Jason Todd comes home one night and it's when you're kissing him that you notice something peculiar... It's not the regular taste of smoke and cinnamon lozenges that starts to warm your tongue, but rather, something minty, spicy and strange. You break away from his mouth and put your nose right up to his lips.
"Is that..." you start, then sniff, then start again. "Is that Nicorette?"
Jason opens his eyes, not like he's ready to admit guilt, but still shifty, evasive, looking for a way out, like when you make his talk about other stuff he doesn't feel like talking about (sometimes about washing his gear more often, and sometimes about calling B outside of vigilante purposes.)
"Yeah," he says flatly. "And?"
You raise a brow.
"Why the hell are you chewing Nicorette?"
He makes an effort to half shrug, the lazy, half-hearted kind that gives off an air of nothing to see here, as if pretending it’s no big deal (like he always does when it comes to stuff like this: his health, his safety, his choices). He works the gum out from where he stuck it between his back molars and his cheek in order to kiss you without hassle.
“Because...?" he says, chuckling slightly as if to laugh it off, then popping it between his teeth. "I'm trying not to smoke? Clearly?”
You furrow your brows, half amused, half genuinely agog. You made him swear not to smoke inside when you started living together in a new place, but you know he sucks down the cancer sticks when he's outside of your apartment like candy. You're just lucky he likes altoids and brushing his teeth twice daily, otherwise, you'd probably get on him about it more than you already do when you happen to catch him.
You stare.
“Since when?”
"Since I nearly choked on my post-sex cigarette and realized if I wanted to keep hitting it, I'd better stop."
"When?" you press harder.
“'couple days,” he confesses. "Richard said I smelled like a crematorium."
"Oh," you say dumbly. "For sex, and your brother...?"
There’s a long pause, a little too long—
"Just joking," he presses a kiss to your cheek. "For you. I've been…thinking about it for a while, anyway."
He smirks, but there’s a little vulnerability to it now, softened by the way your wide eyes now peer up at him, no longer in shock, but in tender and pensive wonder. You run a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar warmth of him, the smell of ash no longer dancing in between you.
