"You knew all this time, don't bullshit me Jason." I slammed the door behind me with force. He put a shaky hand down on the kitchen counter, back facing me. "You lied to me."
"I knew that the bullets didn't put you in the coma. But I didn't think Tim…had it in him." He slumped down, running his other hand through his hair.
"Are you kidding me?" I asked, fuming. "My brother put me in a goddamn coma! Because what? The Joker said one of us had to die? So Tim picked logically and picked me?"
"No. No, he was right." His eyes stared down, blankly. "He is smart. He wouldn't have killed you. He wanted to put you in a coma, so that is what he did. He probably didn't think it would last more than six months at best, which is why he's so…guilty and screwed up now."
"How do you comprehend this?" I threw my hand up and walked away from him, into his bedroom. "My own brother put me in a coma. Explain it, because clearly, I'm not rationalizing it right."
"The Joker would have come back unless he thought one of us was gone. So Tim made it look like you were gone. It's not like the Joker would have seen a big difference between being in a coma and dead. I guess Tim didn't count on you dying and then being revived, adding to the stress of the head injury." He leaned in the doorway, his muscular frame taking up most of the space.
"What did he even do to me?" He cringed, eyes drifting over my head.
"He hit you with something."
"This is insane." I paused. "Why aren't you mad about this?"
"Because it makes sense, I understand why he did it. It doesn't mean I like it." His blue eyes shifted over me again, checking me, making sure that I was okay, alive.
I shifted my gaze and got up, turning from him. I pulled the tie from my neck angrily and tossed it to a nearby chair. I could feel him, watching. It was protective, unnerving.
"Dick…"He finally spoke. "I know you haven't said much to me. I told you that I loved you before we left for dinner. I just wanted to know…was that a mistake?"
I hesitated a moment too long.
"I see." I could hear him walk out, holding it all in. Truth be told, I didn't know anymore, especially now. Jason made me feel loved, truly. I cared for him. But there would always be that fiber of myself that knew that it wouldn't be able to work out. Nothing perfect ever does.
He crumbled when I was gone. And what would he do next time? What would I do? This whole…thing we had made us utterly co-dependent on each other. We were doomed lovers, bound by fate to never be happy, and I knew it in my soul.
Yet…there was something more. I wanted him, I craved him. I heard his voice when I slept, his face was the last thing I saw before I died. Everything about him reminded me of a home and a love that I never had. It was all so different. I believed that the love I had for him brought me back, it brought me back for him.
"Jason." I called after him, wandering into the kitchen. He sat, drinking a glass of some brown liquid. I could only assume it was bourbon or whiskey, a very Jason-esque thing to drink. I struggled for the words as he looked up at me with hard eyes.
"Do you remember when we were kids?" I blurted, sitting next to him. "And Bruce went out on patrol when you were sick and I came over? You were so mad at me, so bratty, but we ended up having a really fun time? I showed you the secret passage above the kitchen that led to the attic?"
"Huh. Yea I remember that. I had the flu and he refused to let me go, and you came over to babysit, or so it seemed. I didn't like you very much then. You turned out to not be so bad." He took a sip of the drink, eyes twinkling off into the darkness.
"I loved you then. Not in this way that I do now, but I have always loved you Jason, you have always been a brother to me." I paused, positive I was going in the wrong direction. "But ever since you broke into my apartment it's been different. I've never loved anyone in the way that I love you, and it scares me."
"Why?" He looked back up to me, eyes locked on mine. And I found myself struggling for the words again.
"What if something happens to me again?" Before the words left my mouth he was up. He was in front of me, face inches from mine.
"Don't say that." He growled, "I won't let it happen."
"Jason, you can't control things like that! What if there is a fight, or the Joker gets ou-" He cut me off.
"No! I won't let anyone hurt you again. I blame myself fully for what happened to you, it was my fault. But I will not, ever, let something like that happen to you again." His hands held my jaw firmly in place, his gaze burning.
"Jason, what if-" He shut me up. Everyone was forever telling me I talk to much anyway.
His lips came down on mine, burning hot. I once compared Jason to a wild fire, and it was entirely accurate. Our breaths mixed together in a ragged harmony as we came up for air. I worked my fingers into his hair and he wrapped a strong hand on my lower back. Our tongues lingered together as he bit my lip. I gasped in surprise.
His other hand clutched my back as he kissed my neck and collarbones. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. He bent me down, just leaning over me, on the table. I looked into those blue-burning eyes before I pulled him down to kiss me again, my legs wrapped around his waist.
He lifted me off the counter and held me up and he walked to the bedroom. One hand supported my back as I kissed him, holding his face with mine. I felt myself being rammed up against a wall as I let out a hitched breath. Our foreheads came together as we let out deep breaths. He worked my jacket off and kissed me, letting me just stand there in wonder.
He only popped a few buttons off my shirt before I pushed him roughly back on the bed. He stumbled back and looked at me with shock, then a smile as he fell. I tugged the shirt the rest of the way off as I climbed over him, looking at him.
"Wait." He said.
"No." I kissed him roughly.
"Dick, stop." He looked up to me as I hovered over him, "Are you ready for this?"
I let out a grunt as I worked his shirt off. I threw it to the pile of clothing on the floor. He flipped me over and smiled, happy to be back in charge. His eyes looked me over again, lingering. I wrapped my fingers back in his hair.
His thumb traced over the scar on my chest, I couldn't feel it. His gaze locked on it for a few moments. He bent down and kissed it, and that time, I felt fire.