Chapter Text
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, it’s tonight.”
“Wow, dude. That’s exciting.”
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“You’re making me sweat. I don’t want to sweat right now. Fuck, Dick, get out of my room.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Twenty minutes. Get. Out.”
“Do you need a hug?”
Jason spun from his mirror, reached reflexively for his waistband for his gun but grabbed nothing but air. Luckily for Dick who’d been standing in his doorway for the last fifteen minutes doing nothing but jabbering his ear off. It wasn’t helping anything. If anything, it was making him more anxious with a layer of agitation to boot.
“Dick,” Jason smoothed both hands down his face and carefully avoided his hair. He’d actually tried to do his hair. Sort of. “I don’t need this kind of distraction right now. I need to get in the right headspace. And this,” he gestured at Dick with a angry wave of his hand, “is not helping. Get out.”
Dick winced, “Oh.”
“Just, give me some space.”
“Alright, but I gotta say one more thing. Just because I’m your big brother and you sort of missed any kind of sex talk with Bruce, ya know, because you weren’t here and all—.”
“Spit it out Dickie.”
“You need condoms?”
Jason stared at Dick for a full minute before laughing and then he slammed his door on his stupid brother’s face. Of course, he’d thought of condoms. Of course, he’d had them stashed in his nightstand drawer for the last month collecting dust because he’d literally been thinking about this night that long.
Hell, he’d been thinking about it for a lot longer than that.
Just not always with anticipation.
Grimacing, Jason surveyed himself with one last fleeting glance in the mirror and decided he passed. He wasn’t supposed to look any different anyways. Was he? Fuck if he knew.
Jason took the stairs two at a time and revved the engine on his bike when he peeled out of the garage. The drive into downtown Gotham was fraught with traffic and horns blaring. The clouds hung low and the smog was stifling. The smell of brine was strong coming off the grayed-out bay and Jason could hear the whir of cranes hefting their payloads like groaning old men.
He wove in and out of traffic, got flipped off by a couple pretty little sportscars when he got too close on purpose and sped headlong down Tory Avenue to the parking garage that was nearest Lanie’s little apartment. He’d parked here a hundred times, paid the meter-maid for a couple of hours then walked off. But this time, he stopped at the kiosk, stared at the digital numbers and felt his stomach bottom out.
He wasn’t going home tonight. Presumably, he’d be staying overnight. Here on 2384 Tory Ave Apt. 4, with Lanie Marie Thompkins. In a little one-bedroom apartment with a spotty furnace and a tiny kitchenette that needed a paint job.
Jason swallowed thickly, reached into his pocket then swiped his debit card to pay overnight.
When he reached Lanie’s apartment, his stomach felt better, but his chest was tight. And he wanted a drink. Something strong and smooth.
Lanie answered the door on the first knock.
And she looked—magazine glossy perfect.
And she shouldn’t have been.
Not with a messy bun tangling her auburn hair. Or a pair of yoga capris tight on those slightly generous hips. Or a baggy tank-top that showed the purple sports bra she was wearing underneath. She didn’t have any make-up on. Or very little of it. He could see all her freckles, dotting her nose and neck. The tops of her shoulders.
She smelled like dish soap and rose water.
Clean and crisp and good.
Warm.
“Hi,” she murmured, taking him in just as slowly, her eyes going from the toes of his scuffed boots to the top of his head.
“Hi.”
He stepped inside, pressed a kiss to that unpainted mouth and sighed when she nipped delicately at his bottom lip.
“You smell nice.”
She smiled up at him, then stepped back with a flourish at her kitchenette. “I made lasagna.”
“That smells great too.”
Lanie laughed, pressing a hand to her face as if to dab sweat off of it. “I was cleaning like a madwoman before you got here.”
“Yeah?” he could see it. Her dashing around her apartment, picking up throw pillows. Tidying her books into the shelves that were always draped on every surface. Soaping up those dishes, then tossing them madly into the dishwasher. It explained the smell of dawn soap on her skin.
“You know I’m kind of a mess.”
“I like messy.”
She scrunched her nose, “You like clean. I’ve seen your room. Tidy.”
“How do you know I don’t rush around cleaning before you come over too?”
Lanie laughed and it was easy and light, not a trace of anxiety hiding within it. Jason’s chest loosened.
“Here,” she stopped after a breath, eyes sparkling, “Let me have that jacket then you can help me get the salad ready.”
He made a face.
“Hey, don’t knock the greens. They’re good for you.”
“I think it’s all a conspiracy. The government’s way of population control.”
Lanie grinned, tossing his leather coat onto the sofa then meandered into the little excuse for a kitchen. The smell of thyme and rosemary was mouth-watering and Jason could pick up the scent of garlic bread just above it all, making his stomach grumble.
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“Wait till you taste it. It’s an old family recipe.”
“Mmm,” Jason hummed, accepting the knife and cutting board she handed him. He started cutting up the carrots she offered wordlessly, while he watched her clean and break romaine. She looked at home in the kitchen. Like it was easy.
“You didn’t need to cook for me Lanie.”
“I know. I like cooking. Besides, my mama always said that the best way to a man’s heart, is through his stomach. Or so the old cliché saying goes.”
“You’ve already found the way to my heart.”
And oh, how that sounded corny as fuck. He’d never have imagined he’d be caught dead saying anything like that until this moment. But Lanie only smiled and they finished fixing the salad in time for the little chicken buzzer by the stove to go off. She’d already set the coffee table and they took their plates to it with socked feet shuffling.
Lanie flipped on the TV to some snappy sitcom, one that had already been on rerun for who knows how long, but Jason wasn’t even watching. He was too busy forcing himself to eat and not think. His mind was already trying to jump ahead to what was next before he’d gotten a damn bite of food into his stomach. Lanie was trying to make this special. To make it slow and relaxed. But part of Jason just wanted it over with, so he could relax. So, he wasn’t sitting on the edge of his seat waiting for it all to go wrong.
“I think I’ve seen every episode of Reba and I swear, this show still makes me laugh.”
“What?” Jason looked up from his lasagna and stared blankly at Lanie.
“The show,” she pointed mildly at the TV with her fork, “Reba?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Lanie smiled, “Jay, I said we’d move slow.”
“Huh?” he swallowed thickly, “Yeah, I uh—just distracted. Sorry.”
“Don’t overthink it.”
He quirked a brow, “I’m not.”
“OK.”
He sighed, putting down his plate, then turned to face Lanie fully. “I don’t want to pretend like I’m not thinking about having sex with you for the entire evening, sweating and freaking out, just to end on a sour note. I’d rather just—” he cringed, “Just get it over with.”
Lanie stared at him for a moment, opened her mouth to say something, then laughed.
She supposed maybe she shouldn’t have laughed. Not when he was looking so pale and bewildered. Not when he’d just said he wanted to ‘just get it over with’ like he was going to his execution. But it was either that, or cry. And she didn’t want to cry.
So Lanie laughed, she put down her plate of food that she’d spent hours making, and then smiled at the man she was in love with. A man who loved her too and wanted to share something special with her.
Even if it terrified him.
She’d never been in such a position before. She’d never had to be. And it was humbling. And it was scary, because she wanted it to be good for Jay. She didn’t want him to feel badly. She didn’t want this to be another sour experience sexually for him which could push him even further into the hole.
But at the same time, Lanie felt so much. She wanted to trace all the lines on his body. She wanted to savor and touch and to give so much that maybe it was too much and that scared her too. Because Lanie didn’t want to frighten him away.
He was very much a terrified wild thing, staring madly at her like she was the hunter and she desperately didn’t want to be that hunter to him.
“Jay, I love you.”
He frowned at her, “I love you too.”
“If you want to have sex now, then let’s have sex.”
He blinked a few times, then a light pink color started to creep up the collar of the black t-shirt he was wearing and stained his cheeks. “I, uh—OK.”
Lanie fought the shiver that rushed down her spine when she reached for Jay’s hands and tugged him to his feet. He was so much taller than her, so much bigger, and yet, in this moment, he seemed frightened and small. In so much need of someone to help him. She prayed she could do this justice.
They went to her bedroom, silently padding down the tiny hall, just past the bathroom to where she’d set out little tea lights and had just tucked in freshly cleaned sheets.
Her room wasn’t plain but it didn’t have a lot of décor either. She liked woodland photography so it scattered along her walls in blacks and whites. Her comforter was deep garnet and the pillows onyx. The sheets were soft and jersey knit.
Lanie let go of Jay’s hand to move around the room and light the candles. They lit the room in soft flickering orange and the scent of vanilla started to waft around them. Jay hadn’t moved.
“Jay?”
He blinked down at her, eyes large and distant.
“If this is too much, at any time, you tell me and we stop.”
“OK.”
“I mean it Jay.”
He nodded, eyes suddenly sharpening as they drifted down her frame in hungry little jerks. Lanie’s skin flushed under his perusal and she carefully stepped nearer to press her mouth to his. He answered the kiss easily enough, tenderly taking his time, then moving to her neck to trace the column of her throat and then lingering on her pulse that fluttered wildly beneath his lips.
“I love you Lanie,” he breathed soft, so soft it was more a prayer than a whisper and Lanie closed her eyes, savoring Jay’s heart in those words.
They undressed lazily, taking their time, tracing scars and pressing kisses to skin that was new and soft and warm. Lanie paused when Jay flinched and took her time when he went so still she thought they would need to stop.
But they didn’t stop.
And it was lovely, and it was more special than even her wildest dreams could have conjured. Jay undid her with those trembling touches and those unsure kisses. He bled love and pain with those hitched breaths and the sighs of unknown pleasure.
She could feel how sacred these moments were. He was giving her something rare. And she felt more than loved. She felt honored he’d chosen her.
Morning.
No bright sunlight spreading over bedspreads with downy yellow fingers to wake to. But rather a cold gray mist that filtered in through Lanie’s bedroom window and shadowed the two lovers like a cottony blanket. Chilly, secluded, secret.
Lanie stretched, feeling her muscles ache in places she hadn’t felt in quite some time and smiled lazily when she felt the heavy drape of an arm around her middle.
He’d stayed.
Jay was pressed into her back, his nose by her ear, breath tickling her neck with soft snores of contented sleep. His skin so warm on her own, she was tempted to put out a leg from the comforters just to cool down. But she didn’t dare move. Not when she was so boneless and comfortable.
Not when she had Jay so close to her.
There was a sigh, a mumble of words that Lanie couldn’t make out, then Jay tugged her in tighter and nuzzled the back of her head.
“Why are you awake?”
Lanie bit her lip, “I’m an early bird.”
“Ew.”
She laughed, turning in Jay’s arms to press a kiss to his chin, then his mouth as it dipped to meet hers. His eyes were still closed but his mouth worked fine.
“I can make us breakfast.”
“No,” he grumbled, gripping her hard, “You’re warm.”
“So are you. Too warm. I’m overheating.”
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest to hers and Lanie shivered, liking how it felt on her skin. To think she’d made love to this man…
“What sort of breakfast can you make?”
“Pancakes?”
“I like pancakes,” Jay murmured, eyes still closed, breath still tickling, “Coffee? You have that too?”
“Of course.”
“Mmmm.”
Lanie smiled, pushing a little to extricate herself. This time, Jay let her, rolling back over to flatten on her mattress, face down. She didn’t know how he could breathe let alone be comfortable doing that, but it sure looked cute.
Grinning, Lanie stopped off at the bathroom for a quick freshen up, then headed for the kitchen to make pancakes and coffee.
He found her in the kitchenette, singing to Arethra Franklin like a goddamn hallmark movie, looking like a boho queen in boxer shorts and a tank top with fuzzy slippers. She sashayed her hips, used one to close the silverware drawer, then did a little crab dance with two forks before turning to face him.
“Oh,” she jerked a little, then smiled widely, eyes bright green this morning rather than hazel, “you’re up.”
“You promised pancakes,” Jason’s eyes dipped to the coffee pot, “and coffee.”
“Then you shall receive both. Sit.”
He obeyed, taking the stool at the bar when she plopped a plate of steaming pancakes and cup of black as sin coffee in front of him.
“Bon apetit.”
“Thanks.”
He cut into the cakes and started eating, pausing only to sip on his coffee. Jason wasn’t a morning person. Even at the best of times. Even if he’d just had the best, if only, sex of his life with the most beautiful freckled woman in Gotham. He still didn’t like to talk for the first thirty minutes of being conscious.
When he’d polished off the pancakes, Jason took his cup of coffee and refilled it at the pot before giving Lanie his full attention. She was doodling in a notebook on the bar, scribbling little caricatures that looked suspiciously like him.
“Lanie.”
She looked up, eyes a little sleepy, face soft. “Yeah?”
“I know I said it last night. But—thank you.”
Lanie grinned, “Jay, it’s not like I was a martyr. I certainly got something out of the deal.”
“Well, yeah. But we both know you had to walk me through it.”
“You held your own.”
He sighed, putting down the mug to wrap her in a hug that was probably too tight. Jason had never felt like this. So warm and loose and—open. Like he couldn’t put up the shields he was used to wearing every day. It was strangely liberating at the same time as worrying.
There were slender hands slipping under his t-shirt, exploring the skin on his stomach lazily and he leaned into the touch, welcoming it.
In the dark of Lanie’s bedroom, he’d let himself go, little by little until he’d been stripped so bare he’d felt as though he’d even lost his skin. He’d been a bleeding gaping wound, desperate for affection and human touch and Lanie had given him everything. She’d touched and tasted and moved him. Made him feel more whole than he had in ages.
Had he ever felt so whole? Ever so vibrantly alive with her skin under his mouth and her hands on his back?
No.
The answer was pitifully easy.
He pressed his lips to hers and let his mind drift, purposefully forcing his thoughts to dissociate so that all he could do was feel. Last night, he’d been so scared, Lanie had done all the pushing. She’d been the one to guide and to lead.
In the light of dawn, with coffee still warming his mouth and the taste of pancakes on Lanie’s lips, he wanted to steal this moment and let it be his. Jason wanted to have her again.
The ache of want grew so sharp, his hands were already picking at her clothes, his mouth working down her neck. Lanie was soft and pliant, delicate. She moved with him, wrapping those long legs around his hips when he urgently picked her up and used the countertop as a shelf.
She hummed in approval and he felt more of himself slipping. He felt the emotions clouding at the edge of his mind, right alongside the desire, and he ruthlessly pushed them away.
Why the fuck was he having trouble now, when only a handful of hours ago, he’d powered through everything? Where was the wall, the separation, the guard to the lock that belonged on his past?
If he was going to be in control, emotions couldn’t slip in. Not when he needed to remain here. In the present. He didn’t want to slip and fall headlong into who was outside the walls.
There was laughter, far off, and distant in his mind. Knock, knock. Who’s there?
With Lanie arching under his touch and her mouth making him so hot he needed these goddamn clothes off, he was choking back groans. He was too hot. Feverish. He needed to breathe. Everything felt close and tight. The walls felt nearer. The room felt small and cramped.
Stepping back, vision hazed, Jason tugged on his t-shirt and got it over his head then dove back in like a man who’d merely come up for a quick breath of air.
But his mind was already fracturing, his thoughts skipping between Lanie surrounding him and the clown who was racing in the hallways in his head, slamming on the doors, banging for entrance.
The kiss deepened, the angle changed, and Jason was gripping the countertop hard to not think about those hands that were tracing his spine. Soft fingers, not rough. Gentle tracing, not hard scraping nails.
“Jay?”
He froze at her neck, lips still poised at the pulse which danced, body taut like a bow. “Yeah?”
“You’re not OK.”
“I—” he blinked into the space over her shoulder, brought himself incrementally back to the moment, right now, and swallowed, “I’m fine. I’m OK.”
His hands were shaking. His mouth was filled with cotton and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t get in a deep enough breath to stifle the laughter ringing in his ears.
“What did I do?”
“Nothing.”
That heat had never left but it was flushing his face now, making sweat pepper his brow and neck. He took one step back, then two, pushing a hand through the tangle of his hair to force his gaze on Lanie.
God, she was beautiful.
Disheveled. Rumpled clothing. Red mouth and bright eyes.
She looked even better in the warm glow of morning than she had beneath candles.
This wasn’t fucking fair to her. She deserved better. She didn’t deserve sloppy seconds or whatever this was. She didn’t deserve a man who drifted off when he kissed her because there was a fucking clown laughing in his head.
He wanted to want her without also thinking of everything before her. He wanted one to exist without the other.
Jason’s eyes darted to Lanie and he clenched his fists until his nails cut into his palms.
Still sitting on the counter, Lanie looked small and frail.
“I did something.”
“No. That isn’t how—” Jason cleared his throat, “That’s not how it always works. Sometimes, it just—it sneaks up on me. Sometimes there isn’t any one or anything at fault.”
It sounded stupid when he said it out loud. It sounded weak.
Lanie watched him a moment, a frown drawing those auburn brows down. Slipping off the countertop, she drew nearer, hesitant, careful. He let her and felt tension bleeding away in slivers. She didn’t look angry with him. She looked worried. Which wasn’t much better, but it was something.
“Can I touch you?”
Jason snorted, looking away from her suddenly as a wave of something foul rolling in chest made his eyes water, “You shouldn’t have to ask.”
“Yes, I should. Everyone should.”
When he kept silent, Lanie’s soft sigh drew him back to her and he found his hands grabbing her own, guiding them to his bare chest. He pressed one of her palms to his sternum, using hard pressure to keep himself focused. In the moment. Always in the moment.
Lanie’s eyes were on his, wary, seeing and not seeing. They stayed frozen for several breaths, the thump of Jason’s heartbeat between their skin grounding them together. Then she reached a burning finger to the mark on his collarbone, a scraggly J, and stopped on it.
And he knew, that she knew who’d done that to him. That it was a marking of ownership and permanent pain for him.
Her eyes widened as they flashed up to his and he saw something like horror and then stark- naked pain.
Her touch felt scorching. Fear trembled and clawed at him, memories of the burn and the laughter and the smell of flesh melting beneath an iron made him want to recoil so desperately it was nearly unbearable.
But God, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to run away from her.
His eyes slammed closed and he took several deep breaths to control the wave of panic that had no place where Lanie was concerned.
She tried to draw back. To rip her hand away, because God knew she could see so easily what this was doing to him, but he grabbed her wrist and held it tight.
Because he was a fucking masochist?
No, because he wanted her touch burned over the top of the pain. He wanted Lanie’s imprint desperately more than he wanted the puckered claim the Joker had given him.
He breathed through the worst of the panic, ignoring Lanie’s presence save the hand in his grip, the thumb on the J, then slowly let himself back open until he was staring down into those hazel eyes. Staring into a soul who was so clean it should hurt to be near him. His pulse was still pounding in his ears and he felt shaky and weak. But he was here.
He was still standing here and that was more than he could have hoped for.
“I can’t talk about that.”
“OK,” she was whispering, eyes shimmering with—tears? Fuck, it made his stomach cramp. He didn’t want her to cry. Or to hurt. Or to worry.
“It’s—”
She shook her head “You don’t need to say it. I understand.”
“I don’t want to think about him when I’m with you.”
“I know.”
Jason pulled Lanie back in, pressed his mouth to Lanie’s and felt the quiver bone-deep. And it wasn’t fear this time. It was gratitude. Love. Absolute loyalty and trust.
“We don’t have to--.”
“Please,” he whispered against her mouth, now feeling desperation overcrowd everything else. He needed Lanie to wash Joker away again. He needed to be reminded of what he’d already managed to forget. Her skin, her smell, her touches. He needed it all. “I want this.”
“Jay, you don’t need to prove anything to me.”
“It’s for me,” he stuttered out, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Lanie’s shoulder, memorizing the freckles that made him think of sunshine and laughter, “It’s for me Lanie.”
“Be sure Jay. I never want to push you.”
He shook his head, tangling both hands into her hair, tugging her up to her toes to crush their mouths together.
Only Lanie. It was only her now. And God, it was good. And he needed her.
He needed her while the memories had slipped back into their box. Before they came back out again.
“I’m sure.”
“It was good.”
Dick lifted a brow, delivered a series of deadly blows to the punching bag swinging between them then snorted when Jason didn’t elaborate. Jason had no intention of going into details about he and Lanie and what they did in bed.
“Alright, don’t kiss and tell.”
“Not my style.”
“Figures.”
Tim was stretching on the mats beside them, nearly folded in half but clearly listening in. He sat up and frowned at them. “Have you met her family too?”
“Yeah.”
“What?” Dick stopped hitting the heavy bag and frowned, “You didn’t say anything.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. They were nice. It was a quiet dinner at a little Italian place in Metropolis on a weekend a couple months ago. Haven’t seen them since.”
“Months?”
“Yeah, so?” Jason growled, feeling his agitation with the twenty questions starting to rise. He didn’t come to the Batcave for pillow talk and fucking gossip. He came here to burn a few hundred calories and sweat. He came to not think. Or rather, not overthink.
He’d had sex with Lanie a total of four times. Each time had been special. Each time, a little different or varied and Jason was OK with that. He liked that it was slow. That they didn’t need to have sex every time they saw each other and that it wasn’t expected of him. It took work for him to push the demons out and though he really enjoyed it, like a fucking lot, he also had to be in the right frame of mind. Lanie seemed to be fine with that.
For now.
“Meeting the family is generally a big deal.”
Jason shrugged a shoulder, then pushed Dick out of the way so he could have a go at hammering the heavy bag. Tim had popped to a stand and lingered nearby. He smelled a little like the afters of a really good dooby. Jason was a little jealous. He could use one about now.
“Where’s the demon?”
Tim lifted a brow, “Coming down in a few. He said he wanted to work on his grappling with B before patrol. Speaking of, you coming? Been a couple days.”
Jason glanced up at the clock on the wall. He could spare a few hours. He didn’t have anything better to do. He didn’t officially start at Gotham Police Academy till Monday and he had a bit of excess energy to work off.
Better than giving in and asking Tim for some of his pot stash anyways.
“Yeah.”
Dick let Jason slip into the mindless drone of punches and kicks, for a handful of minutes until Damian came bowling down the stairs with a studiously quiet Bruce trailing after. No one said anything to anyone, but Jason felt everyone’s probing stares.
They were all measuring him like he was going to start ripping heads off or something. Which was ridiculous. Because he was completely in control and not freaking out in the least.
He was fine. Everything had gone well between him and Lanie.
Was currently going well.
And he refused to blush knowing that his entire family was aware of his now non-virginal status. So, what if he and Lanie had graduated to having sex? It didn’t mean he was going to marry her. Or had been having visions of her having his children and naming them all different variations of something red.
Fuck.
He punched the bag hard enough he felt the skin tear on his knuckles.
“Everything alright?” Bruce’s mild voice wafted through the gym and Jason’s hackles rose.
“Fine, old man.”
“Just checking.”
“No need.”
Damian snorted, “I thought you were getting laid now. Shouldn’t that loosen you up?”
“Damian,” Bruce warned but it didn’t sound very chiding.
“Fuck off, Demon.”
“Jason,” Dick growled, shoving the heavy bag so it hit Jason’s head.
Jason glared, cast a scathing look at the boy who looked unimpressed with his venomous retort, despite the fact that he’d deserved it, then frowned down at his feet.
“Sorry.”
“Doesn’t bother me, Todd. Father’s the only one who really has a problem with the language.”
Bruce sighed, propping both hands on his hips as he levelled a look at Jason. “Do you need to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Then let’s suit up. See if you can work out some of that frustration on patrol.”