no rest for the wicked [jason todd]

eleven

HER FEET CARRIED HER

along the hardwood of the floor, heart feeling like it was pounding in her chest. An overwhelming sense of dread came over her like a shift of a camera lens, as if she suddenly couldn't even look at the world the same. Was she even here anymore? Were her hands the ones becoming pins and needles? She felt like the bile was rising in her throat and she pressed a hand to her chest, leaning over.

"Tye?" Jason asked from the side of the room. She reached for something on the side table, ignoring what it was, and threw it straight toward him. She heard him give a nervous laugh, but she didn't look.

"Leave me alone!" She yelled, her hand moving to her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, the tears starting to spill from her eyes, but she couldn't calm down. She reached over to touch her shoulder. She was sweating, but the chills going through her were bone-deep, and she didn't understand her life anymore.

He reached out for her, but he didn't touch her. "You can go," he said, "you can. You're free to call a cab or something, Tye. You don't have to stay in this situation." He paused, taking a deep breath. "This is temporary, you're going to feel better," he offered softly, leaning down toward her. "Try to breathe. Tell me how your day was."

"I--" Tye broke off to take a big, wheezing sort of breath before she put a hand on his arm, wiping the tears away from her eyes. "I had a good day. I saw Dick, visited my aunt and--" She broke off, shaking her head.

Jason nodded encouragingly. "Your aunt?" He prompted.

"She's got stage four cancer," Tye mumbled softly, "she won't make it past the end of next month. 'M okay, I love her and she's been around for a long while." She lifted her head and wiped her tears again, murmuring, "I'm sorry, I--"

"You get panic attacks?"

She didn't want to say yes, but she nodded anyway, sniffling. She turned to look over where he'd been standing before, eyes wide when she realized she'd tossed a bat-shaped blade at him. "Doesn't Batman use those?"

"Don't ask," Jason managed with a little laugh, "lucky you weren't a couple inches to the side. Woulda had to try and catch that thing."

She laughed nervously, scanning his eyes. Deep green-blues like the water at a beach in Miami, and she'd forgotten what it felt like to feel so safe, even when she wasn't alone. She couldn't help that she laughed, again, and she couldn't stop. She felt so safe with someone who she'd seen kill people. She felt safe with a man who was hard edges, whose leather jacket smelled of smoke and regret.

He seemed to be a little on edge too, because he helped her up and then turned away, clearing his throat again. He seemed to do that, she caught on. A nervous tic for changing the subject. He'd done it earlier in the alleyway when she'd called him cheesy.

She was so interested in trying to tear him apart that she couldn't even find the time to care that she was getting emotionally attached. It was like tearing the stitches away from your favourite shirt. You loved that shirt, but you just shouldn't stop. Each time you pulled, it frayed, and yet... You did.

"Hey," she heard, and it grounded her in reality, ripped through her thoughts like a blade. "Hey?" He repeated, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Hey," she said, "hi, what're we talking about?"

He snorted, moving a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. "We're going to actually eat. Food's done," he offered. Tye nodded toward him, following him into the kitchen with ease.

She didn't want to gasp, but the last time she'd smelled something that good, she was definitely a child. "Woah," she managed through the shock, "are you a pro cook? This smells like heaven."

"I'm sure," Jason said, "I'm pretty sure you rotate your takeout from three different restaurants, so... It's not that good, you're just not used to home cooking."

She was too busy scanning the spices on his counter to be paying attention. "What's—" She paused, her cheeks flushing. That's salt, she told herself. Don't you dare ask him what salt is. "What's this?" She asked, lifting a jar.

Jason leaned over, grabbing it out of her hands. "Pesto," he explained, "can you stop being so shocked by normal food ingredients? It's almost sad that you've got no idea what the hell pesto is." When she reached for the pepper, he was definitely laughing at her. "Okay, hands off now."

"Wait!"

"What?" He managed, exasperated, and Tye snatched one of his cinnamon containers out of the cupboard.

Thens she fluttered her eyelashes, clasping her hands together. Jason wasn't having it, but she decided to speak anyway. "Can I take this home for hot chocolate? Pretty please? I'll buy you a new one! I promise! Just wait, okay? Next time I see you, I'll give you a new one."

Jason groaned. "You're uninvited from coming back here if you're going to steal my stuff."

Tye pointed a finger at him accusatorily. "It isn't stealing if I ask," she pointed out, "I'm just being polite at this point."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered, "take it."

—
hhh. domestic kids! i promise i'll write something more exciting soon.