I am in absolute shambles because I found your fic "Grease and Glitter." and it might be the best red hood fic I have ever read, I absolutely didn't binge read it in one day ( I did) PLSS I CAN ONLY HOPE YOU CHOOSE TO FINISH THIS SERIES I LOVE YOU AND YOUR WRITING THANK U SM FOR BESTOWING US WITH THIS MASTER PEICE PLS PLS update it, no pressure take ur precious sweet time (pls pls update it) ily, i wish greatness upon you and your life, may u be blessed with everything your heart desires MUWAH <33
⋆. 𐙚˚࿔𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫❀˚⋆
⋆˙⟡The Date Thing𑣲˙⋆
pairing: mechanic!jason todd x bimbo!reader
category: mechanic au, grumpy x sunshine, dc comics, romance, slice of life, slow burn, action, banter, soft tension, competent reader, strong female lead, foul language, unmatched rizz, incessant flirting
word count:
dividers: enchanthings
a/n: hi anon! I appreciate that very much and i hope you enjoy this newest chapter<3
Previous Chapter/Next Chapter
By the time closing rolled around, Jason had exactly zero answers and approximately seventeen new reasons to panic.
He had tried.
Technically.
In between repairs, customer calls, the arrival of a particularly stubborn transmission, and the constant distraction of you existing within twenty feet of him again, Jason had tried to come up with somewhere to take you.
Somewhere nice.
Somewhere you would like.
Somewhere that said, I wanted this. I thought about this. I am not asking you out solely because Roy and half my family publicly bullied me into emotional competence.
The problem was that every time he tried to think about the date, he ended up thinking about you instead.
You behind the front desk, your sunglasses finally gone, hair pinned back with one of those little glitter clips you claimed made paperwork less spiritually draining.
You leaning over the counter to help a customer, smiling sweetly as you convinced him that, yes, the cherry-scented air freshener was practically a safety measure.
You walking through the garage to hand Roy a receipt and brushing your fingers over Jason’s shoulder as you passed him, casual and quick and completely devastating.
You calling him handsome twice.
Baby once.
Not that he was counting.
He was absolutely counting.
Now the shop was settling into the quiet routine of closing, and Jason was no closer to having a plan than he had been when he blurted the invitation at you over sandwiches.
The last customer had left ten minutes ago. The bay doors were coming down one by one, metal groaning as Roy pulled the final chain. Jason wiped down the workbench while trying not to look at the clock every thirty seconds.
You stood behind the front desk, slipping papers into folders and humming along with the music still playing softly from the speakers.
Diva was curled beneath the counter, exhausted from an entire day of being admired.
Jason looked over before he could stop himself.
You had changed into a little cardigan at some point when the shop started getting cooler, soft pink and cropped at the waist. The sleeves were pulled halfway over your hands as you stacked the last of the invoices into one neat pile.
He had no idea what you were going to wear tonight.
That thought nearly made him drop the spray bottle in his hand.
Roy, from the other side of the garage, snorted.
Jason looked up sharply.
“What?”
Roy was coiling an extension cord, expression irritatingly innocent.
“Nothing.”
Jason glared.
Roy smiled wider.
Jason went back to the workbench before the temptation to strangle him became actionable.
A few moments later, you pushed back from the desk with a satisfied sigh.
“Okay,” you announced. “I have done everything I can do for this place without billing the two of you for emotional damages and interior restoration.”
Roy glanced toward the office. “You missed a receipt.”
Your head snapped toward him.
He grinned.
“Kidding.”
“You are so lucky I have plans tonight,” you said, reaching down to clip Diva’s leash back onto her collar.
Jason’s hand stopped over the rag.
You looked toward him.
A smile pulled softly at your mouth.
“Very exciting plans, actually.”
Roy’s gaze shot directly to Jason.
Jason ignored him with the skill of a man whose life depended on it.
“Yeah?” Jason asked, forcing his voice to stay even.
Your smile turned playful.
“Mhm. I’ve got a date.”
Jason felt his mouth twitch despite himself.
“He any good?”
You considered it.
“I’ll let you know after dinner.”
Roy made a delighted noise under his breath.
Jason took one step closer to the front counter.
“Sounds fair.”
You lifted your purse onto your shoulder and glanced between the two of them.
“Okay. I’m going home to get pretty.”
Roy scoffed. “What do you call this?”
You looked down at your outfit, then back up at him with a serious expression.
“Workplace appropriate modesty.”
Jason nearly choked.
Roy slapped a hand against the counter.
“God, I missed you.”
You smiled and bent briefly to kiss the top of Diva’s head before straightening.
Then you turned to Jason.
The energy shifted immediately.
Only slightly.
Enough.
Jason was aware of Roy still in the room. Still watching. Still probably narrating every second of this internally for the group chat.
He found himself not caring.
Much.
You stepped around the counter until you stood in front of him.
“I’m excited,” you said.
Jason blinked.
“For tonight,” you clarified, suddenly looking almost shy beneath the teasing. “For our date.”
His chest tightened.
There it was again.
The simple fact that you wanted this too.
That you were not just agreeing out of pity or curiosity or because he had made such a disaster of everything that you felt obligated to give him a chance.
You were excited.
For him.
For this.
Jason swallowed.
“Yeah?”
You nodded.
“Yeah.”
He wanted to kiss you.
He wanted to say something smooth enough to make you smile that dangerous little smile again.
Instead, because he was still himself, he said, “Good.”
Your brows rose.
“Good?”
Roy let out a long suffering sigh from behind the counter.
Jason’s jaw tightened.
“I’m excited too,” he added, lower this time.
Your expression softened.
“Better.”
You leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
Not as quick as earlier.
Just long enough to make his fingers tighten around the rag in his hand.
When you pulled away, your eyes sparkled with a satisfaction he suspected meant you knew exactly what you were doing to him.
“Pick me up at eight?” you asked.
Eight.
Fine.
Plenty of time to figure out where the hell he was taking you.
“Yeah,” Jason said. “Eight.”
“Perfect.”
You gave him one last smile, then tugged gently on Diva’s leash.
“Come on, pretty girl. We need to go make bad financial choices about outfits.”
Diva stood happily.
Roy pointed toward her. “She doesn’t need an outfit.”
You were already walking toward the door.
“She has a pink bowtie she’s been dying to debut.”
“She told you that?”
“We communicate.”
The bell chimed as you opened the door.
Before you disappeared outside, you glanced over your shoulder at Jason.
“See you tonight, handsome.”
Jason stared after you.
The door swung shut.
Your heels clicked away across the sidewalk, Diva’s nails following beside you.
Then there was silence.
Approximately one second of it.
Roy rounded on him.
“Where are you taking her?”
Jason picked up the rag again.
“Working on it.”
Roy’s mouth fell open.
“Working on it?”
Jason wiped at a stain on the workbench that was no longer there.
“Yeah.”
“She just said she’s excited.”
“I heard her.”
“She went home to get pretty for you.”
“She was already—” Jason cut himself off.
Roy stared.
Jason’s mouth pressed into a line.
Slowly, Roy’s face melted into the most insufferably soft expression Jason had ever seen.
“She was already pretty?”
“Don’t.”
“Oh, that is precious.”
“Roy.”
“My little boy is in love.”
Jason threw the rag at his face.
Roy caught it, laughing.
“I was trying to figure something out all day,” Jason muttered, moving toward the tool cabinet to put the last few things away.
“And?”
“And I was busy.”
Roy followed him.
“You were distracted.”
“I said busy.”
“You tightened the same lug nut for five minutes after she called you handsome.”
Jason stopped.
Roy grinned.
“I saw it.”
“She kept walking through the garage.”
“Yeah. She works here.”
“Exactly.”
Roy blinked once, then laughed.
“Oh, buddy. You are so screwed.”
Jason shoved the cabinet closed.
“You helping or just enjoying this?”
“I can do both.” Roy slung the rag over his shoulder and leaned back against the tool chest. “Okay. First date. Classy. Romantic. Sets the standard.”
Jason eyed him warily.
Roy snapped his fingers.
“I got it. That burger place on Sixth.”
Jason stared.
“The one with the neon sign shaped like a hot dog?”
“It’s memorable.”
“It smells like fryer oil from the parking lot.”
“Ambiance.”
“No.”
“Fine. What about Big Rico’s? All-you-can-eat wings. Very sexy. Very intimate. You both get covered in sauce together.”
Jason slowly turned away.
Roy trailed after him.
“Wait. Wait. The bowling alley.”
“She’s wearing heels.”
“Even better. Character building.”
Jason yanked his jacket from the hook by the office door.
“Your ideas are shit.”
“I am offering a range of experiences.”
“You are listing places you go when you’re hungover.”
Roy’s grin flickered.
Barely.
Gone fast enough that Jason almost missed it.
Almost.
Then Roy recovered with a theatrical gasp.
“Wow. Judgment from a man who has no reservation, no plan, and under two hours before he has to pick up the hottest woman who has ever willingly looked at him twice.”
Jason narrowed his eyes.
Roy pointed at the door.
“Go.”
“What?”
“Go home. Shower. Wear something clean. Figure the rest out while you’re on the road.”
“We still have to finish locking up.”
“I can lock up.”
Jason glanced around the shop.
“Roy—”
“Oh my God, she has made you worse.” Roy marched toward him, planted both hands against his shoulders, and began physically pushing him toward the side door. “Go get ready for your date.”
Jason resisted just enough to be annoying.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“You were bitching this morning about being left alone with me.”
“And now I would very much like to be left alone without you.” Roy gave him one final shove. “Go. Before you show up smelling like motor oil and panic.”
Jason looked at him.
Roy’s expression had settled back into something easy and teasing.
Still tired.
Still slightly worn around the edges.
But grinning.
“Don’t screw this up,” Roy said.
Jason huffed.
“Helpful.”
“It’s what I’m here for.”
Jason hesitated another second.
Then he grabbed his helmet and keys from the hook.
Roy gave him an enthusiastic little wave.
“Have fun getting dressed, Cinderella.”
Jason pushed open the side door.
“Fuck off.”
“Love you too!”
The door fell shut behind him before he could answer.
Outside, the evening air had softened, the day’s heat fading off the pavement in slow waves. Jason crossed the parking lot toward his bike, trying very hard not to think about how little time he had left before eight.
Or how you had said you were excited.
Or how you had looked when you said it.
He failed at all three.
༄˖°.❤︎.ೃ࿔*:･
The ride home did nothing to clear his head.
By the time he pulled into the lot outside the apartment he shared with Roy, Jason had gone through half a dozen possible date ideas and rejected every one of them.
Dinner somewhere casual?
Too low effort.
Somewhere nice?
Too stiff.
A movie?
Too easy to avoid actual conversation.
A bookstore?
Too much like he was trying to make the Pride and Prejudice thing a whole personality.
A drive?
You deserved more than being handed the pink helmet and told to hold on, even if he knew you liked riding with him.
Maybe Roy had been right.
Maybe he was screwed.
Jason took the stairs two at a time and unlocked the apartment door.
Purrsephone appeared from the hallway almost immediately, issuing a demanding meow that implied his entire romantic crisis was secondary to the fact that her food bowl was empty.
“Yeah, I see it,” he muttered.
He tossed his keys into the dish by the door, dropped his jacket on the back of the couch, and fed the cat before she could file a formal complaint.
Then he pulled out his phone.
Bad idea.
The Jason Todd Emotional Support Committee had not quieted down in his absence.
In fact, it had gotten worse.
He scrolled rapidly past a series of highly offensive messages.
Steph had sent an entire list titled THINGS JASON SHOULD NOT DO ON HIS FIRST DATE, including:
3. Do not answer romantic questions with a grunt.
5. Do not casually mention murder.
8. DO NOT ASK HER IF SHE WANTS TO SPLIT A PROTEIN BAR FOR DESSERT.
Duke had responded with:
why does number eight feel like it came from real concern
Damian had submitted a brutally written assessment of Jason’s conversational abilities.
Kate had sent a poll asking whether you would prefer her instead.
Roy had apparently responded with a photo of Jason staring at you during lunch, captioned:
he looks like this every time she breathes near him btw
Jason made a mental note to kill him later.
He was about to lock the phone when he saw Dick’s name in his private messages again.
There were three new texts waiting.
The first had arrived shortly after you left the shop.
Dick
Roy says she said yes.
Proud of you.
Do you have somewhere in mind?
Jason stared at the final question.
Then typed back before he could consider ignoring it.
Jason
No.
Dick
You asked her out without a plan?
Jason
You sound like Roy.
Dick
That bad, huh?
Jason
He suggested a wing place.
Dick
Okay. I apologize for the comparison.
Jason
Still figuring it out.
Dick
What kind of date do you want it to be?
Jason
One she likes.
Dick
That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever texted me.
Jason
Delete it.
Dick
Already emotionally framed it.
Jason rolled his eyes, but his mouth betrayed him with the smallest pull at one corner.
Purrsephone jumped onto the couch beside him, circling once before sitting directly on the edge of his discarded jacket.
Jason typed again.
Jason
I don’t know what she expects.
Dick
Probably you.
Jason
Not helpful.
Dick
I’m serious. She already likes you.
Jason
Yeah.
Dick
But I get it. You want to make an effort.
Dick
There’s a restaurant in Bristol I’ve taken Kori to a couple times. Nice place. Great food. Private enough that you won’t feel like everyone is staring at you.
Jason
Sounds expensive.
Dick
It is a little.
Jason
Not my scene.
Dick
Maybe not. But it might be hers.
Dick
She seems like someone who’d like getting dressed up and being taken somewhere special.
Dick
And after everything, Jay… she deserves to know you’re willing to try.
Jason
I am trying.
Dick
I know.
That’s why I’m suggesting it.
Jason leaned back against the couch.
His thumb hovered over the phone.
The apartment was quiet except for Purrsephone’s low purr and the faint rumble of traffic from outside.
He knew Dick was not trying to make him feel like shit.
That was the irritating part.
Dick was trying to help.
And maybe he was right.
You liked pretty things.
You liked getting dressed up.
You had said you were going home to get pretty for him, even though you had already walked into the shop that morning looking like every bad decision Jason had ever wanted to make wrapped in pink.
Maybe taking you somewhere nice was not pretending.
Maybe it was effort.
Maybe it was what a man did when the woman he wanted agreed to give him an evening that actually meant something.
Jason looked down at his stained shirt, his work pants, the smear of grease still crossing one wrist.
Maybe he had been thinking too much about where he would feel comfortable.
Not enough about what you deserved.
He sighed.
Jason
Fine.
Send me the place.
Dick
Really?
Jason
Before I change my mind.
Dick
Sending now.
You’ll like it once you’re there.
Jason
Doubtful.
Dick
She will.
Jason
That’s the point.
A link appeared on the screen.
Jason clicked it.
The restaurant homepage loaded with an image of white tablecloths, low candlelight, tall windows, and plates with portions small enough to qualify as personal insults.
Jason grimaced.
Purrsephone looked at him.
“Don’t start.”
Another message arrived.
Not from Dick.
Not from the family group chat.
In the same private thread.
Jason frowned.
Tim
Reservation confirmed for two at 8:30 p.m. under Jason Todd.
Jason
What the fuck.
How are you in this chat?
Tim
Technically, I am not.
I gained temporary visibility for logistical purposes.
Jason
You hacked my messages?
Tim
That is such an emotionally charged way to phrase basic administrative support.
Dick
Tim.
Tim
What? You were going to call and waste time negotiating availability. Their online reservation security is embarrassing.
Jason
Get out of my phone.
Tim
You’re welcome.
Dick
He means well.
Jason
I’m changing all my passwords.
Tim
Please do. Several are statistically concerning.
Jason
I hate this family.
Dick
Reservation is at 8:30. You’re picking her up at eight, right?
Jason
Yeah.
Dick
Then you should probably stop arguing with Tim and get ready.
Jason
I have time.
Dick
Jay.
You already left her waiting long enough.
Don’t be late for the part where you finally get to show her you want this.
Jason stared at the final message.
There it was again.
Not accusation exactly.
Not meant to hurt.
But it found the bruise anyway.
He saw you in your apartment again.
Pink hoodie.
Puffy eyes.
The bouquet clutched to your chest like you were afraid it would disappear if you held it too loosely.
He saw you that afternoon, standing in the shop, smiling as you told him you were excited.
Jason checked the time.
Six-forty.
“Shit.”
Purrsephone blinked lazily at him.
Jason pushed up from the couch in one abrupt movement, nearly dislodging her in the process.
She issued an offended sound.
“Sorry,” he muttered, already heading toward his room.
He had to shower.
Find clean clothes.
Figure out what the hell a man wore to a place where dinner came with cloth napkins and probably six forks.
Make sure the reservation Tim had committed cybercrime to acquire did not go to waste.
And pick you up at eight.
On time.
No.
Earlier than on time.
Jason stopped in the hallway and looked down at the phone still in his hand.
The restaurant homepage was still open.
He still had the sinking suspicion that this was not his style.
forever thinking about how if you change one single factor in an au it changes everything that will follow....
like in my Buffy goes to hell au with Angel! at first it was just meant to be like a fun thought experiment of how it would alter their personalities and such. but now thinking about it more and talking about it to Nectari i realized that it significantly changes everything
since if everyone thinks Buffy is missing/dead then when Faith comes around they try to fill the gap caused by Buffy's loss with Faith who at first likes it but then starts to not, which changes the (eventual) relationship Buffy + Faith would have along with Faith + scoobies
and also it means that she'd most likely not go through the cruciamentum which means Giles is never fired which means Wesley never appears as a character which by product means that Faith would most likely never kill the deputy mayor..... and so it continues
it would change the relationship that Buffy has with her parents and how Joyce views Angel. Thus also meaning that Angel would never leave Buffy to go start up Angel Investigations with the help of Doyle (and Cordelia), and Buffy probably wouldn't go to college because she missed her senior year of high school and is considered legally dead by most everyone. or at least the world at large because her friends and family do eventually find out that she's alive through a series of events i will not yet state here.
but if Buffy never goes to college then she never meets Riley, or at least would not develop a romantic relationship with him. it also means that the entire Spike storyline would happen differently if I even decide to do it at all which would also change the entirety of the Initiative stuff that happens + the whole Adam storyline.
....I had a point somewhere before I got derailed.... oh! Yeah. Changing one singular event will have lasting consequences on the story as a whole, especially if you change a significant event.
pairing:mechanic!jason todd x bimbo!reader
word count:
a/n: this is my forth time trying to post this! please be it! 😭
Previous Chapter/Next Chapter
The bell over the front door chimed at eight-forty-three in the morning.
Jason knew the time because he had checked the clock approximately thirty seconds earlier for no reason other than the fact that you were supposed to be coming in today.
Not that he was waiting for you.
He was working.
Very seriously.
Under the hood of a sedan that had been dropped off the night before for an alternator replacement, with his sleeves shoved up to his elbows and his hands already smudged with grease. The shop had only been open for less than an hour, and he and Roy had fallen into the easy rhythm of an early shift: tools clattering, radio playing quietly from somewhere near the office, Roy muttering insults at an uncooperative battery terminal.
Normal.
It almost felt normal.
Then the bell chimed.
And a second later came the soft, unmistakable tap of heels against the front office floor.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Mixed with the sharper little tick of Diva’s nails trotting eagerly beside you.
Jason’s hand stopped on the wrench.
Across the bay, Roy’s head shot up so quickly he nearly smacked himself on the hood of the truck he was working on.
They looked at each other.
Neither spoke.
Then Roy dropped his ratchet directly into the engine bay with a clatter and practically launched himself toward the front.
Jason stayed where he was.
For approximately three seconds.
Then, entirely against his will and with the distinct feeling that his body had betrayed him, he wiped his hands once on the rag at his hip and moved close enough to see through the open archway.
There you were.
For almost two weeks, Red Line had looked wrong without you.
Too dull. Too quiet. Too clean in the wrong places and neglected in the ones that mattered. The front counter had sat there like an abandoned stage, all your things still scattered across it but none of the life behind them.
Now you stepped through the door, and Jason suddenly understood how ridiculous it had been to think the shop could ever feel the same without you.
You looked—
Jesus Christ.
You looked good.
Too good.
Dangerously good.
Your heels were pink and tall enough that Jason immediately found himself thinking about all the ways they were impractical for a mechanic shop, which was safer than thinking about what they did to your legs. Your outfit looked like you had dressed for war with every intention of winning: soft, fitted, pink in a way that should have been sweet but somehow looked threatening on you. A little purse hung from your shoulder, your glossy lips curved around the faintest smile, and oversized sunglasses covered half your face even though the Gotham morning outside was gray enough to make the accessory entirely unnecessary.
Diva trotted in beside you with her leash loose in your hand, sleek and proud and visibly thrilled to be back somewhere she had already claimed as one of her many kingdoms.
You paused just inside the doorway.
For the briefest second, beneath the perfect clothes and the gloss and the sunglasses, Jason saw the hesitation.
The small intake of breath.
The way your fingers tightened around Diva’s leash.
Then you lifted your chin, and the moment disappeared beneath the version of yourself you wore like armor.
“Good morning, peasants,” you announced.
Roy made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a relieved sob.
“Oh, thank God.”
Your smile sharpened as Roy rounded the counter toward you.
“That better be about me and not the printer.”
“The printer did not leave me alone with him for thirteen days,” Roy said, jabbing a thumb dramatically over his shoulder toward Jason. “I suffered.”
Jason glared at him from the garage doorway.
“You’re still alive.”
“Physically,” Roy said. “Emotionally? Undetermined.”
You laughed softly.
Jason’s chest loosened at the sound before he could stop it.
Diva, apparently deciding the reunion was taking too long to center around her, tugged forward and shoved her head against Roy’s hip. Roy bent down immediately, rubbing both hands behind her ears.
“And you,” he cooed. “My beautiful, single emotionally stable best friend. Did you miss me?”
Diva wagged hard enough to nearly smack your leg with her whole back half.
“She did not,” you said. “She spent the last two weeks abandoning me emotionally every time Jason’s name came up.”
From the doorway, Jason felt his mouth pull faintly at one corner.
Roy looked toward him with an expression that said he had absolutely seen it.
Jason’s almost-smile vanished.
Roy rolled his eyes and turned back to you.
You pushed your sunglasses up onto the top of your head, likely because the front office lighting was not strong enough to justify keeping them on anymore.
And that was when Roy’s grin faltered.
Only for a second.
But Jason caught it.
Your makeup was still perfect. Your lashes still dark and curled, your cheeks softly pink, your lips glossy as hell.
But there was tiredness around your eyes that no concealer could fully hide. The faint shadow of lost sleep. A tiny puffiness beneath your lower lashes. The kind of exhaustion that lingered after too many nights spent crying into a pillow and waking up annoyed at yourself for letting someone ruin your skin-care progress.
Jason’s stomach turned.
He had done that.
Your eyes moved past Roy and found him hovering in the doorway.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Your expression softened.
Not entirely.
There was still something cautious there, a tiny distance that had not been there before he had made a mess of things. It was not enough for anyone else to notice.
Jason noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Then your mouth tilted into something playful.
“Morning, grease stain.”
The familiar nickname hit him straight in the chest.
Jason leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, because apparently standing upright without support had become too ambitious.
“Morning.”
Your brows lifted over the frames of your sunglasses.
“Just morning?”
Jason stared at you.
Roy, still crouched beside Diva, slowly turned his head between the two of you like he had just noticed the opening notes of an extremely interesting song.
Jason knew you were waiting.
Knew you were teasing him.
Knew this was probably some kind of test he was currently failing in front of Roy and the dog.
“You look…” he started.
Your smile grew.
Roy stood fully upright now, attention completely abandoned from Diva.
Jason considered leaving.
Immediately.
Forever.
He cleared his throat.
“You look good.”
Your lips parted in exaggerated offense.
“Good?”
Jason felt heat creep up the back of his neck.
That was bullshit.
He did not blush.
Not at twenty-five. Not in his own shop. Not with Roy standing there like a goddamn audience member at a rom-com.
Your expression turned smug.
Roy slapped a hand over his mouth, doing absolutely nothing to hide the grin behind it.
Jason’s jaw tightened.
“Don’t start.”
“Wasn’t going to say anything,” Roy said through his fingers.
“You were thinking loud.”
You stepped farther into the shop, the click of your heels bringing you closer until Jason could catch the soft scent of your perfume beneath the familiar oil-and-metal air of Red Line.
“Good is acceptable,” you said sweetly. “For now.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“For now?”
You smiled up at him.
“Baby steps. You just learned how to confess feelings without fleeing the state. We’ll work up to compliments with adjectives later.”
Roy choked on a laugh.
Jason shot him a murderous look.
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“Not anymore,” Roy said. “This is much more important.”
You made a pleased little sound and reached up, tapping one manicured nail lightly against Jason’s chest as you passed him toward your desk.
The touch was barely anything.
Jason felt it everywhere.
“Missed you too, handsome,” you said.
Then you walked away like you had not just left him standing in the garage doorway with his entire nervous system fried.
Roy stared after you.
Then at Jason.
Then back at you.
“Oh, this is going to be unbearable,” he said, delighted.
Jason shoved past him into the garage.
“Go work.”
“I am working. I’m assessing the new workplace hazard.”
“Roy.”
“Romantic tension around heavy machinery is a legitimate safety concern.”
From behind the front counter, you gasped.
“Are you saying I need a hard hat?”
Roy pointed at you. “That depends. Rhinestones or no rhinestones?”
“All rhinestones. Obviously.”
Jason grabbed the wrench he had left on the sedan’s frame and tried very hard to remember what the hell he had been doing before you walked in and rearranged the molecular structure of the room.
The alternator.
He was replacing the alternator.
Simple.
Mechanical.
Safe.
Behind him, he heard you set your purse down on the front desk.
Then there was a pause.
A long one.
“Oh my God.”
Jason’s eyes closed.
Roy glanced toward the office. “What?”
“What did you do to my desk?”
Jason looked over despite himself.
You stood behind the counter with both hands braced on the surface, staring down at the collection of papers, receipts, loose envelopes, pens, catalogs, and sticky notes that had accumulated in your absence.
Roy visibly took one step away from the front.
You slowly lifted your head.
“Roy.”
He pointed immediately at Jason.
“Management failure.”
Jason stared at him. “Coward.”
“You’re the boss. Take responsibility.”
You picked up a pen from the desk and held it between two fingers like it was contaminated evidence.
“This is a black ballpoint pen.”
Jason blinked. “Yeah?”
“You put a regular black ballpoint pen in my glitter cup.”
“I did not.”
Roy put a hand to his chest. “Don’t look at me. I fear you too much.”
Diva wandered behind the desk and plopped herself down on the floor with a heavy sigh, apparently also unwilling to get involved.
You shook your head slowly, looking almost emotional.
“I leave for less than two weeks and you two revert to feral mechanics.”
“Revert implies we changed,” Roy offered.
“You did change,” you said firmly. “I changed you. I civilized this establishment.”
Jason watched as you began reorganizing the desk, pink nails quickly sorting through what they had failed to maintain in your absence.
You slid invoices into one tray.
Customer receipts into another.
You picked up the stack of mail Jason had opened the day before and paused for just a fraction of a second.
His chest tightened.
He saw the moment you remembered.
The pink envelope.
The returned check.
The fact that it had led him to your door.
Your shoulders drew in slightly.
Then your gaze flicked up to find him watching you.
Jason held it.
For a heartbeat, the teasing fell away.
The whole morning quieted around the two of you.
He wanted to say something.
Something reassuring.
Something that told you he knew this was not completely easy just because you had kissed him yesterday and laughed with him afterward. Something that told you he knew coming back here required courage, even if you were dressed too beautifully for anyone else to call it that.
His mouth opened.
You beat him to it.
“Relax,” you said, quieter than before. “I’m not returning any more checks today.”
Jason huffed a breath that could have been a laugh if the ache underneath it were not so sharp.
“Good.”
Your expression softened.
Then you looked down again, rescuing both of you from the moment by lifting a crumpled receipt between two fingers.
“Because clearly I have job security,” you said. “Without me, this place is one business day away from bankruptcy and a visit from public health.”
Roy reappeared beside the counter, apparently willing to approach again now that you were no longer armed with visible disappointment.
“In our defense, we kept the place standing.”
“You fed the plants?”
Roy went still.
Your eyes narrowed.
“Roy.”
“They look alive.”
You whipped toward the window.
Jason returned his attention to the sedan before you could ask which one of them had remembered to water your plants.
He had.
Twice a week.
He had absolutely no interest in hearing Roy announce that fact in front of you before nine in the morning.
Behind him, you let out a distressed little noise.
“My poor babies.”
“They’re plants,” Jason called without looking.
“They’re living décor, Jason. Show some respect.”
His mouth almost curved again.
There it was.
The music from the front office speakers clicked on a second later, one of your favorite discs filling the shop with something bright and feminine and entirely too catchy. Diva shifted under the desk. Papers shuffled. A drawer opened, then closed with satisfaction.
The shop breathed around him.
Better.
Right again.
Not completely.
But enough to feel the difference.
Roy drifted back into the garage a moment later, lingering beside the truck he had abandoned when you arrived.
Jason glanced up from under the hood.
Roy’s smile was still there.
But now that he was closer, now that you were turned away and distracted with the desk, Jason noticed again what he had registered that morning before everything else took over.
The faint shadows under Roy’s eyes.
The slight drag in his movements.
The way he rubbed the heel of his palm briefly against his temple before reaching for his tools.
Jason’s brows drew together.
“You good?”
Roy froze for less than a second.
Then he flashed him a grin.
Too quick.
Too easy.
“Aw,” he said. “You asking because you care, or because one emotional breakthrough has you convinced you’re everybody’s therapist now?”
Jason’s gaze stayed on him.
“You look tired.”
“I am tired.” Roy retrieved his ratchet from where he had dropped it beneath the hood. “Some of us spent the last two weeks surviving the emotional fallout of Gotham’s least efficient love story.”
From the front, you called, “I heard that!”
“You were supposed to!” Roy yelled back.
Your laugh floated toward them, warm and offended and familiar.
Roy smiled in its direction.
For the briefest second, the expression looked almost relieved.
Then he turned back to the truck and waved Jason off with the ratchet.
“I’m fine. Go stare longingly at your alternator or whatever it is you do when you’re pretending you’re not staring longingly at her.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed.
Roy ducked back under the hood before he could answer.
Jason remained still for another second.
Something sat oddly in his chest.
Not suspicion exactly.
Just a small, uncomfortable awareness that Roy looked worse than a man should from losing sleep over someone else’s love life.
But then you walked into the garage holding the regular black ballpoint pen aloft like a murder weapon.
“Okay,” you said, looking between them. “Which one of you committed this act of aesthetic terrorism?”
Roy pointed at Jason again without looking up.
Jason stared at him.
You turned to Jason with mock disappointment.
“Really?”
Jason opened his mouth.
Then caught sight of the faint smile tugging at your lips.
You were baiting him.
And yesterday, you had been holding peonies in a pink hoodie with tears in your eyes.
Yesterday, he had thought he might have already lost this.
Today, you were standing in his shop, teasing him over a pen.
Jason felt his whole world narrow down to that simple, impossible fact.
“You gonna arrest me?” he asked.
Your smile widened.
“Depends. You gonna resist?”
Roy immediately made a gagging sound from under the hood.
“Nope. Absolutely not. I already regret helping either of you.”
You laughed.
Jason shook his head and turned back to the sedan before you could see the heat threatening the tips of his ears again.
Behind him, your heels tapped back toward the front office.
The music played.
Diva gave a pleased little bark.
And Jason lowered his head over the engine, forcing his hands back to work while his stupid pulse refused to settle.
He had wanted you back.
Now you were here.
And somehow, having you within reach was even more distracting than missing you had been.
——
By noon, you had managed to undo most of the damage caused by thirteen days of unsupervised male behavior.
The mail was sorted.
The appointment board was fixed.
The waiting room magazines were arranged in an order that made visual sense instead of whatever disturbing system Roy had attempted in your absence.
Your glitter pens had been returned to their rightful cup after the offending black ballpoint was banished to a drawer with a dramatic amount of ceremony.
The plants had been chatted with.
Twice, because you claimed they looked “emotionally dehydrated,” which Jason was fairly sure was not a thing, but he had not been stupid enough to argue.
The music had been turned up.
Diva had reclaimed her preferred patch of sunlight near the front window.
And Red Line Auto finally felt like itself again.
Jason had been trying very hard not to stare at you for most of the morning.
He was failing.
Badly.
Every time he glanced up from the engine in front of him, you were somewhere in his line of sight: sitting behind the make shift desk with one heel dangling loosely from your foot while you typed, leaning over the counter to explain an estimate to a customer, crouching to scratch behind Diva’s ears while talking on the phone, reaching up to adjust the little display rack of pink air fresheners that Roy had restocked incorrectly.
You had always belonged there.
Jason knew that now in a way that sat heavier than simple appreciation.
For thirteen days, the shop had been missing you.
Now that you were back, Jason felt like the one struggling to find his footing.
Especially every time you looked at him.
Which was often.
Deliberately.
Like you had discovered that one smile in his direction could make him forget what tool he was holding and had decided this was a power worth abusing.
You were evil.
He was apparently into that.
“Okay!” you announced from the front office, startling Jason out of a particularly unproductive attempt at tightening a bolt he had already tightened. “Lunch.”
Roy poked his head out from behind the pickup he had been working on.
“Yes.”
You pointed a pink pen at him. “That was not a question.”
“I stand by my enthusiasm.”
“I can tell. You’ve been staring at the takeout menus like a Victorian orphan outside a bakery.”
Roy wiped his hands on a rag and came wandering toward the counter. “In my defense, I am starving. Your absence destroyed the natural ecosystem of this shop.”
“You could’ve ordered food yourselves.”
Jason looked up from the sedan. “We did.”
You glanced over at him.
His stomach did that annoying, involuntary thing again.
“And?” you asked.
Roy answered before Jason could.
“And he orders like a divorced father with high blood pressure. Chicken. Rice. Some sad green thing. Not a single sauce in sight.”
“It was lunch.”
“It was hell.”
You placed a hand over your chest, looking genuinely devastated.
“Baby, that’s horrible.”
Jason’s attention snagged hard on the word.
Baby.
You had said it casually. Sweetly. Dramatically, even. Probably aimed more at the tragedy of Roy’s sauce-less meal than at Jason himself.
Did not matter.
His brain had stopped on it like an engine stalling in the middle of traffic.
Roy noticed.
Of course Roy noticed.
His face lit up with immediate, unbearable delight.
Jason pointed the wrench at him.
“Don’t.”
Roy held both hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“You can’t prosecute a man for his thoughts.”
“I can try.”
You smiled, eyes narrowing as you looked between them.
“What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Jason said.
“Your boyfriend got flustered because you called him baby,” Roy said at the exact same time.
Jason went completely still.
You went completely still.
Roy’s smile began to falter.
Not because he regretted saying it.
Because, apparently, he had realized he had just said a word neither of you had actually discussed yet.
The air held for one tiny, dangerous beat.
Then your mouth curled.
Slowly.
“Did he?”
Jason shot Roy a look that should have incinerated him on the spot.
Roy backed toward the garage with both hands raised higher now.
“I see that I have created an atmosphere. I’m going to go be hungry somewhere else.”
“You’re going to go be dead in a ditch somewhere else,” Jason muttered.
Roy grinned. “Worth it.”
You laughed, and the strange beat passed just lightly enough for Jason to breathe again.
Mostly.
You slipped out from behind the tool cart and reached for your purse.
“Well, as adorable as Jason’s apparent reaction to pet names is, I’m not letting either of you choose lunch today.”
Roy clasped his hands together. “She’s really back.”
“I’m going to the place down the street,” you continued. “The one with the sandwiches and those fries Roy becomes deeply religious about.”
“Praise be.”
You looked at Jason. “And I’ll get you something with actual flavor, since no one loved you enough to intervene while I was gone.”
Jason leaned one hip against the sedan, rag in hand.
“I can get my own food.”
“Sure you can.”
“I can.”
“And yet,” you said, stepping closer, “you won’t.”
Jason looked down at you.
You were close now.
Too close for a mechanic shop at noon.
Not close enough for him.
Your eyes glittered with mischief under your lashes. Up close, he could still see the tiredness around them. The fragile remnants of hurt he wanted to spend the next several months making up for.
But you were smiling.
At him.
Jason had no idea what he was supposed to do with how much that meant.
“Anything you don’t want?” you asked.
“Whatever you get is fine.”
Your eyes widened slightly.
“Careful. That’s dangerously close to sounding like you trust my judgment.”
“I trust you with sandwiches.”
“Start small. I respect it.”
Diva rose immediately when you picked up her leash from the hook beside the desk, stretching with a long sigh before padding toward you.
Roy frowned. “You’re taking Diva?”
“She needs enrichment.”
“She has enrichment. She has me.”
Diva walked right past him.
You glanced over your shoulder. “Diva, do you want Roy or a little outside adventure where there might be people who tell you you’re pretty?”
Diva sat directly beside your heel.
Roy clutched his chest.
“Betrayed in my own workplace.”
“Again,” you corrected. “She betrayed me for Jason first.”
Jason’s mouth twitched.
You caught it.
Your smile softened just slightly before you stepped into his space again.
“I’ll be back soon,” you said.
Jason nodded.
“Yeah.”
A second passed.
You tilted your head.
Jason narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That isn’t nothing.”
“I’m just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
You smiled wider. “You’re going to have to get better at this.”
“At what?”
Instead of answering, you rose just enough on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Quick.
Soft.
Entirely unfair.
Jason stopped functioning.
The warmth of your mouth barely lingered on his skin before you were already walking away, Diva trotting beside you, purse tucked against your shoulder like you had not just completely demolished his ability to form thoughts in front of his best friend.
“Lunch,” you called sweetly from the door. “Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”
The bell chimed as you stepped outside.
Click of heels.
Tick of Diva’s nails.
Then the door swung closed behind you.
Silence.
Jason stood beside the sedan with the rag still clutched in one hand, staring at the empty doorway.
He knew.
He knew what was coming.
He did not even need to turn around.
Behind him, Roy took one very slow, very delighted breath.
Jason shut his eyes.
“Don’t.”
“Oh, I absolutely fucking will.”
Jason turned back toward the car.
Roy was already crossing the garage toward him with the expression of a man who had just been handed the winning lottery ticket and a loaded weapon.
“I have been waiting all morning,” Roy said.
Jason bent back over the engine. “Get a life.”
“I had one. Then two idiots dragged me into the slowest romantic train wreck Gotham has ever seen.” Roy planted both hands on the side of the sedan, leaning in until his face appeared directly across the open hood from Jason’s. “Now, talk.”
“No.”
“Details.”
“No.”
“Did you cry?”
Jason’s hand stilled.
Roy gasped loudly.
“Oh my God, did you cry?”
Jason looked up slowly. “I will put your head through this engine.”
“That is not a no.”
“Fuck off.”
Roy grinned so hard it had to hurt.
“Did she cry?”
Jason’s expression changed before he could stop it.
The grin fell away from Roy’s face.
Only briefly.
Just long enough for the memory of what had happened to settle between them.
Then Roy’s voice softened.
“But you fixed it?”
Jason swallowed.
“Enough.”
Roy studied him.
“Enough for now?”
Jason nodded once.
That seemed to be the answer Roy needed.
His shoulders loosened, like he had been carrying that little question around since yesterday and had only just decided he could put it down.
“Good,” he said quietly.
Jason looked back into the engine.
For half a second, Roy let him have the silence.
Then, inevitably:
“So how was the cuddling?”
Jason’s eyes snapped toward him.
Roy’s grin came back in full force.
“Don’t look at me like that. She sent photographic evidence.”
Jason scowled.
“We were sitting on the couch.”
“You were sitting on her on the couch.”
“I was not.”
“Your head was on her chest. Your arm was around her. You looked disgustingly content.” Roy pressed a hand to his heart. “The official Princess & the Pit Crew group chat may never recover.”
Jason muttered something under his breath and reached deeper into the engine.
Roy circled around the sedan rather than allow him the illusion of escape.
“And for the record, her caption made it worse.”
Jason froze.
“What caption?”
Roy’s eyes lit up.
Jason immediately regretted asking.
“Oh, you didn’t see it?”
“Roy.”
“She sent the picture while you were apparently busy pretending to be asleep and wrote—”
“Roy.”
Roy lifted his phone as though reading from a historical document.
“‘Update: emotional constipation has been successfully treated with peonies and aggressive honesty.’”
Jason closed his eyes.
You were never seeing daylight again.
“And then,” Roy continued gleefully, “when I said you looked smug even in your sleep, she responded, ‘he smiled when I took it but is now pretending he didn’t.’”
Jason grabbed a socket wrench.
Roy stepped back quickly, laughing.
“Violence won’t un-smile your face, Romeo.”
“Keep talking and I’ll test that theory.”
Roy wiped at one eye, still grinning.
“Man, I needed this.”
The words were light.
Almost throwaway.
But something about them gave Jason pause.
Roy’s smile was wide, his energy bright and relentless, but that tiredness was still there under it. Darker now in the overhead shop lights. His eyes a little bloodshot. His laugh just slightly too loud for the joke.
Jason’s brows drew together.
Roy saw it and immediately clapped his hands once.
“So!” he said. “Important questions.”
Jason’s suspicion was shoved aside under the force of Roy’s complete lack of boundaries.
“No.”
“Are you together?”
Jason stopped.
Roy tilted his head.
Jason reached for another tool.
Roy’s eyes narrowed.
“Jason.”
“What?”
“Are. You. Together.”
Jason’s jaw tightened. “What kind of question is that?”
“The obvious kind.”
“We talked.”
“That is not an answer.”
“We kissed.”
“I know, I received evidence of the post-kiss cuddle nesting. Still not an answer.”
Jason glared at him.
Roy leaned his hip against the workbench.
“Did you ask her to be your girlfriend?”
Jason looked away.
Roy’s mouth opened.
“Did she ask you to be her boyfriend?”
Jason grabbed the rag and wiped his hands harder than necessary.
Roy’s whole face transformed into horror.
“Oh, no.”
Jason’s shoulders tightened. “Drop it.”
“Oh, no, no, no.” Roy pushed off the bench and moved closer. “Tell me you did not spend two weeks angsting around my shop, show up at her apartment with flowers and pastries, confess all your horrible little feelings, kiss her, cuddle her, and then just assume the rest would sort itself out.”
Jason’s glare sharpened. “We know what it is.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Does she?”
“She’s not stupid.”
“I didn’t say she was.” Roy stared at him. “I said you are.”
Jason threw the rag onto the hood.
“We talked about what mattered.”
Roy’s expression softened for half a beat.
Then hardened right back.
“And that’s great. Genuinely. Proud of you for forming vulnerable sentences and not fleeing through a window.” He pointed sharply toward the front door. “But the whole reason you were in that mess was because you kept assuming she knew what you meant.”
Jason’s jaw clenched.
“She does know.”
“Then asking her out should be easy.”
Jason went silent.
Roy watched the silence sink in.
Then his brows pulled together.
“You haven’t taken her on a date.”
Jason picked up his wrench again.
Roy slapped a hand flat against the hood.
“Jason Peter Todd.”
“Do not.”
“You have not taken her on a date.”
“It happened yesterday.”
“And?”
“And I’ve been at work.”
“You had all night.”
Jason looked up.
Roy waved one hand dismissively. “Fine. You were busy with the cuddling. Understandable. But you could have said, ‘Hey, beautiful woman I have emotionally tortured for the better part of several weeks, may I take you out somewhere nice to demonstrate that I am not completely hopeless?’”
Jason’s face flattened. “I’m not saying that.”
“You’re right. Too many syllables.”
“Fuck off.”
“Ask her on a date.”
Jason leaned back under the hood. “I will.”
“When?”
“Later.”
Roy made a sound of pure disgust.
Jason glared at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That was clearly something.”
“I just thought we learned something from the last time you said ‘later.’”
That hit precisely where Roy intended it to.
Jason’s shoulders went rigid.
Roy held his gaze.
Not joking now.
Not fully.
“Come on, man,” he said. “Don’t make her wait for you to be clear again.”
Jason looked down at the engine.
“She just came back,” he muttered.
“Exactly.”
“I don’t want to push.”
“Taking her out isn’t pushing when she has already kissed you and sent me a photo of you curled into her chest like a very satisfied cat.”
Jason’s ears burned.
Roy grinned briefly.
Then sobered again.
“You don’t have to make this huge. You don’t have to propose in the waiting room.” He paused. “Although, for future reference, she would absolutely want a prettier proposal than that.”
“Roy.”
“Point is, you tell her what you want. You ask. You give her the chance to say yes.”
Jason’s grip on the wrench tightened.
He knew Roy was right.
That was the worst part.
The thought of asking you on a date should not have been terrifying. You had already let him kiss you. You had already told him you wanted him too. You had already come back to work wearing that smile like yesterday had not been the most emotionally violent thing Jason had voluntarily endured in years.
But asking made it real in a new way.
A confession could be pulled out of him by panic. By a returned check and your tear-stained face and the threat of losing you.
A date was deliberate.
A date meant standing in front of you when nothing was burning and admitting he still wanted more.
It should not have scared him.
It did.
Jason reached for the ratchet again.
Roy sighed.
“You’re ignoring me.”
“I’m working.”
“You are pretending to work because you think if your hands are busy no one will notice that your brain is on fire.”
Jason’s eyes cut toward him.
Roy nodded. “Takes one to know one.”
Something about the way he said it made Jason hesitate.
But before he could decide why, Roy pulled out his phone.
Jason frowned.
“What are you doing?”
Roy did not look up.
“Calling in reinforcements.”
Jason’s stomach dropped.
“No.”
Roy’s thumbs moved rapidly over the screen.
“Roy.”
“You forced my hand.”
“Do not text them.”
“Too late.”
Jason moved toward him.
Roy dodged around the end of the sedan with the quick reflexes of a man who had been annoying dangerous people his entire adult life.
“You son of a—”
Roy held the phone triumphantly above his head.
“Message sent.”
Jason stopped dead.
His own phone buzzed in his back pocket.
Once.
Twice.
Then approximately seven times in immediate succession.
He did not need to look.
He knew.
He knew exactly which cursed thread had just been awakened.
Roy grinned at him from across the garage.
“Welcome back to the Jason Todd Emotional Support Committee.”
Jason pulled his phone out.
Against his better judgment, he opened the group chat.
The notification count was already climbing.
The group chat lit up so quickly Jason barely had time to process Roy’s original betrayal before the whole family descended.
Jason Todd Emotional Support CommitteeRoy
Emergency update: he apologized. she came back. they kissed. there was cuddling.
HE HAS NOT ASKED HER ON A DATE
Steph
BOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Duke
bro 😭
Tim
Clarifying question: has he at least discussed an intended relationship structure?
Roy
He said “we know what it is.”
Steph
OH MY GOD HE’S DOING THE GUESSING THING AGAIN
Damian
Todd appears determined to sabotage every positive development handed to him.
Jason
I hate every person in this chat.
Roy
Ask her on a date then.
Kate
Alternatively, I can ask her on a date.
Jason
No.
Kate
Very quick response, Jason.
Steph
LMAOOOOO
Duke
Threatening him with Kate is incredibly effective actually.
Tim
Logging this for future conflict resolution.
Damian
I refuse to endorse Kane’s behavior. I do, however, support tormenting Todd.
Jason
I am deleting this chat.
Roy
You say that every time and yet here you remain.
Steph
because he loves us 💕✨
Jason
Wrong.
Jason locked his phone with enough force that the screen nearly cracked.
Roy was leaning against the side of the truck now, arms crossed, looking deeply satisfied with himself.
“You’re dead.”
Roy smiled. “Maybe. But if I die getting you laid respectfully, I die a hero.”
Jason crossed the space between them in two strides.
Roy scrambled backward, laughing.
“I am at work,” Jason growled.
“So is she. Conveniently located for asking!”
“I said I’ll do it.”
“You also said you had it handled after her semi-confession, and then we all suffered through two weeks of your emotional funeral procession.”
Jason flinched.
Roy’s smile faded just slightly.
“Sorry,” he said.
Jason looked away.
Roy rubbed the back of his neck.
“Still true.”
“Yeah,” Jason muttered.
The phone buzzed again in his hand.
Jason glared at it.
“If that’s Kate again—”
“It might be your hunny bunny,” Roy said innocently.
Jason’s attention snapped to the screen so fast that Roy made a delighted choking noise.
It was not you.
It was Dick.
Private message.
Jason looked toward Roy.
Roy lifted both hands.
“That one wasn’t me.”
Jason believed him, mostly because Roy was physically incapable of hiding his pride when he committed an act of meddling.
Jason looked back down at the screen.
Dick’s message was short.
No audience.
No heart emojis from Steph. No insults from Damian. No Kate threatening to sweep you off your feet just to watch Jason bare his teeth.
Just Dick.
Dick
Ignore the circus for a second.
I’m happy for you, Jay. Really.
And I know everybody piling on probably makes you want to do the opposite out of spite.
But Roy isn’t wrong.
You don’t have to make this perfect. You don’t have to know exactly what comes after.
Just ask her. Clearly. Because you want to.
Let her know this isn’t something you only said because you were scared of losing her.
Jason stared at the last message.
The noise of the shop seemed to dull around him.
Roy had stopped laughing.
Maybe he had seen the shift in Jason’s face. Maybe he just knew when Dick’s words had finally reached a place Roy’s teasing could not.
Jason read the message again.
Let her know this isn’t something you only said because you were scared of losing her.
His jaw tightened.
Because there it was.
The thing Jason had not known how to articulate.
Yesterday, he had shown up at your door because the thought of you leaving had finally scared him more than the thought of telling you the truth.
But today, you were here.
You were back.
You had kissed his cheek before leaving for lunch.
You had smiled at him and teased him and set your glitter pens back on your desk like maybe Red Line could still be yours.
Nothing was ending right this second.
Nothing was forcing his hand.
Which meant asking you out now would be different.
It would not be panic.
It would not be damage control.
It would not be an apology wearing flowers and pastries.
It would be a choice.
His choice.
Because he wanted to.
Jason slid the phone back into his pocket.
Roy studied him from a cautious distance.
“Well?”
Jason looked toward the front window.
You were not back yet.
He could almost picture it anyway: Diva pushing through the door first, you behind her carrying a ridiculous amount of takeout because you never seemed to understand the idea of ordering a normal quantity of food.
You would set everything down.
You would smile at him.
He would have to say it.
Clearly.
On purpose.
Jason exhaled slowly.
“When she gets back,” he said.
Roy’s eyebrows rose. “When she gets back, what?”
Jason shot him a look.
Roy grinned.
“Oh my God,” he breathed. “He’s gonna do it.”
“Do not make this a thing.”
“It has been a thing for months.”
“Roy.”
“I’m quiet.” Roy mimed zipping his mouth shut, then immediately unzipped it. “Do you know where you’re taking her?”
Jason froze.
Roy’s smile became slow and terrible.
“Oh,” he said. “We’ve got work to do.”
Roy had only managed to open his mouth for what Jason was certain would be the beginning of the worst date-planning advice ever conceived when the bell over the front door chimed again.
Jason’s entire body went rigid.
Roy’s face lit up.
“Oh, perfect timing.”
“Say one word,” Jason warned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
That promise lasted all of half a second before the tapping of your heels and Diva’s nails sounded through the front office, followed by the soft rustle of paper bags.
“Lunch has arrived!” you announced. “And before either of you complain, I hope you know I just negotiated us an incredible deal because the girl at the counter recognized me and said my outfit was cute.”
Roy immediately abandoned Jason and crossed toward the office.
“You bartered with beauty?”
“I bartered with charm,” you corrected, nudging the door closed behind Diva with your hip. “Beauty was merely part of my toolkit.”
Jason followed more slowly.
Much more slowly.
His phone felt like a brick in his pocket. Dick’s messages were still sitting somewhere inside his head, lodged uncomfortably close to Roy’s smug voice and the memory of your mouth brushing his cheek before you left.
Just ask her. Clearly. Because you want to.
Easy for Dick to say.
Dick could probably ask a woman on a date while dangling from a chandelier and bleeding from the forehead.
Jason could barely manage to walk into the front office without looking like he was approaching an execution.
You had spread three paper bags across the counter by the time he reached you. Diva wandered toward her water bowl with the pleased strut of a dog who had undoubtedly received attention from every stranger you passed on the street.
“Okay,” you said, pulling containers out one by one. “Roy, I got you the loaded fries because I know you’d start gnawing on drywall if I didn’t.”
Roy pressed both palms to the counter. “I have never loved anyone more.”
“Flattering, but inappropriate. I’m emotionally spoken for now.”
Jason’s heart stumbled.
You did not look at him when you said it. You were too busy digging through the bag for napkins.
Roy did look at him.
Immediately.
His expression was so smug Jason considered whether murder in front of the cash register would negatively affect business.
Probably.
You pulled out another wrapped sandwich.
“And this one is Jason’s.”
Jason blinked.
You held it out to him with a proud little flourish.
“I picked for you because you always choose the most boring possible food when left unsupervised. It has steak, provolone, grilled onions, spicy mayo, and enough personality to hopefully transfer through digestion.”
Jason took the sandwich from you automatically.
His fingers brushed yours.
Again, his brain betrayed him.
You noticed.
Again, your mouth curved in satisfaction.
“You okay there, handsome?”
Roy visibly leaned in.
Jason looked at the sandwich in his hand.
Then at you.
Then, before he could lose his nerve and before Roy could somehow physically insert himself into the moment, he said, “Go out with me tonight.”
Silence.
The crinkle of the paper bag under your hand sounded obscenely loud.
Roy’s mouth dropped open.
Jason’s heart fell directly into his boots.
You blinked once.
“Excuse me?”
He could have recovered gracefully.
Some men probably could.
Jason Todd had never been one of them.
“On a date,” he added, too quickly. “A real one.”
Your expression softened so suddenly it made his chest ache.
“A real one?”
“Yeah.”
He shifted his grip on the sandwich wrapper because his palms had decided to betray him too.
“Unless you don’t want to. Or you’re tired. You just got back, so if you’d rather not—”
“Jason.”
He stopped.
You were smiling now.
Not the teasing smile you used when you knew you had made him blush.
Not the sharp little smirk you gave customers before convincing them to spend another fifty dollars on something adorable and unnecessary.
A soft one.
One that made him feel terrifyingly visible.
“I want to.”
Jason stared at you.
“You do?”
Behind you, Roy covered his face with both hands.
You gave Jason a tiny, disbelieving laugh.
“Baby, you were in my apartment yesterday. Do you think I kissed you just to diversify my hobbies?”
Jason felt heat flare at the back of his neck again.
“No.”
“Good.” You stepped a little closer, the lunch bags entirely forgotten between you. “Because I would love to go on a date with you.”
Jason nodded.
Once.
Too stiffly.
Like someone had just delivered medical results he did not yet know how to process.
Your smile grew.
“Are you nervous?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not.”
“Your ears are pink.”
Roy made an undignified choking noise behind you.
Jason glanced toward him.
Roy abruptly became very interested in opening his fries.
You reached up and pressed one fingertip lightly to the edge of Jason’s ear.
He caught your wrist on instinct.
Not hard.
Just enough to stop you.
Just enough to hold you there.
Your breath hitched slightly.
Jason felt it.
Saw the way your eyes dipped to his mouth for the briefest second.
And suddenly, for all the fear sitting under his ribs, there was something else there too.
Something warmer.
Bolder.
His thumb brushed once against your wrist.
“Tonight,” he said.
Your lashes fluttered.
“Tonight,” you agreed.
Roy loudly cleared his throat.
You and Jason both turned toward him.
“I would just like to say,” Roy began, one hand pressed over his chest, “that witnessing emotional growth in real time is extremely beautiful and should absolutely earn me a finder’s fee.”
Jason released your wrist.
“Eat your fries.”
“I’m trying, but the romance keeps distracting me.”
You giggled and moved back toward the counter, smoothing your hair as if you needed the distraction as badly as Jason did.
“Okay, well, before I sit down and let this become a whole event, I’m going to wash my hands.” You glanced toward Diva, who had begun nosing curiously around the bottom of one of the bags. “And probably wipe down her paws before she tracks sidewalk filth all over my newly reclaimed office.”
Roy lifted his sandwich. “Our office.”
You pointed at him as you backed toward the hallway.
“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”
Then you looked at Jason one more time.
The softness returned.
Just for him.
“Don’t eat without me.”
Jason nodded.
“Wasn’t planning to.”
Your smile lingered for one second longer before you whistled softly for Diva and disappeared down the short hallway toward the bathroom, the Doberman trotting obediently after you.
The second the bathroom door clicked closed, Jason turned.
Roy was already holding his phone.
“No.”
Roy’s thumbs were flying over the screen.
“Yes.”
“Roy.”
“This is a historic moment.”
“You do not need to report every detail of my life to my family.”
Roy looked up at him, genuinely offended.
“Excuse you. Not every detail.” He tilted his phone. “I left out the wrist-grabbing. That one was private.”
Jason took one step toward him.
Roy dodged behind the counter.
“Also, you’re welcome.”
“For what?”
“For bullying you into happiness.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed.
Roy hit send with a satisfied tap of his thumb.
Jason’s phone began buzzing almost immediately.
He stared at Roy.
Roy smiled innocently around a fry.
“Oops.”
Jason pulled out his phone.
The cursed group chat was alive again.
Jason Todd Emotional Support CommitteeRoy
UPDATE: HE DID IT.
Steph
DEFINE DID IT
Duke
phrasing, steph 😭
Roy
HE ASKED HER ON A DATE. WITH WORDS. CLEARLY. ON PURPOSE.
Steph
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Dick
Proud of you, Jay.
Tim
Noted. Progress has resumed.
Damian
At last. His courtship rituals no longer resemble those of a concussed cave animal.
Kate
Disappointing. I had my outfit picked.
Jason
Do none of you have jobs?
Steph
currently my job is celebrating LOVE
Roy
It was very romantic. He basically blurted it at her over sandwiches.
Jason
Harper.
Duke
over sandwiches is kinda adorable actually
Tim
What kind of sandwiches?
Jason
Tim.
Kate
So she is no longer available?
Jason
Correct.
Steph
OH???????????????
Roy
HE SAID CORRECT
Dick
Going to let him sit with that one for a second.
Damian
I despise all of you.
Jason read the last several messages with a growing sense that perhaps throwing his phone into an active oil drum would be worth the replacement cost.
Roy peered over the counter.
“You said correct.”
Jason looked up slowly.
Roy lifted his brows. “Possessive. Clear. Concise. She’s gonna love that.”
“Shut up.”
“That’s not a denial.”
Jason shoved his phone into his pocket.
“You send one more update and I’m changing the locks.”
Roy pointed at himself. “I live with you.”
“Then you’d better find somewhere else.”
“Very hostile for a man who got the girl.”
Jason went still.
Roy smiled.
A little less teasing this time.
A little more genuinely happy for him.
“You did good,” Roy said.
Jason’s chest felt strange.
Uncomfortable.
Not in a bad way.
He looked toward the hallway where you had disappeared with Diva.
“I asked her to dinner. Didn’t exactly perform surgery.”
“For you?” Roy said. “Close enough.”
Jason glared.
Roy popped another fry into his mouth and grabbed a napkin.
“So. Where are you taking her?”
Jason’s silence lasted half a second too long.
Roy lowered the fry slowly.
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t.”
“You asked her on a date without having a date?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“When? During the date?”
Jason turned toward the garage. “I’m going back to work.”
“Oh no, you are not.” Roy abandoned his fries with a look of deep personal sacrifice and rounded the counter. “You need guidance.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“Clearly you do. Lucky for you, I happen to be an expert on romance.”
Jason looked him over once.
His wrinkled work shirt. His messy hair. The faint exhaustion still living under his grin.
“Are you?”
Roy’s smile stuttered for barely a heartbeat.
Then it came back brighter.
“Devastatingly so.”
Jason caught the moment.
A flicker.
Nothing he could name.
Before he could press, Roy slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him farther from the hallway, already launching into his next campaign.
“First dates have to be classy,” Roy announced.
Jason shoved his arm off. “You don’t know what classy means.”
“Wrong. Classy is about atmosphere.”
“Your idea of atmosphere is a bar without visible mold.”
“Standards are standards.”
Jason snorted.
Roy ignored him.
“What does she like? Besides you, glitter, pink, psychological warfare, and making me feel financially inadequate every time she reorganizes merchandise?”
Jason’s mouth flattened.
“She likes a lot of things.”
“Excellent. Name three.”
Jason immediately thought of peonies.
Jane Austen.
Fashion magazines.
Music played loud enough to sing to.
Milkshakes with extra whipped cream.
Dancing badly in the front office when she thought he wasn’t looking.
Little wolf keychains.
His bike.
The pink helmet.
The look she got when a customer underestimated her right before she emptied their wallet.
He was suddenly aware that he knew too many things about you and somehow none of them explained where a person was supposed to take you on a date.
Roy watched his expression and sighed.
“Yeah. This is worse than I thought.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m serious.” Roy began counting on his fingers. “There’s that burger place by the expressway.”
Jason stared at him. “That’s your classy suggestion?”
“They have booths.”
“They have sticky menus.”
“Atmosphere,” Roy repeated.
“No.”
“Fine. The wing place?”
“No.”
“They give you plastic gloves so your hands stay clean. That’s upscale.”
Jason actually turned away from him.
Roy followed.
“Okay, okay. There’s that Mexican place where they bring the sizzling plate thing to your table.”
“Fajitas.”
“Exactly. Dinner and special effects.”
Jason rubbed a hand over his face.
“Why am I listening to you?”
“Because I am your best friend and the only person here emotionally committed to making sure you don’t take her to a gas station and call it rustic.”
Jason stopped.
“I wasn’t going to do that.”
Roy eyed him.
Jason scowled.
“I wasn’t.”
From the hallway came the soft click of the bathroom door opening.
Roy leaned closer immediately, lowering his voice.
“We’re not done discussing this.”
“Yes, we are.”
“Not until you have reservations and a shirt without oil stains.”
Jason looked down at his work shirt.
“This is work.”
“And tonight is romance. Try to keep up.”
Before Jason could respond, Diva appeared from the hallway first, paws presumably cleaned and dignity intact.
You followed a second later, drying your hands on a paper towel.
“What are you two whispering about?” you asked.
Roy did not miss a beat.
“Lunch.”
Jason gave him a flat look.
You looked between them suspiciously.
“Lunch requires secretive garage conferences now?”
“With him?” Roy jerked his thumb toward Jason. “Everything becomes difficult.”
Jason picked up his sandwich before he could be tempted to use it as a projectile.
You approached the counter again, looking pleased to find that neither of them had eaten without you.
“Good boys,” you said.
Roy dropped immediately into one of the front chairs.
“I’ve been called worse.”
Jason looked at you.
You were smiling at him again.
It did something dangerous to his ability to be irritated with anyone.
You pulled the chair beside yours out slightly with one foot.
“For you,” you said.
Jason glanced at the chair.
Then at Roy.
Roy smiled far too innocently.
Jason knew sitting beside you would only give Roy more ammunition.
He also knew he did not care nearly enough to refuse.
He walked around the counter and sat beside you.
Your knee brushed his under the desk almost immediately.
Neither of you moved it away.
Roy watched that happen and stuffed an unreasonable amount of fries into his mouth like the action was the only thing stopping him from screaming.
You unwrapped your sandwich.
“So,” you said brightly, completely unaware of the private planning nightmare currently forming around your date. “Tell me everything I missed while I was gone.”
Jason went quiet.
Roy froze with a fry halfway to his mouth.
You looked between them.
“Business things,” you added. “Not emotional crimes. I am not processing more emotional crimes until after lunch.”
Roy swallowed.
“Excellent boundary.”
Jason looked down at the sandwich you had picked out for him.
Then at you beside him, your leg still lightly touching his, your face turned expectantly toward Roy as he launched into a highly exaggerated account of a customer, a tire order, and the near-death of your plants.
You laughed.
The shop felt warm around him.
His phone buzzed in his pocket again, probably another message from the family disaster committee asking for date details he did not yet have.
Jason ignored it.
For now, you were here.
You had said yes.
And for the next twenty minutes, at least, he could sit beside you and eat lunch before the panic of figuring out how not to screw up his first real date with you became unavoidable.
“What did you do to my snowglobe.” — Cygnus, at the start of chapter 2, expresses her distress over a broken snow globe.
“Well, whatever this is, it’s a rather foolish decision that I don’t imagine the headmaster doing .… however, I still believe that it’s for a reason. Thank you, you two.” — Riddle’s curiosity of why the headmaster’s choices were made, happens in the middle of chapter 3. He is insistent that it’s for a reason … but that thought can soon be changed.
