(no subject)

[bossymarmalade]

Jaime arrives in Gotham about half an hour later. …Eesh, the news didn’t even show the full extent of the wreckage, which is kind of surprising.

Landing next to Jason, he breaks his eyes away from the remains, burnt rafters and walls poking out through the debris like charred bones.

"…So, uh. A cow. Really? He had a cow?" A pause. "Not in the Bart Simpson-y way."

What’s left of the manor isn’t pretty, so Jason’s trying not to look at it. There’s something very weird about being there now. For once though, he’s okay with being excruciatingly sleep deprived, because it’s helping him mostly feel numb instead of upset or angry.

His attention is mostly on the three animals milling about in a hole that he’s pretty sure used to lead to the batcave until a large amount of rubble fell down it. At least that’s giving Damian’s animals a nice place to hang out. There’s not really an easy way for them to get up though.

He barely blinks as Jaime lands next to him. “Yeah, she’s down here,” he says, nodding at the crater. “Think they’re okay, they look kinda freaked out though.”

"Yeah, think you’d be a little freaked out if the sky just kinda fell down around your head," he replies with a short laugh. Shaking his head, he leans over the crater, down at the animals — only the pig’s looking up, though. Which is kinda weird since it’s the smallest of the three, but. Y’know.

"So, uh," he starts, eyes flicking back over to Jason. "You got ropes for them or something?" he asks — and then his eyes go back to the animals.

Okay, strength he’s got. Fitting his arms around a cow, not so much. Maybe he can… lift from underneath or something. Hmm.

Nodding, Jason grabs the bag that he’d brought with him and starts pulling out a length of rope. “Got this and some pulleys too. Was gonna try to rig something up, but uh… not really much left to work with.” He’s pretty sure he should be feeling something more about that.

It’ll probably come later.



For now though, he’s just going to focus on saving Damian’s petting zoo. He offers the rope to Jaime. “This is made outta the same stuff as my grappling line, should be strong enough to hold ‘em up.”

Jason might not really care, at least not yet, but the comment makes Jaime a little… sad, maybe? Batman was kind of his hero growing up, this feels a little like stepping on a grave or something.

Weird. Weird, weird weird.

Hesitating a second, he takes the rope — and suddenly he knows how to tie any knot ever. Well, that’s useful. Hopping down into the pit, he hesitantly approaches the cow — who doesn’t seem to like random guys in armor touching her, so she kinda just sideswipes him with her head.

"Chica, that’s gonna hurt you more than me," he comments quietly, trying to approach her again. He holds his arm out in front of her nose — do cows bite hard? — but this time she just looks it, looks at him, and huffs. Taking that as a sign that she’s not going to kick him or something, he starts looping the rope around, making a harness — which she doesn’t seem to like, but her only resistance is to stiffen up a little. And huff again.

"Good …cow," he says, finishing the makeshift harness. Hopping back out of the pit (or flying, whatever), he glances over at Jason, and then slowly starts lifting the animal out of the crater. Cows don’t like flying, apparently.

With the cow on ground level, he lands and brushes dirt from his hands.

"Those were the most pissed-off moos I’ve ever heard."

It’s not that Jason doesn’t care, he’s just not thinking about it. Which okay, does seem similar. There are little pangs when he sees what used to be a bit of a desk or table that he remembers even under the ash it’s covered in. They come and go, but he can’t focus. The feelings are drowned out by exhaustion.

He just has to get Damian’s animals back to him safe. That’s all that can matter right now.

When Jaime looks down at him he gives a slightly awkward nod and then winces when the cow makes it very clear how unhappy she is with the situation. As soon as her feet are back on solid ground, he approaches, letting her sniff his hand before gently petting her, trying to sooth her.

"Yeah, guessing she’s not real big on flying." He looks her over, checking for injuries. "Think she’s got a little burn on her back leg, bet that wasn’t making things any better. I’ll patch it up. You wanna get the horse next?" he asked, already pulling medical supplies from the bag to get to work.

His gaze lingers on Jason for a second, but then his eyes are flicking back into the crater. Nope. Nope, let’s focus on important things. Like the horse.

… It’s even bigger than the cow. He huffs a little and hopes that it’s not a frigging bucking bronco or anything — that’s the last thing he needs, a horse kicking him in he face. Hopping back into the pit, he approaches slowly, one hand reaching out to pet its flank and test the waters.

Aaaand so far, nothing. Okay, good. And — it’s a horse, it’s used to harnesses or saddles or whatever, right? Tentatively, he makes one loop around the animal’s chest — and when it doesn’t respond at all, he breathes a sigh of relief and ropes it up.

He’s a little surprised that it doesn’t really make any noise when he lifts it, but he’s not complaining. Hovering, the absurdity of this hits him and he can’t help but smirk a little as he lowers the beast to the ground. “Delivery, please sign for your package.”

It’s probably because of how exhausted he is, but Jason barely even notices how Jaime’s looking at him. He kind of needs his focus right now to deal with the cow’s burn without getting kicked in the face. She actually seems pretty mellow now that she’s out of the hole.

By the time the horse is up in the air, he’s got the cow all fixed up and gives her a gentle pat of the back as he straightens up. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?”

He’s guessing the soft moo is an agreement. Smart cow.

There’s a faint chuckle and a little roll of his eyes as Jaime delivers his ‘package’. “Sorry, don’t have a pen,” he replies.

Once the horse’s feet are on solid ground again, Jason looks him over for injuries, not finding any. “Should’ve brought carrots of something,” he muses as he lightly pets the horse’s mane. “Alright, just the pig now.”

Just the pig. Easy. With a thumbs up (this is going surprisingly well, Jason hasn’t reverted into a giant jerk or anything (because he’s definitely the bigger jerk)), he hops back into the hole and slowly approaches the pig, making a soft clucking sound. Dogs like it, right? Maybe pigs do, too.

He gets closer and crouches, hand reaching out to pet the pig’s snout — and then it bolts to the other side of the crater. Augh. Huffing, he turns around and tries this tactic again — same thing. Okay. So, clearly that’s not going to work.

If Jason looks into the hole, he’s going to see Jaime chasing the pig around for maybe half a minute. It’s not dignified at all, and he’s pretty sure Yakety Sax would fit the moment really well.

But eventually, he manages to catch one of the pig’s legs and start to harness it — while it shrieks and oinks and makes it known how unhappy it is. Jaime’s never been peed on by a pig, but… first time for everything. “Aw, man! Gross!”

Setting the pig down, he lands and grimaces, handing the rope over to Jason. “I hope you have somewhere to put these.”

After making sure that the cow and the horse are okay and happily munching at the grass around them that’s not completely charred, Jason takes a peek into the hole because it’s kind of taking Jaime a while. Oh. Now that’s just ridiculous.

With a faint huff of a laugh, he shakes his head. He might take a picture or two before going back to attending the other two animals. They actually don’t seem interested in wandering off, which is nice. Earlier he was actually thinking ahead a little and ‘borrowed’ a truck with horse trailer attached to it, so hopefully he can lead them into it and then get them back to his place without any problems.

Finally Jaime gets the pig out and he takes the rope. “Yeah, kinda.” He glances away a little sheepishly. “I know this guy with a stable, but he hasn’t responded yet. So I sorta got a bunch of hay and just… put it all over the lobby of my building.”

The nice thing about being the only occupant there is that he can totally do that and no one gives a shit.

"Figure they can just hang out there for now. I’ll work out something better soon." He glances at Jaime and manages a faint, tired smile. "Thanks. Sorry for making you come all the way here, I owe you one… or three I guess."

And now he’s just going to awkwardly trudge over to the truck and the trailer, trying to coax the animals along with him.

Jaime just kinda blinks after Jason as he tries to usher the horse into the trailer. Uh, what? Really, that’s his plan? “The lobby of your apartment building,” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “Like… inside. In Gotham. Not outside. You’re just gonna have your own personal petting zoo?”

If it sounds like he’s trying not to laugh — that’s definitely the case. Shaking his head a little, he moves to help Jason coax the animals into the trailer. And by coax, he means push. Gently. They don’t seem thrilled with being herded into another small space, so there’s that.

As long as he doesn’t get peed on again, he’s fine. Ugh.

It takes a bit for him to actually respond to the gratitude, he’s just… not used to hearing it come from Jason. No sarcasm, no sass. Weird. “… It’s fine. I mean, it’s not like it’s for you.”

Wait.

"I mean — if you had a cow and needed help moving her I’d, y’know, help, but — you know what I mean."

"It’s just temporary," he says with a little shrug. It’s the best he’s got right now, okay? Better than the hole. Letting out a breath, he scrubs a hand over his face. The plan isn’t the best, but give him a break here, he’s gotten maybe five hours of sleep total in the last week and a half.

"If you’ve got a better idea, feel free to share." There’s not even any bitterness there, just flat exhaustion. Because seriously, this is all he’s got right now.

Okay, maybe there’s a slight trace of grump, but that’s about it.

His only response to Jaime’s little misstep there is a slight slump of his shoulders. Really, he gets it. This is to help Damian and his animals, if it was just him needing help with something, Jaime probably would only have shown up to laugh in his face. And Jason gets that he probably has that coming for something. Whatever. It’s fine.

Just another bump in the road of this really, really shitty week.

He just takes a silent breath and keeps lightly nudging the animals along. “Yeah, I get it.” If he sounds a little gloomy saying it well… just going to blame that on something else.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Got nothing. If it’s temporary, that’s fine. I was just picturing — you know, like six months from now. The lobby looking like a barn. You’d have to moove.”

Cue cheesy grin.

And — okay, he caught that. The grump, he noticed. He’s never been really good at tact, and he just totally botched it here. …Not that he uh, cares. A lot. …Or that he’ll admit to caring.

Huffing a little, he leans back against the cow’s flank and crosses his arms, eyes flitting over to Jason.

"Not like that. I just mean — you’re doing something for someone else, someone that… doesn’t really seem to like you a whole lot," he explains with a shrug, walking backwards against the heifer. Once she’s in the trailer, he turns around and grabs the gate, waiting for Jason to finish herding the other two in.

"And that’s… pretty okay of you," he finishes genuinely, tip-toeing around his words and tone. He closes the door and latches it, glancing back at Jason as he turns to face him.

Though he rolls his eyes, because that was cheesy as hell, the corner of Jason’s mouth twitches up ever so slightly. Cheesy Jaime is cute. Well, Jaime’s pretty much always cute. Which isn’t a great thing for him right now, because he’s making it very, very clear that he really dislikes Jason.

Kind of already got a lot to deal with, so that’s the opposite of helpful right now.

When Jaime goes on, he just sort of turns and gives him a very flat look. “Doesn’t matter if he likes me, the kid’s been through enough lately, lost his home, almost lost his mom, he doesn’t need to lose his pets,” he says with a little shrug.

He’s not going to bother trying to explain to Jaime that he actually likes helping people and doing the right thing, because he’s pretty sure mister do gooder is determined to see him as a psychopath forever. And, okay, that kind of bothers him a little. At the moment though, he so doesn’t have the energy to argue with him.

With the animals all loaded up, he takes a step back as Jaime latches the door behind them. He just blinks at him, eyebrows rising. That almost sounded nice. “Uh, thanks.”

Probably the closest to nice he’s going to get from Jaime anyway.

"Just, gonna get these guys back to my place." Meaning Jaime doesn’t have to stick around now. "So… see you around." And then he turns to head for the driver’s seat. Or he tries to. The whole not sleeping for several days thing has been sort of making him a little bit dizzy all day.

So he kind of sways a little as he turns and trips over himself a little, grabbing at the trailer to keep from toppling over. Okay, maybe he’s not in the best shape to be driving right now. Just give him a sec, he’ll be fine. Probably.

"Which makes it even more… okay of you,” he replies with an exasperated half-smile. Okay is about the best he can do. Good is reserved for… well. Things. “And you’re welcome, vato.” He’s trying, dude. It’s kinda hard to get over the serial killer thing, okay? He’s doing his best to be… y’know, nice. Niceish. Niceesque.

Jason’s turning around before Jaime even has a chance to say anything, and he opens his mouth for a ‘wow, okay bye’ or something —- but instead, he sees Jason stumble. “Uh, dude,” he starts, taking a few steps closer and hesitantly clapping a hand down on his shoulder, “I’ll drive.” Pause. He gives Jason this lopsided little grin. “If you’re gonna argue, don’t, ‘cause I’ll just stuff you in the back with the farm.”

Seems like a better way of saying ‘I’m a little worried you’re going to crash and burn, also I doubt you have a license.’

Jason mumbles something about being fine as he tries to shake off the dizziness, but he hears Jaime coming and is pretty sure neither on of them’s buying that. He just blinks at the hand on his shoulder for a second.

There’s a temptation to argue, but his shoulders just kind of slump in defeat as he thinks better of it. If it was just him driving, he might risk it, but he’s got Damian’s animals to think of. Jaime just turned eighteen, so he’s going to assume bugboy’s got his license.

With a little sigh he nods. “Fine.” There’s a little pause. “Thanks.”

Two verbal displays of gratitude in a row, that’s a pretty big deal. He’s just going to stagger around to the passenger’s side of the truck now. The dizziness has mostly passed, but he still feels weirdly sluggish and a little unsteady. Maybe if he chugs the rest of his booze once they’re back at his place he’ll actually be able to sleep peacefully for a couple hours.

Probably not, but it’s worth a shot.

Darn right he has his license. The truck’s a stick, too — no problemo for Mr. Reyes over here.

“No hay de que,” he replies, carefully casual as he armors down and climbs into the driver’s seat. Door shut, he waits for Jason to get in.

"Seatbelt," he chimes, glancing over with a wry little smile. The smile melts away and he gives Jason a very stern, mama-like stare. "I’m serious. Put your seatbelt on."

Once they’re settled, he starts the truck — and checks his mirrors — and they’re on their way. It’s a fairly short drive (and Jaime’s glad to see he hasn’t forgotten how to drive manual, that’s nice), and it’s pretty quiet. He keeps glancing over to check if Jason’s like, fallen asleep or something. There aren’t a lot of people on the road, so he’s not really too worried about running into anything.

He might also be trying to figure out if Jason’s roots are blonde or ginger. It’s dark, and the orange-tinted streetlights aren’t really helping.

"You awake?" he asks, pulling up in front of the building. "I’m not carrying you up the stairs, dude." A pause. "Again."

It might take him two tries, but Jason gets in the seat and closes the door behind him. There’s just a vague grumble and something that sounds like “Yes mom,” as he puts on his seatbelt. He’s never too tired to completely stop the sass.

Though he doesn’t exactly fall asleep, he nearly drifts off several times before jerking himself awake again. That gets harder and harder to do though. His eyelids are just so heavy and for some reason the seats in this truck are really comfy. Would be so easy to sleep for just a couple minutes…

But he can’t.

He might be half dozing when they get to his apartment. At the question, he snaps upright in his seat again.”Huh? Yeah, ‘m up,” he says, words half mumbled.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he tries to force himself to be more alert. It doesn’t really work. Oh well. Good try though.

His fingers are a little clumsy, but he gets the seatbelt undone and moves to open the door. “Just gotta get these guys inside.” He’s saying it more to himself than Jaime. “Set up stuff for ‘em on the first floor.” That part’s more for Jaime so he doesn’t get accused of endangering farm animals.

Now he’s just going to open then door and basically fall out of the seat onto the ground. So graceful. But he’s scrambling up a moment later and mumbling about being fine before heading around back to the trailer. Hopefully the animals won’t step on him if he falls again.

Sass he can handle. Sass he’s used to.

And Jason’s so not convincing. Jaime makes a face at the half-mumbled words. Yeah, no. He looks and sounds totally exhausted, definitely not really in a good place to be like, dealing with large scared animals or anything at all other than a bed. Maybe a floor.

Hopping out of the truck — whoever’s truck it is, he’s pretty sure Jason just ‘borrowed’ it from someone — he heads around back and meets Jason at the gate.

"… I’ll get them inside. You should just go upstairs and lay down or something." Pause. "You look like crap."

When Jaime comes around the side of the truck, Jason’s fumbling at the latch, but also leaning pretty hard against the back of the truck, so he’s working against himself a little as far as getting it open goes.

That assumption might actually be a pretty good one. The truck was secretly borrowed. He left a note though and some cash. That counts for something right? And he definitely plans on returning it. Eventually. Not like he really needs it for anything other than this.

"M’fine," he insists again as he drags a hand though his hair, making it even more disheveled than before. Jaime’s right though. The dark circles under his eyes are massive and he might not be eating super well lately, so he’s accidentally lost a few pounds.

However, he’s a little too tired to argue, so he just shuffles away from the truck and into the building. He doesn’t go that far inside though, lingering just inside the front door to hold it open.

He’s glad that Jason doesn’t argue, or even manage more sass. From what Jaime can tell (not that he’s really in the loop), he’s — all of the Bats have kinda had a rough few days, and he’d feel kinda bad about getting into a fight over something this petty. He’s more than capable of getting the animals into the lobby by himself, and he manages a waek little half-smile as Jason trudges away.

He turns and watches Jason — and when he doesn’t actually go upstairs, he just puts his hands on his hips and stares at him, the smile replaced with something a little more firm. He probably looks like his mother.

'Go', he mouths, raising one hand to point up vaguely in the direction of his apartment. Jason's got like, ten seconds before Jaime armors up and carries him up there. Even though he said he wouldn't.

There’s not really enough energy left for an argument, and barely enough for sass. But Jason’s going to see those animals safely inside damn it. So he stands there defiantly. Well, he sort of sags against the door a little, but he’s not going anywhere.

Although, if Jaime tries to carry him, he’s probably not going to be able to protest much.

"Just bring ‘em in," he calls, still not moving. He has to finish this. It’s the one thing he can do right now. With the clown, he’s useless. Right now in a fight, he’d go down in a second. But this, this is something he can do. It’s all he can do to help, and he’s going to see it through… even if he’s seconds away from passing out in the doorway.

Oh well. It was worth a shot. Jason’s stubborn, but so is he — and as things stand he’s kinda got the upper hand right now.

Huffing, he takes long strides over towards Jason, pausing in front of him and just giving him this look that vaguely reads ‘sorry’. And then he armors up and bends down slightly, scooping him up and straightening out in one fluid motion.

"Told you to go, you didn’t go, so now I have to make you go,” he mumbles, shifting a little so he can free a finger for the elevator.

Waiting for it to show, he suddenly wonders why cares this much. He’s not a jerk, he cares about people, but… this is Jason. He’s not really people, he’s…

… Not gonna think about it. Civic duty. That’s it is. Looking out for an affiliate.

This elevator needs to hurry up.

Uh oh. Even with his eyelids drooping,Jason can tell he’s in trouble as Jaime approaches. He takes a little step back, but he can’t really do much to stop himself from being scooped up.

"Get off’a me," he grumbles, shoving at Jaime’s chest and weakly trying to wiggle out of his arms, eyes fixed on the trailer over his shoulder. His shifting and shoving gets a little more frantic. "Can’t just leave ‘em, gotta make sure they’re safe."

Now he’s getting a little panicky. Even the exhaustion can’t stop his paranoia. If anything, it might be making it worse. Somehow he’s sure that if he lets the animals out of his sight for a second, something awful’s going to happen. This is the one thing he can do, he can’t mess it up.

"Just gotta get ‘em inside." He pauses, trying to think. "Look, I’ll go up, I swear, just wanna get ‘em where it’s safe first. It’ll take you five minutes tops to get ‘em in here. C’mon, Blue, please." And he might sound just a little desperate there.

He feels… weirdly guilty at Jason’s reaction. Like he’s the bad guy, here, dragging him away and leaving the animals to die in the middle of a desert or something, even though he’s trying to just look out for him (which is extra weird to boot). And he gets it — he rescued them for Damian, and maybe he’s just… convinced that something terrible will happen to them if he’s not there. He knows that feeling.

The elevator dings and the doors open — and Jaime huffs, setting Jason down inside of it. “Fine. They’re gonna be fine. Okay? Just — stay here. Hold the doors open. I’ll be right back.” He tries to be gentle about it, but it comes out a mix of soft and exasperated.

Turning on his heel, he jogs out and to the back of the trailer — and a few minutes later, he’s guiding the trio in (after having tied them to leads and wrestling the pig again. He still needs a shower, he feels gross). Closing the door behind them, he latches it shut (what, it’s not a great area. Some like, random meth-head might pop in or something, he doesn’t know), he unties them and coils the rope in his hands.

"See? They’re fine," he says, patting the horse’s flank. "Although I’m not gonna guarantee one of them won’t be bacon if it doesn’t keep staring at me."

Animals set and Jason hopefully pacified, he strides towards the elevator.

If Jason were less sleep deprived — well they wouldn’t be having this issue to begin with — he would probably explain himself much better. Or he might not. He’s not always great at that. Sometimes he just gets so grumpy he decides not to bother, and strangely enough that usually makes things worse for him.

Nodding, Jason stays where he’s put down and leans heavily against the elevator door, half to keep it open, and half because if he doesn’t, he might end up on the floor. Yeah, all the energy he had left, which wasn’t a lot, went into the wiggling and panicking. Hopefully he’ll have enough left after reaching his apartment to down several shots before he passes out.

He forces his eyes to stay open as he watches Jaime get the animals inside. It’s definitely a good idea to make sure the door’s locked tight. There’s a security system he’s installed that should work, but there’s no telling how cooperative the electricity in this building will be from day to day. At least the elevator’s been working very consistently lately.

A little breath of relief leaves him now that the three are safe and sound. With a soft chuckle, he shakes his head. “Be nice, Blue, they’ve had a rough couple days,” he chastises, teasing sleepily.

Yeah, no more protests now, he’s just going to step fully into the elevator, one hand keeping the door open for Jaime as he clumsily pushes the button for the top floor with the other.

Oh, good. He takes the slight laughter as a good sign, one that says Jason isn’t going to do that whole sad-slash-paranoid-slash-desperate-sounding thing that kind of made him feel really awful anymore. At least not tonight. Maybe.

Stepping in, he glances over at Jason (again) and gives him another weary half-smile — and notices that his roots are, in fact, orange. Huh.

Would it be weird if he asked? Probably. …He’s gonna do it anyway. There isn’t a lot of other smalltalk he can think of that doesn’t involve explosions or no-kill month, and he’s pretty sure Jason would just love talking about those right now.

"So, uh," he starts, still not sure he wants to come off as some weirdo that’s been staring at him for a while. "… You dye your hair?"

He feels kinda dumb and weird as soon as he asks. Too bad he can’t take it back, but maybe Jason’s exhausted enough to where he won’t even realize Jaime asked him something, despite looking right at him and being like two feet away.

This elevator rrreeeeeeally needs to hurry.

Once Jaime’s in, Jason’s hand falls to his side and the doors slide shut. He doesn’t really notice the staring. Right now, the main thing he’s focusing on is not falling asleep on his feet. His head might kind of dip a few times before suddenly jerking back up as he forces himself awake.

Even he can admit that he’s in really shitty shape right now.

The question has him blinking and turning to Jaime, one eyebrow rising. What? Oh right, it has been a while since he dyed his hair, kind of had a lot going on. With a little nod, he absently runs a hand through his hair, which is getting long enough now that the ends curl a little.

"Yeah, been doing it since I was six. Used to had kids calling me a leprechaun and shit cause it was orange and I was tiny." The whole explanation probably isn’t needed, but Jason gets chatty when he’s tired. Or drunk.

He also forgets about personal space a little, which is why the next time his head droops, it lands on Jaime’s shoulder for a moment before he jerks back up, mumbling an awkward apology, face going a little bit pink as he takes a shuffling step away. Jaime’s not the only one suddenly wishing the elevator was faster.

For a second Jaime wonders if Jason’s so tired he forgot what color his hair is. Which is kinda funny, but also kinda sad.

What’s also funny/sad is the leprechaun thing. Jaime’s really never noticed — and it might be because Jason’s looking a little extra pale lately — right up until now that he’s got the faintest sprinkling of freckles across his nose and along his cheekbones. …Which is really unfortunate, because he’s always had a thing for gingers. This just keeps getting less and less fair.

… He’s not staring or anything, Jason’s just really close, okay. He can’t help it, he’s just warily eyeing him in case he… attacks. Or collapses from exhaustion. Or something. Yeah.

"On the bright side, I don’t think anyone would make fun of you for it anymore, since you could — y’know, put them halfway through a wall with one arm."

When Jason’s head nudges his shoulder he kinda just freezes and holds his breath. He’s… not really sure why. It only lasts like, three seconds — and when Jason turns away he exhales quietly, slowly. Jason’s definitely not the only one turning a little red. Awesome.

And then the door opens and Jaime’s never been happier to see the hallway. Personal space, that’s a thing. It’s a thing he likes. He waits for Jason to trudge out of the elevator, and he starts walking towards his apartment.

He didn’t forget it just… sort of slipped his mind a little. Honestly, he’s been dyeing it so long, sometimes he does almost forget his natural hair color. That’s probably not a good thing. Dyeing it kind of keeps getting put off, but he’ll get to it at some point. He always does. It’s just sort of a habit now.

Jason doesn’t even know what he would look like with red hair now. Probably weird.

Again he’s completely oblivious to the staring, all his attention focused on trying not to pass out in the elevator. Even if he noticed, he would probably just assume Jaime’s weirded out by how shitty he looks right now. Because it’s really bad. The bags under his eyes have bags. He’s also been avoiding direct sunlight for the most part, so he’s even more freakishly pale than usual, which is kind of saying something.

With a faint huff of a laugh, he shrugs. “Wouldn’t care if someone made fun of it now. Just kinda… got used to it dark. It’d probably look weird as hell if it was red with the white streak in in anyway.” Because that little white tuft is stubborn and doesn’t seem to want to turn black like the rest of his hair.

When the doors slide open, his face is still a little pink as he shuffles out of the elevator, hands shoved into his pockets. He’s not entirely sure why Jaime’s still there, but it’s not like he’s going to make the guy leave. Though he sways a little, he gets to his apartment and gets the door open. Immediately, he goes into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of vodka from the cupboards. Not even bothering with a glass, he just gets it open and drinks straight from the bottle.

He only drinks what’s probably about a shot or two before he sets it down and leans heavily on the counter, the familiar burn not making him any more steady on his feet.

"…I think it’d look okay," he replies, a little tentatively.

He’s not sure why he even says it, but — hopefully Jason’s too tired to make some comment about it. Augh.

And okay, Jason does kinda look like he was dragged behind an eighteen-wheeler for a few days, but… Jame wouldn’t call it that bad. He just looks really tired, and pale, and maybe a little skinnier — okay, apparently definitely skinnier. Khaji da, you’re weirdly intrusive with your bioscans.

That’s partially why he’s here, honestly. He wanted to make sure that Jason didn’t, like, die in the elevator or something. Or concuss himself in his kitchen — not like the whole chugging vodka thing is any better. Seriously, are you supposed to drink it like that? Isn’t that bad for your… everything?

Mouth scrunched to the side a little, he just lingers by the door, shutting it and leaning back against it. It strikes him that he’s kind of… well, he’s Jason’s babysitter. This isn’t the first, or even the third time he’s just hung out to make sure he’s alright/not doing Very Bad Things. Weird.

"Uh… thanks."

That’s about the most that he can think to get out in response. It’s kind of a compliment, which is really weird coming from Jaime, and Jason’s never really been sure how to handle compliments on his appearance. If he actually tried to look nice, then maybe he’d get it, but right now, he’s pretty sure he’s been doing the exact opposite.

He just stays where he is, leaning on the counter for a moment, head resting on his hands. There’s a sort of empty pang in his stomach. Right, food, has he done that today? Not that he can remember. That’s probably not good. Oh well.

Grabbing the bottle, he straightens up and trudges over to the couch, swaying a little as he walks. He makes it, and plops down onto the cushions. Curling in on himself, he just stares at the floor, idly picking at the bottle’s label.

It occurs to him that he should be doing something about the fact that Jaime’s still there, but… yeah, he’s got nothing. Just going to stare into space and pick at the bottle, taking a sip now and then.

"There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry," he says, because the silence feels weird and heavy even to him.

Hey, better than some snide remark. He’ll take it. It wasn’t a compliment, he’s just… helping his self esteem. Or something.

At the mention of food, Jaime pauses. When did he last — right, this morning. Like, two Special K bars and some Powerade because he was running late. He furrows his brows, thinking a little. Jason probably hasn’t eaten, if the whole weight-loss thing is any indication. And he’s kinda peckish, so—

"… Was actually thinking about getting a pizza," he replies, shifting a little against the door. "Or Mexican. Got any places with good burritos around here?"

What, he knows what he likes.

Food seems like an easy conversation topic. Jason’s still pretty groggy and just sort of blinking at the carpet, barely even noticing as Mittens climbs up onto his lap.

"Uh, dunno if there’s any that are close, there’s one downtown that’s pretty good, but it’s kinda far." But maybe that would be a plus for Jaime, less Jason to deal with if he leaves to go get food some place. He still has no idea why Jaime’s hanging around. Not like he can drown in the vodka bottle.

"There’s a pizza place a couple blocks from here." In case Jaime wants to hang around, which… isn’t something Jason thinks he wants to do. But hell, he’s been full of surprises so far and kind of weirdly nice for the most part.

Food is the easiest topic. Everyone eats, everyone generally enjoys food, so. Y’know. Easy.

"…Pizza it is." Pushing his shoulders back against the door, he walks forward and around to the front of the couch. He doesn’t sit on it, though — well, not on the cushions. He takes a seat on an armrest, pulls out his phone, and starts looking the place up. Apparently he can order online — and after asking Jason what toppings he likes (a noncommital grunt isn’t really an answer), he places the order.

…Aaaand now they have like, half an hour to kill before Jaime has to run a few blocks to pick it up. Uh.

"…So, uh," he starts, looking over at him. C’mon, Reyes, think. "…How’re the cats?" he decides on, noticing Mittens crawling all over Jason’s lap.

Setting the bottle down on the coffee table after another long swig, Jason idly wiggles his fingers for Mittens to bat at. She’s still got her little booties on, so there’s no clawing, though she does manage to sink a tooth into his thumb. He barely notices.

It’s not really an answer, but he doesn’t really care what they get on the pizza. He probably won’t eat much if any. Though he’s vaguely aware that he should be eating a lot more than he is, it just keeps slipping his mind, and whenever there’s food in front of him, he’s just not hungry.

"They’re okay," he says with a little shrug, lightly scratching behind Mittens’ ear. "Think they like being able to explore the whole building. Hoping they won’t bug the other animals while they’re here."

And that’s about as much as he’s got conversation-wise. Sorry Jaime.

…Well, that was kind of an abrupt stop to a conversation. He’s… not sure where it could’ve gone, but he gets the feeling that Jason doesn’t really want to talk. At least, not about his cats or Damian’s animals.

Glancing over towards the window — and then back at Jason, he sighs, a little, mind racing to try and come up with something else. Anything else. Otherwise, this is going to be a really long half hour. Shifting on the armrest, he bites at his lip.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"…How’re you?” he asks quietly, looking over at him from the corners of his eyes.

Honestly, he doesn’t expect much of an answer.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about it, there’s just not much to say. The kittens are fine, and Damian’s animals are safe. Not much more to say about it.

Jason just keeps staring at the floor, petting Mittens absently as she settles on his lap, curling into a little ball. At least all the kittens are content. They didn’t even seem to notice that half of Gotham exploded a few days before. That’s one of the nice things about his apartment being so far out of the way.

There’s a sarcastic remark that forms at the question, but he’s too tired for that. Being and asshole takes effort. So he just shrugs, sinking back against the couch cushions. “Not great.” That’s probably pretty obvious though.

Letting out a breath, he runs a hand through his hair. “Just trying to keep it together… kinda doing a pretty shitty job of it though. Everything sucks and there’s nothing I can do about it.” There’s a lump in his throat as he says it and then reaches for the vodka again.

If they’re going to talk about this, he needs to be less sober.

… Yeah, it’s pretty obvious. Like, glaringly so. Staring-into-the-sun obvious.

Still biting at his chapped lips, he hesitates. He actually answered, kinda — which he wasn’t really expecting, but he’ll take it. And it’s not that he actually likes him or anything, he’s just… trying to help out however he can. If it’s just talking to him, he can do that. …He can try, anyway. From what he knows, Jason’s kind of… prickly. Although he’s coming off less prickly, more… really pessimistic. So.

"Kinda get the feeling that you’re not just talking about the Manor," he says, shifting on his seat again and actually turning his head slightly towards Jason.

He takes a long drink from the bottle before responding. Then he sets it down and gently moves Mittens to the cushion beside him so he can curl in on himself a little more, one knee tucked up against his chest. The whole curling up into a little ball thing was a lot easier back when he as tiny.

"That and everything else," he says softly. Jason hasn’t really given himself time to think about the Manor. It just keeps getting shoved to the back of his mind, something to deal with later. Apparently later is now.

"They kept trying to get me to go back." They is mostly Dick and Alfred. "Said it was always my home and…" He swallows thickly. "I guess I missed my shot."

He lets out a breath and scrubs a hand through his hair. “My own fault though. Shouldn’t be upset… I don’t get to be, it’s my fault I never went back. Dick and Damian… and Bruce, it was their’s. Should be trying to help, but, I can’t… I can’t.” His voice shakes a little on the last word.

The more Jason curls up, the worse Jaime feels. And it’s weird, because if anyone asked he’d still say he’s firmly in the We Don’t Like What Jason Does camp — although, maybe it’s closer to the We Tolerate Jason Okay Sometimes camp. Or getting there, anyway. He’s not a completely awful guy, just… has a different set of morals. Or something.

Something dull aches in his ribs when Jason starts talking about his missed opportunity and ‘they’, and it’s confusing that he’s empathizing with him this much. …Probably because he never really expected Jason to be anything more than just some big angry meathead with no remorse.

So much for that.

He hesitates for a second, debating — but lets out a little puff of air and slides down to the cushions so that he’s sitting next to him. Twisting his torso a little, he tentatively lays one hand on Jason’s shoulder and offers him a concerned little half-smile.

"It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have predicted — no one knew it was coming." A pause. "And you saved Damian’s pets. I’m pretty sure that counts as helping, ese. Eso que ni qué.”

It does strike Jason as being a little weird that Jaime actually seems to care. Also the whole him still being there thing is kind of weird. He’s pretty sure he’s one of Jaime’s least favorite people. Everything he does just seems to tick the guy off most of the time.

Right now, he’s too tired to really question it though.

He blinks at the hand that lands on his shoulder for a few seconds before glancing over at Jaime’s face. Why is he being so nice? This is weird. Still, he makes no effort to remove his hand.

With a faint shrug, he reaches for the bottle. “Didn’t want the kid losing anything else. He’s been through enough shit lately. Kid’s shouldn’t hafta deal with this, lost his home, almost lost his mom.”

He takes another long drink and then wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “It’s all I can do. Taking care of his pets. As soon as the clown shows up… I’m just gonna be in the way.”

Jaime’s mouth tugs to the side at Jason’s response. Pessimism, what a surprise.

"Dude — can you not be such a pessimist for two seconds? No one else was there for them, no one else cared enough to pull them out of a hole. You actually had some compassion,” he replies, letting a puff of air out through his nose at the end. He’s not irritated, he’s just… he’s not sure, really. He wants to make Jason feel a little better, but in the back of his mind he’s still wondering why the heck he’s here. A month ago he would’ve just peaced out after helping him with the animals, and yet… here he is.

Weird.

"…And you might surprise yourself," he adds, waiting until Jason’s done with his swig. Seriously, isn’t his liver going to — corrode or something? "I thought the same thing about—" and then he pauses, looking a little distant for a second. "—stuff."

Managing a little smile, he pats Jason’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

Maybe some of his optimism will rub off on him or something.

Pessimism is just kind of Jason’s thing. Sorry Jaime.

He just shrugs. “They’re dealing with shit and…” For the last several days he has been trying very hard not to deal with things. “They would’ve cared, just… guess I just got there first.” He’s not going to give himself any credit for this. It was the right thing to do and someone had to do it. That’s all.

And he likes animals and Damian’s okay and it would be really shitty if they got hurt.

It’s kind of… weirdly insulting that people are treating it like such a big deal that he actually tried to do something right and good for once. Whatever. Not going to dwell on that. There’s enough other shit to deal with.

He shakes his head faintly at the encouragement. “At that parade, heard him laughing and… I just froze. If he’s actually there, I can’t…” Trailing off, he just shakes his head again.

There’s something that he notices and he blinks at Jaime, brows knitting together in confusion. “What stuff?” Because he saw that distant look.

He just scrunches his mouth up again. Okay, so apparently Jason’s just super intent on not taking a compliment.

"Yeah, but — you got there first. Surprise, you helped." A pause. He manages a crooked little smile and slides his hand off of Jason’s shoulder, his arm accidentally brushing up against Jason’s leg as he rests it in his lap. "Just take the credit, vato," he adds, a little teasingly, softly.

He was trying to keep it light, but the smile fades again as Jason mentions the Joker. He bites at his lip again, not really sure what he should say. So he opts with nothing, just sighs and glances away towards the window. Maybe one day he’ll be good at this pep talk thing.

The question catches him by surprise. His eyes flick back to Jason and then back to the window. “…Just stuff. I’ve uh, been left behind in space a few times. Fell out of orbit once and broke like, all my bones. Had some aliens pull the scarab off and leave me to die in a holding cell… this was all in the first few months of doing the hero thing.” A pause. “Got shot in the head. Didn’t know if I’d really wanna keep doing it but — here we are.” He flashes Jason another optimistic little smile.

He’s omitting something, but Jason doesn’t need to know specifics.

Compliments aren’t Jason’s favorite thing. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t deserve most of them. Really, he was just doing the right thing, he doesn’t see how that’s such a big deal. Oh well.

"Didn’t do it to get credit, just wanted to make stuff a little easier for Damian, y’know? Dunno why everyone’s acting like it’s a big deal that I did something nice." Okay, he gets that he kind of has a reputation and that most people think of him as being an asshole ninety percent of the time. Still though. He doesn’t just beat up thugs for shits and giggles.

He likes helping people. It’s why he’s still doing this and why he keeps trying even after everything seems intent on falling apart.

The arm brushing makes his eyes flick down to his leg, but then quickly back up to Jaime’s face. Probably just an accident. He really shouldn’t think anything of it.

His brow furrows and a small frown creeps onto his face as Jaime explains all the stuff that’s happened to him. There’s a moment of hesitation before he reaches up and lightly pats his shoulder. “That sucks.” It’s about as comforting as he gets. He also offers the vodka. Sharing is caring, right?

Jaime’s not making a big deal out of it — he’d tell anyone that they did a good thing by saving the animals. It’s just that Jason won’t take a compliment and it’s weird. He’s reminded of the time Batman told him to say he was out with Superman instead, because everyone likes him more — apple doesn’t really fall far from the tree, apparently.

"I know you didn’t do it to take credit — I’m not just saying it because it’s you, I’m just saying ‘good job’,” he replies, huffing a little. “But I’ll stop trying to be nice about it.”

That last part might be a little grumbly.

And — alright, so that’s weird. The patting thing. They have some weird shoulder-patting tradeoff thing happening, and it’s kind of strange. But, hey, he’s not going to knock support. Unlike someone.

Letting out a quiet laugh, he raises his hand and — debates on waving the bottle away, but instead takes it. This is going to end poorly, he can just feel it. “Could be worse,” he replies, lifting the bottle. “Could always be worse.” And he tries to take a little swig — but ends up with a mouthful that he winces and gags at, but swallows. Gross.

Making a face, he hands the bottle back to Jason and gets to his feet. “Gonna go pick up the pizza. Back in a sec.”

Maybe Jason’s being a little too resistant. It’s just weird. He’s not the good guy, he’s made peace with that, people don’t like him that’s how things work. So this is new and weird and he’s not quite sure how to process it. In his experience, people are only nice when they want something, or if there’s some kind of setup.

Or it they’re Dick, but that’s different.

Jaime can’t stand him and he’s not really buying that one little good deed is going to change all that. Still, he feels weirdly sheepish for making Jaime annoyed with his protests. Gaze dropping to the floor, he shrugs. “Sorry.”

The support is just something he doesn’t really know how to process. He pretty much just tries to do everything for himself, no safety net at all. Right now, he’s also pretty sure that there’s other people who need the support way more than he does.

"Guess so," he agrees with a faint nod.

Managing not to laugh at Jaime attempt to take a drink, he takes the bottle back and nods again as he gets up. Just going to sit there and casually finish off the rest of the bottle while he waits for his apparent babysitter to get back. Although, he’s not entirely sure that he actually will.

"You’re not supposed to say sorry," he replies, rolling his eyes, one corner of his mouth quirking up the tiniest bit. "No hay cuidado.”

And — okay, yeah, he’s still not a big fan of the guy, but… there’s more to him than he first thought. As far as he knows, no-kill month has been going smoothly, they haven’t butted heads over anything, and Jason showed some compassion for Damian’s pets…

Maybe there’s some hope for him after all. He doesn’t seem like a bad guy, just one that makes some questionable decisions. Or bad ones. Both.

He’s back in five minutes-ish — he didn’t want to bother Jason to let him in, so he kinda left the doors open so he wouldn’t have to deal with the security systems, but he’s pretty Jason didn’t even notice. He nudges the door shut with his foot and trots back over — maybe a little wobbly. He’s a lightweight, what do you want? That was like, two shots worth in one accidentally large gulp. Setting the box down on the table, he flips the cover open and plops back on the couch (after pulling a slice out, of course).

"Hope you like pineapple."

By the time Jaime’s back, the bottle is empty, though it was only about half full when they first got back to the apartment. Still, Jason’s starting to feel a lot more buzzed now, a sort of pleasant warm feeling making him a little less sluggish, though no less tired.
One eyebrow rises when he notices Jaime’s slight wobble. Seriously? He had maybe a shot and a half and he’s wobbling. Wow.
With a noncommittal noise he takes a slice for himself, finishing it rather quickly. But that’s about as much of an appetite as he’s got at the moment. Really, he should probably be eating more, but he’s just too tired.
And pineapple on pizza is kind of weird. Not that he’s actually going to complain about it though.
He’s just going to sink back into the cushions and sort of lean over a little, head lightly resting on Jaime’s shoulder. What? The guy’s right there and his shoulder makes a good pillow.
Hey, don’t judge. …It was clearly about two shots worth, okay?

He glances over and notices that Jason just kinda vacuums his pizza up, and for some reason he finds it kind of funny. He’s not sure why — okay, he might be a little tipsy. That’s a definite possibility. He’s never — he’s been drunk like, once before and he vaguely remembers what it feels like.

That’s too much thinking. Back to pizza.

When Jason’s head lands on his shoulder, he stiffens a bit, eyes slowly lolling over to glance at him — but it’s whatever. The guy’s had a rough few days, he probably has no friends other than his cat & that Riddler dude, and he did say he’d help out however he could. So, y’know. This counts. Shoulder to cry on, etc.

…Although, if he actually starts tearing up Jaime’s not sure what he’ll do, slightly drunk or not.

He leans back a little, settling further into the couch as he finishes his slice and debates on another one. …Nah. He’s good with just sitting back and watching the corner of the wall in front of him sway the tiniest bit. Even the scarab finds it kind of interesting — in between being mad at him for putting them at risk by being intoxicated.

Right, because two shots making him all off balance makes him less of a lightweight. Jason’s still contemplating getting another bottle. Nah, couch is comfy.
And so is Jaime’s shoulder.
He’s kind of surprised that he doesn’t immediately get shrugged off. That’s probably a good sign. Maybe Jaime just feels bad for him. Actually, that sounds about right. Oh well. At the moment, that’s probably the best he’s going to get, so he’ll take it. Still, it is kind of nice that they’re sort of getting along.
It probably won’t last, but for the moment it’s nice.
It’s so nice that Jason’s getting ideas that he probably shouldn’t be. He sort of shifts a little, lifting his head up and blinking at Jaime’s face. They’re pretty close right now. All he has to do is just lean forward a little. That easy. It’s not a good idea. There’s so many things bad about it, but… he’s going to go for it.
The pleasant, drunken warmth urging him on, he leans forward and kisses Jaime. It’s a little clumsy and awkward, but he’s committed to it at this point.
And he’s expecting to be shoved away in about three, two, one…
Feeling bad for him is only part of it. The other part — the part that he’s still a little less than okay with — is remembering exactly how unfortunately attractive Jason is. Like, times two, even though he’s sort of a bedraggled mess right now.

Plus, he’s a little intoxicated, so his self-loathing isn’t really… there. What are inhibitions? Okay, so he wouldn’t like, strip naked and run through the streets or anything — he’s just feeling mellow. Extra mellow. Instead, he’s finding himself surprisingly okay with all of this.

…Even that. When he feels Jason shifting, he turns his head a little — and then Jason’s face is kind of just right there and he feels lips on his mouth and he’s —

He’s okay with it. Not into it, not repulsed, just… okay with it. Even so, he pulls back the tiniest bit, breaking the contact and just… looks at Jason, eyes half-lidded. He’s just not really sure what to do, because on one hand — serial killer. That’s bad. That’s really, really bad.

On the other hand, he’s pretty hot. And not a complete jerk. And into Jaime, for some reason. Maybe he’s just into everyone, he doesn’t know.

So… yeah. Just looks at him, a little unsure. Hey, he’s not running away or decking him. It’s a start.

Huh, and the shove he’s expecting doesn’t come. Weird. Well, Jason could kind of get used to it. The kiss isn’t the most graceful thing in the world, he kinda went for it at a weird angle so there’s a little nose bumping. It’s still nice though.
Until Jaime pulls away and he’s sure he’s going to get punched. But then he doesn’t. That’s also weird. Okay thing. What is he supposed to do here? Maybe downing that whole bottle of Smirnoff wasn’t his best idea, because he’s drawing a blank.
It’s not that he likes everyone. Well… okay, the list of people he’d consider making out with is kind of a long one. Jaime’s pretty much at the top of it though, which is usually really inconvenient for him given the fact that the guy seems to hate his guts. He’s got kind of a thing for shortish, sassy nerds.
"Sorry," he mumbles, staying fairly close. "Wasn’t thinkin’."
And he clearly still isn’t, because then he leans in and does it again, a little more tentative this time.
It’s not the best smooch in the world, but — eh. He’s drunk and Jaime’s tipsy enough to not really care. It’ll slide. There’s no slobber or anything, it’s fine.

And he is so not short. He’s average. Average. Jason’s just — he’s ridiculously big, okay? Shh.

He’s also apparently in luck, because as much as he has a thing for pocket-sized nerds, Jaime has a weak spot for gingers. …Even the bulky, muscled dudes with anger problems, apparently.

It’s a little superficial, granted — but it is what it is. He hasn’t really been around Jason enough to really appreciate his personality, but he can appreciate his… everything else.

Neither of them are thinking, apparently, because this time, Jaime just… goes along with it. It’s a little weird that Jason’s so timid — okay, he can kind of get why, he hasn’t exactly been super receptive to it, but still. It’s just… it seems unfitting.

Whatever. He’s not going to complain.

He is, though, going to turn his torso a little so isn’t super awkward and lean into it, awkwardly reciprocating just as tentatively this time.

It’s not the best smooch in the world, but — eh. He’s drunk and Jaime’s tipsy enough to not really care. It’ll slide. There’s no slobber or anything, it’s fine.

And he is so not short. He’s average. Average. Jason’s just — he’s ridiculously big, okay? Shh.

He’s also apparently in luck, because as much as he has a thing for pocket-sized nerds, Jaime has a weak spot for gingers. …Even the bulky, muscled dudes with anger problems, apparently.

It’s a little superficial, granted — but it is what it is. He hasn’t really been around Jason enough to really appreciate his personality, but he can appreciate his… everything else.

Neither of them are thinking, apparently, because this time, Jaime just… goes along with it. It’s a little weird that Jason’s so timid — okay, he can kind of get why, he hasn’t exactly been super receptive to it, but still. It’s just… it seems unfitting.

Whatever. He’s not going to complain.

He is, though, going to turn his torso a little so isn’t super awkward and lean into it, awkwardly reciprocating just as tentatively this time.

Jaime’s short. Like really short. And Jason’s always had a thing for short guys. It’s sort of a shallow thing, but he still doesn’t really know Jaime all that well. He’s heard rumors that he’s nice, but so far, Jason’s not really buying that.

Except for… right now. Jaime’s being so nice that it’s kind of weirdly disconcerting. Maybe he really is just that pathetic. The last few weeks have been pretty rough, so that’s probably it. Hopefully he’s not so drunk that he completely forgets that. Well, the part where they talked. This new part though… might be better if they both forget that.

The nervousness is partially due to the fact that Jaime only seems into him when he’s really pissed off about something. And the other part is because he’s just sort of… shaky in general lately. He’s had a lot of rough days in a row and he just wants things to go right for once.

When Jaime doesn’t pull away this time, he starts feeling a little bit better about the situation. There’s still some lingering nerves, but he can work past that.

He shifts a little too, turning to face Jaime more. His hands move, one landing lightly on Jaime’s shoulder, the other going to the back of his head, trying to pull him in a little closer. It’s still not incredibly coordinated. There’s a little nose smashing, and he hasn’t shaved in a while, so his stubble might be a little uncomfortable, but it’s nice and sweet and slow and just what Jason needs right now.

Jaime doesn’t really mind the stubble — which is extra weird, because that’s kind of a reminder that he’s y’know, kissing a dude — but he’s okay with it.

…It’s probably the vodka talking, but he’s not sure why he was/is so hung up on that. He’s never really even had a thing for a guy, maybe that’s part of it — and it’s just his luck that the one dude he finds amazingly attractive for whatever reason would be a serial killer. That’s probably what he has the biggest issue with, anyway.

What he doesn’t have an issue with, though, is how nice this is. A little awkward, but it’s just… nice. He can’t think of a better quantifier. He leans into him a little more and then breaks away again — only it’s so he can pull a leg up on the couch and actually turn to face him, making the angle a bit less awkward. Once he’s settled he leans back into him with another timid kiss, propping himself up on his leg a little to try and make up for some of the height discrepancy between them, fingers curling into the fabric of Jason’s shirt.

…This could definitely be worse.

Jason still doesn’t totally get why Jaime’s so okay with it. Apparently he’s even more of a lightweight than he thought. Maybe next time he’ll think a little bit about that when it comes to passing around booze to people. Of course, when he’s in that position, he’s usually pretty drunk himself, so he probably won’t remember. Oh well.

Honestly, that’s a really valid thing to be hung up on. And Jason gets it. Really he does. He’s not denying that killing is wrong, he just believes that sometimes it’s necessary, no matter how unpleasant it is. Maybe it’s an outlook thing. Jaime seems pretty damn optimistic about everything, so maybe he’s a big second chance kind of guy. Except for when it comes to Jason apparently. Seriously, it seems like everything he does just pisses him off sometimes.

He almost apologizes when Jaime pulls away again, but then it clicks into place what he’s doing and Jason meets him halfway when he leans forward again. The height difference makes things a little weird, but sitting alleviates a lot of the distance and he’s normally pretty slouchy anyway. His own fingers gently move through Jaime’s hair as he returns the kiss, keeping the pressure gentle even as he very lightly nips at his lower lip, trying to urge him on.