreading through your stomach.
His thumb moved just slightly.
Then he stopped and let his hand drop.
“Sorry,” he said quietly.
You shook your head, “No, it's okay.”
“I shouldn’t,”
“You don’t have to explain.”
His helmet tilted as he looked down at you, “I kind of do.”
“No,” you continued before you could overthink it. “I know.”
Redhood tensed.
He stared at you, or at least it felt like staring. The white lenses gave nothing away.
“You don’t know,” he said.
“You wear a mask,” you smiled faintly. “I figured that one out.”
“Doc.”
“I’m serious,” your voice dropped. “I don’t need to know.”
The wind tugged through at your hair.
“If that’s what you’re worried about,” you swallowed. “I can close my eyes.”
He clenched and unclenched his hands.
“I trust you.”
The words left you before you could second guess. If you were to second guess you would probably consider them incredibly reckless, you had met Redhood twice. He could be literally anyone. And yet you still felt this pull towards him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The connection between you two felt so easy.
Maybe it was utter exhaustion, but you could give less of a fuck right now.
“Yeah?” he asked.
You nodded, “Yeah.”
Your heart was pounding now.
“You can take it off.”
His helmet turned slightly.
“Just for a minute,” his words came out barely above a whisper.
“I won't look,” you closed your eyes. “I promise.”
He didn’t answer.
The darkness behind your eyelids felt impossibly bright.
Then you heard it, the faint mechanical release, and your breath caught.
You became aware of every tiny thing.
The cold air on your bare legs.
The gravel beneath your feet.
The way your heart was trying to punch its way out of your chest.
You kept your eyes closed.
Waiting.
Nothing happened.
You closed your eyes a little tighter, because now all you could think about was him standing right there.
Close.
Unmasked.
Looking at you.
“You still there?”
The question slipped out before you could stop it.
You wanted to launch yourself off the roof. Of course he was still there.
You could practically feel him.
Something brushed your hand.
Fingers.
The fabric of his glove was cool against your knuckles.
“Right,” your laugh came out nervous. “Stupid question.”
His fingers nudged yours again, this time one hooked gently around your index finger.
Your pulse jumped.
Slowly, you lifted your other hand. Hesitating halfway.
“Can I…”
The question died before it fully formed, you weren’t even sure what you were asking.
A second later, his hand closed around your wrist and guided it upward.
Your fingertips brushed skin.
Warm skin.
Stubble.
A strong jaw.
The breath that left him sounded slightly unsteady, which did absolutely nothing good for your own composure.
“Okay,” your voice was almost a whisper. “Definitely there.”
His thumb swept across the inside of your wrist, before his hand slipped away and settled at your waist instead.
Your own hand drifted from his jaw, sliding down the side of his neck until your palm rested against his chest.
It was firm and solid under your hand, most likely the armour beneath his shirt.
His other hand found your cheek, tilting your face toward where you assumed his was.
You could feel his breath now.
Close.
Your stomach flipped and your fingers curled slightly against his chest.
His hand tightened at your waist in response.
Neither of you moved.
His thumb brushed your cheek again and you could feel his eyes on you.
“Red.”
The hand on your waist flexed.
You felt rather than heard his reaction and you could’ve melted on the spot. Because for all his confidence, for all the teasing and the flirting and the stupid nicknames…
He was nervous too.
Or at least it felt like it.
Either way it only intensified the warmth in your stomach.
His thumb traced the curve of your lower lip. The gesture was so gentle it nearly hurt.
You bit your lip instinctively.
What you assumed was his thumb tugged it free.
Then he leaned in.
Slowly.
Giving you every chance to pull away.
You didn’t.
His lips pressed against yours, warm against your air chilled ones.
The kiss was soft, careful, and a bit hesitant.
For a second your brain stopped working.
He was kissing you.
Redhood was kissing you.
It felt ridiculous and impossible and entirely too easy all at once.
He pulled back just enough to breathe. His forehead nearly brushed yours and you felt the faint tickle of his hair against your skin.
The hand on your waist squeezed once, it felt like a question.
You nodded.
That was all the encouragement he needed. He kissed you again, this time neither of you hesitated quite as much.
It was still soft and careful, but less uncertain.
Your hands found his shoulders, fingers curling in the leather of his jacket.
Redhood’s arm wrapped fully around your waist and pulled you closer.
Heat flooded your face and you became aware of the fact you were smiling into the kiss, which was probably embarrassing but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.
Eventually, he broke away first, forehead resting against yours.
All you could hear was your own heartbeat and his breathing.
Warm against your cold skin.
He squeezed your waist one last time before reluctantly stepping back.
The loss of warmth was intense and immediate.
The faint mechanical click sounded again, but you waited.
A beat.
“You can open your eyes.”
Even through the modulator, his voice sounded rougher than before.
Maybe a little breathless.
You opened your eyes slowly.
There was more space between you now, but not much. You still could’ve reached out and touched him if you wanted to.
“I should probably continue my patrol,” he said.
You nodded.
“I should probably sleep.”
Neither of you moved.
“Will I see you again?” you asked.
You heard him inhale. The mask made it sound mechanical.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You will.”
You smiled and finally forced your feet to move.
“Goodnight, Red.”
You watched him walk to the edge of the roof and onto the low wall, the way he looked back at you.
“Night, Sweetheart.”
Then with a small nod, Redhood stepped off the building.
Your stomach promptly tried to exit your body.
THWIIIIPP
And he was gone.
You stood there for another minute, staring at the place he’d disappeared.
Eventually the cold forced you inside.
Your feet carried back across the gravel, down the fire escape, through the window and into your apartment.
Everything looked exactly the same. One of Jason’s mugs was still sitting beside the sink, and your jacket was still thrown over the couch from when you got home from work earlier. Only your keys hung on the kitchen hooks.
Nothing had changed.
Yet, it still felt different as you padded through the hallway, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.
You climbed back into bed, sleep should have been impossible.
Somehow it wasn’t.
The last thing you remembered before drifting off was the feeling of a gloved thumb against your cheek.
Tags: Slowburn, Slice of life, female reader, Strangers to friends to lovers, Eventual smut
Dividers: chrisssiren
Ao3 / Masterlist
Previous/Next Chapter
Chapter 18: Do You Drink the Tap Water
Alyssa had once again convinced you to spend your recovery day doing the exact opposite of recovering. This time she’d invited you along to the evening Garden market with Thalia and Eva.
The market stretched across most of Robinson Park, winding between trees wrapped in fairy lights and rows of white tents. The smell of coffee, pastries and street food seemed to drift from every direction at once while live music floated across the grass from a small stage near the fountain. It was crowded without feeling suffocating, groups of people wandered between stalls, dogs trotted happily with their owners and at one of the shops a child was losing an argument with her mom about buying a giant stuffed shark.
You held a paper bag while the four of you drifted between stalls.
Earlier, a sweet older woman had charmed all of you into buying the best pastries you ever had.
Alyssa had tried a sample and basically moaned.
“I’m serious,” she said around a mouthful of croissant while looking at a ring display. “If she asks me to marry her, I’m saying yes.”
“She was at least sixty,” Eva said.
“Was she?” you asked.
You had been thinking in the fifties.
“Absolutely.”
Alyssa pointed her pastry at Eva, “It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it matters a little,” you pointed out.
“Think about the food,” Alyssa gestured with her croissant. “Plus, I think she’d love me right.”
“Girl,” Thalia deadpanned. “You can’t build a marriage on food.”
“Watch me.”
Eva groaned and pulled you with her to walk ahead before Alyssa could continue her rambles.
The band on stage finished their set and a different artist came and started playing.
Your phone buzzed and you pulled it from your pocket; it was a notification from Gotham Watch.
Babyface gang attempting robbery near East End.
Your brows furrowed, “What kind of name is Babyface gang?”
Thalia, who was also looking at the notification on her phone, laughed, “The ringleader has a weirdly unproportionally baby-like face.”
“Oh, is the gang like dangerous?”
Thalia shrugged, “Eh.”
Buzz.
Babyface gang stopped by Batman
“That was quick.”
You scrolled through the comments.
Awwww, I was kinda rooting for them this time.
Maybe should reconsider careers?
Were they put in time out too?
The last one made you laugh before pocketing your phone and catching up with the others.
A few stalls later you found yourselves enamoured by a t-shirt booth. There were so many ridiculous shirts about so many different topics, the four of you couldn’t stop giggling or gasping as you pulled out different shirts.
Eva pulled out and showcased a black shirt with a collage of Batman and Superman that made them look like they were together with lots of hearts and pink around them.
It earned multiple oohs and ahhs from the group.
“Oh, this is just cheesy,” Alyssa rolled her eyes as she showed a shirt that read:
WELCOME TO GOTHAM
(Don’t drink the tap water)
You blinked, “Why not?”
“Do you drink tap water?” Alyssa asked slowly.
“Yeah?”
All three of them paused and turned to look at you slowly.
They stared at you with the same expression you’d give someone who admitted to fishing toast out of a toaster with a metal knife.
“What?”
“How long have you been drinking the tap water?”
“Why?”
“How long?”
“I don’t know, since I got here?”
Eva gasped, “don’t do that anymore.”
“Is it bad for your stomach or something?”
“No Scarecrow puts fear gas in that,” Thalia informed you. "Fairly often actually."
Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open, you looked between the three of them.
“You’re fucking with me.”
“I wish we were,” Alyssa said, putting the shirt back. “But we’re not. Buy bottled water.”
“Yeah, you can refill it for cheap,” Eva added already looking through the rack of shirts.
You were still rooted to your spot. You had heard about Scarecrow before, but you didn’t think it was that common of an issue.
Oh well. Guess that's Gotham for you.
You shook off the shock and start looking through the shirts again. You spotted one halfway through a rack and immediately burst out laughing.
Thalia peaked around a rack, “Oh no.”
“What?” Alyssa asked.
You held it up.
A collage of Bruce Wayne’s most infamous paparazzi photos stared back at them.
Drunk Bruce.
Yacht Bruce.
Dancing on a bar Bruce.
Somebody had added pink bows to a few of them.
Across the top, in pink glitter lettering: GOTHAM’S PRINCESS
Alyssa made a sound that was somewhere between a shriek and a laugh.
“Please buy that.”
“No.”
"Please."
“Isn’t it kinda mean?”
“He’s a billionaire!”
“Still!”
“He’ll live,” Eva laughed and pushed you toward the main table, “It’s not like he or anyone he knows will ever see you wear it. Get it.”
You caved and pulled your phone while handing it to the guy that ran the stall. As he folded it into a paper bag, your phone buzzed.
You glanced down.
Emergency Services responding to an incident in Downtown.
Your smile faded slightly, “that doesn’t look good.”
Eva leaned over your shoulder, “could be anything.”
“Fair point.”
You tapped your phone on the card machine.
The shirt was (more than) slightly overpriced, but that was a problem for future you.
Present you had a scandalous Bruce Wayne shirt to enjoy.
Thalia disappeared into a book stall; you considered following her before remembering you still had to buy groceries for the rest of the month.
Instead, you claimed a nearby bench.
Alyssa dropped down beside you with a dramatic sigh, “my feet hurt.”
Eva joined a second later.
“If I buy one more thing, my card is going to start crying.”
“Too late for mine,” Alyssa admitted.
Your phone buzzed.
Then buzzed again
This time your stomach dropped.
Explosion confirmed at Castleland Mall.
“Oh.”
Alyssa leaned over, “What?”
You opened the notification and the three of you read the incredibly brief report together.
Thalia appeared a moment later, book in hand, “What’s going on?”
“Explosion at Castleland,” Alyssa said.
The discussion thread was updating almost faster than you could read.
My son works there. Has anyone heard anything?
Roads are being closed.
Holy ***
Was it another bomb?
“Another bomb?” you read aloud.
“Wasn't there one like a month ago?” Alyssa asked.
The four of you stare at the phone as the comments keep popping up.
“Yeah, but they arrested the guys who did it.” Eva glanced between the three of you.
“Could be unrelated?” Thalia offered.
A new update appeared.
Multiple injuries reported.
The knot in your stomach tightened.
You looked at Alyssa.
“Do you think…” you trailed off.
“Don’t.”
As if summoned by your question, your pager went off and then Alyssa’s.
The sound felt absurdly loud.
Alyssa stared at the screen for a second.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Thalia closed her eyes, “That’s not a good sign, is it?”
“Nope,” you were already standing. “We’ll call you later.”
Thalia took the shopping bags from both of your hands.
“If we’re still conscious,” Alyssa muttered.
Eva stepped forward and pulled both of you into a quick hug that Thalia joined in on.
“Good luck.”
“We love you guys.”
Then the two of you basically sprinted out of the market.
You drove.
Gotham’s traffic seemed blissfully unaware that somewhere across the city something had exploded.
Cars crawled through intersections.
People crossed roads carrying shopping bags.
Someone was hooted as a cyclist cut them off.
Beside you, Alyssa scrolled furiously switching between Gotham Watch and Google.
“Anything?”
“Nothing useful.”
“Not even what happened?”
“Nope.”
She refreshed the page again, “Why does no one ever just tell us what's happening.”
You tightened your grip on the steering wheel.
It was fine.
Nurses dealt with emergencies every day.
You dealt with emergencies every day.
Everything was fine.
“Maybe it won’t be that bad.”
Alyssa didn’t answer immediately, which unfortunately felt like enough of an answer.
Eventually she sighed, “It’s Saturday.”
“And?”
“Castleland has a cinema.”
Your stomach dropped.
“Oh.”
Neither of you said much after that.
The automatic doors slid open.
You barely had time to process any of it before Nurse Bell appeared, “there you two are.”
“Mass Casualty protocol's active," Nurse Bell said, shoving a clipboard into Alyssa's hands without slowing down. "Most criticals are upstairs. Burns, lacerations, fractures, everything else is coming in wave. Grab gloves and moves.”
Then she disappeared again.
You and Alyssa exchanged a look.
“Good luck.” You said with a nod.
“Likewise."
After that, there wasn’t really time to think.
The first patient assigned to you was a woman in her forties with burns across both hands and part of her lower legs.
She sat rigidly on the bed while a doctor assessed the worst areas.
You helped cut away what remained of her clothing around the injuries and gathered supplies while trying not to look at the raw angry skin.
“You’re doing great,” you told her gently.
The woman laughed once, it sounded more like a sob.
“My husband is going to kill me.”
“Why?”
“I made him stop for snacks at the shops,” she smiled weakly, “it's cheaper.”
Your chest tightened, “He is going to be more focused and happier that you are here now.”
The doctor asked another question and the conversation moved on.
Then someone else needed help.
And someone else.
Then another.
A man vomiting into an emesis bag.
An elderly man arguing with everyone who tried to treat him.
A little girl who asked for her mother so many times you didn't know how to respond anymore but tried your best to be kind.
At some point you found yourself sprinting to the supply room.
Half the shelves already looked raided.
You grabbed an armful of dressings, gloves and saline before rushing back out again.
However long later, a teenager ended up in your section. Glass glittered beneath the harsh hospital lights where several pieces remained embedded in his forearm.
A doctor worked on removing the larger fragments while you monitored him.
He kept looking to the automatic doors every time they opened.
“My phone’s gone,” he mumbled.
You looked up.
“Pardon?”
“My phone,” his voice cracked. “I can’t call my parents.”
He sucked in a breath.
“They probably think I’m dead.”
“I’m sure they don’t think that.”
“How would they know?”
For a second you didn't have an answer.
You glanced around the crowded department.
He was right, there was no way for them to actually know anything right now.
You reached over and squeezed his uninjured hand, “We’ll figure out something.”
Eventually you were able to find one of the admin staff that was able to help him contact his parents.
His shoulders dropped the second he heard his mom's voice.
You looked away and pretended to be busy with his chart.
After that, everything fell into a rhythm that you didn't have to think about: check vitals, inject, wrap, write, repeat.
At some point, one of the doctors asked you a question and you answered before you fully processed what he had said.
By the time you finally looked at a clock again, it was almost three in the morning.
The ER was still busy, but none of the faces were the same ones you'd seen at the start of the shift.
You didn’t check the time when you finally made it home.
At some point you had left the hospital.
At some point you vaguely remembered driving across town.
You remembered the blur of traffic lights.
A petrol station.
A song on the radio.
Everything after three in the morning felt smeared together.
The apartment was dark when you pushed through the front door.
Quiet too.
For a second, you simply stood there.
Your shoulders ached.
Your feet hurt.
You kicked off your shoes and hung your keys on the hook by the door.
Jason’s hook was empty, a small part of you registered that. Then stopped caring.
The hallway seemed longer than usual.
You didn’t bother turning on any lights.
Didn’t check your phone.
The news.
Didn’t check anything.
You made it to your room entirely on muscle memory.
Your clothes landed somewhere on the floor.
Your work badge followed.
You changed into an old shirt and clean underwear without really thinking about it.
You collapsed onto the mattress.
The cool sheets soothed the ache in your joints.
For one brief moment, your mind drifted back to the ER.
A part of you wanted to cry, but then even those thoughts slipped away.
You were asleep before you even knew you closed your eyes.
BZZZT BZZZZT BZZZZZT
You could’ve screamed.
When you’d checked your schedule earlier in the week, the eight-hour shift had felt merciful compared to your usual twelve.
The market would’ve been fine.
You would’ve gotten enough sleep.
In hindsight, that assumption had been slightly too optimistic.
With a groan, you slapped your phone until the alarm finally stopped and rolled onto your back.
09:00.
Your shift started at twelve.
The back of your eyeballs hurt, and a tension headache was forming. It wrapped around your skull like a thick headband.
Fantastic.
You dragged yourself out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom.
Halfway through brushing your teeth, you found yourself opening Gotham Watch out of sheer morbid curiosity.
5 dead after Castleland cinema tragedy
You spat toothpaste into the sink and stood there a bit too long.
Suspected deliberate attack
Right. Of course.
You left the bathroom.
The kettle clicked on while you prepared what could generously be described as coffee. Several teaspoons of instant coffee. A scoop or two or three of hot chocolate. Enough caffeine and sugar to concern a medical professional.
Which was unfortunate, considering you were one.
Leaning against the counter, you waited for the water to boil.
Your eyes drifted toward the key hooks.
Jason’s keys hung beside yours.
Then lower.
His boots sat near the door, kicked off in a way that suggested he’d come home exhausted or in a rush.
Huh.
You looked down at your phone.
GCPD investigating possible links to previous Midtown bombing
The headband around your head tightened.
“Alright," you put your phone face down on the counter, "that’s enough screen time.”
