Chapter Text
Honestly, Jo should've been suspicious from the moment Dick walked into the shop.
Today had been a slow day, the kind of day where Jason and Jo had the shop nearly to themselves, where Jo could make herself a cup of tea and sit down at Jason's table instead of just visit it. She loved it when the shop was bustling and busy, she really did, but days like these were precious to her.
Sunlight through the window, warm on her face.
Tea in her cup, warm in her hand.
Jason's face as he read (warm in her heart).
And today, since it was a slow day, Jason was reading aloud to her from The Fellowship of the Ring ("Happy Hobbit Day," he'd said a month ago, book in hand. "I'm looking for someone to go on an adventure."). For not having very many slow days since September, they had made significant progress. Tom Bombadil was here and gone, the Fellowship had been formed, and now . . .
"'We cannot get out. We cannot get out.'" Jason's face was grim, his voice deepened to the throaty rasp he used for Gandalf. "'They have taken the Bridge and second hall. Frar and Loni and Nali fell there. Then there are four lines smeared here so that I can only read went 5 days ago.'"
Jo breathed in the sweet scent of her tea, eyes tracing Jason's face as he continued. She loved seeing him like this. Jason lost all reservations when he read, losing himself in the characters and the story until he embodied them all and brought the world to life. His face, his eyes, his voice - half of her enjoyment was in watching him read.
(Jo liked watching him even when he didn't have a book in hand.)
Jason's voice grew loud and strained, and Jo found herself leaning forward in tense anticipation. "'Another harsh horn-call and shrill cries rang out. Feet were coming down the corridor. There was a ring and clatter as the company drew their swords. Glamdring shone with a pale light, and Sting glinted at the edges.'"
And that was when the door's bell tinkled to alert her that customer had just walked in.
Shoulders slumping, Jo set her cup down with a sigh. Other customers meant the book was to be put away, and she would be put back away behind her counter until another slow day meandered into her life. "Well, that's my cue to leave."
She went to stand, but Jason's hand on hers stalled the movement. Annoyance twisted his face into an unamused sneer. It wasn't directed at her, though; instead, his blue eyes glared at the customer behind her. "What do you want, Dickface?"
Jo whirled around, and there was Dick Grayson-Wayne, smiling as though his brother's eyes weren't burning him to the ground.
"I want a cup of coffee," Dick said, a faux-hurt expression erasing his smile, "but if you're going to be rude about it then I'll leave."
"Bye then."
Jo rolled her eyes fondly before standing up. "Be nice, Jason." She stood and walked over to Dick, happily accepting the hug he offered. "Hi, Dick."
"Hey, Jo," he lifted her off her feet, squeezing a giggle out of her. "Did you need saving from Mr. Grumpy over there?"
"I wasn't grumpy until you walked in, jerk," Jason mumbled as he closed the book.
With a laugh, Jo flitted behind the counter and grabbed a cup. "Ignore him, Dick. What can I get for you?"
"Well," Dick rubbed at his neck, "can I get an iced mocha with a side of forgiveness?"
Jo let out a confused laugh. "Sorry, what?"
From his table in the corner, Jason slid to his feet, his nonchalance belied by a subtle tenseness in his hands. Dick must have heard him (though Jo wasn't sure why; Jason could be scarily quiet when he wanted), because he shifted so that the both of them were in his view.
"Okay, first of all," Dick waved his finger at Jason in a 'stay back' motion, "let me be very clear, this is your fault, not mine. Second, I'm trying to help here, so don't crucify the messenger."
Jason wasn't placated. "Get to the point, Dick," he said as he crossed his arms.
Dick held up his hands with a sheepish smile. "Um, Tim might have done some digging and found out about you and Jo, and they think she's your girlfriend, and now I'm trying to convince the entire family to not storm the shop in order to meet her?"
And maybe Jason's face instantly bloomed red, and maybe he and Dick began whispering harshly to each other, but Jo didn't notice one moment of it as she gripped one hand in the other and tried to remember how to breathe. It was hard to think when all she could feel was the heat of her face and the thumping in her ears, but-
One thought at a time. One breath at a time. Slow everything down. So she closed her eyes and breathed.
In.
Jason's family wanted to meet her.
Out.
They thought she was Jason's girlfriend.
In.
It felt nice to be called that.
Out.
They'd have to correct that misunderstanding. Eventually. Probably sooner rather than later.
In.
The thought of meeting Jason's family was absolutely terrifying (but only because he so obviously loved them, and that made Jo hope that they would like her even more).
Out.
"Tell them to come."
In unison, two heads jerked around to stare in Jo's direction. It almost made Jo laugh at how similar the two of them were, hair tousled and brows furrowed.
"They like games, right?" she continued, beginning to make Dick's iced mocha. "Tell them to bring something everyone can play. And get me their drink orders too so that I can have them ready when they get here."
Jason knocked Dick's hand off his shoulder and crossed his arms. His expression was gentle despite his posture, and Jo could easily read the fond concern hidden in his eyes. "You sure about this, Jo?"
She smiled, holding his concerned gaze. "I'm sure, Jason."
He stared at her for a bit longer, and then some of the tenseness bled from his shoulders, and he walked back to the table. Jo let out a slow breath as she returned to her work.
"Hey, Jo?"
Dick's voice was quiet from where he leaned against the counter, his blue eyes solemn and his face free from any of its normal teasing. "Are you sure about this? Because if you're uncomfortable in any way, even the tiniest bit, I'll run them off. Just say the word."
He would, too. Jo could see it in the set of his mouth, in the way his eyes never flickered from hers (and Jo was reminded why Jason's eyes were so fond whenever he spoke of his older brother, even if he tried to hide it most times).
"Wouldn't your family be disappointed?" she asked.
"Probably," he said with a shrug. "But they'd understand. Anything to make Jason happy, and making you happy makes him happy."
Jo fought mightily against her blush and lost. "Thank you for the offer, Dick, but I want to meet them," she said, handing over his finished drink with a determined nod. "Make the call."
🦇 🦇 🦇
Jo let the cacophony of bickering and laughter sweep over her as the game went into full swing. Her family had never been big; just her and Grandpa for the most part (because even if she didn't remember Mom and Dad, she'd still had them when she was little, and that would always count). Game nights for them consisted of Liverpool rummy and Scopa and Clue, just the two of them to keep each other company. It was good; it was precious and valuable and something Jo would cherish for the rest of her life.
But it felt so nice to be surrounded by such a large family, elbows knocking and insults hurling and laughter soaring above it all as they simply enjoyed being with each other.
Tim and Steph, chairs so close they might as well have been sitting in the same one, heads pushed together to scheme or flirt or both.
Alfred and Damian, both prim and proper and absolutely deadly as they mocked their opponents with Alfred wrapping his barbs in that British sarcasm of his whilst Damian took a more blunt approach.
Dick and Helena, giggles almost never-ceasing as they abandoned hope of winning in favor of simply sabotaging the other teams (and Jo would stake her copy of Jane Eyre on the fact that Dick was texting Barbara the whole time from underneath the table).
Mr. Wayne ("I'm not calling him B, Jason.") and Cass, no words spoken, yet still communicating everything necessary to absolutely decimate the rest of the table without appearing to try.
It was wonderful, and it was happy, and Jo wanted it to be hers, too.
"You all right?"
She turned her head to see Jason looking at her, leaning close so that only she could hear his words.
Jo nodded. "They're just like you described."
"Overwhelming, overbearing, and completely insane?" he said with a snort.
"Overwhelmingly kind, incredibly sarcastic, and overall wonderful," Jo wrinkled her nose at him. Another chorus of cheers and groans interrupted her as Tim and Steph's team matched another pair of cards. A wistful smile crept across Jo's lips as she watched the younger boy and girl for a moment (how they looked at each other, smiled at each other, grasped for each other's hands with a certainty that the other person was there for them, always; she wanted that, too). With a sigh, she turned back to Jason. "We do have to tell them that I'm not actually your girlfriend, though."
And then Jason couldn't meet her eyes, and a look crept over his face; the same uncertain, hopeful look he'd had just over two months ago when he'd quoted her favorite book.
"Or-" He paused to lick his lips, and Jo had to swallow at the sudden lump in her throat, and suddenly she could only take very small breaths. "Or, if you wanted-"
"Yes?" she whispered.
Under the table, where no one could see, a warm hand enveloped her own.
"Jo, will you be my girl?"
And she couldn't breathe, really. Couldn't breathe or speak or even move her lips.
But she could squeeze his hand, and when Jason's eyes drifted back up to meet hers, Jo made sure that he saw his answer in her eyes.
(And under the table, for the rest of the night, their fingers remained entwined.)