Archive of Our Own ^beta

The chills spread out from her spine, tingling spindles grazing across the fine hairs to pull them on end, tripping over her ribs and rolling in a wave up over her shoulders, then down through her thighs. Pale, off-color light squeezing through the window slats glows across Steph’s ratty sleep shirt, highlighting the shallow rise and fall of her chest.  The window panes rattle angrily from a thunderous crash outside, and when the rain suddenly rushes violently at the glass, she forcibly stops her hands from curling into fists, thumbs rubbing anxiously against forefingers the only thing betraying her tense reaction.

Noticing the tell, Steph grimaces and rolls to her side on the bed, fixing silvery-blue eyes on the nasty weather outside.  Two fingers fall in a soft press to the inside of her wrist, the motion almost unconscious, and the frustration suffuses her entire mind at the quick bump tha-bump of her anxious heartbeat.  Another bone-trembling rumble of thunder shakes the apartment building to the very foundations, and she grits her teeth tightly enough to hurt.

“You are a freaking adult, Steph.  Get a handle,” she mutters out.  She’ll never not be irritated by how stressed severe weather makes her, considering there is literally no basis for her anxiety.  It’s not like she ever had a traumatic experience as a child.  But her imagination was certainly getting more vivid with age, pulling into crystal clarity visions of crumbling buildings and flash floods sweeping people helplessly along; she had made a fine art of psyching herself out to the point of sickness.

She isn’t even going to begin to wonder at what Batman, or god forbid Robin , would have to say about her childish reaction to a storm .  It’s bad enough that she’s mad with herself, she doesn’t need to be hearing that whiny little brat snarking at her.   Pathetic, Brown.  A little heavy rain and you’re completely useless.

Her upper lip curl of disdain is tainted slightly with a grudging fondness for her youngest teammate, and the thought of Damian briefly settles the high-chested breathlessness that had been threatening to overtake her for the last few minutes.  She bites her tongue the next moment, jolting at another mountainous cacophony of thunder, followed by a sharp slash of lightning that disperses a startling brightness into every corner of her room for a split second.

“Ugh, enough!” She swings to her feet, flipping the covers tangled about her calves away with a fierce snap.  Her bare heels strike the ground with purpose as she strides across the few feet to the windows, twisting her fingers around the pullstring and yanking the cheap plastic blinds up in a clattering rush.  Steph grips the narrow window ledge and stares through the drop-strewn glass at nothing in particular.

The next pound of thunder feels like it’s unhinging the building itself, and she stubbornly accepts the vibrations shaking up through her arms, breathing in deeply as the sensation resonates all the way into her chest.  Her eyelids flutter slightly, letting herself drift on the feelings.   I have this , she recites to herself.   Rain is just rain.  I am stronger than some flipping wa- “Holy-!”

The knock on her window, right in front of her face, nearly launches her out of her own skin, and she stumbles back, eyes wild, heart racing, as the imposingly large and hulking body of Red Hood crouches on her fire escape, red mask staring in at her.  “You asshole!” The expletive is greeted with the most smugly mocking head tilt Steph’s ever witnessed, and when she moves forward to drag the window up jerkily in its track, she barely restrains the temptation to shove him backwards.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting drenched, is what.” Jason gestures over her shoulder.  “Let me in, doll face, before I’m forced to drag you out here with me.” When Steph doesn’t move but for a narrowing of her eyes, he starts reaching out.  “Suit yourself.  I’m sure the neighbors will appreciate a little bit of Funshine Bear on this oh-so-dreary day.”

At the words, Steph inhales sharply and spins away from the window, flattening herself to the wall in a panic.  How she’s completely forgotten that she’s only wearing an old Gotham Uni shirt and underwear covered in sparkling Care Bear print is beyond her, but she drops to the ground and gropes for just about anything to wear in her dirty laundry pile as Jason climbs in with a delighted laugh, shutting out the rain and weather with a soft snick of the window latch.

“God, you’re the worst,” Steph gripes, hopping slightly to yank a pair of violet shorts over her hips, glaring at the home invader as he starts pressing a sequence of releases on his helmet.  “It’s like you actively try to piss off everyone around you.”

“Just another one of the many fabulous services I provide to unwilling customers.” Jason grins at her, propping his helmet between a sharp hip and elbow, rubbing his free hand roughly through his hair to loosen up the flatness from having it trapped against his head.

Refusing to cross her arms and look defensive, Steph arches an eyebrow at him.  “So?”

Jason’s lips twitch at the impatient prompt, and gazes back at her.  “So...Care Bears, huh?”

“You!” Steph snatches the nearest semi-soft object (a tofu-shaped plushie Cass had gifted her from her most recent trip to China) and chucks it with perfect aim at his face.  It wasn’t nearly satisfying enough, as he smacked it away with a careless hand and smirk before it could connect.  “Don’t think you have the high road here.  I’ve seen those Wonder Woman boxers you think no one knows about.”

Jason balks slightly, before recovering with a sniff.  “I like strong women, so sue me.” But Steph knows she’s applied the perfect leverage, because he rolls his eyes and stumps over to her desk chair, rolling it out and slumping down.

Eyeing him uncertainly for a moment - Steph likes Jason well enough, but he’s sometimes a bit hard to decipher - she opens her mouth to ask again why he’s chosen today when a stark reminder of her earlier apprehension clatters through the room with a staccato roar.  Her entire body stiffens, eyes flicking to the windows as she re-registers the storm pouring down onto the streets below.

She turns back in time to catch Jason watching her thoughtfully, and immediately feels caught in the act despite having done nothing wrong.  “What?” The word is thrown out with a heated edge of indignation that is more revealing of her unease than she’d like.

Jason looks at her for a moment longer, before shrugging and leaning his head back and forth on his neck to crack it a couple times.  “Nothing.  Just thought you might like some company today.”

Rather than accept the oddly generous statement, Steph’s already strained nerves snag on a single word.  “What’s so special about today?”

Jason rocks a bit in the chair before toeing it into a gentle spin.  Nodding to the window, he says, “You know.  The weather.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her words are stilted at best, and she’s already annoyed with herself for being so guarded.  Realistically, she doesn’t mind the company, and she’s not necessarily upset with the idea that Jason knows about her currently mess of feelings; it would appear she’s been around far too many repressed Bats lately though, and the defiant denial in the face of freely given assistance seems to be catching.

Jason sees the resistance, that much is obvious, but in a moment of inverse character that momentarily surprises Steph, chooses not to comment on it.  Instead, he explains, “I heard you mention to Tim that you don’t like storms.”

This pulls Steph up short.

Brows drawing together, her lips pull down as she tries to recall when she’d said anything of the sort.  Her mind calls up a memory from a few months prior, when Red Robin had noticed her tension during a particularly nasty storm that the three of them had all been taking temporary shelter from on patrol.  She’d laughed it off as both Reds watched her, waving away their interest with a flippant, “Ah, it’s nothing.  Vivid imagination about storms, is all.”

Steph stares at the vigilante twirling in circles on her chair, wondering what universe warp hole she’s fallen into that Jason “Emotionally Repressed” Todd has picked up on the fact that crazy weather freaks her out from such a small statement.

“How did you-” she bites the question off.  Correcting herself, she grumbles at him, “Why do you care?  It’s not like you’re here to commiserate.” The jerk isn’t afraid of storms, and she’ll be damned if she’s going to give him any fodder for blackmail later on.

Jason’s lips part, hesitating a moment before he offers grimly, “I have a bit of experience with disliking loud, explosive noises.”

Steph frowns in confusion, about to question him, but then it hits her.   The warehouse .  Steph grimaces, and all at once feels like an ass.  Her face droops sadly at the reminder, and when she starts to apologize, Jason scowls at her.

“ Anyway ,” he interrupts, rolling his eyes at her puppy dog expression.  “I’m here to hang for a bit.  So get your little Funshine butt moving and pick a movie.” Jason throws his thumb over a shoulder at her pile of DVDs stacked precariously beside her beloved PlayStation 2.

Giving him a dirty look for the underwear reference, Steph only hesitates a second before padding over to her movie selection and running a finger over the titles.  Pausing, she glances at Jason.  “Princess Bride?”

Jason snorts and then waves a hand in vague acceptance.  “Classic.  Let’s do this.”

With a grin, Steph whips it out from near the bottom of the stack and boots everything up.  Snatching her pillows and a blanket from the bed, she settles comfortably on the carpeted floor near Jason’s chair.  

As the movie rolls and Steph starts to buckle over from laughing at Jason’s ongoing litany of perfectly timed quotes and horrifically bad impressions of the actors accompanying the images on screen, she barely pays any more notice to the raging storm outside.