Jason is good at taking care of others (but won't admit it) and Sabine's life is basically the 'This Is Fine' dog sitting on a chair while their surroundings are engulfed in flames.

C/W: mentions of undereating, childhood trauma

Chapter 20 of What's Up, Danger?: This Is Fine

9:50 AM, Tuesday

Sabine's eyes dropped down at the insulated thermos she held between her hands as she weaved through the busy city sidewalk.

Coffee counts as breakfast, right?

She rationalized it further. There was a tablespoon or two of creamer in it, so that was extra calories beyond just plain black coffee.

And calories give you energy.

Well, extra energy on top of the caffeine.

Exhausted, she scurried up the steps of the office building, the hot bean juice not yet giving her the extra pep she needed to get through the morning.

Sabine hadn't mentioned the annihilation of her appetite to her therapist yet. It was relatively new to her and she hadn't realized it herself until she opened her fridge and cupboards to find them almost empty and devoid of anything that could be considered remotely nutritious.

It wasn't that she wasn't trying to not eat. It was more that she forgot to. On the occasion she did remember she needed sustenance to survive, everything from simple butter on toast to stir fry from the takeout place down the street from her apartment made her stomach churn unpleasantly after a few bites.

Gulping down several scalding mouthfuls of coffee, Sabine checked in at the receptionist's desk, handed over her debit card for the co-pay, sat in a blue chair, and waited for her name to be called.

Today Dr. Carla Rocha's office smelled faintly of lavender. Sabine supposed the oil diffuser, a new addition to the office, was supposed to be calming. It reminded her of fresh laundry and then she remembered she hadn't done her own laundry in over a week. So much for calming.

Sabine's eyes twitched towards that clock on the wall. The appointment was almost over and they'd only made small talk. Not a very productive appointment. Her fingers tightened around the smooth surface of the thermos, counting down the seconds until she could leave.

"Next time I'll see you will be in January," Carla reminded her, her calm voice interrupting Sabine's thoughts like a sharp knife. The therapist opened up the small black calendar book in her lap to double-check the dates.

Sabine nodded mechanically, remembering that this was the time of year Dr. Rocha traveled out of town to see her own family for the holidays.

Carla's eyes danced over Sabine's tired face. "Are you still going to group?"

"Yeah," Sabine replied before casting her eyes down, "sometimes." It wasn't a lie. She'd been twice.

"Do you find it beneficial?"

Sabine pursed her lips and shrugged, not revealing that she had yet to share in group therapy. "A little."

"Over your academic break, I want you to continue going if you're finding it helpful." Carla closed the book and crossed a leg over her knee. "Are you going to visit your family?"

"Yeah, for about a week. Gonna spend Christmas and New Year's at home." Another respite from Gotham sounded damn pleasant.

Carla nodded soothingly, relaxing into her chair. "Well, you have my number if you need to text or call if there's an emergency, and you know the other emergency lines." She paused as she watched Sabine pick her backpack off the carpet and sling the straps over her shoulders. "Try to take care of yourself."

Sabine was only half-listening, zoned out, and stuck back inside her head.

Storrison's death. Marie's withered corpse. Madame Xanadu's words. Jason's grave. When would it stop being too much?

Stepping into the hallway and seeing Jason's face after a week slammed into her like a sucker punch to the chest, the shock alone was enough to take the air out of her. Because it was him—Jason Todd—less than a few feet away from her and alive in the flesh as opposed to dead, which she's pretty sure that's what he was supposed to be—dead. Dead and buried six feet under.

Sabine hated her powers, they were an uncontrollable invasion of privacy. She wished she could scrub her mind clean and forget the haunting image of his gravestone and how rosy-cheeked and young he looked in the school photos that accompanied the true crime articles she dug up online. She wished he would've remained simply just a friendly face from the therapist's office. But the universe just loved to complicate everything.

But why did skin-to-skin contact with him trigger these visions?—the question had simmered in her mind for the past few days, deeply troubling her. They'd playfully bumped and nudged each other many times without incident. Even the memory of riding on the back of his bike with her arms slipped around his torso elicited nothing more than a strange flutter in her stomach.

There was a powerful temptation to scour her mother's books, perhaps an answer lurked somewhere between the pages. Madame Xanadu claimed that the old grimoires contained knowledge after all, but Sabine extinguished the temptation as soon as it ignited. She didn't trust that anything good could come from those tomes no matter how curious she was.

One explanation clawed its way to the forefront: perhaps whatever power that brought Jason back from the dead had been magical. Was that the connection? It was the only theory she had for now.

It was when he lifted his face from his phone she saw dark stubble covering his jawline, looking like he just rolled out of bed. Jason pushed his hair out of his face with his free hand, unknowingly showing off the volume of his dark locks. His green eyes landed on her and his lips curled upwards into a sly smile.

The button on the wall panel next to the elevator glowed amber around the down arrow. It was too late for her to change her mind and make a frantic escape down the stairs. Leaving now would only be suspicious.

Jason rolled back his shoulders and slipped his phone into his back pants pocket. "Hey, you."

"Hey," she greeted in response while her mind raced—Act natural, act natural. She wasn't sure what to do with her arms. What did 'act natural' even mean? She settled on crossing her arms over her chest while her fingers tugged at the pills on her sleeves as she fidgeted, hyperaware she was acting the opposite of natural by constantly shifting around.

Jason's brows lifted, instantly recognizing something was off. And, oh god, were the bags under her eyes somehow darker? Tim couldn't hold a candle to hers.

Her sudden and frazzled departure in the stairwell last week had been confusing, and now the way she looked at him like he was a completely foreign entity. Distrusting.

Sabine's eyes kept zipping non-discreetly in his direction, hoping for a peek of something that would reveal his true undead nature. Rotting flesh, bones erupting through his skin, exposed sinew of muscle, anything that was a shred of proof. However, he looked the same as he always did. Even his cheeks were tinged pink with life.

"Is…is there something on my face?" He blindly pawed at his nose, unable to ignore her furtive sideways glances because she was being so obvious about it.

"No, no," she rushed out as she uncrossed her arms, "just, uhh—" fuck, it was hard to think of an excuse on the spot like this.

Jason smirked again, hoping in vain to set her at ease. "Then you're just looking?" He lolled his head to the side and dubiously waggled his eyebrows. "Admiring?"

What she had been wondering was how was it possible for an undead man to grow facial hair? but what came out of her mouth instead was a spicy retort:

"So what if I am?"

She wanted to combust into flames on the spot.

Jason breathed out a stilted laugh in surprise because someone truly admired him or how he looked. File that under things that would never happen. However, he appreciated being humored.

"I'll allow it," he said. He jammed hands in the front pockets of his red hoodie and couldn't stop himself from asking, "But really, what's wrong?"

Sabine felt she might vomit. Nobody asked that question and wanted you to answer honestly.

Forced politeness spilled out of her.

"I'm fine, everything's fine," she said determinedly.

Jason scoffed. Was he supposed to believe that? If he had a dollar for every time he heard that automated response he'd…well, he'd probably still need to financially rely on Bruce. But he didn't need his years of training to know bullshit when he heard it.

"Wanna talk about it over coffee or something?" he offered earnestly before seeing how much she was jittering already. "We don't have to talk about whatever's eating you but maybe we should get you some water."

Sabine wasn't sure how to respond, but before she could say anything her stomach gurgled loudly. Mortified, her ears turned pink at how her bodily functions betrayed her. She wanted to sink to the floor, bury her head between her knees, and disappear into nothing.

Unfazed, Jason snorted, though it lacked its usual caustic edge. He beckoned her to follow him with a wave of his hand. "Yeah, let's get you some food too while we're at it."

She shuffled her feet, giving in easily. "You sure? I don't want to take up too much of your time."

His head jerked towards the elevator as it dinged, signaling its arrival, and its doors glided open.

Jason ushered her inside, his tone leaving no quarter for her to argue. "Just a quick stop and bite to eat. Come on."

They'd been to this diner before. Sabine remembered it. They even sat just several stools down from where they seated themselves last time they were here. The atmosphere felt different during the day, livelier. Upon their last visit, the establishment buzzed with early morning commuters and night-shift workers filling their stomachs. Now she could hardly distinguish between the clattering of plates, the upbeat music bursting out of the speakers, and the boisterous chatter of other customers.

Nudging Sabine's foot with the side of his boot, Jason asked, "Am I gonna have to force feed you this breakfast burrito?"

After surveying her surroundings like a nervous mouse, Sabine's eyes dropped down to the stuffed burrito in front of her. The waiter had set down several minutes ago. The steam from the heat rising off it already dissipated.

She shook her head as she poked the burrito around on the plate with the fork, the metal prongs occasionally scraping the ceramic surface. Reluctantly, she sawed off a bite-sized morsel of tortilla, egg, cheese, potato, and bacon, dabbed it in the plop of sour cream on top of the burrito and shoved it into her mouth. It weighed heavily on her tongue and she made a face, but it was warm and savory and yummy. She chewed slowly, consciously having to work her jaw and teeth.

Nausea crept in as she continued to grind the food with her molars. Then she swallowed, which also took tremendous effort.

Jason rewarded her with a tiny smile. "See? That didn't seem so bad," he said gently.

Sabine gave him a pitiful look.

The next few bites were also a struggle. Her stomach felt queasy like she was on the edge of being sick. However, she didn't want to let Jason down, which proved to be an excellent motivator. After a few minutes of eating under Jason's watchful eye as he worked on his own plate, the bites became easier and she continued until less than a third of the monstrous burrito remained.

Jason casually bumped her elbow with his own. "So, what's the verdict?"

"Good," she said simply, digging out the innards of the breakfast burrito with the fork.

Jason nodded along, thinking over the question he wanted to ask her because he didn't know if there was a delicate way to phrase his concerns. He could see the battle each bite was for her. He didn't want to force her, but he didn't want her to inadvertently starve herself either. He was too familiar with how anxiety could decimate one's appetite.

Worry festered inside him until he blurted out, "When's the last time you ate? Like, actually had a meal?"

She froze, the fork in her hand no longer scraping along the plate's surface. Was it that obvious?

Hastily, she tried to think. "I…it was…hmm."

"It's okay," he said, face creasing, "you have a lot going on. Just"—he wasn't good at this but he was trying—"try to remember to take care of yourself. Eat, hydrate, sleep, and all of that stuff."

She tried to absorb his words. "Brain bad," she admitted quietly, barely audible over the music, "adulting hard."

Understandingly, he bobbed his head. "Yeah, I get that, but I'm not always gonna be there to drag you out to get something to eat and drink."

"So what?" she questioned sullenly, "are you gonna call and text me every few hours to make sure I've had a cup of water and eaten?"

Jason took a swig of coffee and set the mug back down on the counter with a light plunk. He leaned his elbows on the surface and rested his chin on one of his palms. His expression was dead serious when he replied sternly, "Yeah, I will."

Sabine's eyes widened slightly, taken back by his honesty. Her cheeks quickly turned a mottled shade of red and her eyes darted away from his laser-focused stare. "Oh. Okay then."

He made a breathy noise, muddled somewhere between a sigh and a huff. "So don't give me a reason to show up at your door with a combo meal from Bat Burger and a feeding tube."

Jason's tone may have been crass, but Sabine took note of the concern that seeped into his rough features. It was nice that someone cared and noticed. She set her fork down and sat with that comforting thought for a moment.

It was hard to have someone see her like this, and she felt like Jason regularly saw her when she wasn't at her best. Though, he didn't make her feel bad about it. He was just there, and something about his presence made her feel warm and light, and fluffy. Halfway through her train of thought, Sabine wondered if she was still thinking about Jason or the scrambled eggs she was in the middle of consuming.

"You have finals next week?" he probed, his finger tracing the mug handle.

Sabine nodded with a wistful sigh, utterly resigned to her fate. She contemplated asking the head of her law program for extra time to prepare—extenuating circumstances and all that—but grades were due the week after finals. She didn't think another week of studying would make too much of a difference when her brain was a fractured mess, nor did she know if Dr. Steele would acquiesce to such a request. She was stuck in a lose-lose situation. All she could do was try her best.

He inquired further, "Have you got groceries or anything?"

Apprehensively, she rolled her teeth over her bottom lip. "Not since I came back from Thanksgiving."

Shame bloomed inside her at the confession. Horrible, awful shame.

"Shit, Sab," he pinched the bridge of his nose but it wasn't disappointment she picked up in his tone, it was sympathy, "that was what, over two weeks ago?"

She didn't answer him as she sulked, her silence was confirmation enough.

Jason didn't know yet if he could save her from whatever supernatural entity that was terrorizing the city, but he knew he could save her from the hell that was hunger. His hand tugged on the sleeve of her sweater.

"Want to go grocery shopping after your classes are over today?"

The look she gave him was dodgy. "Are you…are you sure?" Nervously, she wet her bottom lip. "Don't you have other things to do?"

What she meant to ask was 'don't you have better things to do?' It felt greedy and indulgent to take up more of his time.

"Yeah, I do," he quipped and her heart sank but it floated back up and nearly jumped out her throat when he continued, "but those things can wait. Gotta make sure you're eating some veggies, too."

Sabine folded her hands together in her lap and her eyes drifted sideways to watch him.

"You gonna cook for me or something too?" She meant it as a lame joke.

Jason didn't meet her eyes when he drummed his hand against the linoleum counter and muttered, "I'll think about it."

He wasn't prepared for how the idea made his cheeks burn. His answer wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no. Cooking for someone other than himself wasn't something he did often, usually only when Roy begged because no one could season and pan sear a piece of meat like he did—a learned skill he could thank Alfred for.

After wearily mulling over his words for a moment, she accepted his response with a mousey smile. "Okay, but no brussel sprouts."

Jason scoffed heartily. The challenge was on. "Ohh, I'll make you love brussel sprouts."

The upswing in her mood was apparent. Sabine tried not to roll her eyes at the hubris oozing out of him. "So you're definitely cooking for me then?"

He clicked his tongue and then drained the remainder of his coffee before giving in. His shoulders slumped inwards. "Guess so."

Besides, she had made him (well, Red Hood) a grilled cheese sandwich that one time. Now he could square up with the small debt he owed her.

The waiter came by and whisked their plates away and left their checks on the counter.

"Just text me when you're out of class. I'll pick you up," he said after they paid and stood under the diner's overhang. The air was chilly and he lifted his hood up to cover his neck and ears.

"On the motorcycle?" she asked.

He blinked, incredulous. "What's wrong with that?"

"No, nothing," she said, although she'd have to think of an excuse to miss today's group study session in the library with her classmates. "Sounds like a plan."

Jason's arrival was prompt after she texted him. He found her sitting on the curb outside the dreary lecture hall, rereading over her scribbled notes from the seminar, and he half-heartedly apologized for not bringing helmets this time.

"We'll be fine," he assured her as she saddled up behind him. "I ride all the time without a helmet."

Her arms snaked around his torso and her heart hammered against her rib cage, partly from their proximity and partly from the fear of her head cracking open like an egg on the road. Brain matter and fragments of skull smeared on the pavement instead of yellow yolk.

"If I die, I'll haunt your ass forever," she swore with a cynical lilt into the back of his hoodie.

Jason had to laugh. If she had the energy to grind out some snark, she was in a better mood. Good.

"I've heard that one before," he said in amusement as he clutched the throttle and the bike rumbled.

The trip to the grocery store wasn't as scary as Sabine imagined it would be. After her long misadventure with Red Hood, a short motorcycle ride didn't make her stomach plummet straight to her knees as Jason veered sharply around the busy city streets. He parked outside her apartment and they mutely walked to a store a few blocks away, Sabine a few paces behind him. All the snow had melted, leaving grey piles of slush along the sidewalk.

The brightness of the lights inside the store against the grey skies outside took a moment to adjust to. Sabine rubbed her knuckles against her eyelids between blinks as Jason grabbed a cart.

She watched with a frown as the first thing Jason tossed into the shopping cart was a package of brussel sprouts. The plastic bag landed in the cart with a crinkle.

It was useless to mask her skepticism. "Oh, you were serious about that?"

His smirk showed off a glint of his teeth as he pushed the cart and the wheels squeaked along the floor.

"Yup," then he added, "a little bit of olive oil, garlic, and grated parmesan and even you won't be able to say no to them."

A disgruntled noise escaped her throat, but she didn't protest further.

Jason couldn't hold in his snicker. "What did brussel sprouts ever do to you?"

"It's more like…" Sabine paused for a beat as memories of her childhood came zooming back to her, "my mom never really cooked, and then when I moved in with Dad and Roz they didn't really know how to cook either—they were both so busy with work sometimes—but they tried. And every time the carrots, or broccoli, or sprouts, or whatever the hell they cooked, just turned out mushy."

Jason continued pushing the cart and hummed. "My mom never really cooked all that much either, it wasn't until—" he stopped when he realized how intently her attention was glued on him.

"Until when?" she piped up. Jason sharing about himself was a rarity.

His eyes narrowed and he brushed by her with the shopping cart. "You're a nosy one, aren't ya?" he admonished, ending that discussion.

Disappointed, Sabine thinned her lips into a line. There was only so much that she learned about him from secondary sources online, but hearing the little intimate details of his life straight from Jason's own mouth were precious little golden nuggets of knowledge and helped ease her anxieties about his death and his mysterious reanimation.

She mumbled, "Not nosy, just…curious."

His head dipped. Maybe he'd been too harsh.

Jason kept glancing sideways at her as they made their way through the store, silently appraising her condition. He recognized the hints that mangled her facial features all too well: tiredness and despair. She'd been through so much. Guilt gnawed at him because he felt partly to blame.

"What else do you usually eat?" he pried, shoving his regret to the back of his mind and his eyes scanning the shelves as they turned down an aisle with dry pasta noodles, various jars of tomato sauces, and canned soup.

Sabine put her hands behind her back. "Mostly stuff I can throw into a crockpot and forget about, like chili or soup. And then easy stuff like sandwiches, ramen…"

"Well, pick some things. I didn't bring you here to just gawk at everything." Jason leaned over the handle of the cart and pointed to the single content within. "The brussel sprouts are lonely."

Sabine folded her arms over her chest listlessly as she gave the shelves a look over. Nothing looked terribly appetizing to her, but she recognized that was the chemical imbalance in her brain talking.

She stared at the kidney beans and the small cans of diced green peppers and tomatoes. "I guess I could make chili," she said to herself as she dragged her thumb over her chin.

Jason hummed his approval as Sabine placed several cans in the cart, and finally some companions for the brussel sprouts.

He egged her on, relieved she was being cooperative. "Okay, what else?"

"Something for breakfast," she mumbled, "cereal, milk, bread…"

"Good, good," he agreed.

They weaved through the aisles with Jason prompting her to pick something from here and something from there. He didn't push too hard, but just enough. Slowly and surely, the cart filled until the metal grate at the bottom was nearly covered.

Sabine watched Jason select a package of wrapped chicken breasts on the shelves in the meat department.

Jason side-eyed her. "What?" His dark brows arched towards his hairline as he placed the chicken breasts in the cart. "Admiring again?"

"You wish," she all but stammered out. She refused to look at him as he chuckled.

She pouted because this time it was true, that combined with the realization that Jason was teasing her pooled under her skin, hot and red. She saw the flushed apparition of her reflection as they eventually strolled by the line of glass doors in the frozen food section.

Peering over the edge of the cart, Sabine looked over the items they'd selected: hers was a jumbled mix of foods she could easily prepare, just the way she liked it, and within her strapped budget. Jason kept his picks separate in the folding basket carrier; chicken, some lemons, the dreaded brussel sprouts, olive oil, and a few spices.

She assured him that she had some cooking necessities at home, such as salt and pepper, but he'd grabbed pepper flakes and rosemary. Whatever he had planned was far beyond her own culinary abilities.

Jason clenched his jaw as they approached the checkout. He could scarcely recall a time when he had done something as mundane as grocery shopping with someone else and found it this painless. Maybe the few times he went with Alfred when he was a teenager? But that was a long, long time ago.

The two divvied up their items at the self-checkout registers and paid separately.

Sabine dug through her backpack as Jason bagged his purchases, her face visibly paling.

She groaned, "Shit, I don't have my canvas bags."

Jason snorted and flicked the blue strand of hair out of her face. "Oh noo," he feigned in mock horror, "you've doomed the entire planet. How will we ever go on?"

She made a sour face. "Just trying to do my part, or whatever."

He leaned his arm on her shoulder as she grudgingly shoved her purchases into the provided plastic bags, the weight of his forearm was a comforting nuisance.

"Can't save the world on an empty stomach," Jason wryly reminded her.

The smells of garlic and lemon seeped into every corner of her small studio, blanketing the space in their aromas.

Sabine sat on the edge of the counter, her legs dangled over the side, and observed as Jason flipped the chicken breasts that crackled in the oil on the hot pan.

CEO was tucked away under the coffee table, grooming his front paws after having a meal of canned wet food. No longer begging for scraps of chicken from Jason.

"He's chonky enough," Sabine reasoned when she told Jason not to give into his pathetic and whiny meows. "Look at the way his fanny pack sways when he walks."

Jason eyed the cat. "Fanny pack?"

"His gut," she clarified.

He tried to recall if he'd heard Stephanie use that word when trying to show him cat videos. Jason decided he had a lot to learn about cat terminology and turned his attention back to the frying pan.

Sabine tried not to laugh as she saw his face screw up while he volumelessly articulated the word "fanny pack?" to himself.

Her eyes lingered on his profile, taking in the slightly crooked nose and the scar on the edge of his bottom lip.

Jason was a delightful sight to behold with the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up, revealing vascular forearms, sweat dappling his forehead from the heat of the flame licking the bottom of the pan and radiating from the oven, and his dark brows pinched with concentration. Or maybe his forehead creases were from him still mulling over the newfound meaning of fanny pack.

Everything about him should have been intimidating, from his tank-like frame to the broody glare that felt like it could snap you in half. Hard-edged and dangerous. His towering presence filled up the room. But here he was in her tiny kitchenette cooking for her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It strangely suited him.

She mused that he would look even more domesticated with an apron, but kept that to herself as her thoughts flitted back to food.

Jason preferred to have the kitchen to himself whilst he cooked—Alfred being nearly the sole exception. The saying "too many chefs in the kitchen" rang true about spectators as well, and Sabine's kitchenette was cramped with minimal counter space; not much room to move for a big guy like himself.

Roy liked to dramatically drape himself over the counter or table and complain he was dying of hunger pangs. It was annoying as hell. So Sabine's friendly banter was a welcome change of pace.

It was difficult for him to decipher what Sabine was thinking as they talked. The air of unresolved tension swirled around her like a storm cloud hanging over her head threatening to burst with rain.

Jason stooped to check on the brussel sprouts through the oven's rectangular glass window. "Do you do anything to take your mind off things? Distract yourself?"

She shrugged, noticing the peculiar direction of his hair whorl on the top of his head as he knelt. "Reading, mostly. It helps me get out of my brain for a bit."

He could frighteningly relate to that and straightened up back to his full height, his eyes leveling on her.

"Yeah? Same." He leaned towards her slightly, one hand propped on the counter to support his weight. "Read anything good lately?"

Sabine swung her legs, and the back of her heels thumped against the cupboards beneath the counter. "Yeah, the librarian I talked to recommended a book to me—it's over on the couch. I haven't finished it yet."

Jason swiveled his head towards the cozy living room area. His eyes zeroed in on the arm of the couch where the aforementioned book lay, even from a distance the cover was recognizable to him. It was a variant of the copy he owned, he'd know it anywhere. His heart skipped a beat when he saw she didn't fold down the corners of the pages. Instead, a fuschia post-it note sticking out of the side marked her progress.

She observed how his green eyes twinkled like shiny emeralds.

"You've read Pride and Prejudice before?" Sabine inferred excitedly.

Jason tried not to give too much away and half-shrugged, smothering his reaction. "Yeah, it's alright."

His non-confession pulled a bubble of laughter from her, not fooled for a second. The way his eyes lit up was an obvious giveaway. He could deny her tidbits about his childhood all he wanted, but gleaning that he not only read but thoroughly enjoyed a romance novel written in the 1800s was more valuable than any gem.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here," she said cheekily, divining the truth, "and say it's a favorite of yours."

He tutted gruffly and poked the tip of her nose with the edge of the oily spatula. "Lucky guess."

Sabine rubbed her nose with her sleeve, wiping away the offending glob of grime. They lapsed into contented silence as Jason twisted back towards the stove, tending to the chicken in the pan.

Several minutes passed before the shrill beep from a kitchen timer intrusively penetrated the air.

After turning the timer off, Jason slipped on an oven mitt and fetched the roasted brussel sprouts on the sheet pan out of the depths of the oven.

Sabine internally admitted that they looked tempting as he set the pan to the side to cool; she had watched him drizzle them in oil, some spices, and grated cheese.

"Go and sit at the table," he instructed her as he wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm, "it's almost done."

She eagerly slid off the counter, her sock-covered feet landing on the floor.

His eyes scanned the kitchenette. "Plates?"

"Cupboard to the right."

"Utensils?"

"Drawer next to the oven." She saw him reach for the drawer on the left and amended her instructions, "The other one."

She sat at one of the chairs at the small table, barely big enough for two people.

"Here you go," Jason said as he set the plate in front of her and handed her a set of utensils. Lemon chicken with roasted brussel sprouts. He filled two glasses of water and placed them on the table as well.

He fixed a plate for himself and joined her at the table, hunching over as he tucked into the meal he prepared. There wasn't much room on the small wooden surface, their plates practically touched.

Sabine decided to be brave and stabbed a brussel sprout. She inspected it carefully before biting it off the fork. She dropped her fork and her hands flew up to cover her mouth.

"Holy shit, it's good!"

"Oh ye, of little faith," Jason chuckled as his chest swelled with pride. "Of course it is, I told you so."

Sabine finished before Jason, much to her surprise. Polishing off two meals in one day was her running record for the week.

Jason didn't need verbal affirmation of his cooking skills but wanted to wheedle her anyway for the hell of it. There were few things he loved more than being smugly right. "That good, huh?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Did someone teach you? Back in the store, you said—"

"—my grandfather taught me," Jason swiftly interrupted as he took a sip of water, settling on the simplest explanation.

He averted his eyes from her inquisitive ones and berated himself. He couldn't keep shutting her down like this, but his defensive words came spitting out of him like a bad reflex. He valued their quick friendship—a revelation in itself that rattled him to his core.

Sabine sensed that it was a sensitive topic and moved on in an attempt to pull the conversation back into a more light-hearted direction.

"Are you gonna teach me how to punch and cook?"

Jason regarded her with a snort and rolled his eyes, still riding the high of subverting her expectations. "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves."

In a poorly timed fashion, the phone in his pocket vibrated. Still chewing, he fished his phone out, glanced at the message that lit up at the top of the screen, and deflated.

Sabine dissolved into frayed nerves when she saw a shadow flicker over his face. "Everything okay?"

"Gotta go. Work stuff," he said briskly, standing up and pushing the chair away from the table. "You have tupperware?"

"Cupboard next to the plates."

Jason moved sluggishly as he transferred the chicken and sprouts into two separate containers and stacked them on top of one another in the refrigerator. There was just enough for one meal.

Mood elevated, Sabine followed after him like a puppy wanting to please, bringing the plates and glasses from the table to the kitchen sink.

Sabine knocked her elbow against his. "Thanks for cooking."

With her head tilted up, she smiled a smile that erased all the weariness and dread that had been tying her insides into knots.

A lump lodged itself in Jason's throat as she gazed up at him with her big brown eyes and a smile so sincere that it brutally gutted him. His heart swan-dived as he swallowed. Within their proximity, he could see the tiny freckles on the bridge of her nose and the dimples in her cheeks.

Instead of speaking, he responded with a curt nod of acknowledgment because he didn't trust his voice to not sound ruined.

He plodded towards the door with heavy steps and stopped short. He looked over his shoulder and found her trailing after him. Their gazes fused and held, unwavering and powerful.

If he didn't say anything now, he was sure he'd regret it. "For what it's worth," he said hesitantly, "I'm sorry you're going through a rough time." He wished he could do more.

She stepped towards him gingerly, afraid to break whatever spell pulled their eyes together so intensely, afraid he'd run.

"Jason," she said quietly.

His heart blistered at how sweetly she said his name.

A moment of intense waiting passed before she finally asked, "Do you do hugs?"

His brain completely bricked, and synapses stopped firing. "What?"

"Hugs," she repeated, this time with humor lacing her voice, "do you hug? Can I hug you?"

It took a moment for his brain to reboot. Jason scratched the back of his neck.

Considering for another moment, he mumbled, "Sure, I mean, if you want—"

Before he could get another word out Sabine moved closer, crowding him with open arms. She was prudent to slip her arms under his and around his middle, doing what she could to avoid skin contact. She inhaled and tried not to giggle when she smelled garlic on him.

With the side of her face on his chest, his heart beat strongly against her ear. Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.

Carefully, Jason's arms enveloped her shoulders. All the horrible things he'd done with his hands flashed before him; all the broken bones, blood, and misery he'd caused. Gathering her in his arms was a tender reminder that his scarred hands could be gentle when he wanted.

Sabine fumbled for words as Jason's body heat devoured her. Her misgivings about him slipped away. "Thanks again."

Jason squeezed her shoulders, reveling in the most human contact he'd had in months. "Don't mention it."

Eventually, his arms fell back down to his sides and Sabine released him, somewhat reluctantly.

Jason let out a breath. "I'll see you later." Then he wagged his finger at her. "You better eat those leftovers, too."

"I will, I will," Sabine said as he dislodged the deadbolt in her door and opened it. She made an x-shape with her fingers over her heart. "Promise."

Jason gradually smiled, but he needed to get a move on. He'd dawdled for far too long. "Glad to hear it. I was only half-joking about the feeding tube."

He waved and shut the front door behind him, disappearing from view. However, she still heard him stalking down the hallways through the thin walls.

The studio felt emptier without his presence. To distract herself, she flopped down on the couch and reopened the borrowed copy of Pride & Prejudice. She flipped to the post-it note where she left off and hoped that the pages might reveal more about Jason Todd's true nature. The dirty dishes in the sink could wait an hour or two.

Hours later, Jason dragged himself in through his window and fell unceremoniously onto the floor, dead tired. He rolled onto his back and took off his helmet before setting it beside him.

"Hello, apartment," he breathed into the shadows, relieved to be home. Safe.

After taking the time to catch his breath as the new bruises on his body throbbed, he pushed himself up and stumbled over to the bedroom.

Besides his neatly made bed, his phone was plugged into the charger. He peeled off his clothes, dropping them on the nightstand. A swipe with his index finger at the screen displayed the time, 4:30 AM, and several unread text notifications.

He slid his jacket down his shoulders before unlocking his phone with his thumbprint. He tapped at the messaging app and saw that Sabine had sent him several messages.

(11:25 PM)

Sabine: finished the leftovers ️

Sandwiched between her texts was the photo of the nearly empty plastic container that Jason had put the leftovers in. In the corner was a familiar-looking blurry fluff ball with his mouth open and tiny teeth on display, probably yowling for more chicken, the absolute glutton.

(11:26)

Sabine: thank you again master chef

Jason ruffled his sweaty mop of hair, pleased with himself. Helping a friend had a different kind of sweet satisfaction than stopping a robbery or raiding a warehouse. He shot back a text to her although he was sure she wouldn't see it for a few more hours.

(4:35 AM)

Jason: Drink a glass of water when you see this *before* you have coffee.

Satisfied, he tossed the cellphone on his bed and it bounced once before landing next to his pillow. Slowly, he stripped off his clothes and left them in a crumpled trail as he made his way over to the bathroom. With a turn of the shower knob, hot water cascaded over him, soothing his skin and filling the room with steam.

Hands planted on the tiled wall and head down, he imagined some of his worries washing away along with the water circling the drain.

While rinsing the conditioner from his hair, the ghost of a memory ensnared him—something the water couldn't make him forget. He pictured Sabine's arms around him and her body pressed up against him as if she fit into the gaping hole in his center. He wouldn't have minded staying intertwined for longer.

His mind delved even further into the rabbit hole before he could stop it. What would it be like to touch her skin without layers of fabric in the way, her hands, her cheeks, her lips…

Jason's eyes snapped open and the deafening throb of his heartbeat reverberated between his ears and radiated to his temples. He put his forehead against the bathroom tile, the coolness dampening the wicked places his thoughts strayed and unsure where the hell the feeling had crept up on him from. His heartstrings felt shredded and raw.

Even changing into clean clothes and crawling under the bedsheets wasn't enough to calm his mind.

With his tense hands clutching the front of his damp locks in frustration, Jason stared up at the dark ceiling as his heart beat obnoxiously fast. He was certain this cataclysmic epiphany halted the rotation of the earth and violently split his world in two.

"Fuck."

This was not fine.

A/N: The transitions in this chapter could use some work, but I'm so tireeddd.

This fic is almost one-year-old! :D (noting this now just in case I don't update before or on the actual anniversary date, lol).

Annnd my back's feeling a bit better! but sitting for long periods of time still isn't comfy :(

Thanks for reading!