sickly sweet romance of u & jay
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“jay,” you softly say.
your legs are stretched long on the soft beige duvet cover, blanket pulled up to jason’s chest, it riding just by your waist with you sat up straight. you look out the window, prickly raindrops sound as they hit the double panned glass, moonlight bathing your skin blue.
he’s breathing softly, body facing you so you watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest as his eyes stay shut in rest. he doesn’t hear you yet the sleepy sight of him makes you warm inside: hot and in love. you bite the inner part of your bottom lip and rake your fingers through his hair so to rouse him, he always did like when you did that. “jason.” you whisper shout, a little more playful than before and stroke his jawline quickly from ear to chin.
“mm?” he monosyllabically hums, still half-asleep. his mouth hardly moves but his eyebrows curiously wrinkle.
you drop down to his level and watch him like a puppy, eyes big and pupils wide, you just have to kiss his nose. “come on, baby. wake upp,” you slightly whine.
he doesn’t answer but smacks his lips a little and his entire expression creases briefly then reverts back to his sleepy, frozen self. he reaches for your face, feels around to grab your cheek since he refuses to open his eyes and awake from sleep, and cups your cheek. you smile, knowing this was his way of letting you know he was listening, even if he maybe wasn’t. you kiss his inner palm: the fatty part below his thumb— peck his wrist and then slide on top of him, kissing his cheek and his temple and near his eyes and by his jaw but not his lips, not yet.
with each kiss jason gains a little bit more consciousness, a little more happier and charmed by your excessive showering of affection he so tenderly loves. he groans, breathes out deeply and plants his hands on your hips, eyes squinting open, “alright. you’ve got my attention now.” he announces.
you smile and giggle, “so you’ll only listen to me if i’m kissing you?” your laugh reverberates through the thin cotton of your top into jason’s chest—deep in his bones, with your hearts only layers of skin, flesh and muscle away from touching.
he shakes the insinuation off, “nah baby, it’s not even like that.” he wraps his arms around your waist, belts them up real tight and pulls you in—hugs and rests in the little crook of your neck, breathes in the foggy remnants of today’s earlier perfume, kisses your cheek. loud smooch. “just tired.” he stays nestled in that tiny space by your neck.
you pout. want to whine at the fact that jay’s defo not gonna wake up and you’ll have to go do something on your own. you get that sleep is important to him and whatever it is that he does that requires him to come home absurdly late smelling a lot like blood and cigarettes but still it was only midnight on a friday, basically 8pm on any other day.
“you smell nice,” his lips tickle your neck and you shyly half-smile at the compliment.
“thank you.” softly you say.
“why you still up? you ain’t tired yet?” he asks, lips tickling your neck more.
“jason,” you whine a bit, roll your eyes too, even in the thick bluey darkness, “it’s only midnight. i’m surprised you even went to bed.”
“i’m tired, honey.” he rubs his face into your crook like a sleepy child, “and it was a slow night tonight. figured i deserved a break.” you can feel him slightly move his hands whilst he talks, nod a small yes to yourself even though you still weren’t quite sure what it was that he did.
“i still don’t really get what your job is.” you state, wanting him to elaborate.
he strokes your hair and gently says, “later, baby. later.”
you pout.
“don’t pout.”
you drop your jaw and pull back to see his face, “how’d you know i was doing that?”
“cuz i know my girl.” you smile down bashfully: sincerely. he picks your head up by kissing you. sweetly at first but, like always, a little nippy and sort of wild.
he pulls away before anything escalates and his voice sort of drops to this low, honeyed kind of hum, “you know i trust you with my life, right?” he cups your face.
you smile and hold the hand that’s on your cheek and kiss it as confirmation, “and you with mine.” you retaliate, a little hopeful for if he’ll finally share his secret with you. he rubs his thumb, a soft movement on your cheekbone.
“the shit i do—what i do…it’s not safe or i guess you could say, not conventional.” he searches between your eyes for any sort of understanding, hoping you get his meaning.
“i figured.” you calmly respond. “so what is it?” you push him.
he sighs. or maybe groans. whatever it was, he quickly looks down with such a look of torn you’d never seen. it makes you worry a bit—startle you. you had prepared for the worst: hitman, supplier, even a villain’s ally, training yourself to being accepting given if it were someone with fairer moral value. maybe someone like poison ivy or…
“red hood.” he dissyllabically says, with no real discernible tone, though he looks straight ahead at you and stares.
“is…” you wanna ask him if that’s who he works for but if there’s anything the people of gotham know, it’s that the red hood works alone. so you swallow that obsolete question and instead present with: “i kind of already knew.”
he looks up at you, wide eyed and ready to hear more.
“well i didn’t know know, i just knew that it was something ‘unconventional’. i was pretty convinced you were a hitman, it always made sense to me that’d if given the opportunity you’d be a good shot.” you flirt sweetly but still genuine. jay smiles softly, his eyes grow curious, his head somewhat tilted.
“what gave it away?”
you point at the few bits of dirty laundry behind him thrown over a chair, “you come in with a lot of blood.”
his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape and he even makes the expressions the brows as if he’s said it, but no sound comes out.
you see it as an opportunity to kiss him, gently let him know you’re still there, and to not let him drift off into despair. “i’m glad you told me.
he takes your hand and places it flat on his chest, palm desperately close to his heart: it drums. “thought you’d dump me.”
you smile and kiss his nose, “not a chance.”
a silence briefly erupts and the two of you just stare at each other, moonlight glazing each one of your doubled reflections in the other’s pair of eyes: an utter warmth of transparency and trust and bond that’ll never grow old.
“i…” you start, jason’s ears immediately prick up, attentive to hear anything you’ll say. “are you still sleepy?”
benignly: “less now.” he pauses, “why? what do you wanna do?”
“just talk,” the duvet cover’s fabric echoes as you move to slide your arm down, propping yourself up with your upright elbow, chin in palm. “tell me about one of your days.” you slowly blink, madly in love.
“when i’m out fighting?” he asks, heart swelling at how loving you’re being, someday he’ll marry you he thinks.
“anything.” you slow, gentle voice lulls.
his thumb trills your knuckles back and forth before he begins: “alright.”
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