Work Text:
Jason has to fight to haul his body up the fire escape of his shitty apartment building. Every single muscle in his body is screaming at him to just give up and collapse under his own weight, let himself crumble onto the shitty metal with the flaky green paint. He’s pretty sure he’s been shot at some point during the night, possibly with his own gun. He’s definitely sure he got stabbed.
But none of that matters, because as Jason claws his way through the window, he knows he’ll get to crawl into bed and curl around you. That would be the case if you were actually sleeping in his bed like you were supposed to be.
For a moment, Jason thinks he's just so tired and hurt that he can't see you. But when he staggers over to his bed, reaches his hands out and feels for you on your side of the bed, he realises you aren't actually there. So, he looks up, searches the room for your sleepy face, silently begs for you to be standing in the bathroom doorway, looking at him with that soft kind of concern only you could get away with. But you aren’t there. You aren't anywhere.
Even when he manages to drag his tired, aching, bleeding body out of the bedroom and into the hallway, he still can't find any evidence of you. Jason tugs his helmet off and lets it fall from his shaking hands and clatter to the floor, feeling a surge of panic rise up inside him. He doesn't bother to pull his domino mask off, far too preoccupied looking for you.
When he can’t find you, can’t even find evidence of you in his space, Jason feels his bottom lip start to tremble. You're supposed to be here, waiting for him. Waiting to comfort him, waiting for him to climb into bed beside you, waiting to kiss his forehead and ask him if he has any injuries that can't wait till morning. But you aren’t. And Jason finally crumbles.
When you turn up at his door with sandwiches from the deli round the corner 15 minutes later, you find all 6’0” of your boyfriend curled up on the floor, holding his head like the world is ending and sobbing like he’s never cried before. And it’s only when you finally close the door behind you that Jason seems to realise you’ve arrived.
“You’re here,” Jason croaks, wet eyes and blotchy face turning up to look at you. His bottom lip is still trembling as he attempts to haul himself off the floor, only to fall to his knees again with a loud whimper of pain - both physical and emotional.
“God Jay, what happened to you?” Placing the bag down by the door, sandwiches discarded until some point in the future, you kneel before him. And Jason is immediately wrapping his arms around you, tugging you against him and pressing his fingers to your spine. Like he wants to crack you open and make himself a home right next to your heart.
“Thought you were gone,” He gasps into your shoulder, gripping you harder and curling deeper into you. Pulls you impossibly closer to him, crushes you against his chest a little. “You weren’t here and I-“
“Hey, it’s ok… I’m here, sorry I didn’t leave a note... just wanted to grab food cuz I knew you were due back…” You dig your fingers into his sweaty hair and then gently turn your head and kiss his temple. He shudders slightly under your affections and melts into you, no longer gripping you as painfully.
“…Why don’t you let me get you cleaned up?” The question comes out cotton-soft, and Jason is relaxing against you immediately. Despite it not being said outloud, you both know what it means. It had taken a long time for the two of you to settle into this rhythm, to find a place where you could both create your own comfort. But now you’ve found it and you’re keeping it.
“…I’d like that,” Jason mumbles back against your shoulder, finally relaxing and shuffling back after he does. He doesn’t want to, but he knows he needs to if you’re getting to take care of him.
“Cmon, let’s go get you comfy, hmm? Then I can take that silly little mask off.” You take Jason’s hand and gently help the man to his feet. He stumbled a little before finding his footing, looming over you with a tired slump to his shoulders.
He offers no resistance as you lead him to the couch. None as you guide him to sit down or look at his domino mask. And despite not wanting you to move away from him, he offers no resistance when you leave to the bathroom to grab the small bottle of adhesive remover that’s gentle enough to dissolve the glue holding the mask to his skin without hurting him.
What he does do, however, is whine and pull away when you start to work on getting the domino mask off of his face. It hurts, pulls at his skin slightly. And normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but he’s in that hazy kind of head space already where he doesn’t want anything to hurt anymore.
“I know baby, I know,” you coo softly, dabbing the little brush of the applicator against the point where the mask meets his skin. “But you gotta let me do this ok?”
Jason looks at you with a wobbling lower lip before he sighs softly and nods. You take one of his hands and guide it to your thigh, letting him knead and massage it in an effort to comfort him. He does flinch a few times, but never fully pulls away, allowing you to get the domino mask off and place it on the coffee table.
“Oh baby… you need a bath,” you sigh softly, reaching up to cup Jason’s face with one hand, the other holding the partially open bottle of adhesive remover. “Let’s go so I can run you a bath, hmm? Let me wash your hair?”
Jason only mumbles something before letting you guide him up and towards the bathroom. Even if his body protests, even if he wants to just collapse onto the floor in a crumpled pile of dirty clothes and bone deep tiredness. But he follows because he loves you.
“Here we go… why don’t you sit down and let me run you a bath?” The question isn't really a question. Even if you phrase it like that, it’s more that you’re telling him. And honestly, Jason is more than glad for that. Means he doesn’t have to answer, doesn’t have to think about answering.
You guide him to sit on the closed toilet before you’re moving to run a bath. Jason watches you with foggy, hazy eyes and a sense of peace. He didn’t know he needed this, not consciously at least. Even if he’s always craving it in the deep subconscious buried in the back of his mind.
He’s pulled from his thoughts with a startle as hands slip under the shoulders of his leather jacket. His muscles twitch, ready to grab the gun strapped to his thigh and put lead between the eyes of whoever is trying to remove his armour.
“Hey… oh baby I’m sorry, did I spook you? I didn’t mean to…” your voice comes out, breaking through the panic and letting him sink back into that pleasant haze. Almost immediately he relaxes. And then guilt crashes over him. He had intended to shoot you.
Jason feels tears well in his eyes as he looks into yours. Full of concern and love and adoration beyond anything he's seen before. Not pity, just the soft kind of concern that makes Jason’s heart ache with realisation that he is loved.
“I,” He starts, but is quickly cut off with a soft little sob. He tries to bite the inside of his cheek, to sink his canines into the tender flesh on one side in order to stifle the sound. But all it does is hurt him and make him gasp, resulting in him crying a little harder than before. His words come out blubbering and wet, almost unintelligible. “I was going to shoot you!”
Jason is practically wailing now, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he wrestles with the idea that he could've just lost you. All at his own hands, all because he let himself get lost in his thoughts while he's like this. Not even your gentle consoling or the way you cradle his head to your chest calms him now. He’s spiralling down into self hatred so fast he feels like he's going to implode. And all the while he continues to sob about how he almost shot you, about how dangerous he is, about how much he could've hurt you.
“Jason, baby… Look at me.” Your hands find his caw, cupping his face in your soft palms as you guide him to meet your eyes. Jason's crying almost immediately tapers off into a quiet sniffling, big,watery, emotional blue-green eyes meet yours with a quiet whimper.
“There we are sweet boy… such pretty eyes. No more tears now, understood? I know you'd never hurt me,” You whisper, leaning down to gently press little kisses to just below his eyes. You can taste the salt on your tongue, the absolute exhaustion on his skin. Another kiss is pressed to his forehead before you pull away and smile down at him, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. “Stand up baby. Let me help you undress, your bath is almost ready.”
There's a moment of hesitation before Jason is gently placing his hand on the wall and using it to help pull himself to his feet. He sways a little but doesn't feel off balance, just so tired that it’s seeped into his bones and made him feel like he wants to sleep for a week. Your hands are on him almost as soon as he's standing back to most of his full height, gently undressing him and folding his clothes to place on the bathroom counter.
By the time you're done, the bath is full and steaming. Only now does Jason notice that you’ve added some of your own stuff to it. The lavender bubbles and a handful of epsom salt, evident by the way the steam smells and the bathwater has a pleasant, slightly purple-ish hue to it. Jason almost refuses to get in. He doesn't want to ruin it, to sully it with his filth and hurt. But your hands are guiding him to slide into the tub before he's able to form a thought coherent enough to actually fight you on it.
“You’ve got a nasty bruise on your tummy Jay. Got the words to tell me what happened?”
Jason watches you through hazy eyes as you pull off the sweater you were wearing, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt. Then you're reaching into the bath, cupping some water in your hand and dragging it up over his chest. The warmth spreads through him and his muscles finally start to relax from something besides exhaustion.
“Got stabbed,” He mumbles, closing his eyes and deliberately lowering his head onto the edge of the porcelain. If he looks at you right now, he's going to burst into tears again. He can't take it, no more tears, not tonight.
“Oh baby… My sweet boy, how could someone do that to you?” Your voice is filled with the kind of concern that makes Jason's throat tighten. The space behind his eyes wells up with the kind of heat that only means one thing and Jason is already breaking the vow he made to himself just moments ago.
“I ‘unno,” he mumbles, trying not to burst into tears again. Even if he can feel his body trying. Even if he can feel the tears already beading along his lash line and threatening to fall. Even as his chest starts to heave and his mind races. “Hurts though.”
“I know baby, I know. It’s ok, we’ll get an ice pack on it after the bath,” your lips are on his forehead again and the tears are subsiding. It hurts, yes, but your touch makes it better. You make it better, you always make everything better. “You just relax, let me take care of you.”
Jason opens his mouth to say something but the muscles in his throat constrict and his jaw snaps shut. Instead of trying and failing to talk, he just huffs gently through his nose and rolls his head to look at you. Through half lidded eyes, Jason can see you filling the jug you keep under the bathroom counter with warm water. He watches you swirl your fingers in it, making sure it’s a good temperature before you're padding back over to the bath and kneeling next to it.
“Lean forwards for me baby, need to get your hair.” Your hand finds his back and gently guides him forwards, getting him to sit up. Jason grumbles softly, not wanting to lean forwards and lose the warmth of the water around his ribs. But he still heaves his aching muscles forwards, sitting up and sloaching over.
One of your hands pushes up under the hair on his forehead before you're pouring the jug over his head, water soaking into his grubby, sweat crusted curls. The water and your touch are soothing, pulling a satisfied sigh from Jason's throat as he slumps forwards a little more. Your touch goes missing and for a moment, Jason considers whining to get your attention. But then the clock of the shampoo bottle opening meets his ears and he manages to hold the noise in until your hands are back on his head, massaging the suds into his curls.
The way your fingers move and massage through his curls has Jason slowly but surely melting into the bath water. Even when you're filling the jug again and washing the suds out of his hair, he can still feel himself finally relaxing, despite all the pain and hurt.
Jason doesn’t say or do much as you continue to clean him. Only getting out of the bath once the water is cold and a little dirty. He doesn’t go far, seeing as you want to shower him off once the water is drained and the tub is clean. You spend time making sure the shower water is the perfect temperature and being gentle around his little cuts and big bruises.
Once bath time is over, you’re toweling him off and helping him dress in his most comfortable pyjamas. Even if said PJs are sweatpants and a shirt you found that was somehow, miraculously, oversized on him. It made him feel small. He liked it.
You also help him properly dry and treat his hair. It takes a while, but you let him curl a hand in the soft fabric of your shirt the entire time. And when you’re finished, all of his curls are soft, shiny and properly defined. He ends up staring at his curls in the standing mirror in your bedroom while you treat, wrap and softly kiss all of his cuts. He doesn’t think about what kind of miracle it is that he hasn’t got any more serious injuries.
“There we go.. All bandaged up. Up we get then, you need to eat,” you stand in front of him, holding your hands out with your palms up, waiting every so patiently for him to take them and pull him up - even if it's more symbolic than anything. “I got those sandwiches, remember?”
Jason stares silently at your hands for a moment, eyes tracing the lines on your palms while he drinks you in. Then, slowly - head turning up to look at you at the same time - he crosses his arms and tucks both of his hands under his biceps. He shakes his head sluggish, freshly defined curls bounding with the movement. But beyond that, he doesn’t move.
“Jay, baby, you gotta,” you huff, frowning slightly and reaching out to take his hands. Jason just leans backwards until he’s lying down on your bed and refusing to look at you.
“Jay…” you try again, voice softer but slightly strained as you reach over and attempt to pull his hands free. In doing so, you have to plant a hand on the bed for balance while you try to fight your much stronger boyfriend to get him off the bed.
Jason takes full advantage of this, hands suddenly shooting out and grabbing you. You barely have time to squeak before Jason is crushing you against his chest, tucking his head down and into the side of your neck. His legs are tangling with yours and he's essentially become the biggest, cuddliest trap you've ever found yourself caught in
“Jason,” you groan, trying to escape from his grip. You love him, you adore when he gets cuddly and you genuinely want nothing more than to just give in, wrap your arms around his broad shoulders to the best of your ability. But you know that he needs eat or hes going to be miserable in a few hours when he finally starts to get hunger pains.
“No,” he mumbles, words muffled by the press of his lips against the skin of your neck. His freshly defined curls tickle your skin as he nuzzles closer, like he’s trying to share your body with you.
“Please? So I can get into my pyjamas and we can go eat?” You try, softer this time. One of your arms wiggles out of the crushing how he’s got on you and manages to wrap around his head. Your fingers dig into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp a little.
After a few seconds, Jason finally relents and lets you slip free of his hold. You’re getting up as fast as possible without startling him, although he seems far too tired to be startled right now. Instead, he just rolls onto his back, twines his fingers together and lets his eyes follow you around the room as you change. You’d like to shower, but you aren’t sure if Jason could handle being alone and you don’t want him getting wet if he tries to follow you into the bathroom.
“Right. Let’s go grab those sandwiches I got then.” You’re back where you were before he pulled you down. Hands out, palms up, ready to attempt to pull your 6’0” boyfriend to his feet. Thankfully, this time, he takes your hands and lets you play at pulling him up instead of pulling you down.
Only one of his hands leaves you when he’s up. The other one is lacing his fingers with yours so you can’t possibly go anywhere without him. Not that you’d dream of it, of course.
You try to get Jason situated on the worn sofa so you can retrieve the sandwiches, but he refuses to leave your side. So, once the food is retrieved and you’ve got some napkins, you both settle together and begin to eat. Neither of you bother speaking while you eat, but Jason does drop his head onto your shoulder and occasionally reaches to trail a finger over your hand. It’s a little counterproductive to you eating, but you don’t do anything about it.
Jason takes his time to eat, staring at the hand he keeps touching while he chews slowly. Neither of you really pay attention when you switch the TV on and flip to a random channel. Whatever soap opera you’ve flicked on drones away in the background. You're too focused on Jason to care, and he's too busy eating.
Once you've both finished, you sit together in silence while the TV plays. Although Jason does take one of your hands in his and starts to gently trace the lines of your palm with a few of his fingers. This lets you both sink into a comfortable quiet, enjoying each other's warmth and presence for just a few more minutes, cuddled up on the couch.
“You ready to go to bed?” You ask softly, bringing the hand he isn't playing with up to thread into his hair. He only sums softly in response and leans into your touch, silently encouraging you to keep scratching gently at his scalp. “Let's go then baby.”
This time, Jason is the first one to get up, pulling away from you reluctantly. Although he's turning around to pull you up after him almost immediately, tucking you into his side as he leads you towards the bedroom. Normally, he'd only do this when he's feeling possessive or jealous. But right now, you can tell he just needs you close, needs your warmth and presence lest he crumble into dust and tears.
Jason pushes you onto the bed with all the care in the world, like he thinks you might break if he isn't gentle enough with you. Yet, despite having pushed you onto the bed, he doesn’t follow you. Instead, he stands there awkwardly, watching you like he's expecting something. So you shuffle under the sheets before pulling them back and opening your arms up to him. Only then does he climb into bed, wrap his arms around your mid section and bury his face into your chest.
“There we go…” you mumble softly, head dipping so you can nuzzle into his curls and breathe in the scent that’s so uniquely Jason that you could recognise it anywhere. Jason only nuzzles closer in response, burying his face until it can't be seen. You can’t imagine it's easy to breathe, but you don't say anything. If he's comfy, you're comfy.
Neither of you move for a moment, simply basking in the shared warmth that comes from being so close together. Jason moves only after you finally start falling asleep. It startles you a little, but once you realise what he's doing you just hum softly and nuzzle further into his hair.
Jason tangles his legs with yours, slotting one massive thigh between your own and sliding the other one underneath your lower thigh. The arm that isn't trapped under your body moves to pull your thigh up and over his waist, forcing you to press impossibly closer to him. Then he’s pulling the blanket up further, nearly entirely covering his face before wrapping his arms around you again and letting himself sink back into soft, comfortable silence.
One arm wraps around Jason's shoulders, the other cradles his head as your fingers thread back into his hair. He mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “i love you” before promptly devolving into soft snores. You smile and whisper it back, lips pressed against the top of his head. Thankfully, you're not long to follow your boyfriend into sleep, cradled by your little shared bubble of warmth.