Jason Todd x Reader | Rough Night

joyances:

You can tell that Jason has had a rough night the moment he slips in through your window.

For one thing, he’s still in his armor. He always comes home to you in street clothes, freshly showered. It’s his way of keeping you distanced from his night job. Tonight, though, even the helmet is still in place. If that hadn’t given him away, there’s an obvious droop in his shoulders and he’s walking as if his boots are made of lead and each step is a laborious struggle.

He strips off his helmet as soon as he’s inside and gives you (and the bed) a sad and obviously longing look. He wants to crawl into bed with and mope and never leave again. You can tell. You move to put away the book you had been reading, ready to welcome him.

But he shakes himself off and turns towards the bathroom instead. A shower first, then. Considerate of him, you think. You try to distract yourself from your worry with your book, but you keep having to read the same sentence over and over again. What happened tonight? Is he alright? He doesn’t seem like he was hurt, but you’re still worried. Jason is pretty stalwart, it takes some serious shit to throw him like he’s obviously been thrown tonight.

You’re lost in thought, and you don’t hear the shower turn off. Eventually, though, you do notice Jason slinking tiredly back into the bedroom. He’s clean now; dry and dressed in his most comfortable slacks. That alone seems to have lifted some of the exhaustion from his shoulders.

He, strangely enough, bypasses his side of the bed and decides to slip in from the bottom up. He lifts up the comforter and crawls in, until he can rest his head on your stomach. He flops down then, almost knocking the wind out of you. He huffs out a sigh, almost like relief, and goes boneless there. The childishness of it would have made you laugh if it weren’t for how upset he clearly was. You put down your book and lifted the covers up to peer in at Jason.

“What happened?” You ask him, your voice so quiet it’s barely a whisper.

“Nothing you need to know about, Princess,” He says, blinking up at you and attempting a reassuring smile, “Just a tough night. That’s all.”

You stare in at him for a while longer. You still want to know.

“Really, baby, I don’t want to talk about it,” He says, then to distract you, “What are you reading.”

“The Princess Bride.” You hold your book up for him to see.

“Again,” He asks, “How many times is that?”

“I’ve lost count.” You admit, almost sheepishly. But he just smiles fondly at you, affection radiating from is face.

He buries his face against you again and when he speaks this time it’s muffled.

“Read to me.” So quiet you can hardly hear it. As if he’s almost too embarrassed to ask.

“Want me to start from the beginning?” You ask him. He shakes his head and his hair tickles a little as the motion nudges your shirt up a little.

“Wherever you are is fine.” He says.

You wriggle around, making yourself more comfortable, and crack the book open again with one hand. Your other hand find’s it’s way into Jason’s hair, carding through it gently. Jason sighs again and you begin to read.

“Finally he rested far below her, silent and without motion. “You can die too for all I care,” she said, and then she turned away.

Words followed her. Whispered from far, weak and warm and familiar, “As…You…Wish…”

Dawn in the mountains. Buttercup turned back to the source of the sound and stared down as, in first light, the man in black struggled to remove his mask.

“Oh, my sweet Westley,” Buttercup said. “What have I done to you now?

Your shirt has hitched up even higher, and you can feel Jason’s breath puffing against the skin of your stomach, evening out more and more with every word you read. He presses a few kisses there, every now and again and lets out a few more happy sighs. It’s enough to make you keep reading, even after you’re sure he’s fallen asleep.