Work Text:
The morning after Jason’s heat recedes, he jolts awake to a still-warm bed and the sound of water running in the bathroom. Glancing to make sure that he is well and truly out of sight, he grabs his phone and the closest pair of clothes he can reach, and bolts out the window in what can only be described as a silent and stealthy panic.
When Dick returns to the bedroom from his shower, it’s to find the bed absent of both of his chosen mate and any sure way to find him.
“God dammit.”
: : :
Jason heads to the pharmacy first and buys a box of morning-after pills and pregnancy tests. He takes two in one go because he is a paranoid bastard, and will probably take one every morning the next few days just to be safe. The tests are there to make sure that everything is going according to plan, because honestly, who knows what kind of superman wolf sperm Dick is packing. He’s not going to risk it.
That errand done, he heads back up the roofs and makes his way back to his apartment. Hands curled deep in the pockets of his jacket, he decides he is going to sleep his shock off and the strange lingering desire to look for Dick and curl up around him again.
: : :
He goes to work at the bookstore the next day in a turtleneck. It’s still not high enough to cover some of the marks Dick left, but it’s better than nothing.
Stephanie notices, of course she does, and drops the stack of books she’s trying to shelf with a loud crash.
“Jason Peter Todd. You look like you got fucked within an inch of your life.”
Doesn’t he know it. But he’s not going to tell her that, because you can’t encourage Steph, ever. Give an inch and she’ll be dragging you a mile down before you even know it.
“Shut it squirrel, and mind your own damn business. The shelves aren’t going to stock themselves, and I've got four boxes left in the stock room with your name on it.”
“But Jaaaaaay,” she whines pitifully, and hangs off his arm trying to annoy any details out of him.
It goes on like that for the rest of the day.
: : :
Artemis is the next to check up on him.
“How was your heat?”
He knows Artemis won't judge him. He knows she's one of the most solid and loyal friends he can ever hope to have his back. One word from him and she'll probably figure out how to find Dick with what little information he can give and nail his balls to the wall to avenge his honour or something. But he doesn't know how to put into words the complicated tangle of feelings he's experiencing – the way he feels angry, disappointed, and strangely regretful at having left Dick so suddenly, all at the same time. And he doesn't want to burden her with that mess. So he says the only truthful, uncomplicated thing he can.
“Honestly? It was amazing.”
In spite of that, Artemis still cuddles with him on the couch, and they watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine reruns till he falls asleep against her.
: : :
In the safety of his own mind, Jason can admit that his week with Dick was one of the most thrilling and intimate sexual encounters he's ever experienced. Yeah, sure it wasn't the safest, but he's no stranger to risky sex every now and then. That's actually the easy bit, because Gotham is a modern city with solutions to everyday problems, and heats and one-night stands aren't as dangerous as they were a few decades ago.
So it's not the sex that bothers him, really. It's that he's discovered something he apparently really, really wants, and it goes against everything he's ever built himself up to be.
He enjoys being knotted. He can't deny that now, not even if he wants to. Him, Jason Todd, the kid from Crime Alley who's lived all his life going against every cliché ever thrown at him and succeeded. Dirty street kid from Crime Alley? Postgrad student now, baby. You say literature isn't a viable degree? Let me prove you wrong. Predators aren't suited for intellectual work? Hold my fucking beer.
And now he's an omega who just wants to be knotted?
When the rest of that thought runs through his head, he bites off a frustrated scream and bangs his head against the book he's reading. It's so fucking cliché it burns. It's the plot for every smutty romance novel down in omega lit, with their swooning heroines and brawny Fabios. He should be better than that. Hell, he should be the one sweeping people off their feet. He's built like a fucking tank goddammit; he makes sure of that every day at the gym.
So why is it that he seems to be failing so badly at this? Why are his emotions so out of control?
Whatever the answers to those questions might be, thank god he was smart enough to leave Dick before he could, god forbid, find a way to find Jason again. Because at the rate he is going, he doesn't know if he has the discipline to keep himself from tracking the guy down and embarrassing himself, and fuck that for the inevitable shitshow that's going to be.
This is for the best, he tells himself determinedly. He's never going to see the alpha who instigated these stupid feelings again, so he has time to figure his shit out and get a grip on his sexual impulses.
Yes. That sounds like a viable plan.
: : :
Three months later, when he’s finally lulled himself into a false sense of security, his viable plan flies straight out the window when the cafe right across the bookstore gets robbed, and the officer on duty is no other than Officer Richard Grayson-Wayne.
He doesn’t know that until it’s too late, of course.
: : :
“Jay, Jay, Jay. Are you sure you don't want to look? The police sent the Wayne boy to look at the robbery down at Kori's, and damn his ass is tight.”
Jason rolls his eyes, and continues stocking the classical lit section with more copies of Moby Dick.
“Yeah, I heard you Steph, now and the last twenty times. And the answer is still pass.”
“Killjoy. You think he'll investigate if we tell him about the missing box of crossword puzzles?”
“The box was found, Steph. Two days ago. By you.”
“Yeah but he doesn't know that.”
“You would be wasting taxpayers’ money to stare at a poor policeman's ass.”
“Jason. I'm a taxpayer. This is the system finally rewarding me for my responsible citizenship. I hope he lets me touch it if I ask nice—oh fuck, oh shit, Jason he's coming over, quick go to the storeroom so I can flirt with the man without you hovering.”
It's much easier sometimes to let Steph get things out of her system than to prevent her from doing what she wants, so he complies, though not without some really obvious eye-rolling. The door to the stock room swings shut just as the bell chimes merrily in welcome, and Jason welcomes the break and the chance to see if there's any interesting new titles that came in.
He's in the middle of the intro to a new edition of The Passion when Steph pokes her head through the door and calls him over.
“Officer Hot Ass is asking if you were here yesterday at ten, and if you saw anything strange or whatever throughout the day.”
“Nah, not really. It was basically the usual shit, and don't call him ‘hot ass’ where he can hear you.”
Steph ignores the last part and relays the message, but sticks her head back in with another set of questions about time and place and do you know if's.
“Jay come back out, I don't want to play telephone for this,” she whines again, obviously bored with her role. Sighing, because he has accepted this as his life, he puts the book down, readies his usual apology for Steph’s behavior, and opens the door.
Then promptly closes it again when he recognizes the person staring at him across the counter.
Crap. He can feel all the blood draining from his face. This is really my fucking life.
He gives himself five seconds to get his shit together and plaster on the most deadpan expression he can before opening the store room door again and facing Officer Grayson-Wayne, the guy who fucked him like an animal not a few month ago, head-on.
: : :
When Dick sees him open the door again, he immediately breaks out into a wondrous smile that completely lights up his whole face, and Jason can practically see all the breath woosh out of Stephanie in one silent gasp. He thought it was just his memory playing tricks on him, but here, in the light of morning, Dick really is as beautiful as he remembers. Cheekbones cut like glass, clear blue eyes framed by thick lashes, and plush lips curved in a warm and inviting grin. It’s a deadly combination. It makes you want to reach out and touch to see if he’s an actual living person instead of a marble statue, someone’s version of a demi-god brought to life.
“Hello, officer. How can we help you today?” he starts, determinedly battling through his own sudden attack of asthma.
“Jay,” Dick says his name softly, warmth and excitement all curled up in the words like a blanket. “It's great to see you again.”
Steph snaps her head so fast in his direction and mouths “Again?” with very dramatic lip movements, unsubtle as a hammer in a china shop. Jason decides he is ignoring her for the duration of this conversation.
He smiles tightly but presses on.
“You have some questions about the robbery over at Roy’s?”
“Oh!” Dick fumbles for a notepad tucked in his belt, and it’s hard to ignore the way his bicep curls with muscle, or the way his shirt stretches over the expanse of his chest. Jason keeps his eyes strictly above waist-level, because he does not need any more unnecessary visual torture and the lord is testing him.
He answers the questions as quickly and as concisely as he can, going through his day and the people he saw – no, Roy and Kori don’t really have enemies, no there isn’t a lot of gang activity in the area, yes, he’s quite sure he’d recognize any suspicious characters lurking about. He’s polite and professional, and so is Dick, and Jason holds on to the hope that maybe he can get through this meeting relatively unscathed. Stephanie, of course, has other things in mind.
“You guys are open every day?” Dick asks as she escorts him to the door. Stephanie turns her back fully to Jason’s murder-glare and smiles innocently while pointing towards the painted sign out front.
“The Red Book and the Outlaws is open Monday to Sunday until 9pm, Officer.”
“That’s good to know. Anyway, thank you for your time ma’am.” Dick’s smile makes an appearance again, the same one that had looked so wholesome and pure that it had made him stand out in the raunchy filth of Idyllia. “See you around, Jay.” And then he’s out the door and making his way across the street.
Once he’s out of earshot (and sight, because Steph definitely takes the time to watch him leave), his co-worker whirls around in a tornado of blonde hair and ever-increasing shrill excitement.
“Jason. Peter. Todd.”
He promptly buries his face in his hands and groans to try and drown out the barrage of chattered questions thrown his way.
: : :
“You did WHAT?”
A flock of pigeons startle into the air as the shouted question practically rings through the entire street.
None of the staff or the customers of Stararrow's cafe even pause from drinking their coffee.
“Young ones are always so energetic in the morning,” says eighty-three year old Mr. Davis, one of Kori's favourite regulars.
More shouting filters through the street, and everybody goes about their day, secure in the knowledge that all is well and it's just business as usual in their cosy, albeit noisy, side of town.
: : :
Dick found Jason.
Dick found Jason.
Dick found Jason.
The sentence repeats over and over in his mind with different punctuations, with different stresses on different words, but each time it only makes the butterflies in his stomach flap harder. He’d looked really good too, dressed in a shirt that didn’t hide his rugged muscularity and jeans that hugged the span of his thighs, thick and juicy like Dick’s most delicious beefcake fantasies come to life. It’s obvious he’s not pregnant, that he took suppressants and birth control right after their shared heat, because if he’d shown even the barest hint of carrying, Dick would have tied him up and carted him off back to his apartment, kidnapping charges be damned.
But there’s time enough for all of that (someday, someday, his wolf paces ravenously). Right now he’s just happy he’s found him, knows where he has to go if he wants to see him again.
He practically skips back to the precinct, filled to bursting with a kind of bubbly exhilaration he hasn’t felt in a long while. Tim takes one good look at him, rolls his eyes heavenward and reaches for his cup of coffee, already tired at the prospect of his partner’s excitement. Tim’s an owl; he’s not made for this type of sunshine chaos Dick exudes whenever he has a surge of feelings.
“Robbery doesn’t usually fill you with this much energy.”
“I found Jason,” Dick says breathlessly, twirling the coat rack like a princess in a dance.
Both of Tim’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. He takes a sip of coffee to compose himself, before replying to that statement.
“The same Jason who broke out of your apartment right after his heat without a word, and never contacted you again? That Jason?”
The reminder deflates Dick like a slap. The coat rack falls to the floor with a loud clack, along with all the coats hanging on it. Christ, sometimes Dick is such a mess, Tim thinks. Kind, generous, sickeningly sincere, and well-meaning to a fault, but completely unaware that he can get a tad too intense at times. It’s what makes him a great detective, the complete dogged determination to see things through to the end if he feels like something is there to latch on to, but his focus is slow to widen sometimes, especially when he’s fixated on something. He’s not the big picture guy between the two of them; that’s Tim’s job, and he’s great at it, if he does say so himself.
“You think he doesn’t want to see me again?” All the bright energy Dick had been exuding cuts out like a light, and his partner slumps like a doll whose strings have been cut.
Tim sighs, but gets up and picks the jackets and the coat rack from the floor.
“No Dick, I didn’t say that. But take a step back and think. You’ve had basically one conversation, in a sexually charged environment before suddenly jumping straight into seven days of marathon heat sex. Then, correct me if I’m wrong here, but you show up out of the blue and pick up right where you left off yeah? Like you're together? And he’s not exactly receptive is he?”
Jason’s stiff posture and the curtness of his answers from earlier this morning flashes through his mind, and Dick curls into himself a little bit.
“Before you slide into the usual spiral of self-pity I can already feel you heading towards, I’m not saying the situation is completely unsalvageable. I’m just saying I understand if he’s feeling skittish at this point. You’re practically a stranger, still are a stranger to him, and just jumping into this head first isn’t going to make that go away. You need a better plan than simply dragging him into a relationship he doesn’t understand.”
Dick begins to look less depressed, and this time his burgeoning hope is tempered by his own brand of Grayson shrewdness.
“So what do you think I should do?”
Tim steeples his hands like a villain straight out of a movie, and answers.
“I think you should probably woo him.”
: : :
Nine pm rolls around, and just as he’s locking the door and heading out, an aggravatingly familiar face waves at him from the other side of the street and jogs towards him.
“The bookstore’s closed,” he says with a frown.
“I know,” Dick says, completely unperturbed by Jason’s resting bitch face. “I came over to see if you wanted to catch dinner together?”
“I’m busy.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“Still busy.”
“The night after that?”
“I’m busy all week.”
Dick is either really stupid or really determined, because he refuses to be fazed by all of Jason’s rejections. It’s a little impressive, if not a little worrying, like watching a small child walk repeatedly into a wall.
“How about I just walk you to your ride?”
He sighs, but grumbles “fine” anyway. It’s not like his bike is parked that far off. Dick practically sparkles at his agreement, and follows him closely, hands fidgeting like he’s not quite sure what to do with them. He looks . . . nervous? for lack of a better word, and Jason controls the urge to help make him feel better. He tightens his grip on his bag to keep from doing anything stupid, like petting Dick’s wolf ears.
Ugh.
“So I think, uhm, I might need to clear the air a little bit between the two of us, and straight out ask if you, uhm, if it’s alright with you if I stopped by every now and then to see you?”
Jason arches a skeptical eyebrow, even as something warm flutters somewhere in the vicinity of his chest at Dick’s apparent worry over his answer.
“What? Not going to keep showing up in my life like you’ve somehow got a right?”
Dick grimaces, properly chastised by the rebuke.
“I know I might have been a tad too enthusiastic about things the last few times, and I probably should have asked you whether the feeling is mutual before jumping head first into . . . uhm, us?”
“Us?” Jason echoes, a little blindsided.
“Yeah.” Dick soldiers on, without shame. “I don’t know if it isn’t obvious, but I really, really like you and I want there to be an us? That is, if you’d like that, too?”
“And what does an ‘us’ entail, precisely? Care to spell that out, pretty boy?”
“You think I’m pretty?” Dick straightens up and starts to sparkle again in excitement, so Jason punches him in the shoulder to get him back on track. “Oh uhm, us. Yeah, definitely whatever you’re willing to explore? We can take it as slow as you like, get to know each other, because the last time we uhm, were together—” both Dick and Jason have the decency to blush at the reminder “—we didn’t do a lot of talking.”
“Talk.” Jason says suspiciously. “All you wanna do is talk.”
“Or whatever it is you feel comfortable doing. I’m just happy I get to spend time with you.” That is the sappiest thing Jason has ever heard in his life, but as far as he can tell, Dick is completely sincere about the whole thing.
What the fuck?
“And what if I don’t want there to be an ‘us’?” Jason isn’t a schmuck. He knows he has to keep an eye out for worst case scenarios, because it should take more than blue eyes and a handsome face to bamboozle him into some weird sex trap.
Dick looks down at his feet, one of which is toeing the ground in front of him anxiously. “Then that’s that. I won’t bother you again, and we’ll just go our separate ways like we never met.”
That's . . . Jason wasn't expecting that.
“So you don’t have to decide now. I know I am springing things on you again, and maybe you’d like time to think about what I’m offering. So uhm, I can give you my number, and you can text me once you’ve decided which way you want to go.” Jason watches him carefully as he hands Dick his phone and he types in a string of digits. When he hands Jason back his phone, he looks away in another direction, clearly trying to act cool and suave, but he’s vibrating with nerves and eagerness Jason can practically see radiating off him.
He is not adorable, Jason berates himself angrily, over and over again, in an obviously failing battle with his hormones.
When they get to his bike, Dick waits for him to strap his helmet on, and it strikes Jason that he doesn’t know how Dick is getting home.
“Want me to drop you off somewhere?” his mouth says before his brain can catch up. Dammit.
Dick looks for a second like he really wants to say yes, but he hesitates, probably thinking he’s taking advantage. Jason waves off any excuse he might think to come up with.
“Look, if I didn’t want to give you a lift, I wouldn’t have offered. So what’s it going to be, Dickieboy? You up for a ride?”
: : :
Of course Dick doesn’t pass up the chance to plaster himself to Jason’s back, not when he’s being so practical about it. And if he clings tighter than the ride necessarily entails, and hides a smile in the collar of Jason’s leather jacket, then no one else has to know but him.
(And Jason. Jason definitely knows Dick is grinning into his back the whole time. He frowns determinedly because if he doesn't, he's also going to have a stupid lovesick grin on his face.
Christ, both of them are disgusting.)
: : :
Jason doesn’t text him for weeks.
Dick is inconsolable for all of them. Tim is ready to kick him out of the precinct until he gets his shit together when the much awaited text message pings Dick’s phone. The alpha in question does a double take, not quite sure if he’s hallucinating, before diving for his phone and typing like his fingers are on fire.
Want to grab dinner tomorrow?
From being practically inconsolable, Dick reverts to manic euphoria in the blink of an eye. He can’t stop smiling at everyone, and Tim watches him flutter around like a beheaded chicken as he begins to worry about his date. Damian doesn’t bother to hide his disdain, muttering something about “being surrounded by morons” before dragging Cassandra to go on patrol with him.
“Feeling better now, boy wonder?” Tim says in his drollest, driest voice.
Dick’s enthusiastic nod fails to take Tim’s sarcasm into consideration. What a dork, he thinks, before getting back to the reports he has to read through.
On the other side of town, Jason is trying not to backpedal and rescind his invitation to go out. Stephanie snatches his phone before he can do anything really drastic about that urge.
“You are not sabotaging all my hard work with your cold feet,” she wags her finger at him menacingly, arm on her hip and keeping the phone as far away from his reaching hands as possible.
“This is a mistake,” Jason says, with utter seriousness.
“Grab love by the balls and suck him off like a hoover, darling. I hear you’re really good at that.” Steph comments glibly and smacks him in the shoulder for good measure. “Ow, dude did you stuff your shirt with rocks, what the hell?”
“What if he’s changed his mind?” Jason asks suddenly. “What if he realizes I’m not so special after all?”
This time Stephanie’s whole demeanor changes, morphing into something terrifyingly larger than her small body that it would have made Artemis proud if she were here to see it.
“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard from your mouth, and take note, I have heard you trying to debate with Roy over the significance of Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice.”
“They added a completely unnecessary scene to what is otherwise an already perfect story!”
“See, still ridiculous. But also, you are even more ridiculous if you think you’re not worth every ounce of effort from whomever thinks you are worth it.”
“Steph, let’s be real here. I’m a literature nerd with one degree too many and a bank account that would make most mothers weep in sorrow. I’m a monstrously gigantic, temperamental omega who picks fights with everyone and with a competitive streak a mile wide. I smoke, I drink, and I’m bullheaded even when I’m wrong and contrary just for the sake of it. I’m not exactly prime dating material here.”
“Jason. You are a scholarship student about to finish your dissertation and earn a degree at one of the most prestigious universities on the East Coast. You stress-drink and you stress-smoke, but that’s because you juggle a part-time job along with your studies, and find the time to exercise in between all of that. You’re a miracle in your own right, and my right hand to god, I am going to punch the first person who tells you otherwise, yourself included.”
Stephanie is looking so offended at the thought of this not working out that Jason feels . . . a little floored.
“Wow. Uh. I didn’t know you, uh . . .” Even with all the words he knows, he can’t string together a coherent sentence to tell her how much all she said means to him. Only Artemis and Biz have ever . . . and that’s because he’s helped them out a lot. Steph takes pity on him and slaps a hand around his mouth.
“I’m gonna stop you from making more of an idiot of yourself and ask where you guys are going to go on your date tomorrow.”
When Steph removes her hand, Jason grumbles out his plan.
“I’m bringing him to the park for some light parkour. Might as well get some exercise in while I’m babysitting his sorry ass.”
Steph remembers vividly how amazing Jason can be when he’s moving, when he lets go and stops overthinking every little move or word. It’s all the power and confidence of a man who knows his body and the limits he can push it to, and it can be breath-taking to watch just for it’s sheer physicality. But more importantly, she remembers how Jason looks all sweaty and out of breath, like something straight out of her bara porn bookmarks.
A wide, pleased smile unfurls on her face, and she suppresses the urge to rub her hands together in glee.
“Perfect.”
: : :
For once in his life, Dick arrives to the meeting place right on time. It’s a small grassy park with a few obstacles and ramps of different heights littered in seemingly random intervals. Jason’s already there of course, and when he waves Dick over to where he’s stretching, Dick feels his mouth go dry in sudden and uncontrollable desire.
Jason’s in a pathetic excuse of a tank top. The straps are so thin, the material so loose, and the neckline so low it’s barely covering anything at all. It’s a disgraceful piece of clothing if it was ever meant to hide anything, but Dick has never wanted to worship an outfit more in his life. If he shoves that strap a bit, Jason’s nipple will peak out, and then—
“—ck? Dick?” Jason waves a hand in front of his face and Dick burns red in embarrassment as he looks away from the other’s concerned gaze.
“Spacing out already? Really man, we haven’t even started.”
“I was—uh, I was—” Dick stammers out. Instead of letting him finish, Jason takes his hand and leads him to one of the lower ramps. Dick allows himself to be pulled along, too busy staring at where Jay’s hand is holding his. Is this what it feels like to be a Disney princess? To be swept away so completely it feels like you’ll blow away at the slightest breeze?
“So I do some free running here. Today’s when I usually practice and get some exercise in, but it’s not as interesting when I do it alone. You want to give it a try and see if your perp-chasing skills are any good here in a game of parkour tag?”
“Is that a challenge I hear, Jay?” This Dick can do. He doesn't know if it's something from the wolf or if he's just really like this as a person, but Dick loves the chase, loves speeding through space and leaping into the air. And if Jay is the one he has to play this game with, well that just makes him want to do his best even more. He can show his little cat just how good he is, to strut and compete and use his body to show just how worthy he can be, given the chance.
“Only if you can keep up, copper.”
Dick takes his jacket off excitedly and drops it on the nearest bench. He’s already stretched and warmed up from his walk here; he’s ready to go.
“Just say when, Jay. And hey, I’ll even give you a head start since I’m feeling generous.” Jason meets his provocation with his own grin, sharp-toothed and swaggering with his own brand of bravado. Sly and cunning, like another animal who can seriously fuck up Dick’s shit if he slips even a little bit. The thought sends a shiver down his spine, exciting in the way that dangerous things always are.
“Eat asphalt, Dickieboy.”
And they take off.
: : :
Jason and Dick are so busy running around the park that they don’t notice that both of their self-designated carers, Tim and Steph, have managed to stumble upon one another and have decided to watch their bumbling charges chase after each other with varying kinds of acrobatics and somersaults. Sometimes, snatches of shouted insults can be overhead over the sound of passing traffic, especially when one of them thinks the other is cheating.
“You didn’t tell me you could flip in mid air, you bastard!”
“Completely ridiculous,” says Tim as he helps himself to some of the popcorn Stephanie brought with her. He pours a generous helping of coffee in her paper cup in return.
“I think the word you are looking for is hot. Do you see how nice Dick’s ass is in those sweats? It’s like a bouncing sexual awakening right there.” Said ass runs up a vertical ramp and twists in the air in a gravity-defying flip. More incoherent shouting ensues from Jason, who vaults off a ledge a second later and lands right where Dick was moments ago.
“Jason’s not so bad himself. That tank top is brilliant, by the way. Was that your doing?”
Steph nods happily, stuffing her face with more popcorn. Once she swallows it all down with a large gulp of soda, she adds “I went through his backpack and basically switched it with the stupid shirt he was planning to wear. Poor boy didn’t even notice, he was so nervous. I’d have teased him more but he looked like he was on the verge of some kind of heartburn. It was both really sad and really cute.”
“Tell me about it. Dick tried to wear his favorite everythings all at the same time. None of them matched; his shirt was magenta and orange at the same time. It was like staring directly into the sun.”
Both of them pause when a body crashes into one of the ramps with a loud thud. It’s Jay, and he’s sprawled on the ground, back on the ground and trying to get up. Tim straightens in his seat, ready to help if the situation called for it, but Steph places a hand over his shoulder to keep him from going over there.
“Give it a minute.”
Dick of course comes bounding up to his companion in obvious worry. When he comes within arms reach however, Jason suddenly jerks up and tags him, pulling him down hard and then running away even before Dick can process that he's just been had.
"There's the devious asshole I know and love," Steph crows proudly. "Show him how we Outlaws do it, baby!"
: : :
Jason's sweating like a pig when both he and Dick decide to call it quits for the day. Once the game officially ends, he lets his legs buckle and falls on the grass in an actual graceless heap, for real this time. His muscles are burning and his breath is coming out in actual gasps; he hasn't run this much in forever but it feels great. It’s been a long time since he’d had this much fun, the edge of competition heating his blood in the way that practicing alone never does.
It doesn't help that Dick is actually good at this. He's unbelievable when he moves, like something out of an Olympic dream.
Which leads him to ask:
"How the fuck do you move like that?"
Beside him, Dick is slumped and also trying to catch his breath, pink tongue peeking out as he wets his lips. The ocelot in Jason purrs and he’s lost in a second in fantasies about what he can do with that tongue.
“I used to train as an acrobat before entering the force. Surprisingly helpful skill in this line of work, especially when someone gets the idea they’d rather run than get taken into custody. Impressed?” Dick slants his eyes at him, obviously preening and wanting to be complimented. Because Jason is an asshole, he rolls his eyes and says the complete opposite of the truth.
“Not very.”
“Says the guy who lost at tag.”
“I won’t be so easy to beat next time. I’m on to you now, boy wonder. Your ass is grass.”
“Next time, huh?”
Jason refuses to be embarrassed by that slip. Dick has mercy on him and teases him only a little by nudging his shoulder with his.
“I can teach you some moves next time, if you’d like?”
“You’d really do that?”
The split-second of naked surprise awe in Jason’s face at the pronouncement makes something hard and hot clench in Dick’s chest like a vice. He’d offer more right now if Jason would let him; bare his neck and deliver his body on a silver platter if he thought it would convince the other of his feelings. But he has the niggling feeling he can’t make such offers and be taken as sincere. Jason seems to doubt grand gestures, to say the least, and he doesn’t want to put off his little cat before things have even properly begun.
So Dick just shrugs and acts like it’s nothing at all, like he does this all the time when he really, really doesn’t.
“Why not right? Got to help you get better if I want to give you a fighting chance at tag.”
Jason tackles him with an angry growl and wrestles him into a headlock in retaliation. He pretends to fight back by pressing against Jason’s body as fully as he can, toppling them over so that they’re rolling on the grass.
Off to the side, Tim’s camera whirrs in an incessant series of successive shots while Steph squeals in delight as she videos the whole thing on her phone. It’s a win-win situation for everyone involved.
: : :
It's not that Jason is flighty, but it's that he becomes skittish at the slightest sign of affection. It might be because of the sudden role reversal; Jason has never been wooed before, and he's used to being the one who set the pace with his usual prey relationships. It might also be a predator thing, both of them immediately falling into competitive aggression instead of the smooth give-and-take that usually defines predator-prey relationships. Whatever the case might be, disagreements between them always come in the most surprising forms, and at the smallest provocation.
For example, Jason had disagreed (for some reason) with having Dick's hand curled around his waist while they cuddled on the couch (which he had initiated), and had growled threateningly while refusing to release his stranglehold on Dick's shirt. It would have been hilarious if they hadn't spent the next thirty minutes snarling lowly at each other, hackles raised but refusing to release their grip on the other's clothes, like the complete idiots that they were. It only ended when Jason finally coughed, throat raspy from all the guttural vocalization, and Dick's instincts immediately switched from a dominating mode to a concerned one.
Their problems were usually repetitions of the same behavioral pattern, of both of them being stupidly and stubbornly unable to submit without having to be wrestled into it, and yet being unable to let go at the same time.
"You sure this is worth it, pretty boy?" Jason asks him, after one of their fights.
Dick looks at him, cagey and hopeful by turns, and decides that, yeah, for some reason, a reason he doesn’t understand now but someday might, this was worth it.
“Let me show you how much, little cat.”
“Shut it, dog brain. I’m not the small one in this relationship.”
He rears back to try and bite Dick’s neck in retaliation, but Dick pre-empts him by ducking and kissing him so smoothly and so sweetly he forgets to even bite down on the tongue inside his mouth.
Stupid dog, he grumbles, but he keeps kissing Dick anyway.