KyrptonianFem!reader x jason todd
warnings - fluff, none other than the fact that i have proof read it, petnames such as sweet and angel
when jason comes home to the smell of baked goods and to his girlfriend whisking egg whites vigorously. or when you think youre going to be fired so you decide the only good idea is to bake.
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When coming home from patrol, Jason usually found his apartment quiet and still. The lights were almost always off, save for a dim lamp here or there, and everything was peaceful. So when he opened the door that night at four in the morning only to be immediately assaulted by the smell of cookies and cake coming from every possible direction, all of the lights on, and the sound of pans banging and clattering in the kitchen, he was a little taken aback.
"Uh," was all he managed as he navigated the pastry-laden apartment, dodging the random dishes and utensils and trying not to question the sheer amount of egg shells on the floor. "Hello?"
Jason's girlfriend was in the kitchen holding a bowl, whisking away at what he guessed were egg whites, eyes wild and sunken as though in some sort of baking-induced fever. He'd heard of stress baking before, but this was straight up PTSD-with-a-side-of-existential-crisis baking, and there were enough sweets around to feed an army.
"Do I even wanna know what's going on here?" he asked, gesturing to the mess. "I mean, not that I mind having baked goods around, but I would probably go into a diabetic coma and die before I finished a tenth of..." he gestured again, "all this."
At the absence of a response, he frowned, approaching his girlfriend with a little poke. "Hey. Earth to alien Anyone home?"
"What?" You furrowed your eyebrows, blinking yourself out of the state you were in, the loud aggressive mixing that filled the now silent apartment.
Jason raised an eyebrow at the loud and aggressive mixing that now had stopped. Confused at what had he just interrupted. Perhaps an Olympic whisking competition, he thought.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, eyeing the bowl of egg whites warily. "Angel, you know it's four in the morning, right? Normal people are asleep. Or at least they're not baking enough pastries to feed a small country."
"Yes, I'm aware what time it is." You nodded.
Jason exhaled sharply through his nose, crossing his arms. "Cool. Cool cool cool." He gestured vaguely at the kitchen disaster zone with one hand while still keeping a firm grip on his own arm like it was the only thing holding him together right now.
"So what's your deal? Are you stress-baking or just trying to single-handedly reenact a Willy Wonka factory meltdown in our apartment?" His tone was gruff but there was an undercurrent of actual concern beneath all that snark—just enough for you to notice if she wasn’t too deep in whatever baking-induced trance this was.
"I think- i think I'm getting fired." You sighed, a small but noticeable frown forming on your lips.
"Fired." Jason repeated flatly, his expression morphing from mild disbelief to outright incredulity, all in the span of three seconds. For a moment, it looked like his brain was glitching as he struggled to process this new information. "Seriously? You're stress-baking because you think you're gonna get fired?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Okay. Okay. So you might be getting fired, and you think the answer is… what? An unhealthy amount of dessert?"
"Well- no but it was the first idea that came to mind!" You defended yourself with a small shrug.
Jason gave a small snort of surprise, his disbelief growing. "Of all the things you could have done, baking a whole mountain of cookies and pastries was the first thing that came to mind?" Jason raised his eyebrows, he couldnt help but find it funny. "I get stress eating but this is.. something else." He chuckled softly.
"You love my desserts though, you'll eat them. Won't you?" You looked up at him with a sigh. "Of course i'll eat them, sweet." Jason grumbled.
"Im not gonna waste good food, but that's not the point here." He stepped closer, "This isnt healthy. Youre freaking out over the possible idea that you could be getting fired."
Your shoulders slumped, your expression a mixture of frustration, resignation, and defeat all rolled into one. You knew Jason had a point, this was ridiculous. "I know," you mumbled. "It's just... I can't help it, okay? Baking is how i cope. It's familiar, its comforting."
Jason frowned. He understood all too well—he had his own unhealthy coping mechanisms. But seeing you like this, so stressed and desperate that you had to resort to a sugar-fueled frenzy to find some semblance of comfort.. it made him feel for you.
"Angel," he said, his voice gentler than usual, "I get it, I really do. But you can't keep numbing yourself with sugar and dough every time something bad happens." He reached out tentatively, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You're gonna end up making yourself sick. you already look like hell. You haven't slept, have you?"
You sighed softly, mumbling a small "no." Jason gives you a look, "take me to bed?" You put your arms out so he could carry you to your shared room. "Yeah, yeah. Ive got you." He murmured,
"But youre cleaning this the second you wake up." He added as he lifted you up gently, you rested your head against his shoulder.
Once you both make it to your bedroom, he sets you down onto the bed softly, pulling the covers up to your chin while he lied beside you, arms around your body even if he wasnt under the blankets.
Finally, he spoke up, "You're going to be okay, angel." He said firmly. "No matter what happens with your job, you're gonna be okay. You're strong, youre a half alien. So, extremely strong.
You shifted slightly, snuggling deeper into the covers. "You really mean that?" you murmured, your voice tinged with a hint of disbelief.
Jason nodded, his expression softening even more. "Yeah, I do."
"You're tough, sweet," he added gruffly, gently rustling her hair. "Tougher than you realize."
You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion starting to sink in.
He held you tightly, watching as your breathing beginning to even out, a sign that you were finally succumbing to the exhaustion. He had the idea of cleaning the kitchen himself so you had more sleep, but for now he found himself content just sitting there, keeping vigil over you while you slept.
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