splish! splash! splosh!
jason todd x gender neutral reader. 708 words. notes: requested by @wereisthepie! thank you so much for requesting, lovely, and thank you for being so patient. enormous thank you to @angelz-dust, too, because i would never have gotten this thing written without her. she's a genius with the patience of a saint, and an absolute whiz of a writer. finally, yes, the title is a rubbadubbers reference. no, i won't be taking criticism on that. warnings: non-sexual nudity and physical touch, discussion of canon-typical danger and wounds.
"this one looks new," you said softly, tracing around a fresh scar on his back just below his ribs. the bathwater followed your motion and gently licked his side.
he sighed, shoulders slumping forward and a hand coming up to lazily toy with some of the foam coating the water. "yeah."
"can i ask?"
"ah, just some two face lackey getting lucky."
you hummed, bringing your hands up to massage the base of his neck. "i think you were lucky he wasn't about an inch higher, baby."
he tossed a smug grin over his shoulder. "no, no, it wasn't luck." a content sigh fell from him as your fingers dug into his skin, pushing the tension out of the muscle underneath. "that was all skill."
"on your part, i presume?" you asked with a small laugh, earning a nod.
"as if i would allow someone to mortally wound me. this scar?" he began, sitting up slightly, searching for it. he tapped it with his finger for emphasis- with a casual shrug for good measure- before leaning back into your hands. "tis but a scratch."
you hummed noncommittally, swallowing the urge to push the topic.
that was the difficult part of being with him: knowing when to pick your battles. sometimes, it was better to let him hide behind whatever clever smokescreen he put up; easier to ignore the obvious reasons for concern.
nothing good would come from pulling the curtain back on the great oz in front of you.
so, times like these, you let yourself admire the emerald city and disregard the danger underneath. you didn't push, knowing that he would only retreat into his own mind, shutting you out completely.
"you should have some faith in me, gorgeous." he said it quietly, comfort hidden under the confident tone. a familiar olive branch, it was his way of acknowledging what you both danced around.
you moved your hands down to his shoulders, squeezing them firmly. protectively. trying to say be more careful and don't get so cocky you don't come back and i need you here all at once, without the words that would make him pull away.
"i have plenty of faith in you, trust me. probably too much." you said, silently acknowledging his efforts with a poke to his cheek before lightening your tone to meet his playful deflections. "i think it's giving you an ego."
"no, i think that's from all the ass kicking." he leaned further into your touch, gently prompting you to continue your massaging. you obliged. "and the fact that i make the best stew in gotham, and we can't forget my looks."
"right, right, of course."
"you just boost the ego, 's all."
"ah, because that's totally something you need."
he gasped, throwing his hand against his heart and flinging water at you in the process. "is that sarcasm i detect?"
"usually."
"i'll have you know-" he let out a tiny oof at your vengeful splash- "that ego boosts are very important to the growth and maturation of gothamites."
you laughed, placing a kiss against his shoulder. "oh, you're planning to mature now?"
"maybe." he twisted at the waist, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. "i think there's someone that might benefit from a more mature jason todd."
"i dunno. i think this mysterious someone is probably pretty fond of you as you are."
"think someone might be willing to kiss me?"
"hm," you mumbled thoughtfully, hand moving up to capture his wrist, "depends. can you promise to be more careful about lackeys?"
he exhaled quietly, tired eyes dropping from your own to study your hand. "i'll do what i can." it was somber, quiet, but genuine and free of his usual bravado or clever deflection for just a moment.
it was meeting you halfway, not making any promises he couldn't keep. it was a placebo as much as it was anything: it was a sugar pill to ease your worry and keep the night warm and gentle. it meant nothing, but it was not given lightly.
you took the offering, a gentle squeeze of his wrist dragging his gaze back up and a small nod of agreement bringing his smirk back.
you leaned forwards, meeting him halfway.
