Author note: This has been an awful week for so many reasons, so please enjoy this small moment where you can just relax and not thing about terrible things and build your strength for all the moments that are to come
Thinking about how Jason Todd has no free time.
Outside of the struggle of surviving and managing his crummy minimum wage job until he can steal another monster horde of black cash, he also spends most of his night fighting crime and stalking aforementioned mafia boss. These days he barely finds enough motivation to take a shower.
But the second you mention there’s a movie you want to see, he’s rearranging his schedule with the gusto of a billionaires personal assistant, moving his stalking session and trading his retail shift to give you that coveted 6 PM time slot.
He buys the tickets in advance, booking your seats so you get the middle of the movie theater, and getting all the snacks. He just wants to make sure you have a good night. You rarely ask for anything from him, and when you do ask him for something it’s always something ridiculously simple that he should be giving anyway, like a twenty dollar ticket to the new movie? Are you kidding right now—you should be asking for a custom mid-century modern house or a four carrot diamond ring, this is nothing in comparison.
And he’s sitting in the theatre, in the best seats in the house, in what should be one of the few rare good moments he has in his week, he’s sitting here in this plush seat with a $13 glass of Diet Pepsi at his elbow and a vein practically throbbing on his forehead.
“Jay,” you say, your soft hands—hands far too good for him—wrapped around his forearm. “It’s okay.”
And he feels like human garbage, because you’re so good, you deserve so much, and even this paltry moral he can give you is tainted.
“It’s not okay,” he whispers, and he’s about to spill all his shortcomings out when he feels his presence.
And sure enough when he looks over his shoulder, he’s right there, looking at the two of you. And if his presence wasn’t bad enough, the scoundrel has the nerve to point to the licorice in your hands.
“Can I have a piece?” Damian asks,
Jason’s vein gets twice as big. And when you agree, like the angel you are, passing him the whole package, he has to cover his eyes with his hand.
The truth is, if it was just Damian it would have been fine. A little annoying, but it could have been like some fucked up family outing, you, him, and the little brother you dote on like he’s your kid or something.
“You got twizzlers, you know we’re a red vines family Jason,” Stephanie chastises, and he’s spared a glance to see despite all her criticism wolfs down two pieces before handing the package to Cassandra, who hands it to Duke.
He’s the only one who has the decency to look sorry about this whole thing, and he shrugs apologetically taking a piece before handing it to Dick in the row in front of him.
“This was all your idea, wasn’t it?” He hisses, and Dick doesn’t deny it as he bites into the candy.
“Damian said you were going to the movies.” Like that’s all there is to it. The heathen doesn’t even seemed ashamed as he offers the package to Tim.
He’s got another scathing remark gracing his tongue when he feels your hand on his forearm again. Tugging his attention away from his degenerate brother to you. Just the sight of you is enough to soften him, and when you speak it’s like a balm to his irritation.
“It’s okay Jason, I think it’s sweet they wanted to see you so bad.”
He snorts, sweet is the furthest thing from what he would call whatever this is. He’s half sure they just did it to get a rise from him, but then you intertwine your fingers with his.
“It’s more fun when everyone’s here together.”
He doesn’t agree with that either. It would be much better if it was just you and him, your head on his shoulder and his breath held in his chest as he wills himself to focus on the movie instead of sneaking glances at you and taking in gulps of your sweet scent like it’s air.
But your happiness is his happiness, so if you say it’s more fun this way, it’s more fun this way.
“At least they had the sense to sit three seats away.” And he knows the second it come sour of his mouth he’s missing something, because since when did a shameless degenerate like Dick and a sleep deprived apathetic loser like Tim care enough to give the two of you any semblance of privacy. A missing puzzle piece that’s discovered as soon as he looks into the aisle to see Bruce, Alfred, and Barbara standing there with a bucket of popcorn and three packages of candy.
“Oh you’re both already here, we might have overdone it on the candy Alfred.”
Alfred sends a pitying glance to Jason, shaking his head, and sparing a sympathetic pat to his hand as he passes by and takes a seat next to Tim. Barbara offers her condolences with a nod, and Bruce doesn’t show an ounce of shame as he sits next to you, offering you a pack of twizzlers.
“I heard this was your idea, you have fantastic taste in movies.” And you accept the package and compliment with a smile.
He sighs, accepting the situation with resignation as you feed him a piece of licorice.
“He’s right though, you do have good taste in movies.”
