Jason had told you to always be careful – lock the doors, lock the windows, don’t let anyone in you don’t know. These things were already second nature; living in the East End was cost effective, but it was dangerous. You couldn’t help but find it endearing, though.
Jason said he was working late tonight, to go to bed and he’d let himself in. Though you were a a handful of weeks into your relationship, you’d both already got into the habit of sharing space. Rolling over, you huffed when you realized the normal hulking figure of Jay wasn’t back yet. You hoped it was okay. Normally he’d be home by now.
You couldn’t sleep. The police radio was loud and awake on your bedside tonight as the thrum of GCPD helicopters combed the neighborhood for someone. Tonight, the sounds of Gotham seemed louder than usual – sirens, screams, and shots – so you quickly opted to ignore it, and push away the growing anxiety about Jay’s safety with mindless re-watches of late night television.
The TV on your nightstand hums awake, and the beside clock glows a blaring red: 2:56 am.
So, you watch the nature special on nocturnal birds. And try not to worry more, but it’s hard when the GCPD is tearing up the district.
It’s not until 3:26am when you hear it.
You slam the mute button on the television, still your breathing and listen.
It’s the window by the fire escape in the living room. Someone’s at it, fucking around with the lock. At first, you wonder if it’s your brain playing tricks on you. And then it gets louder.
Panic floods you, and for a moment you consider what to do next – instinct calls you to the baseball bat behind your door, so in a mild scramble, you creep across the room ignoring the state of undress you’re in. You had more important things to do rather than put on a bra and pants.
You can hear the intruder curse when you pull open your bedroom door, and finally the lock snaps – and the window clatters open.
In the dark of your living room, you only make out the glow of a red helmet before you swing, clocking the intruder upside the head as you scream in terror. Sure enough, the man hits the ground like a bag of bricks, yelling in surprise with hands covering his head.
“Ow! FUCK, babe! Babe!”
You swing again, but he catches the Louisville slugger just in time for you to see the bright red bat symbol splayed across ceramic body armor. The leather jacket is familiar, and so is the voice, and suddenly you’re starting to realize –
“Babe, Jesus, that… That was my head.”
“Jason?!”
You voice cracks into a shriek as he pries the helmet from his head, revealing a black domino mask underneath. A sheepish, crooked smile greets you from his place on the floor and you slap a hand over your mouth. You quickly slam the window shut above him and pull the curtains, eyes wide as you try and work this out in your brain.
“I was going to tell you –”
“Bullshit,” you hiss, watching the GCPD search light fan across the apartments across the street, “Are you kidding me? Red Hood? Do you… Oh my god, Jason, I… I knew you were crazy, but seriously?!”
Jason groans, pulling himself upright as he tosses his domino mask off; his eyes are apologetic, and when he stands you’re crossing your arms. You’re starting to pace, and Jason realizes you’re on the verge of freaking out. Like, really freaking out.
“Beautiful, it’s nothing, really –”
“Nothing?!” you yell-whisper, “You’re a superhero. God, and I worried about you before! I’m never going to sleep. I’m not. I will never sleep. I’m going to have to wait for you and make sure you’re not dead in some ditch –”
Blue eyes soften and Jay’s shoulders dip a bit as he sighs. Within a second, gloved hands are on your arms. You hate it when he looks at you like that. Those baby blues are enough to pacify you. His lips quirk, just enough, and you speak slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you’d worry,” Jason chirps, tugging you close to pepper a few kisses along your brow, “I’m sorry, kid.”
“I worry anyways, you know.”
That stirs a warm glow of affection in Jason’s chest – it’s stupid, but it makes him feel like he really does mean something. Your face is pressed into a pout when he pulls away. “I know.”
There’s a few beats of silence between you both before Jason moves to kiss you; it’s sappy and slow and thankful, and you cling to the armored plating along his waist. He smells like smoke and…
You pull away.
Raise your hand. The metallic smell clings to your nostrils. Your fingers are smeared in blood.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Oh, that’s not mine.”
“Jay!”
omg omg headcannons for jason with his s/o that stays up late and is freaking out when he isn’t home and finds out he’s red hood when he comes through the door and she’s just all “aRE yOu kIDDinG mE rIGhT nOW jAsON todD?!?!” and he’s all “hahahahahahahahah well um….!” but it ends in the reader explaining how scared she was and jason all warm because he’s never had somebody care that much about him?
Published
Toad's Cave 