Chapter recipe:
1 cup of Jason's love language: I WILL feed you, you WILL eat
several heaping tablespoons of angst and pining
½ cup past confessions
and a light dusting of fluff
(Here's to hoping this chapter hits the bittersweet vibes I'm aiming for…)
C/W: mentions of undereating
Chapter 25 of What's Up, Danger?: Round and Around We Go
Jason returned with a grease-stained paper bag in hand and a grin. He placed the overly stuffed green duffel bag on the floor and motioned for Sabine to join him at the breakfast bar as he revealed the contents from within the white bag: burgers and fries for both of them.
Sabine sat on one of the black stools. She wasn't hungry, but her stomach felt like a hollow pit, carved empty. Not from hunger, but a void that was steadily consuming her from within.
"Didn't know what flavor you liked," Jason said as he handed off a milkshake to her, "so here's to hoping you like everything. CEO was happy to see me, too."
Sabine tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. The memories of last night were still too vivid and too fresh, leaving a mental and emotional wound that needed more than just a few hours of sleep and a combo meal from Bat Burger to scab over. Shoving everything down was only a temporary, and convenient, solution for now.
She slipped the plastic straw between her lips and took a sugary sip. "Thanks."
Sitting at the counter and sharing a meal almost felt too normal. What should have been a welcome stab of everyday normalcy felt unreal, like the whole world was staged with dull colors and fog.
She ate half of the burger and pecked at the fries, not having much of an appetite. She demolished the milkshake, though.
"Sweet tooth, huh? Good to know," Jason joked as she shamelessly slurped up the remnants at the bottom of the cup.
Sabine twirled the straw between her fingers and rested her chin on her palm. "Only when I'm stressed…which is all the time now, I suppose."
The muscles in his arms tensed after he polished off his fries. He slumped over the counter in sympathy. Guilt gnawed at him, wishing he could do more to soothe her."I can imagine."
She stared at the familiar yellow and black logo on the bag. Her eyes traced over the curvature and edges of the defined bat wings. The hole in her center grew. She hadn't told him about the ghoulish creature, what it resembled, its leathery wings, how she endured its blistering eyes on her…
Jason watched intently as she processed her fear and unease. Of course, a fast food binge was a bandaid over the larger problems they faced, but was it so bad that he wanted her to feel safe with him?
He snatched an uneaten fry from her scoop and poked the salty end to the tip of her nose, breaking the memory's thrall over her. "So your finals are this week, right?"
Releasing a breath and floating back to the present, she nodded after a beat. "Yeah, one on Monday, two on Tuesday, last one's Wednesday."
"Geez, sounds brutal." Jason popped the swiped fry into his mouth and chewed.
Sabine's hands tensed and her chest clenched with anxiety. "Yeah…" There was some comfort in Jason's presence but not enough to keep the emotions behind the floodgates at bay.
Jason noticed her drawn-in posture. He wanted to be helpful, to do something, anything, other than watch her crumble apart. She was trying so hard to stay whole. She was far from fragile, though.
"I can give you rides to school," he offered, "anything to help make the week…easier." He could crash in the back of the classroom, tucked away in a corner to keep an eye on her.
Her eyebrows moved, but not in a way he could discern the meaning. "So you're going to be my chauffeur and bodyguard?" There was some upbeat humor in her otherwise vacant tone.
He shrugged. "Why not?"
She rubbed her sore breastbone. "I guess that could work. But what about CEO? Are you going to go over there every day to feed him?"
Jason stole another fry. "I've been thinking about that, I have a…friend who's an absolute animal aficionado. He'd be more than willing to stop by and feed a cat in need for a few days."
Her brows jumped up. "A friend? Or a…bat-ssociate?" She immediately regretted trying the newly jumbled word out, it didn't roll off the tongue naturally.
He snorted and his mouth quirked. "That the best wordplay you got, huh?"
For a moment, there was pure, contemplative silence.
Sabine's eyes flicked down to her lap and her fingers nervously fiddled with the hem of the large borrowed shirt she wore. "Do you usually get this involved with cases?"
Jason leaned his forearm on the counter, green eyes never leaving her face. His answer was vague, "Sometimes."
He didn't want her to think that he brought every stray he met in Gotham back to his apartment (maybe he was more like Bruce than he thought). Sabine was an exception. Call it over emotional, call it impulsive or reckless, he was cursed with the unfortunate habit of throwing himself head—and heart—first into almost everything he did. And how could he leave her alone after what they went through?
It was a simple response, but she turned it over in her mind. Jason possessed all the physical trappings of someone to be feared upon first impressions, someone who was dangerous and was well acquainted with Gotham's seedy underbelly. Yet here she was in his apartment, wearing his clothes, eating with him, and sleeping on the same couch as him. When did the line between involved blur into too involved?
"I brought some of your clothes if you want to change," he said, nudging the duffle bag with his foot. "I know my clothes are comfy, but I kind of want to reclaim my Re-animator shirt."
Sabine's eyes moved down at the neon green text and mad scientist on the shirt. She pouted. The bulky shirt was cozy, like a shell she could hide in. "That's fair," she lamented.
Jason was weak against her unintentional puppy-dog eyes. "Fine," he ground out because she looked freaking adorable in his shirt anyway, he might as well give up all claim to right then and there, "you can wear it for the rest of the day."
Fast food wrappings and remnants tossed away, they spent most of the afternoon camped in front of the tv playing video games, casually arguing over whether they should focus their efforts on mining in the caves for materials to upgrade their in-game equipment, or if they should plant and harvest crops before the season changed. No clear agreement was reached.
True to his word, Jason broke out the heated blanket. Even on the medium setting, it was more than enough to keep the two of them nice and snug as midday transitioned to a chilly early evening. Under the blanket, their legs bumped and their ankles hooked around one another. Outside the window, the sun dipped behind the buildings and a smoggy twilight covered the sky.
The controller finally went limb in Sabine's hands and she disentangled herself. "I should study."
"Aww, so responsible," Jason teased as he saved their in-game progress for Toebeans Farm.
Jason settled himself into his computer chair as Sabine excavated her school supplies from the duffle bag.
From her position on the couch, with her laptop and textbooks, she couldn't view his screen. However, his face was marred in concentration, bunched brows and lips in a hard line.
Several hours of her half-assed study attempts trawled by. She tried to peek at Jason's computer screen once or twice. He was engrossed in whatever had snagged his attention, only getting up to make them a last-minute, cobbled-together dinner of chicken pasta with some kind of creamy sauce. Again, Sabine only ate half of her serving, but Jason seemed pleased that she ate at all. Leftovers tucked away into plastic containers, he told her to help herself if she felt hungry again later.
Looking down at the protruding carpals and blue veins on the back of her hands, Sabine wondered if her pitiful eating habits were truly that apparent. Had she lost weight? It was hard to tell when Jason's clothes dwarfed her frame.
Night time circled them back to an old disagreement: who slept where. Sabine was eager to embrace sleep, her fatigued mind at the end of the rope for the day.
Hands rooted on his hips, Jason said quickly, "You can take my bed. Really, it's fine."
With a dramatic sigh, Sabine countered, "I don't mind the couch. This is your place and you're letting me stay, I don't want to put you out."
Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't expected her to be so stubborn. "At this rate, we're both gonna end up sleeping on the couch again. Look, I'm gonna be up late. Makes more sense for you to take the bed so I don't wake you."
After a moment of headstrong silence, Sabine crossed her arms.
She craned her head up, staring decisively at him. The upward angle of her face and the lighting brought out the ochre around her irises. "Then we'll both sleep on the bed."
Jason looked unconvinced, but not disinterested in her proposed solution. He scratched the side of his nose, imagining what it would feel like to have her body heat so close to him. "Are…are you sure?"
"You don't want me to crash on the couch. I don't want to put you out. It's a win-win." A small but devious grin flashed across her face, "Just don't be a blanket hog like last night."
"Me, a blanket hog?" Jason stated incredulously, nostrils flaring at the accusation. "I was freezing last night because you took it for yourself."
"Did not," she retorted, already on her way to the bedroom.
Jason scoffed and sat back down in his computer chair. He swiveled away from her, returning his attention to the screen, and waved her off. "G'night, blanket-stealing gremlin."
Sabine laughed him off as she disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door so it clicked in place in the wooden frame. She threw the Re-Animator shirt into the hamper and dug out one of his Night of the Living Dead tees. Again, it was far too big for her.
He sure has a dark sense of humor about the whole un-dead thing.
She crawled into bed. Sharing a bed wasn't a novel idea. She'd done it with boyfriend and girlfriends in the past, and with friends during sleepovers. It wasn't a big deal.
Then why are you nervous?
In the empty darkness, she groggily pulled the cover up to her chin. Jason's mattress was firm and supportive, and the blanket heavy and warm. A weighted blanket, she realized. Her agitated mind eventually calmed down, even in the bedroom, she sensed Jason's presence just beyond the door, and that was enough for her to slowly drift off.
Hunched over his keyboard, Jason's eyes stared straight ahead as he dissected the many tabs he had open on the computer screens: Gotham's water and sewer maps, uploaded videos from urban explorers who ventured into the underground ossuaries, and any scrap of local history he could find on the subterranean tunnel network.
He tried to make sense of it, the various entry points into the vaults and chambers that spanned into a complicated network of tunnels, the morbid veins that ran under the city. He didn't want to go down there blind, he needed a plan.
Flipping over a blank notebook page, he tried to map out in red ink as far as the urban explorers dared to venture into the catacombs. They never went deep, the risk of joining the other skeletons within was too great if they got lost. It was nothing short of a miracle that Jason was able to make out anything from their shaky cam videos and flickering flashlights.
Well past midnight, Jason had managed to plot out several crude but incomplete maps, each labeled with their point of access: the Bowery, the Waterfront, and Gotham Memorial Cemetery. It seemed fitting that several of the locations intersected with poignant parts of his life.
Who knew how many chambers were down there? And how vast? He had—what—a few dozen vaults and shafts, if that, charted. It could be a fucking unnavagible labyrinth of bones down there for all he knew, a death trap, the mythical minotaur's deadly maze.
The Gotham Public Libraries might have more records, old documents sealed away from the ravages of time. He'd have to ask Babs.
And what the hell was he going to do against the beast? He doubted a few grenades would do the trick.
Pushing himself away from his desk, burnout sapped what mental energy he had left. He closed his notebook and tucked it and the pen away in a drawer, next to an almost empty pack of cigarettes he hadn't touched in months. Shaking the notion of lighting one up out of his head, he turned off the computer monitors.
After double-checking all the door and window locks, Jason wafted into the bedroom and slipped into his pajamas.
The mattress dipped under his weight, and Sabine rolled over, rubbing her eyes with her palms. Hair in her face and cheeks muted pink, Jason's heart squeezed at the sight of the silver halo of starlight that filtered in through the window and contoured her features.
"Hi," she drowsily greeted him as he peeled back the cover.
"Sorry for waking you," he said quietly.
"What time is it?"
He climbed under the blanket and scuffed the pillow behind his head before resting on it. "Late."
She hummed faintly. Her eyes followed the outline of his strong jawline and slightly crooked nose, lazily drinking in his profile.
His eyebrows lifted up when he noticed the different text and design on her sleep shirt. "Are you wearing another one of my shirts?"
"It's a zombie one."
"Shirt stealer," Jason grumbled but didn't make her change. The weight of her gaze on him made him uncomfortable. "Go back to sleep."
"But I'm awake now."
He tsked. "That's your problem then, not mine." Still, he rotated onto his side and tucked his chin down to face her.
His blood thrummed. He couldn't pin down how long it'd been since he'd shared a bed with someone else—excluding Roy, who was more like a dog that hogged all the space to himself while drooling over the pillows.
She prodded the center of his chest with a finger. "Am I keeping you awake?"
His response was a tetchy, "Yes."
When she didn't apologize, Jason wanted nothing more than to playfully pinch her cheek for her insolence. However, the mere ghost of the thought of touching her made his stomach flutter. His heart drummed and he hoped in the dark she couldn't see the way his eyes flitted up and down her duvet-covered silhouette.
How easy it would be to throw an arm around her and yank her close…
…but that's all they were, fleeting fantasies of what could be.
Jason squeezed his eyes shut to stop himself from entertaining the tantalizing visions that played out in his mind.
The ease with which emotional vulnerability slipped into intimacy was a slope he was all too aware of. A mistake he didn't want to make with her. Although the harder he tried to keep her at arm's length, the deeper his feelings sank their vicious fangs into him.
"Jason," Sabine whispered, eyes fixated on his widow's peak where a tuft of ghostly white roots peaked through.
His cheek flat against the pillow, he finally dared to open one eye. His green eye peered at her through his lashes, "Hmm?"
"You have white hair?" The observation came out of her before she could stop herself, lethargy overriding her inhibitions.
A muscle in Jason's jaw ticked. Shit, he knew he'd forgotten to do something. It wasn't that he gave much thought to the white streak, but it was the attention it got, the questions, the curious stares. Not many twenty-somethings had a shocking patch of white sprouting from the front of their hairline.
"Uh, yeah," he swallowed thickly, moving under the covers, "apparently resurrection is…stressful."
Sabine's face screwed up like she'd been stung, immediately remorseful for prying into the topic without knowing it was linked to something so intimately painful. "Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't know that it was...sorry."
Her pained expression carved a hole in his chest. "It's alright, it's natural to have questions about it."
Mindlessly, her fingers crept up the front of his shirt and outlined a shape on his chest—a bat. Her voice cracked a little when she said, "I'm so sorry that happened to you."
She skirted around the real question she wanted to ask, the story she longed to hear. The truth about what happened to Jason Peter Todd.
Tentatively, she summoned the daring to ask, "Does…Bruce Wayne know you're alive?"
Jason's chest rumbled with a capricious chuckle. "Who do you think pays my rent?"
Her lips parted, another question bubbling up her throat, but Jason swatted her with a pillow.
"Go to sleep, Beans." He rolled over and away from her, tucking an arm under his head. There was only so much he was willing to give away in one night.
Sabine consumedly gazed at the broad expanse of solid muscle that was his back, taking in the way his shoulder blades and spine moved under his shirt with every breath. How his messy black hair tapered down the nape of his neck. She wondered if he regretted bringing her back to his place as sleep's claws ferried her back into a dreamless void.
7:05 AM, Monday
The next morning, Sabine roused early while Jason remained burrowed in his nest of pillows and blankets.
She let out a low whistle as she peeped through the blinds, admiring the view. Jason definitely had money, or access to it, even if he didn't flaunt it. Birds twittered outside and the sky was smeared orange and pink. The sun broke over the horizon and gloriously shone through the spaces in-between buildings, the many windows winked like crystalline structures in the light.
Unsure how to preoccupy her time before her first exam, she showered and changed. She borrowed a fleece-lined flannel from his closet to toss over her shirt and jeans. Moving into the living room so as not to disturb Jason's slumber, Sabine decided to cram in some last-minute review.
Jason had given her the all-clear to use the kitchen without him. She put on a pot of coffee and a slice of sourdough bread in the toaster. She didn't have much of an appetite in the mornings these days, but Jason would pester her like a mother hen to eat something if he was awake. She found a jar of crunchy peanut butter—one of her favorite toppings—in one of his cabinets and smothered a generous spoonful over the toast.
Crunching into the crust of her breakfast at the table, the proximity forced her to realize that she didn't know much about Jason. In the muted amber glow that flooded the apartment, it was hard to focus on the PowerPoint on the bright laptop screen that nipped at her eyes while she lounged, surrounded by all his secrets and possessions.
Occasionally, her eyes zigzagged from wall to wall, noting all the shiny mounted blades and guns. Some looked old and antiquated, but well cared for. Maybe he was a collector? Maybe he used some of the weapons? Unique choices in decor aside, it looked more like a tidy home office instead of the private base of operations for a vigilante.
Jason was also a neat freak, apparently. She doubted there'd even be a trail of dust if she ran her hand along any of the surfaces in his apartment.
Sabine licked a stray glob of peanut butter off of her thumb as she finished her toast. The urge to snoop, just a tad, was chewing at her. Restlessly, she took her mug of coffee and laptop over to the couch and flopped down with it propped on her stomach. Her eyes glazed over as she tried her damnedest to focus, determined to be a respectful guest in his home.
Several hours dragged by before she heard the bedroom door creak open. Jason appeared in the doorway. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head. The bottom of his shirt lifted just enough with the movement to show a hint of his abs and the fine trail of black hair that disappeared under his waistband. Bedhead Jason dangerously straddled the fine line between hot and adorable.
Her head snapped back towards her laptop screen, hiding the sudden flush on her face and fervently shoving any indecent notions about Jason to the back of her mind. Still, her chest prickled with residual heat.
"Good morning," she said, sitting up and crossing her legs, laptop balanced on top of her thighs.
Jason padded over to the coffee pot on the counter. He opened the cabinet above it and grabbed a mug. "You eat yet?"
"I had toast," she replied.
He chuckled as he filled his mug. Ribbons of steam rose from the coffee. His eyes swept over the recognizable article of clothing she wore. "I see you helped yourself to my flannel, too."
Her head sunk to her shoulders, slightly mortified at how at home she was making herself. Fingers peeking out of the long plaid sleeves, she shut the lid of her laptop. "Sorry, it was cold."
Jason reached a hand under his shirt, scratching absentmindedly at his chest, giving her another flash of skin.
"When do you need to be at school?" he asked.
Sabine found the clock on the wall above the television. "Around one, so a little more than two hours."
He jerked open the refrigerator and leaned one arm over the door. He scrutinized its contents. "So enough time to make a late breakfast or an early lunch. How about…omelets and bacon?"
"I already ate."
His mouth curled into a half-scowl, but the hint of a smirk leaked through it. "A singular piece of toast is not a meal."
"Yes, it is," she shot back.
Jason already had the carton of eggs, bacon, a stick of butter, and a block of cheese in his arms when her stomach growled. His laughter rang out like a bell.
She buried her face in her hands and conceded, "Maybe…maybe I'll have a little bit."
Sabine clicked through another PowerPoint as he cooked. The bacon did smell good as it sizzled in the frying pan.
After several minutes he called her over to the table, which he'd cleared of his guns and straps from the previous night, and served her up a plate. Somehow through whatever touch of culinary magic he possessed, the eggs were the fluffiest she'd ever eaten and the bacon perfectly crisped to her liking.
"So much better than Waffle House," she joked, covering her full mouth with her hand.
Elbow planted on the table, Jason waved his fork at her over his mostly-devoured breakfast. "That's slander. Waffle House saved my life."
"What is it with you and Waffle House and diners?" she asked after a nibble of bacon. "You're like, obsessed with them."
"What, a man can't enjoy the late-night purgatorial vibes that's a 24-hour diner?" Then Jason's smile faltered and a touch of darkness flashed in his eyes. "When I first came back to Gotham, I…I wasn't in the best place. Raised some hell and didn't have anywhere else to go some nights. No one really bothers you at diners unless you start shit."
Sabine blinked and set down her utensils. She drew her legs up to her chest and perched her chin on her knees. "When you first came back…? You left?"
He itched at his stubble. The topic was too heavy for a casual breakfast conversation.
"Yeah, after…you-know…" He mimed sliding a finger across his throat and his tongue lolled out of the corner of his mouth—dead.
The "oh" that slipped out of her mouth made her feel so, so stupid. The more she learned about Jason, the heavier her heart felt inside her chest. "When I read about you online, I didn't mean to pry. I was just…curious."
"I know," he said, skewing his mouth to the side and bumping her knee with his elbow, "you're too curious for your own good."
Sabine huffed a small laugh, but it hurt her cheeks. "Is that how you'd describe me?"
"Curious, nosy, a penchant for finding trouble," he listed as she scowled and drew her eyebrows inward, "but also smart, funny, resilient, good company at diners, and you make a great grilled cheese sandwich."
Her face flushed and she wanted to duck under the table. She hid her eyes behind her fingertips. "Oh my god, I did make you a sandwich. I didn't know it was you-you."
Jason pulled her plate towards him and began to dig into her leftovers after a silent eye exchange confirmed she was done. "Yup. You know the saying, 'give a vigilante a sandwich and he'll never leave you alone'."
Her foot playfully knocked his shin. "Oh, is that why I can't get rid of you? Gave you a sandwich and now you're indebted to me?"
Jason smirked, cheeks full of omelet. "Something like that," he said, except it was muffled because his mouth was stuffed with egg and cheese.
Once they finished, she helped him clear and wash the pans, plates, and utensils, and then slotted them into the dishwasher. A dreadful look at the ticking clock signaled that it was time to go.
Time. Sabine craved more of it. Time away from the obligations of school. Time away from how the uncaring world continued to spin in the face of tragedy. Still, she snatched up her backpack and made sure it was crammed with her school supplies: laptop, pens, and blue books.
Jason left for a minute to change, re-emerging in dark-washed jeans, black boots, and a brown coat over his red hoodie. The re-sprouting white streak in his hair seemed to grow more prominent every time she spotted him. He stood by the door, waiting for her to gather her things, holding two motorcycle helmets.
Backpack secured over her shoulders, she took a helmet then fidgeted. "Can I…"
Jason's head tipped back with a groan. Hand on her spine, he ushered her out the open door. "Yes, you can wear the flannel. You're lucky I can't fit into any of your clothes."
"You'd stretch them all out," Sabine reasoned. The breadth of his chest alone would make any of her tops burst at the seams.
3:10 PM, Gotham University
Holding the pen with a death grip, Sabine's nerves buzzed as she scribbled down her essay answers. Gotham U was old school when it came to exams, forcing students to handwrite pages and pages of essay responses when other universities allowed electronic test taking. Her hand cramped and ached, but she pushed through it as she flipped to the fifth lined page in the blue book, writing furiously.
No one seemed to question Jason's presence in the back corner of the large lecture hall. For a behemoth, he was good at making himself invisible. He kept to himself, hood drawn up to hide his cheeks, and scrolled on his phone, not making a sound.
When Sabine finally turned in her blue book on the professor's desk, she was certain the fingers on her dominant hand were close to falling off.
Theo caught her eye in the front row.
Wordlessly, he mouthed and pointed his thumb over his shoulder, "Who's that?"—in reference to Jason.
"I'll text you later," she mouthed back, also spotting Paloma's inquisitively raised brow.
Hurriedly sulking out before Avery could flank her down with pointed questions, Jason swiftly tailed her out of the lecture hall.
Interested, his head lolled to one side. "How'd it go?"
"It went okay, I think. Wish GU would get with the times and let us type." Sabine deflated as they left the building and hit the cold outside air, anxiously pulling the sleeves over her hands. "Three more to go," she verbally reminded herself.
Jason's hand reassuringly clasped her shoulder. "You got this."
8:00 AM, Tuesday
A shrill alarm ripped Sabine from slumber. Eyes half-lidded, she read the reminder on her phone screen and the words ripped out her heart: Therapy at 10!
Her blood ran ice cold and her eyes shot fully open.
A distraught noise broke loose from her throat. She'd lost count of how many times she tried not to think about it—Carla's death. Jason could only shield and distract her from so much. But now, cruelly in front of her face, was the bloodcurdling reminder. The full brunt force of reality slammed into her, mangling her mind in seconds.
Jason heard the sobs, faintly at first. His brain lagged, the edges of sleep still holding onto him until he registered her wrecked weeping. He was gentle when his hand rubbed circles up and down her back.
Exhausted tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
Jason reached over her and swiped at the screen, silencing the infernal alarm.
He held an arm out and she rolled into his solid chest. Her whole body quaked with each whimper.
Patiently, he waited with her as she rode out the tidal wave of emotions.
"You don't have to go out today if you don't feel up to it," he said in a mellow tone.
Quiet and full of self-loathing, Sabine peeled herself far enough away from his body to stare up into his emerald eyes. "Yes, I do. It—whatever it is—wins if I just…give up."
Jason heaved out a burdened sigh, still in a lidded daze from the jarring wake-up call. "Okay," he affirmed, regarding her meaningfully, "it's your call."
7:30 PM, Wednesday
The end of her first semester of law school finals was a cause for celebration, as far as Jason was concerned. Sabine deserved some levity in all this mess.
She had plowed through the past several days, focusing on exams and spending her down time switching between studying and in-game farming with Jason. She's terrible at catching fish and kept pickaxing their crops by mistake, leaving random dirt squares in between the sprinklers. It was a miracle that Toebeans Farm wasn't in the red, mostly due to Jason's efforts to pet the animals in the barn every morning and meticulously tracking which crops were ready to harvest.
Her legs in his lap, after the end of the in-game summer festival where bioluminescent moonlight jellies peacefully migrated across the screen, Jason ordered Thai takeout on his phone and told her to bundle up. There was somewhere he wanted to take her.
Melting snow mashed under their boots. The plastic bag full of takeout boxes bumped against Jason's thighs as he led her under hazy streetlights and through a winding path of city streets. Sabine followed, intrigued by his promise to take her to one of his favorite places.
Turning into an alley, Jason threaded his fingers together to give her up a boost onto the first bar of a fire escape that was several feet too high for her to reach on her own. Thankful she wore wooly gloves, the touch of the metal bars would've been unbearably cold otherwise.
The view down as she scaled the ladder made her guts churn, but Jason was quick to shadow her. His chest provided additional support behind her. Sabine noted that he was surprisingly agile and nimble for his bulk.
"Just a lil bit further," he encouraged as he clamped a hand around the wrung above her when she took a moment to rest, "you got this."
"You know I have a thing with heights," she said between shallow breaths, "couldn't we have taken the stairs?"
He hummed, amused. "Maybe, but we're not exactly going somewhere with roof access. It's either this or the grappling hook."
Sabine balked. "No thank you." She enjoyed the feeling of something solid underneath her feet, thank you very much, even if it was only a thin rod of metal.
Jason laughed in her ear. "Thought so. C'mon, we're almost there."
Letting her fear subside bit by bit with Jason's patient reassurances, there turned out to be a wide concrete ledge that skirted the perimeter of an old building, a cathedral, with arched windows. Its tall spires cast darkened shadows onto the boulevard below.
She scanned the cityscape as Jason pulled her forward, her mittened hand in his gloved hand. They were maybe three or four stories up. The view wasn't remarkable, but she rapidly realized that he hadn't dragged her up here for sightseeing when they rounded a corner.
Instantly, the giddiness in her chest dissipated when her eyes landed on a menacing stone statue—a gargoyle. Poised and ready to pounce on an unsuspecting victim, so life-like in its depiction that it might take flight at any moment. Its resemblance to the monstrosity that dwelled in the catacombs beneath the city was uncanny. The frightening parallel was enough to make her stop dead in her tracks.
Jason affectionately caressed the stone creature's backside. "This is a friend of mine," he simpered, a goofy smile plastered on his face. "One of my best friends."
Sabine studied the gargoyle, relieved that it was simply carved stone and not flesh and bone and magic. "Is this…" she puffed, chest unclenching, "is this…Roy?"
He blinked several times at her before doubling over in laughter. "No, no. Roy's a person. Promise. This is…huh, you know, I've never named 'em. Gargy? Wingy? Batty?"
Jason slid down the side of the building, back against the wall, and his legs sprawled out. He grabbed Sabine's wrist and brought her down with him. From the crinkly white plastic bag, he handed her a pair of chopsticks and began to open the takeout boxes. The food smelled like a concoction of so many delicious spices: ginger, jasmine, garlic, and cumin with a hint of coconut coming through.
As she tucked into a box of Phad Thai, Sabine understood that this special spot wasn't about the view, it was Jason's connection to it. He didn't need to say it, but she imagined a young and hard-faced teenage Jason Todd taking refuge behind the gargoyle's pedestal, finding some comfort in the inanimate sculpture and confessing his secrets, or merely enjoying its mute company.
Jason's chopsticks wormed their way into the takeout box balanced on her lap. "Hey, don't hog all the Phad Thai for yourself."
"Okay, but you need to share the sticky rice and curry."
Their chopsticks clashed as they both delved into the takeout boxes.
Asses almost frozen to the damp and cold cement outcropping as they ate, good food and good company was a great way to mark the end of the semester from hell.
—-
In bed, Jason focused on the ceiling. It was dead quiet, but pressure tightly coiled in his chest.
Sabine was awake and shuffled under the bedsheets. He knew if he looked at her the words would die in his mouth before he even uttered them.
He wet his lips subconsciously. "I died in an explosion. It wasn't the debris or blast that got me though. I…asphyxiated. Couldn't breathe with all the smoke and a collapsed lung."
Side-by-side in silence, both stared at the dark ceiling streaked with beams of moonlight. The built-up tension in his chest unwinded. Trust, truth, and vulnerability laid bare with his confession.
Sabine held the blanket, grip knuckle-white, and grimaced. "Jesus, Jason…that's…"
"I went looking for my birth mom," he continued with a frustrated scoff, misery seeping into his bones at the memory, "and I found her too, but the Joker was there and he…"
She turned her head, but she couldn't read his profile in the dark. Holy shit. The crazed laughter. The terrifying red lips. The ghastly white face. The pieces and fragments of his nightmares flew together in her mind. Everyone in Gotham had heard of the Joker, even a transplant like herself. The mayhem and bloodshed he left in his wake, the havoc he reaped. But to hear Jason was one of his victims…her heart thudded painfully against her ribs.
Joker was gone, his ultimate fate unclear to the ordinary citizens in Gotham. Dead. Locked in the deepest, darkest cell in Arkham. Who knew? He hadn't plagued the city in several years and no one, save maybe the Bats, knew why.
A staggered exhale escaped Jason. "He almost beat the life outta me with a crowbar while my mom watched, she didn't lift a finger to help." He paused, his heartbeat fluttered rapidly like the wings of a tiny bird trapped in a cage. "In the end, he turned on her too…still, I tried to save her. I tried—but I was already half dead. Couldn't do much else except die."
Sabine swayed into him, carefully nuzzling into the crook of his arm. Her hair tickled his bicep and her hand splayed over his chest. His heart thumped wildly under the cotton shirt.
Jason swallowed the bitter sob caught in his throat. "Catherine wasn't mom of the year, but she took care of me like I was her own…she didn't have to, she had plenty of her own troubles, and Bruce…," his forehead creased with strain, "they both loved me and I still chased after someone halfway 'round the world who didn't give two shits about me." His eyes darted down and he huffed in remorse, "I was a stupid kid. Stupid and selfish."
Without touching him, Sabine ghosted her hand along his cheekbone, guiding his face to turn and look at her. They were almost nose to nose, heads on the same pillow.
She wished she knew what to say, what words to apply as a miracle healing ointment over his trauma and scars. Her hand squeezed the center of his shirt, bunching the fabric in her fist over his heart.
Mute at his side, the hazy waters of sleep towed at her eyes. Until, tenderly, she whispered, "Jason…I'm glad you're here."
It was almost undetectable the way the corners of his lips spasmed upwards in the low light. A single dimple gave away his intent. "It took me a long time to get to this point, but, yeah…I am too."
Thursday morning, Sabine lingered in bed, curled on her side away from Jason. She wasted time, playing a popular word game on her phone. The burden of her studies was off her soul for the next month. No study and review sessions, no need to spend nights awake and agonizing over case studies until the text blurred together, no need to drink copious amounts of coffee and tea like it was her life's blood. She had space to breathe, finally. After running on fumes for so long, a month of little to no obligations sounded fantastic.
The bed shook as Jason twisted toward her. The weight of his muscular arm slung over her lower torso, finding her hip, and anchored her down. His breath hot on her neck and ear raised her hackles.
"G'morning," he murmured. He snooped over her shoulder at the phone cradled in her hands. He squinted his eyes, skimming the letters on the screen. "I think the word you're looking for is—"
"Don't", she warned softly, "I'll figure it out."
Jason propped his chin up on his fist as Sabine's thumbs hovered over the small touch screen. She attempted and failed several guesses. Her lips pursed in concentration.
"It begins with—"
Her pointy elbow thrusted back and needled his ribs. "No, don't even."
"You're overthinking it."
Letting out a defeated sigh, it didn't help that his fingers drew tiny circles over the waistband of her pajamas. So distracting.
Sabine tossed the phone to the side. The screen turned mirror black from idleness
She wanted to slope her body into him, huddle against his sturdy chest, and let his warmth ravage her. Jason was safety and protection personified. Their lives intertwined like vines, and they searched for sunlight in one another.
She wasn't imagining things, was she?
Sabine fought to keep her voice steady when she asked, "Jason…there's something here, isn't there?"
The inflection in her tone when she said 'here' sent his mind into a cataclysmic cascade.
His hand went taut and his brows knitted together. Many things gnawed at him; the want, the need, the desire, the selfishness. Restraint wasn't his strongest quality, he'd proved that time and time again.
Unspooling his thoughts, his mouth went dry and his breathing hitched. He could lie, he could deny it.
But he didn't want to.
"Yeah," he admitted, trying to keep his voice from splitting. It was a single syllable, but it electrified the air and seared his throat. Thoughts and daydreams were one thing, but saying them out loud gave them life.
"But?"
Always a but.
Jason struggled for composure and retracted his hand. "Things are…messy right now. Wouldn't feel right if we started something when we're both feeling raw."
She tilted her head back. Her eyes raked over the stubble on his jawline before hooking onto his gaze. "It's okay, I just…needed to know we're on the same page."
His eyes shifted to the left and his heart plummeted. He'd dug himself into a hole that he wasn't sure he could crawl out of. Maybe he'd been too honest, too vulnerable, the past few days. Proximity had a way of doing that.
Maybe…if things were different.
Sabine turned and awkwardly sat up. Her legs dangled over the edge of the bed. She asked, "Do you think I can go home today? I kinda miss my cat."
A lump hardened in Jason's throat, constricting his airway. He couldn't keep her hidden away forever. The word stay, stay, stay played on repeat in his head.
Jason swallowed the inevitable and pushed himself up. Their backs faced one another as they sat on opposite ends of the bed. He ran a hand over his coarse stubble. "Yeah, I'll take you home. Just, uh, need to make sure it's safe first."
She nodded and a sigh left her lips. "Sounds good."
His pulse picked up as his hand attempted to tame his bedhead, trying to play it cool.
Heart stuck in a lurch, he stood up and commenced going through his usual morning motions.
Kitchen. Coffee pot. Filter. Coffee grounds. Water. Two mugs placed on the counter for, what a covetous part of him wished, wouldn't be the last time.
A/N: Jason, Sabine…all I'm asking for is one kiss ?
Really debated about including the final scene, but Sabine is just a tad more emotionally intelligent than Jason sooo…here we are. (Also, as far as my plans for this fic go, Joker will never physically appear because fuck him, that's why)
Thanks for reading and sorry for any typos (editing is my eternal nemesis)!
(also, for those interested, you can find me on tumblr!—username: 2iced2coffee )