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Shivers racked Stephanie’s frame as Jason shut and locked the door to the apartment. Normally, they would come in through a window when dressed in costume, even if only the less conspicuous parts, but the torrential rain had made the fire escape a safety hazard. It was also the reason they were in this particular safe house of Red Hood’s, far from both Jason’s preferred apartment and the university campus where Stephanie had a 9am class the next morning, but closest to where they had each been patrolling when the sky opened up and the severe weather warning had gone out. Batman was still out in the Batmobile for any major issues on a relatively quiet Sunday night, with Red Robin riding shotgun as backup, but everyone else who primarily used the rooftops for travel got sent home for safety.
“Nothing like a spring storm,” Jason muttered as he hung his leather jacket on a hook by the door. “Nice to know winter’s over, but it’s a bitch trying to stay dry.”
Stephanie’s own rain-soaked hoodie, hastily thrown over her costume, was testament to that. She wriggled out of it, putting it on a hook next to Jason’s jacket and wrapping herself around his back. If he’d been wearing a normal shirt instead of his kevlar, she would have made him jump by slipping her freezing hands under the hem. As it was, she pressed her cold forehead to the back of his neck, which had been kept a bit warmer by the jacket’s collar
“Come warm me up?”
She could hear the smile in his voice when he answered, “Always, baby.” But she was still unprepared for Jason to spin around and hoist her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Jason,” she groaned to his back, too tired to put up a fuss at the indignity. Honestly, if it got her into the bedroom without walking, she would count it as a win. He only chuckled at her, patting her fondly as he carried her to the bedroom. The movement paused while he opened the door, and he had barely stepped into the room when she heard a distinct hiss.
“What the fuck?”
Jason set her down, turning on the light. When Stephanie turned around, she was greeted by a cat, looking very displeased to see them, and four tiny kittens, all bundled into a blanket nest.
“I’m gonna kill the brat.”
“No you’re not,” Stephanie said. “The shelters are all closed on Sundays. He probably stashed her here last night and planned to have someone take her tomorrow morning.”
“It’s my apartment!”
Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure Damian and those cats are the only living things that have been here in two weeks.”
“Still.” Jason sighed deeply. “Think we can get it to move to the living room?”
The cat hissed again, then started growling. “Probably not,” Stephanie said.
He groaned this time and wrapped his arms around her from behind, a mirror of how she had held him in the living room. “A whole king size bed and a stray cat gets it. Where the hell are we supposed to sleep?”
She shrugged. “That couch is pretty comfy. We’ve both spent the night on it before.” They had, and never for relationship fights either. If their tempers ran high enough to need space from each other, there were plenty of safe houses and Wayne properties to choose from. Given that this was a less frequent safe house, sleeping on the couch usually meant the person in the bed was badly injured, and the person on the couch didn’t want to accidentally make it worse. It was perfectly comfortable for one person, but they’d never tried to spend the night on it together.
“How’m I supposed to warm you up on that couch?” he muttered, squeezing her gently. “Gotta have some room to work.”
“I’m sure you can figure something out.” And she was definitely looking forward to that. “But for now, how about you clean the gear we brought home while I shower, then I’ll make some hot chocolate while you shower, and then we can watch one of those Regency romance movies that you love to yell at because they do a terrible job of adapting whatever book they’re based on.”
“Or…” he drew the word out, dripping with suggestion, “I could warm you up in the shower.”
“We are not breaking another safe house shower.”
“But—”
“It took Tim a week to look me in the eye after he realized I was lying about how we broke the one on Murray Street,” Stephanie cut in. “We are not breaking another shower that your family might find out about.”
Lips pressed firmly to the back of her head. “Fine.” He let her go to inch towards the bedroom closet, likely to get the spare pillows and blankets. The cat watched him closely. “You go shower, I’ll clean the gear, and we’ll have a boring domestic night on the couch while a feral cat sleeps in our bed.”
“You love it,” Stephanie chirped over her shoulder as she headed towards the bathroom.
“You’re damn right I do.”