Hiii,I want to request Jason todd with a yapper!gf where she's like talking about sm and jason just says that she said that before and reader immediately thinks that hes probably annoyed by her constant talking so she stops and jason reassures her that hes not,he was just saying.
YOU SAID THAT BEFORE
pairing: jason todd x fem!reader
𝜗ৎ tags: mild angst; hurt/comfort
𝜗ৎ a/n: thank you for sending in your request, lovely <3
The chilled air wafting from the fridge stings your cheeks, and your fingers ache with growing numbness. You're crouched low to the ground so you can rifle through the bottom drawers, eyes rapidly scanning for some way to maneuver the newly bought head of cauliflower into an empty space.
It’s not only your eyes that move with hummingbird-quickness, but also the way words flow past your lips, your voice the only noise to disturb the otherwise quiet kitchen.
"Oh, so, I was saying to Rachel—the girl next door, by the way—that the bright blue door at that bookstore I like should be kept that way, but Mr. Perry—the owner of the bookstore, by the way—says that he thinks matching the door to the red awning outside is a better idea, so he’s gonna paint it this weird, reddish-brownish colour, kinda muddy if you ask me, and—"
You pause, hands spread flat across your thighs while you eye the bag of capsicums, their red flesh gleaming in the fluorescent-blue light. Where should you put those, if you want space for the cauliflower?
"I'm telling you,” you sigh, “it's like playing Tetris to get all the groceries inside this tiny thing."
The complaint is thrown over your shoulder, and behind you—with his spine pressed against the hard edge of the counter—Jason thumbs through his phone. He's ruffled in a clean, freshly showered way, and his eyes tiredly scan over the texts Tim's sent him—all pertaining to a shared case.
He's only reading the texts superficially. He's tuned himself into your streamline of conscious thought, finding the sound of your voice cathartic, even if it's broken by the occasional thud of something being shoved into an open corner of the fridge.
"But anyway," you continue, standing to your full height with the capiscums in hand. You carefully search the grated shelves for another empty space in your tiny fridge. "Mr. Perry's a little rude. I tried telling him how much of an icon the bright blue door is—like it's part of that little bookstore now—and he got all prickly with me and told me to stay out of his business. And I mean..."
You trail off momentarily, finding a small cranny to shove the capsicums into. You let out a huff before letting the fridge door glide shut, the seal latching. You glance at Jason, eyes travelling to the device in his scarred hand, and push out a breath through your nose.
It doesn’t really bother you, at least that’s what you think to yourself, and you keep speaking anyway—a stubbornness inside you to finish the story you started rising up like a haughty nose and jutted chin. You move around Jason’s form, stepping towards the sink where the square window above lets pale, brownish light seep into the cramped kitchen. Jason inhales deeply, the sound wrapping around you.
"I meant it in a nice way, of course," you shrug one shoulder, before turning the tap on. Rushing water roars inside the basin, bubbling near the drain before you shove the plug inside. "Like, I wasn't trying to boss him around or order him not to do something, but I wanted to give my opinion, y'know?”
Squeezing a few squirts of dishwasher soap into the warm, slowly rising water in the basin, you shake your hand violently inside the water until foamy bubbles ripple, dripping from your fingers as you grab a dirty plate tossed to the side of the sink, as well as the neon yellow sponge.
Methodically, you start scrubbing away traces of scrambled eggs and ketchup from the porcelain.
You sigh softly, “And it’s just… like, I don’t understand why he feels he should paint over something so bright and fun like that—maybe I’m just sentimental to the blue—but to paint it such a dull colour, oh!”
Your arm drops, sponge and plate stilling mid-scrub. “Did I mention he’s painting it red? But like, a really dull red, almost brown—”
“You told me that already,” is Jason’s monotonous reply.
You suck in a sharp inhale, head snapping to the side. Jason heaves out a breath, seafoam gaze still stuck on his phone with a certain weariness—the kind that seems indirectly aimed at you. You watch with hurt sliding between your ribs like a knife as Jason brings a hand to roughly rub at his jaw, settling there like an act of repressed agitation.
“Oh, okay,” you murmur, head dipping back to the milky water lapping at your hands. A burn settles inside your throat, something akin to shame trapezing over your head.
I really need to stop rambling so much. He’s probably tired.
You don’t usually reign yourself in when it comes down to talking, not unless you’re speaking to people you don’t know on a personal or intimate level—but Jason are those things and more. Sometimes it feels like you know each other like the moon knows the stars, or the tides know the shore. You are so fundamentally connected to each other that it doesn’t occur to you to hold yourself back.
I should, you scold mentally, hands going through the motion of cleaning the dishes. You’re so focused on how you rotate the sponge around the rim of the plate and the way a painful weight is beginning to sit on your chest, that you don’t notice in your peripheral how Jason’s lifted his head from his phone, creased eyes combing across the side of your face.
“Doll?” Jason’s voice cuts through the static that’s enveloped you, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid that you’ll find confirmation for what you think is true.
You hum in a small acknowledgement.
Silence only greets you, and the weight of it is even more stifling than your critical scolding. Hesitantly, you glance to your right.
Jason watches you with thinly-veiled confusion, brows pinched tightly as he watches the way your lips thin, jaw going tight. He quickly shoves his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants, arms crossing over his chest.
He says your name, “... what’s wrong?”
You avert your gaze—not doe-like or timidly, but out of a necessary need to grovel in your embarrassment without it showing. Eyes are the windows to the soul, are they not?
“Nothing,” you answer dismissively.
A drawn out pause stretches between the two of you, slow and heavy like syrup, but like anything too sweet, it leaves behind a burn that continues to grow hotter inside your throat. You don’t catch the way Jason’s face splits open with realisation, brows lifting and eyelids pulling back before sliding shut again in regret.
“No, no,” Jason sighs, shaking his head while pushing himself away from the counter. You watch with parted lips as he snatches the drying-towel hanging over the oven’s handle, sliding up to you. His skin pulses heat from his recent shower, and you lose all the breath in your lungs as Jason pulls your hands from the sink and swaddles them in the drying-cloth, dabbing away the wetness.
“Don’t do that,” Jason murmurs, and this time you’re the one frowning. Confused, you let Jason pat your hands dry completely before guiding you away from the sink, the drying-cloth discarded onto the counter. “Don’t go quiet on me like that.”
You swallow hard, “I didn’t—”
“Nuh-uh,” Jason tuts sharply, shaking his head. His eyes hold yours insistently, before they soften like molten lead. “You went quiet on me. What’s wrong?”
You don’t want to meet his gaze, but you sag under his touch like you always do, neck craned to look up at him.
“I was talking too much… wasn’t I?” you say it softly, and Jason’s shoulders lose their tension, dropping like weights.
“No—Doll,” he tilts his head down, eyes the colour of blue-tinted glass pinning you in place. “You were not talking too much, you never do—”
“You seemed annoyed,” you interject, weakly gesturing to him, as if to convey that his entire being had screamed it to you.
“Not at you,” Jason corrects immediately, and his fingers wrap gently around your wrists. “Tim was being a little b—”
You give him a pointed look, and Jason’s words still on his tongue.
“... a little infuriating. He was being cryptic and vague over text, holding this stupid case over me. He’s trying to be funny and it was getting on my nerves. I was not upset at you. I promise.”
You draw in a deep breath through your nose, tuned into the slow caress of Jason’s thumb against your pulse point. He’s watching you, dark hair streaked almost grey from the kitchen’s dim light, and pale eyes flickering across your face.
Jason, with regret coiled inside his gut, watches as you sag further into him, nodding your head softly.
"Yeah… okay,” you relent, slowly opening up to his explanation like a blooming flower, petals falling open to accept the sun.
“Hey,” Jason pulls you closer to him, pressing a firm kiss to your temple. “I’m not lying. I wasn’t annoyed with you—and even with Tim bugging me, I was listening.”
Giddiness sprouts inside your chest. “Yeah?”
Jason hums, pressing a softer kiss to your cheek. “Yeah, I was. You were talking about Mr. Perry wanting to change the colour of the door from blue to red, an ugly red. But when I said you had already said that before when you mentioned it twice, I didn’t mean to sound…”
“Annoyed?” you offer, and a smile spreads across your face.
Jason smirks, shaking his head. “Mhm-hm. Annoyed.”
Strong arms gather you into Jason's broad chest, one hand pressed to the back of your head. You melt into him, his shirt crisp and smelling of lavender scented fabric-softener. He’s warm, and his skin shares that heat with you readily, almost desperately.
But it doesn’t compare to the warmth slipping between your ribs to settle comfortably.
“Thank you for saying that,” you murmur quietly, and Jason squeezes you fondly, laying another kiss to your scalp.
Boxer!jason is very intimate. Hand holding. Small touches on your back. Brushing your cheeks with the back of his hand.
If you ask boxer!Jason to put lotion on you he’ll do it. He’ll make a big thing out of it. Have like oils and a candle on. Tell you to relax and let his big hands take the lead.
When he finally lets you into his world, boxer!jason asks if you can kiss his gloves for good luck. He lets you pick which hype song he uses for the night.
Boxer!jason probably won’t let you go to sleep without telling you he loves you. Don’t even start him in getting into petty arguments. He won’t let you go to bed angry or alone. You could be on opposite sides of the bed but you’ll be sharing a bed with him.
All in all boxer!jason is the most intimate guy you know. And he probably only gets more intimate the longer he’s in a relationship with you. (Which is forever because by the six month mark he’s sure you’re the one he’s meant to be with.)
11 — "you are the love that came without warning; you had my heart before i could say no."
requested ♤ from this prompt project.
ziggy note: not beta'd by the pretty brain.
"‘you are the love that came without warning; you had my heart before i could say no.’"
your face wrinkles up as bernard reads those words on his dimmed phone screen that barely cuts through the dark, ignoring the urge to roll your eyes. "that’s.. really cheesy. it’s not even good. what are you even reading? the shittiest love related quotes of all time?"
"wow," he snorts and locks his phone, letting it fall onto the rug at his side, head turning to look at you. "brutal feedback, don’t you think? it was on one of those ‘daily affirmation’ posts. i thought it was.. i don’t know, accurate."
you stare at him in the dark, blinking a few times. the storm outside is getting angrier, rain hammering hard against the windows while thunder cracks loud enough to make it feel like the floor of your apartment is vibrating - the lights decided to leave the party about an hour ago. this, of course, means the only thing bernard could possibly be doing is to read dumb quotes and terrible posts to you.
"accurate.. to who, exactly?" you ask, propping yourself up on your elbow to look down at him with a raised brow.
"us?" he says, eyes blinking and head shifting in that ‘you’re really asking me that?’ type of way that has you even more confused. "we met because you fell through my ceiling. i’m sorry, i don’t remember getting a warning for that? one second i had a perfectly good coffee table, that i loved by the way, and the next-" he gestures wide, around the room despite being in a completely different apartment now. "i had an unmasked vigilante in a mess of glass, bleeding on my rug and trying to apologize while being concussed."
you groan and shift to drop back down to the rug, attempting to roll away. "you promised you’d never bring that up again. it’s not like i planned to destroy your precious table," you grumble, immediately squirming when his arms come around you to pull you back, laughing like this is one of the best moments of his life.
"why on earth would i ever promise that? you’re making things up now." he manages to rangle you into facing him again. "the next day, you appeared at my door with flowers i’m deathly allergic to and told me you’d buy me a new table.. to which you changed your mind after i told you how much the last one was."
"i didn’t know you were allergic! i didn’t even know your naaaaame…" you groan, bringing your hands up to your face. "and it’s not my fault you felt the need to own a five hundred dollar table, bern! who does that? in gotham? you do not live in a nice enough neighborhood to own an antique coffee table.. and at least i came to apologize, that counts for something. do you know how awkward it was to ask what kind of flowers mean ‘hey, super sorry for destroying your ceiling and rug and coffee table’?"
"this isn’t about my adoration of antique woodwork," he pointed out, "but that’s my whole point. there was no warning.. you just, literally, crashed into my life, and instead of just stalking off into the night like every other stubborn ass in this city, you came back. it may not have been the greatest return, but you tried to make it right."
his smile softens, bringing a hand up to brush one of yours away just to cup your cheek, trying to see you. "so, are you still going to ask who it sounds accurate to? you are the love that came without warning.. and the moment you showed up at my door with your head down, flustered, shoving death flowers in my face, my heart didn’t really give me a choice. cheesy or not, it fits."
you stay quiet for a minute or two, like you don’t want to admit he’s right, like admitting such a cheesy quote sounds accurate might ruin your life somehow. he just watches you, thumb brushing along the line of your cheekbone.
"okay, fine, whatever, you’re right. keep your stupid quote," you mumble, shifting around to hide your face in his neck. "but we are not getting some dumb inspirational poster of it."
he just grins to himself and pulls you closer, arms around your shoulders, content to lay in the dark while the weather collapses in on itself outside. "i don’t need a poster, hearing you same i’m right is good enough."
“Stop moving and let me braid your hair.” for Wally West. HEAR ME OUT!!!!! Female reader has BIG POOFY hair and Wally tries to learn different ways to do it and wants to surprise the reader with his new hair skills. How he manages to stay still long enough to do it I don't know. The reader's kinda skeptical but Wally really knows what he's doing.
You knew your hair was unmanageable; just like most things, it was a fact. You had your hair care routine; you managed it as well as you could. Wally loved watching you take care of your hair; your hair was in his top five of his favorite things about you. He loved watching you brush it; he loved watching you mess with it. He oftentimes tried to help, and while his heart was in the right place, his hands were not and in your way.
Wally made it his mission to find a way to help. He felt bad when you would whine about your arms getting tired, but there wasn’t anything he could really do, so he turned to YouTube and Google in his free time. He watched videos religiously to ensure that he wouldn’t hurt you or tangle your hair when he felt ready. He was determined to be useful.
It was a regular movie night in your and Wally’s apartment; you sat on the floor between Wally’s legs, finding the floor more comfortable for the time being. Your head was rested against his knee as your attention was set on the movie playing before you, and Wally’s fingers wove through your hair as he toyed with it; he found solace in the strands.
“Walls?” You called, moving your head to look up at him when you felt his fingers begin to braid your hair. “What are you doing?” You asked, smiling and move to look up at him; his face contorted in focus. You were shocked at the focus on his face; he was never this focused on anything.
“Stop moving!” He whined, moving your head carefully so he could look at his work. “Let me braid your hair! I’ve been watching videos for weeks, and I think I’m ready.” He pouted, and you couldn’t help but grin at his antics.
“Why did you start watching videos?” You asked, moving your head so he could look at what he was doing.
“You always talk about how tired your arms get from toying with your hair. I thought I would try to learn so I could help.” He grinned, eyes fixed on his hands as he worked.
Once he was done, you walked into the bathroom and admired his work; Wally following nervously; it was the first time he tried on an actual person and on actual hair.
“Wally, it looks so good!” You grinned and turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck and gazed up at him. A smile spread across his lips, and his hands rested on your hips.
“It does?” He asked, admiring his work in the mirror as well. You smiled and pressed your lips against his, knotting your fingers in his hair.
“Thank you,” You smiled, pulling away from him. “It looks amazing, and I will definitely be asking you to help me again.”
Four times Red hood blushed because of you, and one time Jason Todd blushed.
The first time it happens you don’t notice. How could you when he wears that mask on his face all the time? It’s the two of you on a rooftop. You just raided a warehouse filled with scarecrows fear gas and made sure it didn’t land in the wrong hands.
You were coming off a high. That’s why you offered to get a bite to eat with Red. Red. That’s what you call him because you two are coworkers. You get the job done and have a few laughs, and part ways.
When he hands you a taco in silence you thank him in a stupidly wild accent that can't be real. And he chuckles. You hear it. You know you do, but you can't believe it. You made the Red Hood laugh!
It felt good. You wanted to make him laugh again.
What you didn't know was that he actually found it so cute. And was blushing underneath is mask.
2. The second time is an incredibly inappropriate time. The league had called on you to help them with an investigation. Which you were kind of feaking out about but trying to be cool.
You couldn't really be cool when Superman literally said your vigilante name out loud. You tried your hardest but you couldn't contain your excitement. You turned to Red hood and jumped up and down as soon as the meeting was over.
He laughed and told you yo calm down. But you started yapping about how Superman was the first hero you looked up to and how much of an honor it is that he knew who you were and acknowledged you.
Red Hood tells you that you remind him of the Robin that used to love Wonder Woman. Which makes you laugh and agree that that Robin knew what he was doing because he's right.
3. The third time is completely by accident. You're going down the zip line trying to get across from one building to another. And Red is waiting for you on the other side. It was your first time.
You scream the entire way as the speed picks up. Then before you know it, it's over. It's over and you're on top of another building but you can't quite find your footing. So you go crashing into the only thing there in front of you, which is Red.
He grabs you by the waist as the bath for you go down. You land with a groan. He cradles your fall entirely.
When you let out a breath and pick yourself up a bit, you're really close to his mask. The closest you've been to him since the two of you met.
He clears his throat and asks if you're okay. To which you nod, you're not about to go use your words when you know your tongue is heavy and you don't even know the alphabet. Red is tough and lean underneath you. You're aren't sure what you were expecting.
You pull yourself up quickly and offer him a hand to get up. He takes it and once again the two of you come face to face. Or, mask to mask. If he could see you now, fully he would see how hard you are flushing.
4. The forth time is rightfully earned. You just closed a case all on your own. No help from anyone. You did the investigation, you did the recon. And you got the perps into the hands of those who would deliver justice.
It was a pretty blood scene so you're a bit covered in it. Your suit is laden with blood stains and it got over some of your mask and face. You thought it would be better idea to shower in one of the safe houses rather than drag all the evidence back into your own home.
Red was there, cleaning his weapons like he usually does. And you walked in with all of that on you. It's like something in him just kickstarted. He looked at you, took you in, and all he could say was 'Hi'.
You gave him wave and told him you were going to shower the night off you.
As soon as you get into the bathroom, Jason smacks himself in the forehead.
5. It was a normal day. It was laundry day. You had a lot of shit to wash because honestly both your jobs keep you busy and you weren't about to send your things off to the cleaners.
You're in the local laundromat in great sweats and a blue hoodie. Your headphones are over your ears as you read through some threads online about Red. Not the ones trying to dissect his identity. The ones that are giving him credit for cleaning up the city.
So you're distracted when someone taps on your shoulder. You don't scare easily, and you know that if you're in trouble you can handle things. You turn around to see who it is and what they want.
A tall guy with a tuft of white hair amidst his dark brown hair. And his arms are practically poking out of his muscle tee. You haven't had a decent date in a while. A while being like a year now.
You remove your headphones.
"Can I help you?" you ask.
He nods, "Yeah, I'm sorry but I think you might have taken a piece of clothing into your dryer?"
He points over to the dryer. And there in the tumbling wad of clothes you try to decipher which piece of clothing is not yours. You can see a jacket you don't own. And a shirt that doesn't have any graphics on it, which means it's not yours.
Your eyes widen, "Wait seriously? I'm so sorry."
"Don't sweat it, I just wanted to know if I could pay you back sometime?" he asks.
You look at him then. Tall. Hot. Does his own laundry. Gotham is a cesspool but this guy is probably one of the good ones. Why not?
"Yeah?" you ask.
He looks away from you then for a second. His hand coming behind him to scratch as it his neck. And you see it. A very faint but still present blush dusts across his cheeks and down his neck.
a/n: based on this comment I got on a post! I hope he's bbg enough for you!!
jason todd x reader based off another tt i saw (sorry couple tiktoks get me so good) where reader hangs up on jason without saying i love you back just to mess with him? thank you ! 💐🎀💗
if you hang up on Jason when he's driving a car or his bike, best believe he's going to get a ticket getting to where you are just to hear you say it out loud. and the both of you will understand it's a joke, but Jason will still go and speed his way to you. he likes reassurance. he knows you love him, and a part of him that's a bit deep down wants you to say it all the time.
he makes what should be a thirty minute drive a fifteen minute one. Gets to where you are. Looks around for you (like those other tiktoks, you know the ones) and smiles and finds you and tells you he loves you again.
And at this point you cannot deny him because he drove all the way to where you were just to hear it.
now, if he's somewhere and has no way of getting to you, best believe he double texts you. And here are some examples of how it might go down based on how he's feeling. But just a sidetone you never do this to him when he's in a bad mood.
(jokey)
Jason: you didn't say it back
Jason: guess I'll just DIE without your love
Jason: first time was less painful than this
(neutral)
Jason: ??
Jason: LOVE YOU
(flirty)
Jason: am I being punished?
Jason: highly interested and willing to cancel all my plans fyi
(long-distance/ missing you)
Jason: just booked a flight to see you
Jason: need to hear you say it in person now
(3am delirious, no filter)
Jason: I can swipe the old man's card and buy you whatever you want
Jason todd actually loves the holidays. But he has a hard time letting anyone know that. He's dealt with some tough shit. Death by joker, reincarnation by Ra's.
He didn't think that the holidays would be a thing for him. Why would it be? He has so much blood on his hands. Too much. He tries his best but sometimes it isn't good enough. He's no hero.
"Jay can you pass me the marshmallows?" you ask
He gets out of his thoughts. He reaches for the bag next to him and hands it to you. You thank him and continue on.
You're putting together your famous hot chocolate. He's never had it before. He met you in the early spring. Well he met you in late winter but you two weren't that close.
So as the seasons changed and you went from friends to something a bit more to a fully realized relationship, he found himself here. With you in the middle of winter.
About to try your version of hot chocolate.
It had all the works from what he can tell. He had the grocery list you sent him for the drink. Chocolate syrup, hot chocolate packets, big marshmallows, a bag of mini peppermints, and some of the sweet biscoff cookies.
He watches you work from near the oven, your back turned to him a bit. You pour the hot chocolate over the marshmallows in both cups. Then you swirl the syrup over that.
"Bub, can you break the peppermint for me?" you ask.
Jason, with a big smile on his face, grabs the bag of peppermints. He unravels about ten before you tell him it's more than enough. Then he places them in a ziplock bag. He reaches into the kitchen drawer to his side and pulls out the hammer.
Then he's carefully hacking at the candy. You watch him with a smile on your face. His tongue is peeking out of his mouth a bit from keeping concentration on the task at hand.
"Good?" he asks, then he lifts his head up.
You nod and he hands you the bag. You open it up and try to equally empty it over the two cups. Once the bag is empty you leave it on the counter.
Then you grab both mugs by the handles. You bring them over to Jason on the other side of the kitchen island. He takes the one in your left hand. But he waits for you to take your sip before he takes his.
His eyebrows go up. "Woah."
"Wait wait wait, hold on." you say.
You're quick to open the cookie bag. You hand him a biscoff. He watches as you take one of your own and dip it into the drink. He follows your move. Both of you take a bite of the cookie at the same time.
"Oh my god." he says with his mouth full.
You laugh, "I know. It's pretty great."
"How'd you figure out all of this tasted good together?" he asks.
You finish chewing and then take a sip. You put the mug down.
"My granny who isn't supposed to eat sweets, she told me this is the reason why. She had this every day when she was my age. Got lots of cavities and temporary allergic reaction to peppermint." you explain.
"Oh?"
You snicker, "She still drinks it every Christmas though. Whenever I come over and make it. You can have your second when she comes to visit."
"Introducing me to your granny, huh?" he teases.
You nod, "I plan on locking you down pretty quickly."
Jason smiles, and he doesn't know it but he also blushes. A red tint on his neck and his cheeks. You can't help to laugh at that. He takes another sip of his hot chocolate.
Yeah, he really loves the holidays. He loves you more.
Omg on jason having twins, i think he’d be an utter mess on their first day of school. Like you got this massive brick shithouse of a man practically trembling while barely holding back tears as he drops off his babies at kindergarten or first grade.
a/n: thank you anon for sending this in! <333 I can't thank you enough and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!!
You thought the hardest part of seeing you twins off to kindergarten would be the kids. But it's actually seeing Jason say goodbye to them that undoes you.
He's crouched down to be at their level. The both go them, Peter and Cassie, are looking at him intently. With their books bags on their bags and their lunch pails in their hands. Cassie let Jason do her hair today, two space buns with purple scrunchies. Peter let you pick his shirt, a fresh green graphic tee.
You sniffle as you take them in.
Jason holds onto Peter's hand and cups the side of Cassie's face.
"Now, you don't have to go today if you don't want to. You can stay at home and we can try again tomorrow. It's okay." Jason says.
"We wanna go." Peter says.
"Yeah daddy." Cassie agrees.
Jason nods his head, "Of course. You two are so smart. You're gonna do so good. You hardly get that from me."
Jason doesn't even move when she does that. He is kneeling there and his right arm at his side, the other in Peter's hand. Peter joins in on the hug too.
"I'm gonna miss you guys." Jason says.
Jason engulfs the both of them in a hug. You wanna go over there and join in but you know if you do then they might never actually go in. It's one thing to see Jason not wanting to let go, but if they see it from you they'll probably skip kindergarten altogether.
"Me too!" Peter says.
Jason lets go first. He pulls away from them and takes them in again. Then he gives them each a kiss on the top of their heads. Peter gets an extra one because Cassie turns around and runs through the front door.
Then Peter follows after her. Ever the little brother.
Jason stands up and turns to you. Now you can see his eyes that are red and brimmed with tears. You jog over and wrap your arms around him. He wraps his arms around you within hesitation and places his head into the crook of your neck.
"It's okay. We'll see them later." you say.
"Maybe we can pick them up early?" he asks, and you know he's half joking and half serious.
"No can do. We gotta let the little birds leave the nest." you answer.
