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“Babe, I’m home.”
Jason used the leverage of each foot to slip off his shoe from the heel and kick them to the designated shoe mat by the front door. A mewl, so meek and desperate for attention caught Jason’s ears, and just like his cat, he perked at the sight of his companion.
“I think I got everything you needed.”
He bent down to the caress the cats head, cautious of the angle at which he leaned, not wanting the potatoes and carrots to tumble out of the paper bag he held in his arm.
“Babe?” He said a little louder, wondering if you had even heard him the first time, or if you were even still in the small one bedroom apartment.
“In the kitchen!” The tiny ounce of worry washed away, and a smile was brought to his face just by the sound of your sweet voice.
The knife cut each piece of chive, slicing the vegetable along with the board itself underneath. A pot of savory broth bubbled over the heat of the stove, giving off the delicious smell of his coming meal. His taste buds bursted with flavor before he had even eaten it, which told him just how much he loved the meals you made. In the oven, bread was toasting. It was only enough for the two of you, with an extra slice set aside for the stray dog that always visited around dinner time. Spices crowded the counters, and strained beans in a strainer took up the left side of the sink.
The scene was a bit untidy, but there in the center of it all, was you.
The crinkling of the paper bag releasing from his grip pulled your attention away from the blade of the sharp kitchen knife. He watched as you continued to chop even when not looking, your hands trained to have such a skill.
He noticed you study his face, to which he smiled at innocently. Instead of a smile in return, he received frown.
“You look tense,” you stated, which couldn’t even surprise him. It was always an asset of yours to notice even the tiniest of details, your mind so astute and insightful within its own.
“How come olives were moved from the canned food aisle to the condiment aisle? I spent twenty minutes trying to find those little fuckers and there they were on the middle shelf of condiment aisle!” He ran on a tangent, ranting over such a silly ordeal. It was quite funny to you, seeing your fiancé getting so worked up over little olives.
Your giggle interrupted his rant, and he couldn’t help but realizing his position and softly smiling along.
“You mustn’t be so tense about everything, Jason.” He heard the knife scrap the wooden cutting board and watched you look back to collect the minced chives and add them into the broth. “After dinner I’ll draw up a bath.”
Though the offering was appreciated, Jason was already occupied after dinner.
“Babe, I can’t, after dinner Bruce is having me—“
“Since when have you taken orders from him, freelancer?” Your statement was true; even though he was trying to make amends with his counterpart, a piece of him still held a natural defiance for the man. “How about a bargain?”
An eyebrow quipped intriguingly. You had always been so headstrong and convincing, always swaying him from one side to the other. He knew it would always be a kind of battle that ended in a defeat for him.
“What are you offering?”
“How about you ditch Bruce and whatever the hell he wants you to do, and instead, get a bath running and relax and de-stress. I’ll even join you,” you offered plainly. Purity laced your voice like the trim of a spring dress, which captivated his heart.
“Two for the price of one?” he commented, adding humor to the conversation. You couldn’t help but giggle, seeing the ironic pun behind it. He came up behind you as you moved to the next ingredient and snaked his arms under yours and wrapped them around your midriff, kissing your temple as you sliced the newly-bought potato. “Works for me.”
“Wonderful,” you said, smiling joyfully.
******
“Is it too hot for you? I can cool it a little if it is,” you asked, worried that you turned the bathtub into a hot tub. Some say that women have a higher tolerance to pain, and in this case, it was definitely true as you were already seated in the tub while Jason hissed after his foot came in contact with the surface of the water.
“No, no, it’s fine. Heated water is supposed to relax the muscles anyway,” he said through gritted teeth. He managed through the slight stinging of the water, knowing his body would get used to the temperature.
As he slid into the water, you awaited his comfort, crossing your legs and sitting up. He sat, leaning back and meeting your skin, back to breast. You cupped the water in your hands, raising them and pouring it atop jason’s head. You did it again, pouring it over his neck and shoulders, smiling slyly when he emitted a low groan that rumbled through his chest. He leaned his head back against your shoulder, closing his eyes and melting in your touch.
You rubbed the soap between your hands, creating bubbles. The suds smelled of lavender, a scent you chose specifically for the night. Softly gripping, you massaged his shoulders, feeling the hard knots beneath his rough skin.
Contrary to the harsh world he lived in, the warmth of the bath and the fingers now in his hair lapped it into something softer. It was like the flip of switch, giving light to a beautiful room complete with you. The light of bathroom was dim, muted and golden like a setting sun.
Smooth and sensual hands, gliding over his skin in circular motions. It was the ever most chaste of touches. It made the scene serene like an airy and light land, allowing him to indulge in the moment. For minutes he stayed like so, delicately heavy in your embrace as you proceeded to apply shampoo to his hair.
With his eyes being closed and head faced upward, he wasn’t prepared for the rush of water that cascaded over the top of his forehead and flowed back along his scalp. Droplets of water separated themselves from the stream despite your hand placed a little below his hairline to prevent as such. They dripped down to his eyelids and caused them to flutter instinctively. Another wave washed over and washed out the suds, leaving his stark raven hair clean and his body in a form of ecstasy that was indescribable.
In the days when Jason Todd felt nothing but feeling like a lost cause, he wondered if anyone out there would care for him in the future. There were times when he turned to the god that was praised at the nearby cathedral. The priests there said that God loved and cared for him, but how could God show it? He tried The Lord’s Prayer at night. He tried to commit to mass every Sunday, but the feeling still resided within the deep part of his corrupt mind.
But in the days he met you, he understood that he didn’t need to say a prayer every night. He recognized that he didn’t need to commit to a religious gathering. He realized that he didn’t need to wish or wonder if anyone would ever care for him in the future. The way you tended to him, looked at his scars like they were a three-dimensional pattern on a piece of priceless artwork changed his outlook on the cold, dark city he lived him. Despite what the priests said, you were his savior.
But, maybe God did hear his prayers and you were sent from him. Perhaps the Lord constructed your roads to intersect at just the right moment, but Jason knew he could never know the definitive cause of his relationship with you.
“Why are you pampering me so much, (Y/n)?”
“Because I want to.”
He knew that your response was much more meaningful despite it’s vagueness. Jason was ever so appreciative that he met you, and although the now pea-sized part always made him doubt, he knew that you at least cared; that you at least loved him more than any god could.